aBee12: Bumbling around

A small silly thing

2008-04-19T23:45:00.005-03:00

While "waiting" for my bike to emerge from the basement "fix-it-shop", I browsed around the cycling store ... and bought (of course stores love this kind of buying)

New cycling glasses!!! They look like "cycling sunglasses" crossbred with "Armani Fashion Prima Donna sunglasses".
The sales lady told me they looked nice, haha. I am not too sure, i have a small face and they are quite big. Plus I am not used to feeling like a fashion star, maybe I will get used to it.

Then, I bought a new bell!!! Well, actually, it is not a bell but a horn, and It is the shape of an Orca! I like him very much. Pennn Pennn!!
Willy Wallace the Whale wailes pretty good. Get out of my wayyyyyyy!!!

My bike needed some fixing as it had sustained some damage during winter (wink, wink Yee!) ... my cables got cut as someone attempted to steal... my handle bar!
Not the bike... just the handle bar. The bike is not worth much.

Anyhow, everything is fully functioning and it works great! The guy gave me full of free pieces too! New pedals, and new feet holders and ... guess what!
a new bell!!!

(now I have two bells)
I couldn't bring Willy Wallace back and I couldn't say to the guy take back your bell I just bought Willy Wallace.... so now I have the choice, "ding ding" or "Penn Penn"!!!

AnywayZZZ, I went out for my first bike trip of the year, to Jeanne Mance park, for a game of random-stranger-pickup-frisbee and then to Yee's place!
30 KM on the first day (not bad).

I came back to my apartment tired and i walked into my place in the basement, and it felt so dark and cramped. Wow, so dark and creepy in my place!
Then I happened to look in the mirror and notice I was still wearing my new sunglasses.

Hum. Maybe, I shouldn't admit to these things, especially that it was something like 5 minutes before i figured it out.

See you later alligators!

Atwater, money and those high boots

2008-04-15T09:30:00.006-03:00

I don't remember what I was doing or where I was coming from but it was late at night and I was heading home. It was so late, Atwater station was empty except for all the beggars. I walked passed them as they braced for a cold night. As always, your heart sinks a little but you still walk by. Atwater is one of those sad places.

My mind was wandering and when paying for my journey at the ticket booth I am not sure I acknowledged the existance of the clerc but then a very simple thing happened. The change she pushed out the slot to give me hit a wind draft and the 5$ bill flew back into her booth. I watched her as she tried to snatch it from the air. She looked so funny and it felt like a mirrored reflexion of my last money adventures. I tried to take my ticket and head off incognito as always but the impulse was too strong and so I started to laugh with her:

« Do you know what happened to me last week? »

I started to tell her all about my money adventures at the guichet (see last blog). She laughed and snickered. Really laughed and then said:

« Yeah, that is nothing! You know what happened to me the other day? »

And so she started to tell me, that the other day this woman came to pay for her weekly pass wearing high boots: « up to here I tell you! You know, like way up here! So, this woman comes to my ticket counter and unzips the top of her boot down to the knee to get her cash out. A big freaking wad of cash, I tell you. You know, the kind you're not sure you want to touch »,she tells me all this in a strong french « accent québécois » and we both understand that we come from different backgrounds.

« Anyway, she pays and all that but somehow when she slipped the money back in the boot it caught the wind draft and all the bills flew out, like down there! », she exclaimed pointing out down the metro hall. Just imagine all those bills fluttering down the metro hall and you'll laugh.

« I tell you the girl jumped over the gates and ran down the hall in her big boots and everything! I had to get out of my booth, and run down after her to help out. Here, I found myself running and jumping about catching all these bills! », she was telling me all this while mimicking running down and snatching bills.

« All that money down the hall! Most of it got stuck at the railings over there! Oouff, we ran! Picking everything up, ouf! Ah! So funny! », she ended her story pretending to wipe sweat off her forhead.

By then, my stomac was cramping with laughter and she was in tears laughing at the memory.

We laughed, and laughed and finally she said: « Oh, so funny! But when it happened, I couldn't laugh, you know, « poor girl »! But after, after I laughed, so funny! ».

We were two complete strangers laughing our heads off in one of the saddest metros of Montreal. Laughter echoes here, these halls are not used to it. They quickly returned to sadnest as I continued my journey but somehow this woman clerk had given me another piece of this surreal life.

Small blog adventure

2008-03-22T23:31:00.005-03:00

I am sure this has happened to everybody before but,

The other day I was hurrying up to the metro station. I was to be swimming in two hours and I still had no bathing suit: Small problem that can only be fixed with a little money.

So I run up to the Guichet automatic (money making machine) and take out 200$. As I pull out the balance receipt and depressingly study it, i fold the packet of money in two and distracted I attempt to insert the wad of cash into my wallet, all while holding my packsac and coffee. When,
ouhhh, ouhhh,
I loose gasp and the unfolding money is propulsed into the air. All my 10, 20$ bills flutter gracefully in all directions like autum leaves or fluffy snow flakes...
ouhh, ouh, shit.

I desperatly try to catch them in their fall but i didn't even get one.
I basically was going : ouh! ouh...! ouh...! and panicking as I watched my money flutter down, coffee still in hand.

There I was in Henri-Bourassa metro station, croutched down over a quite large semi-cercle of run-away bills... It now became the game of "pick them up as fast as you can!"
as they were soaking up the melted salty snow puddles, not to mention in great danger of being stollen.

All I could think of is ... Man, i am so lucky it is not windy!

Out of Gonaïves

2008-01-14T17:42:00.000-04:00

Hey people!!
I am officially oooOUt of GonaÏves... the city of eternal dust and mud. I am siting in a Port au Prince hotel restaurent typing away on wireless internet...
Oh, oh, the luxury!!
Heading back to civilisation after 4months of strangeness in Haïti.
There IS so much that I do not want to forget. It is difficult to explain but I hope that the video will do that for me.
The last few weeks have been spent running the streets of Gonaïves on scooters filming everything we could catch without getting mobbed.
Yes, getting mobbed was a "preoccupation" of ours as every once in a while we would get swarmed... Blanc, Blanc (White, white!)... People cry out (sometimes nicely, sometimes not so nicely)...
There is a lot of historic racial "baggage" that makes it difficult to interact sometimes.

Here, I present to you, little Papoune.

Yes, that is his tricylce, and yes he uses it to fetch water at the well... and carry the load home. So many kids have to carry water loads on their heads...
(water is very, very heavy by the way) ...
Next time any one of you needs to change the "blue water jug" of our "filtered water dispensers"... you'll notice how heavy water actually is...

Now, fill a big bucket and walk a couple of Km (just one or two) with the load balanced on your head. It does not even have to be up-hill to the mountain houses, just flat road will be enough for you to conclude (as I did) ...
That Haïti needs a lot more Bright red tricycles.

My brother JEAN, the groom

2007-12-30T14:20:00.001-04:00

As you all know… I left Nottingham to attend my little brothers wedding. He had proposed about a year ago to his longtime girlfriend Catherine (together already 10 years!!) (10 years!!) (and have two kids!!) (two kids!!)… Now, it was time for the long awaited white wedding… WHITE WEDDINGGGGGGGG!!! Or was it a pink wedding??? (I'll get to that later).

Anyways. The wedding was beautiful, just perfect. It was held at one of those “wedding in a package” locations. You know those places you go to and everything is there: the outside Gazebo right next to a small lake with a spurting water fountain (all this about 100 meters away from the reception room). Everything looks perfect. One of my favourite wedding highlights was the best men... You see…

Jean, the groom (my brother), and his two best men (Laurent, my older brother, and Dany, his best childhood buddy), were going on the necessary “boys day out” shopping for wedding suits. Except, Jean was fast in finding his suit...
and instead of patiently helping the best men pick theirs, he suddenly cut things short and simply told the boys: “Okay guys, just match pink”

and to this Jean left them to their own devise.

Being so loyal, the best men listened and showed up at the wedding wearing classy black suits, supported by HOT pink shirts complemented with HOT pink mafioso hats (and HOT pink socks as well) (better than white, no?). The boys looked hot what can I say (pictures to come).

Seeing them, Jean laughed…. nervously… he suspected it wouldn’t go down well with the bride (or the bridesmaids for that matter). In his defense, Jean tried:
“Guys, I said to “match” pink not “be” pink!!”
To which the boys replied : “Hey, you said “match pink” and all we know is pink goes with pink”.
Jean courageously chuckled … He will forever remember this pink blunder.

Before the ceremony, everybody raved at the boy's suits. It was a real smash and bonus entertainement while everyone waited, waited and waited for the bride. Many people started visiting the bar instead of just standing around… I had by this time already knocked over (in the sense of spilling) a couple of wine glasses.

Finally, the bride’s limo arrived an 1h and 7 minutes late. The bridesmaids softly exited in a fluff of pastel pink dresses. Almost no one could tell they were huffed about the “hot pink” men.

At this point, everybody was busy stashing their beers under their chairs anyways. The guests lifted their heads just in time to catch the bride emerge from the limo and walk down the isle. She was, as all brides are, very beauUUtifull! Everything looked so perfect.

It was a civil wedding but the texts read had mostly been written “by” each other “to” each other which added much to the ceremony and took away greatly from the standard: Code 6.7.4 civil law states that husband and wife shall live together and share their belongings and the charge of any kids that may come (or may already be there). Code 9.4.3 states that… bla bla bla… This ceremony had a sweeter taste everything out of Cinderella’s fairy tales.

The reception was a very lively one. They hired an entertainer, a funny man/cross dresser. He’d do small skits between meal courses; coming out dressed as a priest, then as what looked like a “Marge Simpson” version of a pole dancer. He’d get the tables to play games, bang on tables and sing. He was really good at what he did. The night got well on it’s way as he continued to entertain the crowd. After some YMCA, twist again and la danse du canard (the duck dance) … it was time for the bouquet and the classic taking off the “jartelle” (garder belt) with the groom’s teeth, all very fun. Both groom and bride did a good job with this. The cakes were the cutest things!! There was a little man cake and a little woman cake (you’d have to see the pictures).

Finally, it was time for the “fetching of the groom’s key’s in the lake”
Jean had confided his car keys to me (as I had a purse). Laurent almost immediately approached me with his macavelic plan to perch them on the rock in the middle of the lake and let Jean figure out how to get them back at the end of the night.

But how to do this?? Ingenious Dave was recruted to the team and came up with the solution.
1) Tie keys to 6 party ballounes (to make them float)
2) Attach to long string and throw keys (and ballounes) past rock
3) Pull keys (and ballounes) back over rock till they sit on it safely
4) Cut string
5) Laugh

As the night dwindeled down, Jean started contemplating his options to recuperate his keys. Little did he know that there was…
A YELLOW RUBBER DINGY!!!!!
As Jean approached the lake, Laurent and I (still in high heels) ran across the lawn dragging the rubber dingy and ores in an attempt to plant it on the other side of the lake for Jean to discover...
Except…
Jean was too quick. He had already stripped down to his sexy white briefs and waddled into the cold water up to his mid belly to fetch the “dam” keys from the rock.
And so… just as Jean extied dripping from the lake (keys in hand), Laurent drifted in (full HOT pink style) rowing the yellow rubber dingy out from the other side ... reaching the rock victorious and completely dry…

Memorable. Actually the whole day was memorable. Priceless. For everything else, there’s VISA card.

Playing around with a camera: Nightshots.

2007-12-19T13:38:00.001-04:00

I have officially started to mess around with the camera, playing with ideas, making list of shots too take and toying with different settings.

(DALEEE & STÉPHANIE!!! !!! Help!!! Haha!)

Hopefully, in the end, I can show you guys what it is like here. I have not written much about this place. I find it overwhelming to try and describe it.

There are so many things that I am unable to throw out on paper, my written words do not render the feelings or sights. I find myself unable to explain the things I see in a way that could convey enough meaning for others to “get it”. I think this is when the video idea started… I somehow felt that my writing abilities are somehow too limited to picture the Haiti experience and so I am trying to move to another media to catch it.

I have effectively very limited experience with videomaking but it is worth a try even if just to document for myself what this place is about. It’s all experimental right now: As I said, we are adeering to the “Just pretend you know what your doing” motto… and making sure we have fun doing it.

The other evening, music played far out in the distance. We had just finished our dinner and we spontaneously decided to check out the “party” and see if we could get some good footage with our cameras at night.

Night footage! (Don’t we all love messing with special functions)

… In “night shot”, the camera sends out an infra-red signal and enables us to capture images that are normally to dark to get. So we (my father, Laurence and I) had a “night expedition”, on our motor bikes driving down the city streets (pretty daring in itself; because there is no electricity which means no street lights). The sides of the roads are lined with candlelite merchant stalls. The candlelight give an eerie feeling to the street, you could start believing in ghost here, as there are so many figures that move in the shadows and faces that mysteriously flicker in golden flammes of small fires.

Laurence has been doing really well on the motor bikes. I would say he caught up with me in “confort level” when wizzing through Gonaïves traffic. This night expedition was a first for both of us… Oh the stress!

He really learned to ride from scratch in the worst of conditions. He arrived in the rainy season and so when he first hoped on the bikes the roads were but a series of merged mud puddles…. (huge ones). His first “motorbike initiation course” included:

Lesson # 3:

Riding through mud puddles

1- Don’t panick.

2- Don’t try and lift your feet, they’ll get dirty anyways

3- Cross your fingers that the water/mud puddle not be “that” deep.

4- (most important) : Pick up speed. Make sure you have enough trottle to stop water/mud from coming into the exhaust pipe.

5- Don’t hit rocks, even if you can’t see them.

6- Remember … mud is extremely slippery.

Good luck.

Aerial shots

2007-12-19T13:37:00.001-04:00

I just hung up from a 15$ phone call … but it was worth every penny of it!

Hellloooo, you guys in Nottingham!!! !!!!!

Pierre-Yves, you can send the freezer to :

8-Gatereau-20 Gonaïves, Haïti

(the house in front of the complexe of cuban doctors)

It could be usefull if we get more steady electricity (or else it can be used for storage room … or a table).

Now, (especially for you Marije…) (who is so good at pestering me to write more)

Story of the week: hummm…

Today, I think I will tell the adventures of trying to make this documentary as I am sure more adventures are to come.

We made a first attempt to get… ta ta “ta”””

aerial shots! (I have to say that once you get into a project like this you start getting a little too ambitious!) Here we are dreaming of including aerial shots of Gonaïves city, where all the “action” should be based.

You see, all self respecting documentary makers always include a couple of beautiful sweeping (steady) aerial shots (usually from cranes or planes)… but, obviously, we don’t have a plane (or a crane).

But… every once in a while… my father goes to meetings across the counrty… and to do so he is obliged to risk his life and ride in an (old) russian (actually it’s ukrainian) Helicopter.

This old beast is simply painted white and plastered with black U.N. letters to make it look “official” and hopefully “dependable”… Now, my father is a pilot and knows a few things about flying machines… but…

… “Ignorance can be bliss” … He always turns a little pale on “meeting” days…

Anyways… we thought it was worth to try! Aerial shots!! Could you believe it!

So next helicopter ride, he took our new “handycam” with him…(heart beating) …

… Tcha, tcha, cha… TCha cha tcha cha….

the Helicopter

TCha cha tcha cha…. Took off and majes”tcha”lly flew over the city… Bruuu… Tcha, Tcha Tcha, Brruuuu

(PS : for those who don’t get it… the “Tcha tcha” part and the “Bruu brrruuu’s” are the sounds effects of the noisy wind and helicopter VIBRATIONS!! Okay?)

So… imagine… Tcha cha, Tcha cha, tcha cha….

The vibrations were so strong, there was no way my father could keep steady. His whole body giggled with the copter’s Tcha Tcha Tcah Tcha…. His hands uncontrolably shook the camera as if guessing it’s Christmas gift contents.….

He then held our (brand new) camera out the window to get a better shot … TCHA TCHA TCHATCHA…. (Bruuuuuuu Brruu) TCHA TCHA TCHA…

and then…

He dropped it!!!

(haha)

(no he didn’t)

(but I wanted to check if you were listening)

The camera made it back safe in the end (so did my father) but the footage is probably worth only a good laugh… Sophisticated “aerial shots” might not make our final cut… but it was worth the excitement of trying to “get” them.

New adventure Ñ CRAZY project

2007-12-02T12:22:00.000-04:00

Okay people.... I have to admit to a big secret.

I have been harboring a very... ambitious plan ... dark brewings in my head. Something that I did not want to jinks by openly admitting to ... (talking of secret aspirations is so dangerous!! ... haha...) But no turning back now...

As you all know, I talk a lot.... but this time I got myself in trouble!

Blabla blaa...

You see, I went on blablabbing one morning to my father sipping coffee... and... then... in a moment of pure genious, I said:
"we should make a documentary"

The statement hung in the air... a second ... two ... and then.
the reply:
"Okay, ... but I am just the cameraman, you´re the director"

AAAAaaaaaaHHHHHH!!! The fear!!! The fear!!!
Fight or flight, fight or flight.... Oh, boy!
... now that all the basic equipment has been bought (a certain amount of money invested),
"this" is it!!

I am desperatly clinging to my sister´s famous motö:
Just pretend to know what your doing!....
... and the results just might surprised you...

It still all feels alien to me, I have done (very amature) videos in the past... editing and all but nothing with a "set out" idea. All the grinding of technical details, make me believe that "maybe" "maybe" it could turn out to be an interesting piece...

maybe.. maybe... is about the only word I feel confortable admitting to right now... But things seem to be coming together ... At the moment I am chilling out in the DR (Dominican Republic)... But I am to return to Haiti soon as filming starts on the 5th of December (+ or - a few days).

all the "planning" is still in the process of "being planned"
I´ll try and keep you up dated!
C

Launderette blog… continued

2007-10-26T23:24:00.000-03:00

My last blog was quickly writen and posted. As soon as it was off, I felt there was missing a couple of “dimensions” to the picture. I do fondly remember my expeditions to “Brights” launderette in Nottingham with it’s super cycles and high powered drying (Pierre-Yves is also a fan) (Hi ! PEDRO-YVO!!).

I also want to remember all the times I ran out of socks and so “convieniently” invited myself to friends places (who had washers). I’d arrive with Santa-Claus bags of stinky clothes and while we spent the evening dining and playing games (usually Settlers of Catane)… my clothes spun dizzy in the background. Usually, I’d forget to put the second load in and I’d leave with half of my clothes washed.

Note: If in laundry emergency, try Marije and Jon’s place: always open “after hours” but not the most “productive” place… high distraction levels. A better option is… to invade “Bean and Luke”’s (tiny) place in their absence! I’d even borrow the vaccum cleaner (but that was before it got broken). I strangely remember when Martin came home with our own bright yellow “hoover” (as the brits say). It stayed neatly tucked away till a “Party evening” came along. Ahh… good times!

Needless to say, laundry is a very very different experience here (with colorfull buckets and hands slippery with soap). Obviously, it’s still a novelty for me, as I enjoy the chore a little too much. Installed on the front porch, music blaring in the background, my mind wanders as hands scrub spots and wring out water. Gradually, my arms and back feel “it”, the slow strain of muscle fatigue.

This is when I think of all the women I see doing laundry croutched over in rivers, bodies tilted forward. The clothes stream of white soap that mixes into brown murky water. How long can a body tolerate that position? How long can hands stay wet in soap before skin tingles? How much scrubing can fingers take in a day? How heavy do pails of wet clothes become? How strong back muscles get when constantly supporting out stretched arms? How much food do you have to eat to sustain this? …

I say these are women but, sometimes, they’re girls. In saying girls, I mean that, with my western mind, I cannot conceive how these young creatures even understand the “concept” of cleaning… It’s life I guess, strange, strange life… We’ve all heard so many of these stories, and seen some in travels. It becomes strong when confronted on a daily basis. The working women at the rivers are not just a “bleak” picture either… Some are friends, they work together chatting along. So much gossip flows from these rivers. If you watch long enough you’d catch them playing. It’s a hard life and they’re all in it, doing as best they can with what they’ve got. These women washing clothes at the rivers are still thousands of years old.

We've drawn a couple of lucky cards in life. You want to use them for yourself and give them away at the same time; such ambivalence towards the way we live. I came to this country partly to explore this ambivalence, of course, the conflict will never be resolved. I have known for a long time that I was not Mother Theresa; I was 8 when I examined the UNICEF box to see if I could get "some" out (without anyone knowing). Still, I am curious to see what tiny, tiny, “insignificant” things I would actually be prepared to do? That is… if… I don’t fall into the “it won’t change anything” inertia trap. Humm… Curious.

Launderette

2007-10-04T12:37:00.000-03:00

Now, I loved the little place I used to go in Nottingham, Brights Launderette far out on Mansfield road. The place would of been perfect without the blaring televisions but what can you do...
I used to cross the road and hide out in "Fade Café" reading and sipping on a cappuccino while my clothes tumbled clean; that is... if I had not forgotten to put the soap in.

I liked "Fade Café" (it doubled as a bar too of course).
There is, in it's far back, a small covered outdoor space, full of plants. It made me feel like I was having coffee in a small forest tree house. By now, it must be a smoke free place which would make it even more enjoyable (the U.K. has now gone smoke free!!).

It was a good way to get a little dose of brightness (not to say sunshine) on gloomy lazy days. I remember sitting there in the last bits of clean clothes I had left; those I never wore except when cleaning all my other clothes. I rarely had socks left and was always down to my last pairs of underwear. Ahh.... time to visit "Brights" and the "Fade Café"!

Here, clothes washing days are a little different... and I don't think I will ever forget to put the soap in.

The only thing I really miss ... is the spin cycle!!!!
Oh, yes.... That spin Cycle!!... to wring out all the water... especially from jeans!
On the bright side I am developping arm muscles.

Yep... these are my underwears leasurely drying in the tree!!
(I shouldn't post that ... but what the yell!! Everybody saw them already!)

Lurking beneath desks, corners, beds (hope not)…

2007-10-02T16:38:00.002-03:00

Night had fallen, my eyes where getting tired of reading when the corner of my eye spotted …. A small plump leg that seemed to graciously stretch out and unfold, then another… The crawl; a mouvement that triggers natural instincts of fear.
Fight or Flight.
My eyes shift: A terantula!
A proper movie style one with colour shades of sand and black. It’s fat hairy legs crawled beneath my desk exactly where my innocent feet had been dangling moments before.
Ou! I knew these creatures were potentially around but to see it there… in MY room, under MY desk.
I chose (calm) flight as I walk over to my father’s room with only a slight skip in my heel:

Papa, there is a terantula in my room. I finishing my sentence with a clown’s teeth clenched smile.
One of the big ones?? He almost seem excited.

He cames over to see but was unimpressed: That is just a small one! They get much bigger then that.
Now, I do not usually get itchy about spiders but I am not used to Terantulas.
How do you kill it? I asked as I imagined the thing splattered over the wall.

Okay, Terantula killing lesson 101: First they are pretty fast little things.
Forget the movies where you see them creeep ever so slowwwwwly (with music) up to their victim (usually a sexy sleeping woman)…
(Ta dum, ta dum, ta dum…) (little scissor jaws going) (eat, eat).
Well forget about that. There fast little buggers.
So,
Weapon of choice: shoes.
I watch as my father stands almost 2 meters away from the thing and cataputles in serie sandale#1, sandale#2, sneeker#1, sneeker#2, picks back up sandle#1 and gives it the last deadly blow.
It was still moving but, even so, it was time for the “Kleenex Bunch” trick. My father made a first scoop.
The only thing left stuck to the floor was: One fat hairy leg.
It still moved.
He made a last scoop with a fresh “Kleenex Bunch”.

My father then turned to me and asked:
Where is the other one?
What other one? I say puzzled.
Well, I was told they only come in twos!

Now, I still do not know if he was teasing me, or if the person who told him “that” was teasing him at the time but I did not find another one lurching around.

I did pull out my bed so that it didn’t touch any walls.

Next time, I’ll take a picture for you guys. I now know how to kill terantula’s,
I like to think I’ll take care of the next one that crawls my way,
but maybe Laurence will have arrived by then.

Tata for now, carefull where your feet dangle.

PS: this one is not mine as it was shoe attacked before any picture was taken... (mine was just a little smaller). Except, mine was not in the basement of a house but... in my ROOMM!

PS: He was the same color and everything

Jiang

2007-10-02T16:38:00.001-03:00

A few days upon arrival, we got down to serious business: buying a second Jiang chineese Motor bike (for me) (with prevision of Laurence coming). I had the choice of black, dark blue or maroon so dark it looked black. Kuca already had a black one so to avoid any confusion I happily took blue (Marije’s alternative favourite colour to stripey).
It is a two seater, but… Laurence will have to do a lot of practising before I ever sit behind him.
Riding the bike is quite easy (except it’s only semi automatic…). I am still getting used to shifting smoothly with all the pedal stuff… I am now just about confortable with it… as long as I don’t hit super sized mud puddles (think black ice).
The fastest you can go on some roads is 15 km/h. Manoevering over bumps and humps, down cracks and dips you feel you do more vertical mileage then horizontal. The bikes underbelly hits constantly but that is normal.

With this wizzer, I can zip in and out for things like ice, water and the internet store (where I spend afternoons trying to blog with a slow connection). The other good thing with the wizzer is that we incorporated ourselves more with local culture. I mostly get smiles, blow kisses and winks when riding the bike. Some point out yelling: Blanche, blanche ! (White, white). Gonaïves does not have many white people but there is rumour that we’re not the only ones…
One man shouted out as I wizzed by on my little bike:
Woow!! Goood, veeerryyy GOOODDD!!! With an extended arm and thumbs up gesture.

I do think it is better that we “white people” not only ride around in big 4X4’s but also humbly putput on little motorbikes like everyone else (with all the dust and dirt flying in our faces). See my nice super Superman goggles… I have Batman ones as well and wearing these have the added bonus of feeling a little more incongnito.

It is, I must admit, a little dangerous to ride in Gonaïves chaotic traffic. Eyes all around, eyes all around! is our riding moto. To finish off, here are some shots from our “motorbike” picture theme project.

Riding out to Gonaïves!

2007-10-02T16:37:00.001-03:00

The next morning we packed into the truck. Pompé (the U.N. driver) was a little late picking us up but us “natural late people” understand these things; there was traffic. We finally started our journey to Gonaives…

The ride it self was rough but uneventfull. These roads can easily make you sea sick except you are not at sea which means it’s rough no matter what the weather is. I took a couple of “through car window” pictures … They’re not meant to be artistic (I’ll try that later).

The U.N. base stationned in Port-au-Prince as we left the city.

Imagine hanging off like that for Kilometers and Kilometers!!!

A nice TapTap bus... (now imagine the music coming out of it)

Here is a small town we passed on the way (all the towns looks like this).

We moved throught the country side, lots of rubbish and dogs and donkeys and some mud huts ready to topple over.
A lot of country people still ride on donkeys here regardless of how skinny and frail they are. Donkeys are sad tuff animals but most times… the people riding them look just as skinny and frail.

Rice fields. I watch the people work out there as I sit in the air conditionned truck.
They seem to have to beat or whip the long stems of the plants as they collect them. I will have to do a little research to understand exactly what they are doing but it looks hard. Crouched over men and women with angular bodies (some muscular some boney) beat the hell out of piles and piles of the long stemmed plants.

Along the road, you pass tiny villages (collections of drab houses really) but a lot of them have central squares. Because it is harvest time, these squares are covered with colorfull ground sheets (usually bright sky blue) where the rice grains are spread over to dry and golden in the sun.
The women work these ground sheets bare foot spreading the rice and turning it over making sure it dries well. At least that’s what I think they’re doing (as I am no rice collection expert).

There are many different kinds of rice (Obviously, I hear Bean skuff!! hihi); basmati long grain, Instant Uncle Ben’s… (okay okay, it was an easy one but it made me smurk). Seriously, I had a mini classe on rice. There is yellow rice and white rice, and all kinds of different ones in between all depending on the region they are grown, a little like wine. The Gonaïves rice could be like a “Bordeau rice” (how lucky we are).

I have never been to China, and I am sure it is completely different, but I look around and this is how I always imagined China’s remote rice patty country side. Except the people are the wrong color.

There are actually scare crows in the fields!! … “Sticks figures” (get it) (because there made of sticks and covered with rickety clothes…)
We joke: For here, they’re pretty realistic looking scare crows.
The joke is funny but black humor it is.

Finally, we arrived tired in Gonaïves: the RMDM capital of the world!!
Standing for: Rain, Mud, Dust and Mosquitos…
Who wants to visit?

Still at the Hotel in Port-au-Prince

2007-10-02T16:36:00.002-03:00

Then there was another couple: two white women. They seemed to be lesbians to my eye, the short hair, slightly masculine features, I have seen these women countless times in my hockey teams.
They walked in the small restaurent holding a young black boy by the hand. His walk was a limp, his whole body was a limp, except his eyes. They where bright. His legs were twisted like an old old oak tree but he was only 7 or 8 maybe. This fascinated even more. This child was crippled. He could walk and that was good, the wheel chair had just been spared.

In taking in a child like this, these women have something in them that surpasses above human averageness. They chose less then perfect to make something a thousand times more perfect.

To pick up a fully functionning child is remarkable on it’s own but to deliberatly pick one that is not… It made me wonder, if I could make that same decision. I do not know. It wouldn’t been my first spontaneous response. But now, having seen it…
Anyways… Chapeau! to them.

Chapeau! : French expression meaning “you lift your hat to them”. Usually used when you find something extremely admirable but you doubt that you could do the same yourself at that moment…

Port-au-Prince : First Stop Hotel

2007-10-02T16:36:00.001-03:00

When we first arrived in Haïti we couldn’t make way to Gonaïves before night fall so we stayed a night in Port-au-Prince. These are the pictures of the fancy hotel (full equiped with swimming pool) that we stayed at.

Surprinsingly there were other “foreigners” there, not proper touristes but … what seemed to be “adoption” tourists. They come over suitcases full of papers and signatures, cheques probably not too far. I was fascinated with a young couple, walking around with 3 kids, 3 little girls from 2 to 4 years old. The blackness of there skin didn’t stop them from running into white legs for protection. The girls seemed to have no clue what exactly was happening having too much fun running around the pool, spagetti floater and balls in hand. Screetching with laughter, these little girls incarnated everything caught in the “rambunkshious boys” cliché.
The youngest wobbled around in those special “water diapers” for pools that you surely couldn’t get around here.

Now, It would be easy to critizes these people, buying kids picking them out as if new toys. We’ve all heard this before, but actually watching them… I find there is a much deeper beauty or concern in the way the “new” parents move with these kids. A new load, … The man looks at his wife with an excitement mixed with a stunned seriousness: Okay my love, this is happeneing for real. She smiles back, they both know they are scared, they look cool about it, but they are still scared. Somehow, the nervousness is balenced with the belief that some force out of their control will pull things together… Then, that second is gone, and they become completely distracted with the girls, one having tripped over the spagetti floatter.

Tanks, blue helmets and fishing hats

2007-10-02T16:35:00.001-03:00

We wizz down the same streets I wizzed down 6 months ago. Things are neater. Just as grey and dusty but neater.
My father chuckles: It looks pretty good now…
when compared to the bullet proof vest days some 19 months ago.

This was one of those districts sporting a RED security level not too long ago. By the look of it, it could have shifted down to orange-red, or maybe just orange.
There is something undefinably different although it might just be superficiality.
My mind wanders as I watch women working, sweeping side walks (if I can call them that).

I remember riding home the last time I was here, it was the most uneasy (to not say scary) ride of my life.
I had came in late, curfew was past, it was pitch black night outside… everything looked threatning.

Blue helmet U.N. soldiers bobbing up and down in white trucks everywhere. Dust, people, guns. You know those big hand machine guns. AK something somethings. Lot’s of them. It is surprising how guns melt into the scenery.

My father asks… did you see the tanks?
Tanks!? No. Where the tanks?! I say with a “stop teasing me” tone.
You don’t see the tanks!! There… there is a tank,…
I lift my eyes.

I see it.

Across the intersection canon straight at us.
At that moment, my view becomes obstructed by another huge white machine rolling by. The big black U.N. letters passe in front of me as if on a moving billboard. This is when I realised how realistic the tank sounds in “Saving Private Ryan” are but that might just be my imagination amplifiying things. The white shells of these monsters phosphores in the darkness but I had not seen them.
I guess my eyes had been too busy with other things.
After. I saw them everywhere.
It is surprising how tanks melt into the scenery.

This time around, I’ve only seen 3 tanks up to date and I have been here a couple of days already.
One tank passed by crowded with U.N. soldiers sitting all around it (on the exterior shell) …
They looked like a bunch of boys riding a band wagon about to break out in song.
They didn’t even wear the blue helmets… as they have been swapped for what looks like
blue U.N. Fishing hats.
(the larger rims offer more sun protection you see).

I, myself, created quite a stirr amongs the boys as I (a white girl) wizzed by on small motor bike.
(yes, I now have my own little chinese Jiang motor bike).

Haïti’s atmosphere is changing.
I shamefully do not know the politics of it all but I do not think the U.N. should leave right away; it might be too early.
It could sound strange to say but…
“blue fishing hats” can be very conforting.

Stunned

2007-10-02T16:33:00.000-03:00

Our first shock came in Miami while boarding the flight for Port-au-Prince:
We were NOT the only white people boarding.
Actually, the percentage of white people increased from around 0,6% to something like 35%!
Families!! Complete (very white) families full-equiped with kids and everything!

Shock number two: At arrival, there was…
More than one custom agents in the booths.
There was queue control
and baggage inspection!
…
And the rowdy crowd waiting outside to shout “Taxi” and grab our bags upon exit have been pushed back neatly behind a freshly painted fence.

Then…
The airport’s U.N. tank outpost was missing!
There were only three soldiers waiting around.
All broke out in huge smiles and (manly) hughs when there buddy arrived.
(he probably had goodies in his bags)
They happily popped his luggage in the back of the small U.N. jeep and they all happily skidded off.

The only other U.N. presence was … us.
Pompé, the Gonaïves driver, was waiting for with the distinctive white truck.
(I was a little sad not to see Famel again) Hi Famel!!! (where ever you are)

We pack up the truck and before heading off, Pompé turns to me and says:
Could you lock your door?
(Oh, yes! Hihi… that didn’t change)

Haïti (take two) Departing

2007-10-02T16:32:00.000-03:00

After my brother’s wedding (which I will discuss later), in early (EARLY) morning of the 13th of September 2007 (I think) (yes, 2007), my Dad and I left Montreal heading for Port-au-Prince Haïti.
We calmly arrived at the airport with of course plenty of time to spare. There was not even a waiting line at the check-in booth.
The lady made us weight each of our 4 HUGE bags … (mostly my belongings) (mostly books I very ambitiously think I will read in the next 2 months).
49,5 lbs; 48 lbs; 49,5 lbs and 49 lbs… the lady gives me an impressed “thumbs up” for my packing skills… (max. limit 50 lbs).
Finishing up business at the check in, we nonchalantly ask: Mam, why is there no line up?
You are the last ones to check-in.
The last ones!!?
Well, you are “supposed” to arrive at least 2 hours ahead.
But we did. Did we not? The plane leaves at 7h15.
No, at 6h15.
6h15!!!
(AHH!!!)

NOW, please NOTE…
I had NOTHING to do with this mistake!
I am only guilty of trusting the time my father gave me.
Mental note to self; do not trust (myself) OR my papa with times.

So we ran!!! Imagine that!! (and I mean sprint ran)

Obstacle # 1: Tuff U.S. security (due to Miami layover).

We past the question test.
Headed for the Xrays.
Of course, the border guard picked us out to further search our bags…
He (ever so slowly) peeked and poked…
Pearing into one of our plastic bags, he suddenly looked deeply puzzled…

Where are you going? He asked…
Haïti, SIR. (my ex-police dad answers)

He laughs.
(rare for U.S. security men)

You going for a long time?
Yes, why?

He reveals the contents of the bag he was inspecting….

2 pounds worth of soap bars
– the fresh “Irish Spring” clean blue kind-

Yep, leaving for a while, I laugh.

… Past security… We slung our belts over our shoulder and (oh, so ungraciously) tugged our shoes back on (hopping on one leg), droping bits and pieces here and there…
Then, run, run, run…

Straight passed all the perfums in the duty free shop
(No preboarding spritzz for me)

Down the boarding halls… Two or tree rolling floor mats later, we get there…
just in time…
to sit and wait for another 40 minutes before the departure call.

Let’s vote

2007-10-02T16:29:00.000-03:00

Hey everybody!!
I’ve have been away a long time (no kidding!). Honestly, I do not know where to start (or continue) this blog. Should I even try?? Humm… I guess I should, but it will be difficulty to follow treads of stories as so much has passed by…

But, since, I am now technically volontarily unemployed at the moment, I hope to catch things up a little… But should I jump around in time and space ?? Or continue with at least the logical thread of time…

So many magical moments to pick from… Let’s VOTE!! Which one shall I start out with?!

1. the rest of my first expedition to Haiti
2. Florida adventures with my Mac & Jaqui and my cousin Julie and her little family
3. Camping in the Everglades (most of you know the stories already)
4. Returning to Nottingham
5. London weekend with Lar
6. Peak District bike trip with Andreas
7. Bye bye’s to Petra!
8. Hockey with Simon
9. Wine Tasting Everning
10. Wacky Wedding in the Nertherlands (almost arriving on time)
11. Even Wackier Bachelorette party
12. Cat sitting for Martin
13. Weekend in Dublin with Lar
14. The Day Catriona asked me to plan (that never happened)
15. Packing adventures
16. Leaving Nottingham
17. Latitude music festival (a gem!)
18. My 2 or 3 Nottingham departure parties
19. Turkey adventures with Lar
20. An Irish Wedding
21. Scotland bike adventures (complete with bikers rally)
22. Bits of Belfast
23. Bye bye Everybody (last departure)
24. Back in Canada
25. Julie Bouvrette's wedding: My sister’s and I’s friend
26. My brother the groom fetching keys in a lake (I had, ahumm nothing to do with it)
27. Closing down the airport for winter
28. Last Restaurent meals…. Before…
29. HAÏTI!
30. Arriving in Gonaïves: the dust and mud capital of the world

So … which one do you want to hear first?!
I guess the most important would be to start out giving a little news of where I have been for the last few days.

REMERCIEMENTS DE MON MÉMOIRE

2007-06-09T14:50:00.000-03:00

THERE WE GO EVERYBODY! I finally officially officially finished the Masters with a stunning Top 10% finish (but, that is all Julie Bérubé's fault). Dju tu sais que je t'en dois une... plus qu'une en fait...

The part I enjoyed most lasted about half a day... when I had to write my "REMERCIEMENTS" section. Now, I would not want anyone of you to have to read my Masters thesis (haha)... except EXCEPT the REMERCIEMENT section. So here it is: (I got caried away!! haha!)

REMERCIEMENTS
Remerciements (Suis-je vraiment rendue là?!). Je décrirais l’aventure de ma Maîtrise comme longue et ardue, parsemée de moments brillants. Je n’y serais jamais arrivée sans l’aide de plusieurs et plusieurs personnes.

Je voudrais commencer par remercier ma directrice de mémoire Zdenka Pausova qui est maintenant chercheure titulaire au « Brain & Body Centre » à l’Université de Nottingham en Angleterre. Cette femme dédiée m’a donné un encadrement et un support remarquable surtout considérant toutes les péripéties reliées au déménagement du laboratoire en Angleterre. Avec sa patience et sa compréhension humaine, elle m’a beaucoup encouragée et poussée vers des avenues nouvelles. Merci infiniment.

Sans Julie Bérubé, assistante de recherche à l’Hôtel-Dieu de Montréal, mon projet n’aurait pas avancé avec le même train-train. Elle a été pour moi un guide mais surtout une amie qui m’a tant appris sur les sciences de la vie. Avec tous les hauts et les bas, elle ne m’a surtout pas lâchée et cela malgré mon parcours tortueux. Julie, merci, merci, merci, mille-merci.
Mus Musculus!!!

J’exprime aussi ma gratitude envers mes autres collègues qui ont travaillés à mes côtés, notamment Lucie Sedova, Gilles Corbeille, Monique Poirier, Carole Long, Isabelle Chenier et Suzanne LaPhénomène. Ils ont été là pour mes urgences techniques, pour faire l’analyse des bandes bizarres sur mes gels et rire de mes « aventures » laboratoiriennes (explosion de tubes, voltage craqué, gels à l’envers, etc.). Merci à Sébastien Taurin pour avoir sauvé mes yeux d’une attaque d’isopropanol. Merci à Olga Akimova, Stéphane Thifault et Carlos Hader pour le support moral incroyable.

J’aimerais aussi témoigner ma reconnaissance aux personnes du « Brain & Body Centre » de l’Université de Nottingham en Angleterre (qui m’ont gardé saine d’esprit avec leur vitalité). Thank you guys! Marije, Jon, Petr, Katja, Catriona, Luke, Donna, Dale, Stéphanie, John Totman et Martin. Chaque jour, ils me demandaient : Quand est-ce que tu vas finir? Et chaque jour, pendant 1 mois, je leur répondais : Demain, je finis demain. Merci à Eileen pour avoir à peine remarqué le tapis d’articles éparpillés sur le plancher de notre bureau (pendant ma période « Bibliographie »). Et un merci spéciale à Manon, Dany et Yohan pour leur support et encouragement (et des bons soupers). Et un dernier merci à Pierre-Yves Hervé!!!!!!!!!!

Merci, à mes amis à Montréal : Nancy Larochelle, Anna Kawinska, Yee (love you Yee), Julie Bouvrette (MERCI JULIE!!), Marc-André Larochelle et toutes les autres personnes éparpillées qui m’ont aidé probablement sans vraiment le savoir comme la femme de ménage au centre de recherche qui, très tôt le matin, essayait de passer la balayeuse sans trop me déranger.

Finalement, merci à ma famille qui de loin ou de proche a contribué à mon progrès : ma Grand-mère, Lise, François (qui me traduisait des mots), Sylvie, Jean et sa famille, Laurent et Marjo et leurs tout petits. Je voudrais aussi lancer un merci spécial à Mr. Laurence O’Dwyer (a.k.a. Mr. Bougaloo) qui m’a continuellement et quotidiennement encouragée ou distraite avec ses niaiseries infinies. « Hammer away, Chicken! »; trois mots qui traînaient toujours dans ma tête alors que mes doigts martyrisaient le clavier. Well done everyone. Merci, Mr. BougalooOOOoo…...ta ChicKen ZeebrA.

Finalement, finalement………MES PARENTS. Merci. Que puis-je dire d’autres? Merci, parce que vous êtes toujours là; pour tout. Parce que je sais que vous m’aimez et que vous vous foutez éperdument de ce mémoire. La seule chose que vous voulez vraiment c’est que vos enfants soit heureux. Et dans ce monde, c’est tout ce que nous pouvons demander à nos parents. Nous avons grandis avec des histoires de pirates et d’îles aux Trésors; la Famille Bourdon encore soudainement échouée sur une mystérieuse île avec une carte codée. Je suis définitivement prête pour ma prochaine aventure. Merci à vous deux, un amour infinie.
Sincèrement, merci à tous (surtout à mes parents)

Finding answers!!!!

Riding home

2007-05-24T08:22:00.000-03:00

Next thing I know, all smiles, the three of us (Famel, my father and I) pack in a big white U.N. truck and wizz down the outskirt streets of Port-au-Prince.
“We have to get back, it’s getting dark fast. Curfew is on.” (My dad casually mentions)
Curfew??!!
Yes, curfew. We are not supposed to be out after 5h. It gets dark early here.
Oh! Okay.

The truck skips and hops down the uneven street. We talk wildly trying to catch up everything in 30 seconds. I sit in the front eyes PHYSICALLY wide open to help me absorb more of the surroundings.
THIS PLACE LOOKS LIKE CHAOS.
The roads “might” be paved but I can’t be sure … to much guck, dust, mud, holes, bumps, clumps.
I feel like I’m bobbing down a movie scene war zone. Every building, house, structure looks as if it could topple down, the angles aren’t right. Houses drawn up by children look straighter. Nothing is rectangular or square… everything seams made of mismatched lozenges and trapezes. Roofs arc down, walls bulge out. The taller structures make Pisa look like a joke. IF there is a door, it sits screwed to one side, flapped open, unhinged at the bottom or top (depending). Usually a scruffy, skinny dog sleeps at the base. That is IF there IS a door.
Everything is made of stacked, unpainted, unplastered grey cement cinder blocks.
Messes of electric spider wires stretch out from the houses, but only oil lamps glow inside. Children run around like gazelles through piles of garbage.
At this point, Famel taps me lightly on the shoulder and says smiling: “Lock your door, Miss Budon. Lesson 1: Here. We lock doors.”
“Oh! Yes, hi hi, I smile back”…
CLIMP!! I flick the lock-switch to “orange secure”.
We turn right at a street corner that once had traffic lights. It’s completely dark now.

Famel?!

2007-05-23T08:52:00.000-03:00

… I scan the lined up faces along the airport exit ramp looking for my father. Nothing. People still hound me but it’s not as bad. I have enough freedom to stop, cell phone in hand, and punch in the number I have. I am not panicked… yet.
A smiley old man approaches me, arm stretched out, directing me “Over there, over there”.… I decide to follow him.
… He points me to a another man, a stranger, a white stranger man (the only other white around).
I shake my head saying “no”: It’s not him. The old guy looks at me confused.
I try to explain: He IS white but that is not him.
“Ah!!…” He says, a little surprised that our matching skin colour didn’t mean we knew each other.
At that moment, another (unknown) man approaches me from behind exclaiming (in french): Ahh! Miss Celine! Here, here I take your bags.
My first reaction was a “fight or flight”: I pulled my bags out of his reach saying
“Who are you!”
Thinking, “How come you know my name!”
“Oh, I am Famel.” He says, a little hurt.
Famel?
Yes, your father’s driver. Mosieu Budon is waiting over there by the truck.
Oh! Oh! … I clumsily mumble a sorry. Anyone could tell that Famel is the super “kind bright-eyed enthusiast” type. He is a little disappointed that I didn’t know who he was. I play catch up with a big bright:
…. Famel!! Yes yes, nice to meet you, Famel.
He smiles and instantly takes over my bags and fuses over me. It feels strange all this enthusiasm over me coming from a complete stranger. I follow Mr.Famel through the smooth chocolate skin and, finally, I spot my white javex father.
HEEEEeeeelooooooOOOOO!!!!!!!

Big Creature page! (made by.... Mr.Toro Little)

2007-05-21T06:46:00.000-03:00

For the child in you... please view this blogsite!
(It's worth it.)
Brings you back to what is good about being a kid. Simple.
"View his complete profile", I think he might have a bit of Calvin in him.

http://faunaonearth.blogspot.com (click sidebar link)
I like pyroraptor toooOOO!!!!

I especially like his references in "ORCA". I will keep that in mind for my next works.

PORT-AU-PRINCE: Aéroport Maïs-Gâté

2007-05-21T06:04:00.000-03:00

I will always remember walking out of the Port-au-Prince airport. It used to be called “Maïs-Gâté” which translates as “Rotten-Corn International Airport”. It had a nice ring to it. Hélas, they recently changed it to a “proper” name that I forget.
Inside the air is yellow, stagnant. Corridors seem empty and offices are for chatting. The immigration officer stamps my passport with a desperate bored indifference. I understand he has other things on his mind, I pass through.
Rucksack on back, pack sac on bellie, big wheelie suitcase wheeling behind, I aim for the exit.
The doors open.
The sun hits. Faces, arms, mouths, teeth, yelling. Men. Eyes. People.
Lots of them.
I just entered Chaos, if there is such a place. They all want something, want to take my bags, pop me in a taxi. Wisk me off, to where?
I try and make my way through, look busy, walk. Zig zag, don’t stop. I am short, men are tall. No eye contact.
My sister’s voice comes to me once again: “Just pretend you know what your doing!”
A bolder man just grips the handle of my wheelie bag and tries to make me let go. I don’t.
I continue walking down the exit ramp. He walks with me, looking at me sharp in the eye: “Taxi, taxi”. “No, thank you” I say. He continues.
I’m nervous and he doesn’t care. I walk on and he finally lets me go.

I am only now able to start scanning faces: “Look for father” my brain commands. Should be easy (he is white) but I’ve not seen him yet.
What if he’s not there? With all the plane mix up, it IS possible.

Traffic

2007-05-10T12:58:00.000-03:00

The plane is supposed to be taking off for Haiti in two minutes. I sit buckled while people are still discussing how to stuff their things in the over head bins. Everybody has a lot of stuff. They bring everything they can into the country, you see. These people don’t look poor but somehow they all know what it is… in a blazé “that is how it” is kind of way.
I watch them pack the plane full of big tapped-up boxes all seemingly threatening to open. The captain urges everyone to hurry:
“Please secure your items and get ready for take off as fast as possible, we are running late”…
It feels as if only professional self-control stopped him from sarcastically adding “Again” at the end of his sentence.
The only ones that pick up pace are the flight attendants.
Finally, we depart. I am excited. Excited and nervous. Quite nervous actually. Last time I felt like this, I was travelling solo in Chili and Peru. This feeling I get when I think I know where I am going, but... I am not sure.
I listen to Haitian créole.
Trying to decipher what I can.
I can’t.
I am completely aware that most everyone in this plane is of a different shade of black:
from starless midnight to a pale “café au lait”.
Everyone, except: the flight crew, the three missionaries that had tried to convert me in the waiting lounge and a relatively large Spanish family.
The family looks like a young version of the “Sopranos” but 100times more fashionable. Maybe Colombian I though… except they mostly spoke English.
The Gino-man looks in his late 30’s. He is in complete control of the situation as his beautiful model wife organises the 3 fashion kids. A third woman, freshly into her twenties flips through a Vogue magazine. They all wear very large sunglasses.
Getting off the plane, I watch them walk together across the tarmac in late afternoon sun; the sound track of “Traffic” plays in my head.

International smugling operation: Gold Clown Fish

2007-05-04T06:04:00.000-03:00

Finally, finally, ladies and gentlemen: I am AT Miami airport (a tiny hour late for the flight)
(I mean, baaH, I almost made it).
I report back to head base explaining the goof up and settling all the paper work to get on the next plane to Haiti (at least I had my passport).
At this point, everything seemed to be turning out okay since, the delay in schedule did not seem to really matter and luckily enough they did not even charge me the usual “small” “administration” fee?! Cool. The lady at the check-in counter was really nice and my brain was starting to relax from all the morning excitements. When….

The goldfish started winking at the check-in lady. She was fishly cute so they tried hard: Wink, wink, through the plastic bag. They swam and swam frantically trying there best moves to catch her eye (they’re real charmers you see).
The woman, playing hard to get, rapidly glances at them and casually asked me: “Have you checked if they are aloud to enter your country of destination?”
I was too embarrassed to say…
“No. I have not checked” (I partly knew it could be a problem but…)

COME ON! These are AMERICAN FISH !!! …
I figured that they practically need a “health card” and serial number printed on their tails to live in the States.
How can they not be accepted in HAITI, country of chaos and lawlessness?!
Now I know what you are thinking but: they do have goldfish in Haiti, they’re just hard to find. So, it is not as if I was “introducing” a new species or anything.
Anywayz as it turns out: … you are aloud to bring to Haiti (no problem) DOGS, CATS, BIRDS but NOT fish. Go figure! Shit.
(shite, shite, shite)

What to do?

Now, some noofie read my previous blog entries and the other day he asked me: “but what was it with the fish? Why were you going around with fish? I didn’t get that part.”
Well… if the noofie in question (ahumm ahumm, Jon?! …. PIERCE) would have read my previous posts, he would understand that:

My father has been living in Haiti for a while now working with the U.N. M.I.N.U.S.T.A.H. mission (French, stands for: International U.N. Mission for Stabilization something, something in Haiti) (Don’t quote me on that).
Anywayz, he had given me a special list of “commodities” that he was desperately lacking over there and…. a “couple of goldfish” was high up in priority along with the BOOMbox.

When you have no electricity, I guess goldfish can be somewhat entertaining.

NOW
I would like to point out that: Fish come in water.
Yes.
An important detail considering the new anti-water policies. Could I fit them in my “make-up and liquid ziploc bag”?

Hummm…. Think, think…
SYYYYLLLvvviiieeeeee!!!!!! (I call my sister)

What do I do with these fishes? Smuggle them in?
We (I) didn’t want to consider the other option (yet).
So, my sister and I brain stormed…
They had to come through the scanner with me.
What if… I just packed them in my bra?!! Created myself a makeshift WaterWonderBra.
Yes!! One fish, each side in minimal survival water… (just till I get to the other side).
Women use “water-bras” all the time! … I’ve been frisked many times and the whole boob general area is always completely carefully avoided.
Hum! And …maybe with enhanced “features”, the guards might be distracted enough not to notice any wiggling waves… I’d just smile and wink.

Celine, my sister says: what if they are “discovered”, would the top-security airport people let you through? Or just take the fish away? If they take them away, would they take them home? Or flush em?

What happens to fish smugglers?
I got cold feet.
I chickened out.

I am sorry but this story has no happy ending but only a quite sad and embarrassing one. I actually debated a long time before writing this. Shall I expose to everyone just how stupid I can get? Hum. But it happened, and hopefully never again.

In the end, I had to flush Mr.Fishies down the loo. They would of indeed have been flushed by the guards and so, I rather flush them myself than hand them over. I thought about John Steinbeck’s “Of mice and Men”, when the old man says; “I should’a killed that dog myself”. Yes, I know what he meant. I silently said my goodbyes, looked one last time at their googly fish faces. They had been my goofy friends.
I remembered the passage in the book when George kills his friend Lenny as he talked of dreams and rabbits.

Flush.
That hurt. They are fish.
I know.
But it felt like such a waste.

I wished I could believe that, like NEMO, they would end up in the ocean and make there way to Australia to visit my friend Petra in Adelaide. Sorry, Mr.Fishies!!!!!! (really, I am).
My heart still goes a little dark every time I think of them.

Off the train docks ... Plan A, B, C, D, E

2007-05-02T15:37:00.001-03:00

I missed the flight, since I would have to be seated in my bench buckled up for take off in 20 minutes.
Here I am, just out the train docks with my rucksack on my back, my little packsac on my belly, a wheelie luggage bag in one hand and the goldfish in the other.
I see the airport in the distance, it is not far, just across the overpass. The place looks like a construction zone in the middle of an industrial field.
I watch people hoping in taxis with all there luggage. One person per taxi.
That is silly. We are "obviously" all going to the same place.
I decided to be pro-environment and ask a stranger to share a taxi.
I start approaching a youngh-ish businessman already getting installed. He throws me a weary look, as if I wanted to "steal" his taxi.
I pushed on... but just as I open my mouth to start making my proposal a simple thought crossed my mind.

I have no money.

I mean, I "have" money... but no "American" money.

In fact my wallet is bulging with "Canadian dollars", "British pounds", "Euros", a couple of lost "Polish Zloties" and one "Haitian gourde".

I shut my open mouth and walk passed the man leaving him in wonder, flustered by my sudden approach and mysterious pulling back.

What to do now? I watch the last taxi leave. Plan A out the window.
No bank machines around (unless there is one hiding between the construction containers).

Plan B.
I decide to walk.
It's just across the overpass. I can see the airport, the towers and planes right there.
So, I tuck the goldfishes under my arm (in case they get sunburned) and start wheeling my wheelie bag towards the overpass bridge.
All plans must be flexible, you know.
As I carried, tugged and pulled my bags towards the over pass, I could see that it was under reconstruction.
There was no (absolutely no) side walk to walk over. Two narrow lanes just barely letting the car traffic go by.
To walk over the bridge would mean to walk "IN" the car lane, blocking traffic to a snail carrying, tugging and pulling pace.
I imagined the accumulating row of cars honking at me all the way across, I just might get arrested for disturbing the peace. Not a very good option.

Plan C.
There must be a way to get across through the construction site? Humm...
I boldly enter the "orange-coned" territory.
The ground is a mix of pebbles, stones and white grey cement powder. My wheelie bag starts taking on grey colors as it splashs through construction site milky puddles.
It is hot, and I am sweating... Can goldfish get sun stroked?

I wheeled along through the huge "diggers" and "things" thinking the place was empty. I was half way across the bridge before I came across a construction worker.

He was (typically) leaning on his shovel looking at me from under his yellow helmet as if I was from a different planet.
Excuse me sir, do you know of anyway I can get across the bridge to the airport?
He continued to stare at me (as if I was from an even farther planet).
He looked Mexican so I changed tactics; "Camino airport?"
(Camino? Camino? is that the right word??)
I think he understood more my little walking fingers than my words.
He started shaking is head... no no.
Flapping his hands; Go back, go back.
Humm... I guess I need a plan D.

Plan D.
I briefly contemplated the option of making a run for it. I saw myself, James Lady Bond, running across the bridge (with luggage and goldfish).
I didn't think the fish would survive the stress so I opted to walk back... through the same dirty milk puddles.
Would a taxi agree to take me across and wait while I get to a cash machine?
I was almost out of the construction site when one of those huge (I mean HUGE!) pick up trucks stops next to me.
The driver rolls down his window. He was another construction guy (one of every woman's dreams) (except he had a shirt on).
"Where is it are you trying to get to?" He asks me. Then, of course, offers to drive me: "It wouldn't be a problem." He says.

I hesitate. Two whole seconds; all the "voices" in head... : "do not take candy from strangers"
"do not hitch hike" "do NOT get into cute construction guys cars".

All those automatic voices... "Do not, do not... do not..." ...
But in 2 seconds they passed and I said: "Okay. Why not."

Plan E.
I popped the bags in the pick up (with much arm effort since the box was so high).
We chatted all the way across the overpass. Actually, the traffic was so slow, I could of walked across at slow snail tugging, pulling pace.
It would of looked strange but it would of been okay.
The guy was really nice, 31 from some small town in Oklahoma. How did he end up in Florida... no jobs back home.
I asked if he had a family, his eyes light up like a Christmas tree.
Yes, it's on it's way.
It's on it's way? I questioned smiling.
Yes, he smiled, I have a beautiful Jamaican wife, I don't know exactly when, but it was on it's way.
We laughed.

Poetry and train drivers

2007-04-03T11:15:00.000-03:00

30 minutes later... I was still on the non-moving train.
I watched the golfish wiggle around in their plastic bag. They pock at me.
40 minutes... the storkes fly off... 60 minutes.
(but I have a fLIGHTTTT too!!!)
At this point, I am in grave danger of missing my plane.
92 minutes: I keep calculating in minutes... cause it sounds better.
118 minutes...
"Running late" is an understatement. The plane leaves in 1hour. We are still one hour away.
My arythmetical brain calculates the equation: hopeless.
Shit (excuse the language).
I had to accept that I had missed the 5th plane of my life sitting in this train.
The train drivers voice, comes on again, "cause we all need it today, I'll read another poem."
At this point, I think “ Yes, we need it today”.
This man is a living doctorate in philosophy or litterature... He understands more about the impact of litterature on daily lives then all the dusty thesis dying in librairies.
What will he read tomorrow? How does he pick the bits and pieces?

To anyone travelling to Miami, I recommend the 5 A.M. Trirail train ride. It's a little late sometimes but it gives you a welcoming picture of a small man doing something inexplicably magical. I almost (I said almost) didn't mind missing my plane.

PS: I tried to find the poems on the internet, but alas! Googling: Danish, poet, light, ice and day... is just not enough.

A quirk of nature

2007-04-03T10:53:00.001-03:00

After wishing ourselves good luck in all our “things”, the young “to-be nurse” stepped off the train at her stop.
I rapidly slipt into a day dream. When . When. The train stopped.
The train stopped?
Stopped. In the middle of Floridian marsh land a.k.a. No where.
All I see in the distance are white flamingo looking birds (actually they must be storks).
I watch them. The “Floridius Storkinus” walks poking around the water as if trying not to get his feathers dirty...
The train is still stoped when a bright voice comes on the intercom. It’s the train driver: "Ladies and Gentleman, there will be a delay of undetermined duration; a train running in opposite direction has run into trouble and is blocking our passage.
We have to wait for it to be towed away before getting on our way. We apologize for any inconvenience."
The image of a train version of a tugboat makes my brain panick a little...
this is going to be a looooooOOOOOng!
Oh, o!
But! I have a flight!
The sunny voice comes back on: "I will be passing around in the aisle for any questions you might have. Any anger can be diverted to me, just not in a physical way (little laugh)....
slight pause
"Now, here is a little note from the danish poet.... (I am sorry I did not catch the danish guy’s name) (my brain was too busy digesting the eminent flight disaster)
The cheery voice starts reading out a poem over the intercom. Reading a poem over an intercom in a train! One about new ice, days and lights... one that says
the past is gone, look out for tomorrow.
Of course, I think of Laurence and laugh a little, he would love this!
I comment to the guy sitting in front of me: “How nice it is to hear poetry like this in the train.”
The man, kind of blazé, answers: "ah yes, but he does it all the time."
" all the time?!"
Yes, everyday, sometimes poems, sometimes little stories. They're usually quite good, actually.
Ah!...
( “even more wonderful” I think).
A few moments later, a 50ish blackman walks down the aisles greeting people. He was welcomingly simple, well built with salt and peppered hair. He was, no doubt, the train driver. All he needed to complete the fairy tail picture was a blue and white stripped cap. A man who loved his job and found meaning in trying to give people lightness in their morning commute ....
a real quirck of nature.

Getting to Miami...

2007-04-03T10:50:00.000-03:00

5 A.M. I am throwing the last things in my bag. 5 A.M. that's ruff, ruff on me and ruff on my Grandparents.
At 10h32, I am to be on the plane leaving Miami for Haiti. Mac and Jaqui drive me down to the Trirail (the train) (donut breakfast in the car).
We say quick goodbyes as the train arrives. I think: I must thank them properly, this is too quick.
Thank you!!!! (waving through the train window)
I install all my luggage (and the goldfishes) (yes, I had gotten the goldfish my dad mentioned wanting).
I sit down facing a young very "petite" black girl. She was in fact my age but she seemed younger.
She was crash-preparing for her last term exam in nursing... her note books were out but we ended up chatting most of the way.
(I can be a blabber mouth) (of course, you all knew that).
She mentioned getting up at 5 A.M. everyday... "to prepare and comb the little one's hair".
Oh, you have kids (I say).. oh, no, no they're my nieces and nephews...
All of a sudden, I picture a more panoramic family household, those which include nieces and nephews, grandmothers, mothers and sisters...
The center atoms of her family seems to be women. Like an Almodovarian film, the men just kind of orbit and collide around. I imagine what it must be like, to wake up in that
kind of house, one bulging with lives bouncing off each other.
I imagine rummaging around looking for pink hair clips to fasten a child's multiples braids.
"But… I wanted the blue ones!!" Inevitable.

A pipe, for what?!….

2007-02-28T13:14:00.000-04:00

Before leaving for Haiti, I had to get a couple of things my dad asked for:
- boom box (radio)
- bubbly water pump (for fish tank)
- goldfish (two)
- smoking pipe.

Needless to say, the smoking pipe was the most tricky element. Mac, my grandmother and I went on "Mission Pipe".
Mac waited out in the "getaway" car as my grandmother and I entered a tiny smoky (literally, smoky) (literally very smoky) tobacco store.
At the counter was a very pretty past-middle age woman, very pretty except for the distinct grayish smokers tint to her skin.
Hello, would you have smoking pipes? I asked.
-Yes, would it be for "recreational" purposes?
Well, no. I mean yes. I mean, I guess yes. It’s for Voodoo.
-Voodoo.
She looks at me with a questioning surprised glance for 1/2 a second.
- Ahumm, well I don’t exactly know about any Voodoo. She says.
Neither do I… I mean it’s for a "friend".
(I strangely feel like it’s the 1950’s and I am asking for condoms)
(but it’s the 2000’s and I am asking for a smoking pipe) (for Voodoo)
- I see… she says (with a pause)... Voodoo is the creepy doll thing, hein?
Yes.
- Well, I saw a movie once….
and she started pulling out all kinds of different pipes to which followed a strange "pipe" discussion: pipes, filters, pipe cleaners, styles, long and sleek, short and classic, wood, not wood.
... I felt a little dumbed .... Well, I do not know, it’s for a Haitian girl that does Voodoo.
- Ahh! It’s for a women! she exclaims.
So, we start discussing the different “feminine” attributes of the various pipes.
Pipes and femininity, my brain has another one of those association problems. Pipes and femininity is like chocolate cake and breakfast....
why not?
Then I think: " But; she is a lesbian tomboy Voodoo woman, I do not think a feminine pipe is what she really wants?
- Hum… what about this one. It’s not “too” expensive, it’s kind of cool, and it’s feminine but not “too” feminine.
Okay.
My grandmother and I close the deal.
... filters, pipe cleaners, pipe, (free box of matches) all hidden in a brown paper bag, my Grand-mother and I inconspicuously make a rapid escape from the tiny smoky store...
Mac was waiting for us in the car engine running. The light turns green, perfect timing! Surely, no one had time to take our licence plate number.
"Pipe Mission" accomplished.

Florida mini-holiday! (Before Haiti)

2007-02-27T12:28:00.000-04:00

Notice warning: Don’t try, it’s a lost cause. You will never find a super package deal holiday like this off the internet.

This is the first time I am in Florida other than Christmas time. The weather it is as nice as I had imagined it to be. I was tired after all the travels, and this was time to recuperate.
Did a lot of eating and sleeping.
The long flight left me with a cold (which made me think of Cat and Luke).
We had a couple of dips in the Jacuzzi spa hot-tub (Yes, I did say: Jacuzzi spa hot-tub)
(oh, stop being jealous!)
I even splashed around in the pool (in February). Grandmaman wrote it in her calendar, beat that Sylvie!
They have these 2 little battery-powered fish that swim around (see picture). One liked to explore the pool, and the other just swims in circles.

Quite funny.
I played tag with them, and it surprisingly worked quite well.
Then, of course we ate and dinned. At any meal time, Mac would sneak out to his garden and flowers, onions, and different herbs would magically appear.
One morning, I got French toast! With real maple syrup (from Lise). Grand-maman then showed me how to knit little slipper boots trimmed with “fun fur”! (Picture to come).
We also went for a trip to the “local” mega-super-Walmart! It was so huge you could get in shape just by walking around the store 3 times.
I think Walmart should hold “national push kart” races through out its stores. One where you have to pick up 10 items and cross a finish line. I mean, it would have every good element of a sport: speed, strategy, show of strength and stamina. PLUS, most elements of the cheesy "reality" shows! It would “work” I am sure.
Then,
of course, Mac and Granny took me for a visit around, we pick-nicked at the ocean (yes, yes, it was turquoise blue). We stopped at “Carl et Nicole” ’s discovery spot, bathtub beach (or something like that), beautiful.
The day was completed with a nice walk down a peer (just to disturbed the fishermen and the pelicans).

Bike hit no.5 (old news by now) (happened in Nottingham)

2007-02-26T07:32:00.000-04:00

I have a confession to make. A non-fun adventure. Involving… me… and (yes, again…) my bike.
I was happily pedalling down a busy buzy street in Nottingham, singing a Bugaloo song (which sounds a bit like a drunken wolf), when a man (passenger seat) decided to jump out of the car at the traffic lights and…. open his door.
The door hit my right shoulder and knee (since they drive on the wrong side of the street) and I fell into the side road railings. My right knuckles turned blue as if I punched a door (but then, I kind of did!).
I was not going that fast but my shoulder was definitely in bruised pain and swelling up fast. The man (who opened the door) wanted to "help" me up... So, he started pulling my arm (my hurting arm). I told him (calmly) “let go my arm”, but he continued tugging it, trying to pull me up from the ground.
I then more forcefully but with “calculated” calm said “my arm hurts, let go my arm”. He continued. I repeated but he kept pulling. I was on the edge of becoming a real enraged tiger, when another man jumped over the railings and saved me, making him release his grip. I almost blew a screw, but I was happy to have stayed calm, and especially happy to have my arm back. He was not to touch me anymore.
I felt bruised and pained but nothing serious. A small group of people had gathered, they seemed more panicked then I was (I guess it looks worst from the side lines). I told them I was fine, but they had already called an ambulance at that point.
So, I got a full check up by the ambulance guy. Blood pressure, eyes, everything. I told him I felt bruised but I was okay. He wrote up a report and let me go home.
This was bike-knock-off number 5. 5! My cat lives are running down, but then I am a dog person (hopefully, dogs have more). I have a brand new bike helmet.
It is black and white with a kind of dragon tail design on it (make me feel like a dragon!) (I am a dragon!).
I plan on growing wings and spitting fire at the bad cars.
The other solution would be to get an E.T. basket, find E.T. and get him to fly me over cars when needed.
Then, I am thinking of Christmas lights, big orange flags and blow horns.
I thought I was paranoid of doors before, but now I know what paranoia really is (actually, I am starting to be very scared on bikes; always getting these frightened mini heart attacks... a car!! ahh, a car!!!). I cross roads like a panicked animal afraid to get clobbered.
I am thinking of running into work instead of cycling. Humm… it might extend my life expectancy.

This is an old story by now, but I had it all written up so I just posted it anyways...

Since then, my good friend Marije got me flashy fluorescent green lights to put in my spokes.
(Now, I am going more for the "StarTrek alien dragon" look!)

Mac and Jaqui

2007-02-24T23:49:00.000-04:00

Arriving at Fort Lauderdale!!
By this time. I was tired. Very tired.
I walked out of the exit airport doors, and there they were!! Mac and my Granny both waiting for me (Mac sleeping in the sofa). It was passed 12 p.m. you see; way, way passed everybody’s bedtime.
The journey back to Port St-Lucie was hazardously slow (traffic jam) but the conversation was good.
I hope you guys all know Mac and my Granny; I always brag about them eloping to get married in Las Vegas after meeting "playing bridge" over the internet (I mean, we all know how those seniors like to live on the wild side!)

This was actually the first time I got to get to know them together and it was lovely. There is a lot of “jokey” comments I don’t always understand; Lots of underground teasing, you see…
The first morning, believe it or not, I woke up at 9h (running just a little late for the lab meeting).
Tip, top, tip, top, I head for the kitchen, my belly rumbling for food. As I sit to eat my makeshift breakfast, Mac pops out with on of those morning looks (noticeable only by his slightly messed up hair).
Our early “chit chat” had just started when he opened the fridge door saying “I like breakfast!”.
He says this pulling out a huge piece of chocolate cake.
I stare blankly for half a second while my brain tries to process the association: Chocolate cake - Breakfast.
Eurrr, Eurrr… bells go off; a big red cross pops up in my mind. X.
Automatic brain response. Chocolate cake - Breakfast. X. X. X.
I almost felt I was doing some kind of fMRI task with “error! error!” lighting up across all grey matter.
Mac laughs: Want a piece?
Brain processes speed up… Chocolate cake - breakfast? Choc-break… Why not!
He continues to chuckle as he hands me the cake: “I like to have this every morning. Your Grand-mother, of course, flips every morning….”: he tells me this as he hands the cake to me.
What he really meant was: hihi, watch her double flip this morning!
As we both digged in the moist chocolate, my granny finally came out (with hair a lot more messy then Mac's).
“Oh! You, you, look at what your doing!! Your going to give her all your bad habits!!!”
I must say: My grandmother failed miserably at making this sound like a stern reproach (she tried you know, but with a chuckling Mac it is hard to keep a straight face).
And so it went.
We had our chocolate cake, and ate it.
For breakfast.

Flight Montreal-Fort Lauderdale

2007-02-24T19:50:00.000-04:00

SNOW!!! COLD!! HOME!!! I almost felt like taking a picture of snow like a proper tourist. I had a 3hours lay over in Montreal, before embarking on the flight to the U.S. of A.
Nothing notable really happened other than…

I was next in line to be questioned by the big serious USA boarder official. I had my big rucksack on my back and my little backpack on my belly. When a security guard catches my eye and points behind me; meaning look, look.
I turn around trying to see what he is getting at but I do not quite understand. He continues to point behind me, and I turn around again, starting to look like a puppy running after it’s tail.
I then notice a little water puddle on the ground and little water splashes forming circular patterns. Hummm, Sherlock…
What is this?
I finally understand, water was seeping out of my rucksack!
As I opened the bottom of my bag to see what was going on, another half liter of water waterfalls out on the floor.
Oops.
My cheap 6 pound “Eurohike” wanna be nalgene bottle had emptied in my bag.
The security guard winked at me and got up to I presume fetch a mopper guy.
I wish I stayed to thank him but the boarder officer was barking: Next! Next!
My clothes dried out well but my books have kept the “wavy crumpled” look.

Then, the only other happening was… a medical emergency on the plane. First, there was some commotion and then a clam calculated voice on the speaker phones: “We have a medical emergency on the plane. If you are a doctor or nurse please identify yourself.”
They then hulled a youngish 40ish unconscient women from the front to the back of the plane.
The flight attendants were busy pulling out all kinds of emergency gadgets when a women passenger doctor took the stethoscope and started giving direct short polite orders.
After 15-20 minutes everything looked under control but the dad and the child looked a little distressed. The woman eventually woke up about an hour or so later and seemed to be fine in the end. It was some kind of diabetic low sugar coma thing.
We got to the airport early.
The doors were opened and ambulance guys stormed in and wanted to wisked her away.
Humm, planes... always a place to think.

I had finally arrived!
FLORIDA! WARM! Hot! Palm trees! I was so happy to see MAC & JAQ (Jaqueline)!!! My granny parents!!!! Right there, waiting for me!
I had not seen them in so long (too long)! And I was just so happy to be there!

Flight London-Montreal

2007-02-24T15:00:00.000-04:00

Grand departure. Finally. Long flights are always a time to think.
The plane is cracking with people. I have a window seat and I glance at the people around me as they all glance at the people around them. I notice in the middle of the middle aisle a young Hindu women cradling a tiny baby boy with skin the color of earth and big beautiful eyes of the darkest kind.

The movie is nothing too interesting so I read.
Two hours and some in flight, the baby is not the happiest camper, the mother softly cradles him whispering chui, chui, chui’s in his ear… she almost puts ME to sleep trying to put him to sleep.
He does, but
not for long.
He wakes hungry and crying. Three hours in flight, the mother starts looking tired and the baby is still being grumpy. You can feel her getting more and more tired as she tries to calm him, distract him, swing him, play with him.
I start thinking: I should offer to take him.
But, I bloc myself, I feel awkward “I’m so clumsy with those little “gigotting” things”
(Gigotting = moves like a little fish)…
plus! I would bother the person sitting next to me (perfect excuse).
I do not offer.
An hour goes by.
I get up to go to the bathroom.
Another hour goes by.
I feel more and more uneasy watching her.
I finally decide to get up and ask her if she would like me to take him while she goes to the bathroom. She looks at me with a bit of a stare, she doesn’t quite understand the words but her face brightens at my flapping hands.
Jeremy! She says as she gives him to me. I could see the relief in her face; and all I could think was: Gee! Wiz! I could’a-should’a offered before… why did I hesitate so much?
Anyways. I made friends with the little guy, he pulled my necklace and tried to chew off Mr.Sextopus’s legs for the rest of the flight while his mommy closed her eyes a little.
He gave me quite the arm workout.
So.

Lesson of the day: Do not hesitate just offer.

The plane the plane

2007-02-24T13:51:00.000-04:00

At this point, my stress was going down, the air I breathed would make it all the way to the bottom of my lungs.
I was ironically flying through Montreal to catch my transfer to Fort Lauderdal, Florida (where my Granny and Mac were going to pick me up).
Right before embarking, the Pakistani or Indian family just ahead of me gets stopped.
Why are you going to Canada, sir? Do you have your immigration papers?
The man's look is one of tired despair, a nervousness.
He hesitates.
The official continues; Why are you going to Canada, sir?
The father's body turns towards his (again) pregnant wife and five children following behind. He does not seem to know what to say.
The five kids stare, transfixed. The oldest is maybe 10, I count the numbers of pigtails, they're almost all little girls.
They stare, eyes open wide (they might not know what's going on, but they know something is not right).
Their mother, resigned, opens a suitcase bursting with administrative documents and files.
You would think that having this whole suit case filled with papers would bring them some kind of comfort.
Watching her, you realise that she must of opened that case at least 60times that day; she pulled out files and papers, and permits, and all those whatchamacallits.
There was literally fear and tension in the air as another guard waves me passed them.
The whole family was pushed back against the wall.
About half an hour later, not even the kids had moved. They just stood there frozen against the wall as they watched everybody else walk through the gate.
Just before boarding the plane, I looked back.
They were still there.
At this point, I thought... hummm, there will be 7 empty seats on this flight.

Finally Departing!

2007-02-24T11:23:00.000-04:00

The bus arrives at London Heathrow airport terminal 3. I tried to wipe off my forehead printed in the bus window but I only managed to make it look worst. So instead, I pretended it wasn't me, and collected my things. I am almost 2 hour before my flight. Everything is under control. I hop down to the Air Canada stalls and find myself face to face with an automatic check-in machine robot thing.
Okay.
How does this work?
He wants my passport. Okay.
I try feeding it to his little slot, face up. He spits it out. I try face down. He spits it out. Red lights start flashing, he is starting to look angry.
Error, Error...
Look mister I went to University. I can figure this out.
So I jam it in the other way, picture reversed, recto-verso. Bar code! He wants the bar code. Clock-wise, anti-clock wise.
I feel like I am playing passport-tetris.
Probably a fun game when you are not stressed.
Oh! Look there is a little picture diagram with explanations! Neet. Finally, the machine flashes green!
Type in your name.
C.e.l.i.n.e. B.o.u.r.d.o.n.
Address of US destination?
G.r.a.n.d m.o.t.h.e.r. i.n. F.l.o.r.i.d.a.
Enter Zip code.
#1.g.r.a.n.n.y.

Error Error, the machine starts flashing red again.
He is about to declare me a terrorist. I can almost see little arms come out of the box to hand cuffs me.
But, look Mister. I do not know where I am going! Is that a crime!
I start racking my brains, come on, think of a Florida Zip code!!
I feel like I'm playing "Who wants to be a millionaire" and I decide to use one of my "life lines". I'll phone "a friend".
I almost empty my purse on the floor rummaging through my bag... Finally, I find my phone, and my phone numbers. Good. It's something like 7h00 AM in Canada. Not so good.
Gee, people will really love me today!!
First, I called my aunt Lise and left her (yet another) panicky message.
I NEED GRAND MAMAN's adresss or they will not let me on the plane! Then, I called my house in Canada. No one there (of course).Then, Sylvie, no answer.
Then, I called; Laurence... (just in case he might know my Grand-mother's number)......
then, I found!!! Brilliant! Laurent's number (my brother).
7h00, Saturday morning (in cold cold Canada).
Laurent! Do you have Grand-maman's adresss? As I listen to my brother's sleepy search, I think: humm, wouldn't want to have too many friends like me, or too many sisters like me either.
Well, Laurent saved the day!
I finally made it through the check in.
I wizzed through the duty free shop only stopping once to poosh-poosh myself with 3 or 4 different perfumes. I then happily made my way down to the departure gate followed by Seduction, Red delicious and Euphoria.

The grand departure

2007-02-24T09:20:00.000-04:00

Today, the 24th a new adventure was starting, I woke up to a screaming alarm clock. 7h00. 7h00.
Yesterday's Cock and Hoop night out was real fun. It's a good thing some left a little early cause they would of heard for the Xmillion-th time the story of :
The Poltergeist attack! The dangers of T.V.s and elevators.
Then again, they missed the marvellous tap dancing show... too bad! (see Jamila, Petra or Andreas for details)
7h00!! Shit, one hour to pack! Shit shit shit, first: music
(a necessity to get my brain to wake up)
... then I start throwing my bag together; Canadian pants, British pants, T-shirts, socks (the funny ones I got for my birthday), books, more books (including Pyongyang), tooth brush (should I bring the red or the blue one? red, blue, red, blue... both!?), head lamp.... .... my brain starts to slow as it is unable to come up with other brilliant things to bring.... .... hair elastics?... batteries...
passport! Yes yes, passport.
What else.... *#$##$^% 8h!!
Okay, okay, calm down. Focus.GET TO BUS STATION (easy).
Walk walk walk, skip, run walk.
Hello, Mam what time does the bus leave for the London airport?Which Airport, my dear?
... Which airport? good question!! Which airport? (my stress levels are sky rocketing here) (memories of missed planes flash through my head). I rummage through my bags, ticket, ticket, ticket, no ticket. Humm...8h30. Saturday morning. Which airport?
8h30. Saturday morning.
Only solution: Ring Cat.
(Sorry Cat!) (Sorry Luke!)
Cat!? (panicked voice) ahumm, well, Cat, you see, huu, humm can you ooooOOpen my email and tell me which airport I am supposed to go to?!
Thanks Cat, thanks a million (Irish influence).
I turn my brain dial to "focus" and listen to Cat's best airport flight attendant voice: Your flight ACC865 will be departing from Heathrow airport terminal 3. Have a pleasant voyage.
(Its so nice to have friends like this)
(but, not sure that having friends like me is that great... 8h30, saturday!)
I turn back to the lady behind the counter; Heathrow airport.
The bus leaves in 20 minutes. Good. It arrives at 1h. Good.
My flight leaves at 3h.
I will be fine.
I should be fine.
Surely I should be fine.
I mean chances are I'll be fine. Probably, 80% chances of being fine.
I'm usually lucky with these things.

Last week!

2007-02-19T09:37:00.000-04:00

This is my last week in safe-Nottingham, before heading off to sunny-Florida and then making my way too not-so-safe-Haiti. Why am I going again?
Florida? Well, to see "Grand-Maman" Jaqueline and Mac of course (I have not seen them since a shameful time ago)!
Yes, okay, but why go to Haiti?
Humm, good question. My father is there? Is that enough? Somehow, it doesn't seem to answer the question; Why Haiti?
I have to admit that I do not exactly know at this point. Could someone remind me? Haiti is the poorest country of the Americas and has been going through a "ruff patch" for some time now. Somehow, I feel pulled by curiosity (probably, a very naive curiosity). Is that a bad thing?
Actually, I believe I will only understand "why I am going" once I am there or maybe, I'll only understand once I have left or years and years later. For now, I see it as a strange inner pull to take a real glimpse at the lives of those we so often vaguely mention.
The "poor", the developing countries, the 3rd world, all vague terms we throw, matter of factly, between the subjects of governments, corporations, money and corruption. ... these are the people for whom we "clean your plate!" at diner time.
I want to see these people as they are and not how the charity infomercials present them. I want to see the U.N. and see what news flashes will never be able to portray.
I want to be confronted to my "developed" ways... In the end, I probably will continue, as I have... hiding behind my "smallness". What can we do? Einh, what can I do? "Me", a little squirt of a person. This is, I think, how most of us tend to explain and rationalize the injustices we live. I want to see the big picture long enough to stop kidding myself about what is important or not. Maybe, I'll come back simply more confused. Probably. Probably.
But, maybe I can understand pure chaos better then the semi-organised chaos of the "developed" world. Actually, right now, I only understand that I fear it but still want to go.

17 th of September 2006

2006-10-03T07:21:00.000-03:00

This was actually writen on the 17th but I only got around to post it up now.

16 days ago. I gave in my masters thesis (actually my mom did all the panicked last minute running around for me in Canada) (THANK YOU MOMMY!!). Yep! 16 days. Now now, I hear your complaints from here… “how come you didn’t give any news!!” Well, the truth is, I don’t exactly know. It is not that I do not think of guys or do not care (I hope you do not think that). I just have been running around like everybody, and my mind has not calmed down enough to write this note (till now). Then, I work all day on computers and I really really do not feel like sitting any longer by the end of the day. I will from now on try and befriend my computer again. I have not writen in such a long time, I do not know where to start. The mountain of things that have accumulated… (you should see my room!!).
Yes, I finally have a little place in Nottingham in the city center. A whole 82 seconds walk away from Catriona & Luke’s place (good friends). I have been living with my new roomate Martin (the strange man). He seems quite normal when you meet him though, and he is overly extremely nice (plus he has a wonderfull collection of CDs and DVDs) (plus he cooks!). We have a huge living room, perfectly suitable for parties and people visiting (hint, hint). We have bought most of the furniture by now so the place is slowly filling up.
My room is tiny TINY!!! So TINY, I resorted to buying a high high bunk bed freeing the space underneath. I like to think I got it to be able to store my bike, my camping gear and put a desk … but in reality, I just like climbing into my bed.
Things are happening or about to happen over in Canada and I have not a clue when but I know it is imminent. Marjo must be getting pretty pretty close to adding a little “Bourdon” to this world (there is never enough Bourdons, of course). I really hope things are going well! I say hi to Jean and his bunch, and wish good luck to Sylvie with the boat school. Sylvie and and boat school (who would of though). Sylvie is now officially “smaller” than I (who would of thought) haha! Mommy (my mommy) is to visit me in november for a week!! … I forget the dates but something like the 8th (I will have to check that). We will definitely have fun! I am trying to think of the best things to do. I am still planning to visit Haïti but my budget is in a tight spot right now with the appartment thing going. We will see how things go. No official ticket buying has been done yet so Haïti is still sadly in “maybe” ground (plus I did not ask my boss for the time off yet, which might actually be the main issue, but I will do it soon.)
Then, I hope all is well in the Bérubé-Jean family. Since, my friend Julie in Montréal just gave birth to little Raphaëlle!! (her third little “monster-angel”). I absolutely love that name! Julie, ça te déranges-tu si (si, si, SI…) jamais j’ai une fille je lui donne aussi ce nom, ha ha! Tu me chargeras des droits d’auteurs!!

Bye bye, for now, I will be trying to up date my adventures, since I had a few… and I am sure you have had plenty as well to tell me.
And one last thing: HAPPY BIRTHDAY LITTLE THOMAS!!!!!!!!!

Celine

Blog report:

2006-09-18T14:40:00.000-03:00

Exclusive interviews with Brain & body’s Centre famous (& notorious) athlete of the year, Miss Marije Jansen (sounds something like Marigha).

It is presently, somewhere around 9h30. There is misty wet fog hanging in the air and we are whizzing through countryside roads in Jon’s car (a bit lost). The famous B&BC reporter is about to commence interviewing Marije Jansen.

a) Pre-race interview:

R: So, hello Marije! (me) (famous reporter)
M: Hello!

R: What time did you get up this morning?
M: 8h !
R: Hum, 8h on a Saturday, what would this Brain & Body athlete not do for research!

R: What is your favorite color?
M: Blue!
Jon: (budding in) “Can’t you see, her shorts, her jacket, she is covered in it?”

R: Coming into this race, there has been growing worries about your shin “splits”. Have your shins really split? And do you think they will come back together?
M: Well, they should be fine. The rumours are false, my shins have not “split”.
R: So, they are still together and happy.
M: Actually, Miss reporter, they are not shin “splits” but shin spliNts.
R: Ahh… yes… I knew that!... humm

R: Do you expect to be the rabbit or the hare?
Jon: (butting in) (again) Don't you mean the tortoise and the hare?
R: ya, ya ... tortoise and the hare, yes that is it.
M: Tortoise (that is turtle right?)

R: Would you appreciate Jon and I to drench you with buckets of water on the last turn?
M: Well, it depends on many varIAables (20 P!!!!) like: the velocity of the wind, my body temperature and the air humidity. So perhaps, but perhaps not. Prior consultation should be made.
Jon: (butting in again) We just have to devise an unambiguous signal. If you swinging your arms up and down, we drench you.

R: What kind of morning preparation did you go through for this race?
M: Nothing different really, just lots of bananas and no coffee (cause it makes me go peeeeE!)

R: What are your expectations coming into this world-class race? A) beat the Ethiopian world leader or B) run and be proud.
M: B!! Just run
R: But, I can trip him if you would like….

R: If you suddenly had magical powers would you let the skinny Ethiopian win?
M: Aaah, yes, I would be nice and let him win of course.

b) During-race interview:

R: How do you feel Marije, going up this steep hill ¾ into the course?
M: Hhhee hheee HhhheE

R: Do you still like running?
M: Hhheee, heeee, heeeEEEE

c) Post-Race interview:

R: How did the race go and how do you feel now that all is over?
M: Well, it was a bit of a struggle, but it was a nice track.

R: How did your new haircut influence your performance today?
M: Oh, I felt lighter, and my wind resistance was decreased, it helped a lot. I think it was a main contributor to my impressive 58 minutes finish.

R: Which was your favourite hill?
M: the 4K-killer hill

R: There where many sheep on the course, did they get in your way?
M: Ahh… I just jumped over them.

R: Did Jon get into your way?
M: Yes he did.
Jon: No I didn’t!!! (Jon kept butting in! Sorry about that!)
M: Yes you did!
Jon: No
M: Yes
Jon: No
M: Yes
Etc….

R: Marije, how did you feel at the end of the race?
M: Happy, exhausted.

R: Do you like hamburgers?
M: YEESSSS!!!

R: Any last comments about your experience here today?
A: Well, I would especially like to thank all the people who supported the cause. Cancer touches everybody, and I am happy people have supported me in this endeavour.

R: Do you want a hamburger?
M: Yesss!!!

Thank you all for tuning in, to this exclusive interview:
….. Marije at the 10 K race….. Make sure to stay tuned for other wacky happenings at the Brain and Body Centre!!!!!!!!

Let's go back way way back in april, SPRING SKIING !!!!!

2006-07-20T16:32:00.000-03:00

On one of the hottest days of the summer, I return to this: APRIL SKIING!
What a day that was!! I have been wanting to blog these for a while!

Here are my professional looking "cousines" Catherine and Isabelle !!
(and me in the background, but only detectable with a trained eye)
Disco"dance"skiing down hills.

Just a bunch of girls out skiing. A memorable day.
The fun all started when Lise (my aunt) dared me to wear a pinkish cap coverded with sparkles, and well,...
I did.
Being so competitive, Sylvie tried to beat my 'kitchness' with a papertowel mohawk look. YHaa! Elvis !!
(as in Elvis Gratton) (but that is only for french canadiens)
She finally gave me the victory, but I think she deserved it too!
I declare it a sillyness draw

As Isabelle kept running off to chat up the boys, Catherine just watched us and laughed at our stiff-snowboarding style!
We all kind of snowballed down the hill in an avalanche of laughter.
Now, now, we where getting good in the end... (me better than Sylvie of course!)
MARRRRJJOOOO!!!!!!!!
Quescé que tu fais là??!!!!
...

It was warm and sunny and the last skiing day possible of 2006!!
It was fun gals! (as we pretend one last time to being supermodels...)
cheesse!!!!

Caught by a Bugbook

2006-07-10T15:15:00.000-03:00

Has anyone ever gotten scared opening a book???!!

Beware, Oh! Beware of the Bugbooks!!

Everyone be warned: If you don’t scream the counter-curse « BUBGOOK !!! » fast enough, you will be cursed for life.
And know that the bugbook curse, is a 100 times worst than walking under a ladder and 10 times worst then breaking a mirror. So yes, all beware when opening books, anykind, they have no preferences.

Back in Nottingham

2006-07-09T17:47:00.000-03:00

As you can see I changed the title of my blog. I decided not include any reference to where I am since, it seems to change far too often.
I have not written in a long time. On the 13th of June, almost already a month ago, I left Montreal (again). Heading out to Nottingham (again)
Nottingham take two!

Long plane ride here, Montreal, JFK, to Shannon (Ireland), to Dublin, to Birmingham. Long but I don’t mind.
I like planes and airports, it’s always long, and it give me time, time for me to think. To plan and try and put my head on straight. I came with so many plans, all these things to do. I was excited, probably more so this time then the last. I had many friends to see and places to go. I was looking forward to it.
The last landing was in Birmingham.
I walked to the station to collect my baggage and as I watched my mangled bike-box shoot out of the oversize baggage ramp I notice something was written on it.
It read : « OOps, sorry! ».
Humm, very suspicious!…. Not a good sign if someone takes the time to write « OOps, sorry! » on the box.
I was expecting the worst for my bike.
After collecting all my bags, I walked out. I walked out, just like that. I was suddenly in front of taxis??
Somehow, I by passed customs, and the interrogation. Nothing.
I felt like an illegal alien. But then I often feel like an alien.
I tried to get a bus or train but finally I hopped in a taxi to get to Nottingham since it was impossible to carry all my bags alone.
I arrived... and I have been litterally sleeping here and there, alternating between Marije & Jon’s, Catriona & Luke’s and Dale & Stephanie’s place.
I have 3 homes. All very welcoming!! (and I thank them all for that). I have not been payed yet and am very short on money. I was thinking of camping by the Trent river, but the idea apolled everyone (even if I was only half joking).
Somehow, I ate what money I had, and now… I am on a diet. Hahah!

Work wise, I quickly intergrated the lab again, as if I had never left, even with all the new people!
Laurence passed by for the first weekend, he dropped in from Ireland to say hello! (in his slight irish accent) (but then had to go back for different reasons, he had interviews and things). Bref, my Nottingham adventures have begun.
Nothing extravagant to report just small little fun things, that I will write about soon.
For now, I will say, my bike was in fact broken but Dale had the missing piece.
It is now up and running, I should say up and squeeking, as it squeeks like one of those Canada geese that hang around the lake in front of the University building.
(Hence the picture)
bye bye everyone, catch you later!!
Love you all!
Céline

Ready for a frog hunt?

2006-06-26T13:19:00.000-03:00

Childhood could never be complete without frogs hunts! Remember how you listened to the wrobbit, wrobbit or croaaappp croaaappp (depending what kind of frog) (russian frogs reportedly go kwack, Kwack like a duck) (Olga said so).
Anyways, remember how you would listen so hard to guess their battleship position (B27!!). You would listen and listen and creep up slow slow through the long marshy grass and everytime you thought you where about to find him, another froggy voice just off the mark would throw you off (they always used sly decoy technics). But you knew that: when you got close they’d go quiet and so you'd kept focus skimming the surface and there... big. googly. eyes. poking. through. the. grass. (calm. calm.) You’d see his long legs stretched out. slow. slow. you’d move ….
Feeling all the marshy soil go through your toes as you approach. It was a game of chicken, how close could you get before he splashed away… Most times, they sensed presence and floopshh they were gone, but sometimes, a surprise trap from the froggyblind-spot would give you that little edge and… SplishSplishSplashVoom you closed your fingers on an escaping goowy frog leg. (Victory!!) You had him! grabbed by a leg (poor frog).. but only if you managed not let him slip or jump off... AAHH!!!!! Got him! got him! got him! As you look at his googly eyes staring at you...
here... one of my proudest moments in frog hunting.
... I was very proud to tell anyone who would hear it:
I caught him all by myself!!

(one of my favorite childhood pictures)

Special Bulletin report: Mass murder at the chicken coop.

2006-06-19T10:47:00.000-03:00

Alexandria Airport, Canada. Surprise attack on the chicken coop leaves hippy RV community baffled. Reportedly, the chickydoos where too tasty and silly for there own good. The regular chicken tenders (Jeanne (my mom) and I) were away in town and the recruted substitute chicken tender (who’s name cannot be disclosed) neglected to close the chicken coop door for the night. Hence, the chickydoos were left vulnerable under the glitter of a full moon. Jeanne, famous airport dweller and chicken tender was shocked : “We knew they were a target and always under emminent danger but nobody would of imagined the horrors of such a massive attack. One night.” Ten chickydoos are currently reported missing, but the many feathers left on the grounds and surronding area leave little doubt to their sad faith. Needless to say, the flock has been massively down sized and suffered a total population loss of 87% thus leaving only 2 surviving chickens. They were still small and many where probably needed to fill a hungry bellie. All Jeanne hopes is that “their sufferings where short”: which is most probable since they where about “bite size” I would say. One golp. Painless. The assailants took advantage of the full moon to lead their attacks. No one has yet claimed responsibility for these cruel acts but authorities strongly suspect the mob fox family organisation. Some claim to have seen members lurching around the perimeter.
Sadly the 2 surviving chickydoos are presently suffering from post traumatic syndrome and now refuse to return to the chicken coop. They managed to escape and flee to safety in the grass-over-grown-ditch. A new substitute chicken tender is presently being recruted, application are to be sent to Alexandria Airport (bonus perk: free eggs if you do a good job). We are also thinking of painting the surviving chickydoos “camouflage green” to help them survive those full moon nights where their starck white feathers reflect and pin point their position. It’s hard being a chicken!

a Zombie on a bike =

2006-06-06T11:20:00.000-03:00

Hi people! Chances are: I have not written to you and you have not heard from me in a while. Chances are, I was having one of those difficult weeks. I left the airport and came back home to suburb-life. I guess I could say, I didn’t adjust well. I made it out of the house… once. Once, to get my passport.
Zombying through a sleepless vegetable mode… I needed to get my passport done. (NEEDED NEEDED, or I would miss the plane) ….
So feeling out of wack because of lack of sleep and overexposure to sudden sun, I managed to balance myself on the bike.
Passport office, just get there, it is not far.
Get there. Pedal. Pedal (my brain not thinking).
Pedal. Pedal. (forgetting all safety rules)
Pedal. Pedal (on the sidewalk, on the wrong side of the road).
And what had to happen happened again. Boom!
… a truck passed by and shadowed me out of view just as a car turned left!
(yes, it happened again)
I was not going fast and neither the car… I lost my sandal and landed on the guy’s hood as my bike bounced off his left wing/bumper…
That’s when I thought; this is just NOT my day!!

I could only reviewed the evidence of my flagrant negligence. If all the other times: it had not been my fault… this hit was all my own doing: too fast, cutting corners, riding on the side walk, on the wrong side of the road,…. (with no helmet)… do I have to say more???
As I put my sandal back on, I thought: Celine. Do you know of anybody in this world, that got knocked off their bike’s 4 times by moving vehicules? (if there is a world record for this, I must be a close runner up) … 4 times! I know all too well the details of a collision course with cars… and before I hit, I knew by the angle and speed that I would survive this one, I had seen worst.
So, I am still here (not that it was a life threatening collision), there was more damage to the car then myself or the bike. It’s just embarrising for me to admit this happened again. I know I know… people, what was I thinking!!!
… Well, I got my passport (on a crooked front wheel). Things can only get better! (and I have no intention of getting to 5)…. But if you find my wheels suddenly don’t turn smoothly anymore, don’t ask.. (because if it happens again, I am not going to be posting it on the internet; I just might just keep it to myself). haha!! I still have a couple of lives to go...

Happy Birthday!

2006-06-03T22:59:00.001-03:00

For the second year in a row...
I must say HaaaAAPPPY BIRTHDAYYYYYYY PApa!!! (from my blog)
Now what can you give a dad in HAITI for his birthday...
other then ... a written happy birthday song and best wishes and love!
(Happy birthday PAPA, happy birthday PAPA... HAPPPYYY BIRRRTHDAYYYYY HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAPY birthDAY tooooOOOO yoOUUUUUUU!!!!!!

But I found the perfect thing!!!

For you papa!:

Growing Chickens!

2006-05-29T22:31:00.000-03:00

Here they are... My little whee chickens...
... all growing up...

Running with the chickens!

Chicken feed!! My favorite!

This is where I have been living. Up in the second storey.

I get sunsets and sunrises and stars and moons,... huge windows with no curtains, I realized that my inside clock works well with natures.
and I type...and type (better next to windows).
Soon I will be going back to Nottingham... I am to leave on the 13th of June. A new chapter will begin...

Full of new little Friends!!!!

2006-04-26T11:22:00.000-03:00

Youpidouu!!!
Today... We bought 1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8,9,10,11.... 12!!!!!!
Chickens!!!!!!! (they always come in dozens you see)

There names are... Dasher, Prancer, Vixen, Twurping, Pocking, Rockin, Pockim, Peckim, Peeckim, Pock'em, Pluck'em and Eat'em (joke joke!!)
These are not for'eating chickens.. Therefor'egging eggs...
Aren'they funny!!!

They hatched yesterday.... for now they are sleeping in (their box) with my sister and I ... They are quite busy twurping and chirping all the time... with lots of pecking ...

Now have no fear we are not that crazy... when they grow a little they will overtake the chicken coop at the airport!!
And run around free like real happy chickens!!

Chicky dou daaa!!! Chicky dooo day!!! My oh! my what a beautifull day!!

Snowshoeing this morning

2006-04-11T10:54:00.000-03:00

Yep yep, the mountain was calling me, it was early, i had to get to work.. but no, no the sun was shinning.. I just had to go...
Morning snowshoeing... when the sun is just waking up. The fallen snowflakes look like tiny broken mirrors relfecting, sparkling, some of prism colours... The lake is still frozen over... but where the river comes in the water pierced through and shimers, moving, and you can see where the ice is thin, so thin by noon the shinning sun will have melted it open but it will freeze again tonight. The ice crackles and crickles as spring works... it almost sounds like chirping birds. I listen. Watching the river shimmer. I watched spring this morning. I should do this more often. We all should.

Labrador adventures coming to an end

2006-04-03T12:12:00.000-03:00

A new Chapter is about to start. One where the mysteries of the futur seems less scary. Maybe I am just less worried, maybe I am developping an immunity. I will try and meditate more on the subject.. or hang out with Yee a bit more...
Hanging out with Yee changes your outlook on a lot of things.
So before I start a new chapter I must try and finish this one...
Now, I have been trying to get pictures on this blog of my nice beautiful pink 1979 osmobile and FINALLY here they are!!!

I proudly go around town in my car, wearing a pink bandana...

Everybody knows when I am doing my food shopping...!!!
.. I am going to sell it now, ... any takers???
humm... maybe I'll get lucky??

I also had to leave my fancy apartment, before I left I took some souvenir pictures. I never want to forget the peeling paint of the shower floor that blocks the drain...

Haiti money

2006-02-27T17:30:00.000-04:00

The money unit here is called a “gourde”. You have 42.25 gourdes for 1$ US. You pay 1.18$ Canadian for 1$ US, or only get 84 cents US for a Canadian 1$.

1$ Haitian does not exist as such but everybody refers to it and it is the way items are marked in stores. $1 Haitian is worth 5 gourdes. You need 7 Haitian dollars or so for 1$ US SOOOooo….

Gourdes are either paper or coins. A half one gourde coin is smaller than the 1 gourde coin and the 1 gourde coin is smaller than the 5 gourde coin but the 50 centime which is 1/5 of a gourde is the biggest coin of them all. I believe they ran out of smallness and had to start a new biggie batch and work the coins size down again. The paper money is handled very carefully as it is much like archaeological parchment texture as it probably has been in circulation since the early 18th century. Some are so thin and dirty, you can barely make out what the denomination is. A nice thing about the system is that even after having stood in the bank line-up for 50 or so minutes to take out $300. US for the week, you come out feeling pretty good. Over 12,000 gourdes hardly fits in your wallet. I kind of like the feeling of walking around with a big money bulge in my pants. Makes me feel like a somebody. If ever they were to give me such an amount in coins, I would of needed a wheel barrow.

Lar is HEREEEE!!!!!!!

2006-02-10T10:53:00.000-04:00

FINALLY, !! Here in the snow, it was -36 this morning but it slowly warmed up to -31. Laurence's first impressions on Labrador City: "a strange enough place" where he finds it looks like an old Russian run down town but with a "first world country cleaniness".

He thinks he would go a little crazy living here for too long and after only a week, I started seeing signs... but he might of been a little crazy before getting here, humm... hihi!
But I do not think living where we are living right now helps...

We have been cramped in a tiny bachelor that is way way too expensive for what it is.
The toilet leeks a bit on the floor and it doesn't stop flushing unless you manually pull the floaty ball up in the tank (everytime).

There is no bathtub, only an old stand up shower that constantly drips. To try and make the shower look better, they painted it's inside panels. Now, as the paint peels off in bulk, it blocs the drain.
Then, the temperature of the water just constantly cycles between the extremly burning hot to arctic freezing cold; leaving us an average of 3 seconds to hop in and out catching the tolerable mild temperatures in between cycles... This creates large water puddles on the bathroom floor making each hop an occasion to slip and fall. Yes, "showers" have become a perilous business.

Also, there is only one sink in the whole apartment and so we brush our teeth in the morning over any dishes we might of left the night before.The windows freeze shut and ice accumulates inside at the bottom.

Then, since they are "renovating" the whole place (meaning the appartment right above us and next to us and down the hall to us), every morning of the week, we are woken by pounding, hammering, and saws screeeeEEEEtching. At night, we fall asleep to the sound of the dripping shower and humming fridge as the skidoos race down the trail in the yard of the building.

There is no current in the electricity posts to plug the car in and so my pink 1979 Osmobile stays frozen in its place as the temperature drops. We have a very nice neibourg though, he comes out everytime my car is jammed in the snow or won't start and helps us out.

Yep, Labrador adventures continu... these are all still "adventures" to us, it is all okay for now, we are both still full of bubbly fun energy.
But I predict we are going to be looking for new adventures soon...

We do have fun cooking with our make shift pots and utensiles. We use the covers of tin cookie boxes as a baking pan. My swiss army knife is precious for slicing garlic and opening cans. I have little plant friends growing in used cans. We get along with not much and that is rewarding in it's self (since I am trying to be a minimaliste!!hihi). I try to be creative in using second hand things, re-using and recylcing. We did invest in a frying pan though. Laurent & Marjolaine provided us with the much appreciated plates and glasses and other knick nacks. Finally, we gladly invite ouselves over to their place for "Movie nights".
... and so, no wonder Lar is getting a little crazy... Well, we will see... other things might come up. I don't know where we will be in a couple of months. We will see....

ouyyy aabougibou!

2006-02-02T10:49:00.000-04:00

Boogigoobowy... haa! Little Thomas and his Mommy... They look just like each other... Happy!

I am very busy with work... and that is why I have not been able to write or blog recently, things should calm down soon.. (so I am quickly posting this for my father since he is calling for news from Canada)
(and my mind is always thinking of what he once told me,) .. about how I always think I just have to give one last push at work, one last deadline and I always believe things will settle. And that after I will be able to live a normal life... but now again, the same trap, I had a deadline, everything had to be done. I made the deadline, everything was fine but it took everything out of me. And now, I have another, for yesterday, litterally, it was for the 1st of febuary. So this is my last deadline?!

Then, as I was rushing to finish up my deadline, Laurence convienently got caught in Sept-îles, he has been visiting the place for 3 days now because of train schedule changes and problems... It was actually frustrating.
Exotic Sept-îles, "well, ... he is on the train now!!"

YeaH!YeaH... but, one serious problem that must be resolved.... I still do not have food in the fridge! Must get some food, you cannot welcome any guy, if you don't have food in the fridge!!hahha! So need to get to the grocery store! URGENT! hihi!

You see I just just (finally) moved into this little (ugly) expensive bachelor place,... It would be a nice wonderfull place if it was not expensive... so everything is relative...

Anyway, I really must get to work... by bye!!!!!! (Wish me luck)

More Haitian News...

2006-01-21T10:49:00.000-04:00

My new room mate is in and installed on the previous floor foam I used to occupy. I continue to enjoy the wonderfull experience of a single bed mattress and box spring mounted on tiny little skinny wooden legs.
My bed is lost in the middle of a somewhat large room (to be under the ceiling fan, incase we get electricity). The only practical use for the fan is to hang my moskito net. This net is proving to be a much valued item.

Water problems ? Almost always running out of water here but, while doing dishes listening to my Ipod last evening, the music sudenly stopped... hummm.
I followed the earphone wire only to find it leading staight into the sink, under all the bubbles....
My iPod came out squeeky lemony fresh but unfortunatly it did not work. So, I thought I would save it by simmering it slowly in the oven just enough to evaporate the innards... but as I was setting it up (making sure I did not overcook it), the electricity went out.
I had to resolve in opening all the compartments, I layed them out to dry on their own on the front balcony. I will know tonight if my efforts will bear fruit.

It was a quiet night with no shooting or explosions at all. Piecefull rest with only the usual (numerous) plucking chickens, barking dogs, ringing church bells and distant diesel generators to listen to. I almost slept right through.
Lots of time to be homesick here.

Haitian transport system: a picture report study (from my Dad)

2006-01-20T18:30:00.000-04:00

If you look good at the pictures, you will see all the different vehicles used for "bus"ing people around. They are called "Tap Taps" because that is what you have to do to get on or off, just tap tap on the side pannels...
But the most commun is of course... simple walkers

Bikers,.. Haitian Harley Davidsons

Buses (be carefull at the cable crossings)

I'm having my apartment throuroughly cleanned out today. I would of done it myself but by the time work is over, it's just about dark and electricity is rare (lighting is not so good). Anyway, I don't have much there(clothes and a moskito net).
The good part is moving into the big bedroom, the one with the bed and ajoining private bathroom. I was kind of getting used to the tile floor sleeping but I suspect I will immediatly adapt to the matress.
There is a bath but I'm not sure I would want to use it. We'll see how the "clean up" turns out.
I pulled out of my courtyard the day before yesterday and as soon as I made it through the steel remote door, I came face to face with a UN tank with a bunch of blue helmet soldiers. They had some people doing the star thing right there on the street (it's almost typical around here).
The rest is getting to be pretty much routine. I was almost transferred out again to a "resort" right on a beach.. (It actually was a vacation resort but now it is mostly occupied by UN and other international staff). I would of (apparently) walked out of my room right onto the ocean sand...(no security to worry about....) ahhhh!!....
SOooo.... I'm still here in Port Au Prince with no end is sight. It would of meant another helicopter thrill ride.

PS: Hey, you never got back to me to say if you were interested in the electrician job or not!!

Appartment search in Labrador City ...

2006-01-15T18:45:00.000-04:00

There is a boom at the mines... so the whole economy is booming...that is GREAT ! But! there are NO APARTMENT VACANCIES!!! ... and what is available, has sky high rent!
AAHHHHHHHHHhhhhhh!! What am I going to do!! (plus I have no furnisher!!!)

Well, for now the solution is .... buying a cabin in the woods, a cottage, a little hut, almost an igloo (which means no electricity). Humm...
And that is okay because... LAURENCE IS COMING!!!! Which means (ahumm) I will help HIM chop the wood to keep cosy... :)
Well... that is the plan if we do not find something to rent. Basement living is okay, especially if it is your big brothers basement... but, but... a girl needs a place of her own.... humm, ... Don't worry Laurent, I'll will come back for visits and showers once in a while.
Laurence is going back to Ireland today... he will be here next week to start his snowy initiation to the northern life.
(hopefully by then I will have found something for us, only time will tell)

The Insominac's War

2006-01-15T11:02:00.000-04:00

There are good days and bad days and, well today was one of those bad ones... (Yesterday also come to think of it) Can't win them all (my father says)... so I keep high hopes for tomorrow. I try to laugh it off even if doesn't feel funny at all... (Hence, the reason I am blogging this)
I have been running on short, disturbed sleep and it all caught back up to me. I crashed today. People who know me, know, my sleeping patterns are fragile, and get really messed up and mess up my life reducing me so often to a walking zombie (and that is "if" I am still walking). I am admittedly at time gravely insomniac.
Yes, I know all the "right-thing-to-dos"... but in reality, it prooves to be difficult: no late suppers, no alcohol, no caffein, no late sports, no late readings, stop stressing, take a hot bath, don't think, stop thinking... stop working, stop worrying, stop, take, stop, stop...do, stop, try...
I am still searching for a way of life for me; that will allow me to sleep. Give me a deadline and my life is consummed by it, and crumbles. Every thing tells me, I need to cut hours from work... I work compulsively, and I really should say "try" to work, cause I don't actually get much done...

Well ... Enough about the complaining!!
I guess it is all part of life... and I still have so much to learn... so I am frustratingly slowly learning... learning, how to sleep.

Little Thomas exploring...

2006-01-14T22:07:00.000-04:00

Here he is!!! M.Little Thomas....
He now can turn over!!! (still a challenge, but he is getting better)

Failure... Google it!

2006-01-14T14:35:00.000-04:00

This is pretty funny. If you go to Google and type in 'failure', the very first thing to come up is...well, try it, it is worth it...

My Dad's adventures in Haïti (well i call them adventures)

2006-01-09T15:42:00.000-04:00

Young boy stealing meat during riot in Port-au-Prince, Haïti (2005).

The UN did finally call so here I am. I am a communications center supervising officer. I fly around a lot in old russian helicopters which make my old cessna plane feel like a smooth modern high teck marvel.

When I first got here I was assigned to Les Cayes (southern part of Haiti). The place is definitely financially challenged. I had a very modest room with nothing more than a TV with no remote to turn in on (thus missing out on the only channel, a very snowy channel) (that is but only occasionally broadcasted). I do have the remote for the air conditioner but it doesn't work and a bed (I did not want to look under the sheets for fear of what I might see).

Going to and from the UN compounds was an adventure in itself. The roadways have long lossed any solid overlay leaving an impressive collection of oddly shaped pot holes. Here converge donkeys and horses over laden with jute bags and packs, women carrying loads on their heads, carts mounted on automobile differentials being hand pushed by bare feet proprietors, wheelbarrows loaded with side street vendor inventory, chickens trying to cross the road, skinny dogs that all look the same, pigs and other vehicles that would not even be acceptable as entries in the great Cornwall Enduro race.

There are busses everywhere. There are three categories of busses.
The mini bus which is generally an older 50cc Honda scooter on which one or two passengers ride side saddle. It is very versatile for cutting off any other traffic.
You then have the medium bus which is something like a small pick up truck with a colorful camper top in which you crowd in about 14 passengers with a few hanging off the rear bumper (when there is one).

Then the maxi bus which resembles a retired school bus with highly decorative iron works for bumpers. Passengers on these, ride everywhere they can find a spot it being hanging off a window or over on the roof. I even suspect some ride under by the driveshaft. The ones riding on the roof are very handy at manhandling the odd electric or phone lines that are too low to let the buse by.

Electric lines are not a big problem cause there is no electricity in them. I thought that these were a local phenomena but quickly discovered it was the way of the country.

I was then assigned to Cap Haitian (Northernest part of the island, 2nd largest city in the country). Traffic definitely more imposing than what I had seen in Les Cayes. The stray pigs appear much bigger and they have more open fires in the streets here. No tow trucks around either making commun the practice "where it breaks is where it stays" (which itself makes the course very interesting).

My apartment in Cap Haitian was a dream place. Just out of the city limits is was once a colonial plantation. The 1 kilometer driveway is probably impossible to use unless on 4 wheel drive and I can not imagine it if ever it was to rain.
Once on the grounds though, the set up was quite nice if you can get used to the armed guard and odd "helping hand" walking around with sawed off shotguns.
Other than that, there was always someone sweeping and trimming the plentiful tropical foliage.

Among other more common birds, exotic Peacocks turkeys, chickens and what seemed to be giant partridge roam around chasing each other or showing off colorful plumage while the goats and such looked on uninterested.

I am now in Port au Prince the most troubled part of the country. They are having a general strike here today in protest of the inability of the UN to bring order in the slum area they call "Cite Soleil". It is right by the airport and I can see the area from my office window perched on the upper floors of the Minusta headquarter. It is where the RCMP guy was "hit" the day I got here.

The following week, a Chilean soldier met the same fate. Needless to say I stay away from the area as much as I can but we have an office at the airport where I need to go occasionally. That’s when I have my slim muscular bald headed bodyguard accompany me with his bullet proof vest. I do not have a bullet proof vest so I make sure I always stand behind him.

My apartment is not too far away from here. It is the penthouse of a 4 story condo style building. High ceilings with fans hanging in every room... They would be great if only we had electricity more often than the few hours a day we get. It’s secure in a way that it is on a narrow secondary street where you can readily see if you are being followed. The steel doors giving access to the small yard is remote controlled and high thick trees surround the place shielding us from indiscreet view. Unless you mind the immediate neighboring buildings that have windows a few meters away from our own. A window here does not mean glass windows. They are rather open ironworks made to be not so obvious that one is living in a cage.

I have practically no furniture and sleep on a thin foam upon which I thicken with my sleeping bag. There is a small kitchen table but two of the four chairs are unusable because of broken legs and severely cracked backrest. Off the front balcony I can pick mangoes even being on the forth floor.

Through the branches, I can see the government palace and an apparently very famous cathedral. I awoke this morning to the sound of heavy machine gun fire. It is not as dramatic as it sounds as is happens now and then and off in the other neighborhood. You sort of listen a little bit, try and see off as to where it might be coming from and then go back to eating breakfast.

Having traveled a bit in the area while sailing the FAZISI was beneficial to me but I certainly can imagine what the term "cultural shock" is all about. They were looking for a certified electrician here to maintain the power packs and inverters and ... yes I did say I knew someone if ever it came to that. Let me know if you would indeed consider it. I took the liberty of sending cc copies of this to other buddies as I do not know when I will get to write again. Keep in touch, Marc.

Mus Musculus!!!!

2006-01-07T22:16:00.001-04:00

Merci Dju!!!!!!!

(juste pour l'encouragement)....

I think everyone should say it... Mus musculus!!!
Mus musculus... Mus musculus
Come on!!! It's contagious, just saying it, those funny words...
For some reason, I keep picturing a little mouse dressed as "superman"
(actually superMouse)

and I can only laugh as the sound Ssssss"es" off my tongue ...
and so as my thesis is actually going forward again...

Mus musculus is my little secret helper... with M.Sixtopus of course!

(PS: for those who do not know, Mus Musculus is latin for little funny looking muscle mouse(used only in serious scientifique "milieu"... )

My first coffee of the day....

2006-01-06T08:55:00.000-04:00

and not my last.
So much for cutting caffein out (maybe tomorrow). Actually maybe after my big deadline on the 20th of January. Another one of those deadline things, humm. Didn't I try and get away from that?... (I am going to re-apply at the mines) (They don't seem to be interested in me right now, some lost girl from the city that doesn't really know anything about mining...) (Masters in molecular genetics trying to do mining... cause she doesn't have a clue of what she wants to do for real) Humm...
Well, I will see... My grand-mother gave me one of those glass bubble stones, the one with a message in it...
A very puzzling message for me right now in my life "move confidently towards your dreams and live the life you've imagined" .... "live the life you've imagined..." what if, I don't even know what that is !! or what is my dreams anymore, very confused.
I am in a typical "Don't know what to do with my life phase". I feel like a squirl stuck in the middle of the road, dark at night, with big truck head-lights shining, heading for me... as I do the squirlly dance of panick from side to side, body crisp "now, which way do I run, which way do I run...." "Quick quick, just run somewhere" .... Yap, a little stressed squirl that can't come up with a direction.
.... now, I try to fall back onto "what people say" wisdom... just continue what you are doing and let things ride, things will come up... (eventually). Stop the stressing. But for some reason,
I just wish I could become the squirl in ice age... That silly squirl that just ran and ran after one nut... He sure knew what that nut was... he had figured out what he wanted... I need to find myself a nut. Something to run after, I want some wind in my squirlly tail and my ears purcked up.

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!!!

2006-01-01T15:43:00.000-04:00

Vive le vent vive le vent.... vive le vent d'hiver!!!!

Rudolphe the red nose reindeer!!! HAD A VERY SHINYYYYY NOSEEE!!!!!!

Ahhh!!!! Christmas... New Year!!!!
Happy times to all!
I was really glade to catch so many of you on the phone!! (since I am so far far away, hiding out in snowlost-land !!
Marije and John, your little "New year" get-together looked wonderfull from the webcam! (so did your flat!) I was really happy to catch Manon, and wave at Dany between the Babyfoot matches!! :)
And, I missed out on my family gathering back in St-Donat, and the gift exchange at Lise's, and Christmas eve at my Grandfather'S... My Gramaman was also down from Florida with Mac... Gee, at least next year Christmas can only get better...
This one, was probably like my fathers....
LOST IN HAITI! ( At least i had Lauren"outan"!!! )
Happy New year again... (since it is the New Year today...)
See you later alligators!!!

My DREAM Haunted House!!

2005-12-14T18:25:00.000-04:00

My Haunted House... My Dad spotted it... hidden behing the outgrown trees. He tought, hummm, wonder if one of my daughters would like it... such a nice place... !!!!
And so he mentionned it too us, and I instantly decided to go see this mysterious lost, abandonned place... in the far far away place of Alexandria...(10 minutes away from my Dad's airport) I knew, I felt, this is my kind of place!!! I found it!!! I was like a kid that stumbled on her Christmas present when she was not looking for it.. !!! (which never happened to me because I always looked for it but anyways...)

The haunted HOUSE, the home of the notorious one eyes teddy bear!!

So run down and delapidated, nobody could care less...
This place doesn't need a paint job, it is behond paint job... if you fix the floor it would look funny, because it looks better with the crooked one.
..
The master piece is the fireplace, and the open balcony second floor, of which sadly we see nothing of in these pictures... but, but, but... this is the house of my dreams...
kind of...
I will take you for a tour...
lets start by walking up the path, ... the madly wild overgrown path... and look!!!This is the front gate... and you can see the barn hidden on the left, and you can't see the house (hidden in the trees on the right...)

Lets walk to the barn...

Look at it!!! Now, I understand that it looks fantastic with the sun and everything, but... but... it is, beautiful in real too...!! I like barns, love barns. Always did, ever since I went to that "Barn" Summer party (years and years ago), I always pictured the perfect wedding like that party, simple, ....
in a barn, on a warm summer night... with lots of "coolers" for "supplies", and strings of christmas lights for color and all the people sitting around on hay stacks and dancing all night to the sillyest music on the uneven wood floor... and if tired... you can always rest in the loose hay or climb up to the second story and watch the others dance from above ... a barn, i like barns... but i guess i am a little of a romantic. Because i even have the chickens running around, with packs of dogs and even cats hanging around... plus ... a "starry" night.. ,humm... but anyway... I like barns...
So now, let's go to the house....

hummmm... itsn't it just perfect! There are a couple of holes to bloc, and the electricity to plug in... and some plumbing to do, maybe a little painting, the windows need a fix, and the door is crooket, but yeah... details!!!
...
and i would never need to cut the grass, i would leave it all as is and have a wild field for a lawn... wild field, and i could sneekly plant wild flowers all over, you know those tall yellow ones... we would be all yellow of pollen everytime we go in and out of the house... but at least we will smell good!!...
... then...
here is the back of the house...

Now let's go in...
This the living room...

there is no picture but on the other side there is the fire place... hummm cozy cozy... and there hidden in the cubburt is the ... notorious.. ONE EYED TEDDY BEAR!!!! Beware he is watching you!!!!!!!

....
and finally the dungeon...!!!!

and all the apparitus for torture...
I should of taken more pictures... but
as my inquiries to buy the place (because I really wanted to buy the place) did not turn out too much... The owner doesn't want to sell... sadly she wants to make a nature reserve for the ducks... and donate the land to "Ducks unlimited"...
I think i will try and approach her, to say that i can take care of the ducks tooo!!!! ... but it seams, everybody (but me) wants the land (I want the house) .. hihi!! but but but.... but but...
At least i know now what I am looking for...
I want a haunted house to build.
.... well, we will see, any barn would do, a hut, i was also thinking of using clay to make a hut, like in the tropics, but in winter, i could isolate it with the snow, like the Inuits... make a "clay-based igloo"
That could work too... as you see i am open for suggestions...

Back blogging!

2005-11-06T01:17:00.000-04:00

Well, I was out of my blog ... for a little while (okay, a big while), but I am back from my blogging break! Well, my life kind of turned up side down and then back around again...
I am now in Wabush. Where is Wabush??... that is a good question!! I just say up North, in the subartic north of Canada ... in Labrador. Where is that, ... good question.
How did I end up here, that is another good question! ...
Wabush adventures... October was not quite finished yet and the snow was already pilling up to stay...
... hummm... we will see, i don't know where I am going to end up next...
Must try and sleep for now, but I shall check in soon!
See you all

Yee and me’s adventures….

2005-08-24T19:22:00.000-03:00

We were just walking down from a nice long walk up and down Mont-Royal, we were all sweaty and no make up.
When, this man called us over from his car. He was sitting in a weird old fashioned yellow car with no roof … a ..
I forget how you call that… ah! Yes a convertible!!

As we approached him he starts pulling out his dog… one of these small Yorkshire terriers with little pink straps and leash (the whole pink kit)…
and he starts saying…

Will you… please…. take my dog, please!
I do not know what to do with him… please
he is my wife’s dog and I am not with her anymore,
take the dog, just take the dog, he is trained, vaccinated…
All this while he was handing him out to me… I was like, well, I wouldn’t know what to do with it… (thinking, my parents would kill me…)

Yee thinking… what’s going on… (weird man) wish I spoke french….
and … then suddenly ..

He said, well, if you don’t take the dog, I’ll … I’ll,…
He then gets out of the car, and throws the little dog in a DUMP TRUCK!!!!!!!
And the DUMPTRUCK… (yes I said DUMP TRUCK…)
TAKES OFF!!!

I just started to run after the truck!!!! Like a mad crazy person. Followed by Yee...
Poor Yee!! Not catching a word of the conversation, she only saw this MAN
(horrible man!!)
throwing the little dog in the dump truck!!!!!

So we found ourselves suddenly RUNNING AFTER THE TRUCK!!!!!!!!(and i mean James Bond styled running!!!)
The truck stops, I (not so) calmly try to explain to the driver that a man just threw a dog in the back garbage container of his truck and could he wait till I get it out…
To my surprise the truck driver looked annoyed and he didn’t want to stop or check…

I was like…!!!!! THERE IS A DOG IN THE BACK OF YOUR TRUCK!!! YOU BETTER NOT PRESS THE SQUISH BUTTON!!!!!

All this time, all Yee could see was the poor thing, not moving, with his head stuck in a weird way… no breathing detected…
YEE’s heart was sinking!! THE DOG IS DEAD, HE KILLED THE DOG!!!

But I don't know this yet... I was going to get the dog out whatever...
Thinking the driver will stop long enough for me to fetch the dog out. I run to the back of the truck, I had just the time to see a glimpse of the dog and….
The truck takes off!!!!!
… by this time I am getting heated up…!!!

YOU BETTER NOT PRESS THE SQUISH BUTTON!!! YOU little…!!!???

I run again to the front of the truck… yell at the guy again,
then run to the back of the truck as the truck … TAKES OFF AGAIN!!!

Yee is just still in shock…. The dog is DEAD!!!

But this time… as the truck was trying to get away, I grabbed the handles trying to climb on the dump trunk like a very unexperienced garbage-man (or garbage girl)…. As I climbed, I knew the truck would stop and it did… and then, …
Everybody started coming towards us,… and I thought…
Where have I seen this before…

Hummm…CANDIDE CAMERA!!!

OH!! Yes, Candide camera indeed…
Poor Yee still did not get what was going on ..
French you know… lot’s a French around…
THE DOG IS DEAD!!!... (almost in tears)

The mad “divorcee” man then switches to English…
and confronts Yee … (as I was trying not to laugh)
As the man was saying
It’S JUST A DOG!! COME ON!!!!!
Yee snapped back
WHAT DO YOU MEAN IT’S JUST A DOG!!!!!
(thinking…. YOU ARE SICK!!! VERY SICK MAN!!!!!)
!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Yes, Yee, well smile at the cameras!!!!
There is one over there, and one there…
and oh!! Don’t forget to smile at that one too!!!
Smile… here is the puppy dog all safe!!!
That one, crocket and not breathing is a stuffed toy dog!!

Yee was happy, very happy… she didn’t care about the cameras in the background, all she cared about was patting the dog and making sure it was actually breathing….
We were all smiling, laughing again,
..Please sign here…
The show airs… on… too bad my mind was processing to much at the time when the crew told me ... because I forget… and it was in French so don’t count on Yee!!!
But I will find it and have you all watching…
So do not worry ....
You will probably witness, this mad scramble to save the stuffed toy.
Stay tuned….

OH!! One last thing!
The guy almost started giving me a speech on how i should not try and jump on moving vehicles... I said well, what do people do then???
Can you believe that we where the first ones to even run after the truck… forget about yelling, screaming, almost crying… and climbing up the moving vehicle???!!!
We were very surprised to know, nobody seemed as determined as us to save the toy.
(obviously)

Then after it all...
we thought… oh! We should have worn make-up!

(so Petr ... did you laugh??!!)

beware Accute Thesis Syndrome... Catriona at risk!!

2005-08-06T22:33:00.000-03:00

Oh!!UmHHH! I guess I am running a bit behind in all my blog stories…
Got caught up in the clutter of thesis writing…
And since anything that ressembles a chair or a computer is now repulsing to me…
It becomes difficult to write anything… even for fun. So please forgive the sudden lack of emails, or blogs… or disapearences… the sudden changings of my mind, and any weird things that I now do…
or do not do anymore…
This is, (Catriona understands me…)
Accute thesis syndrome.
It is not a deadly syndrome, but it seems so to anyone affected by it…
So everyone: BE NICE TO CATRIONA!!!!
Buy her milk free chocolat and coke, and make her some tea!!!
… And if she asks you which unintelligeable sentence you prefer …
just smile nod and randomly pick one
and then quickly remind her that it probably will not affect the grand scheme of things anyway….
… Go Cat, GO!! Go Cat, GO!!!!
GoCatGo!!!!!!!!

Today, I write to you, because … I am sick (no, not physically)
But very very much psychologically.
It is saturday… and even though, this saturday was supposed to be fully dedicated to my thesis… well, everytime I sit down at the computer… all of a sudden, I am “hungry” or have to take a shower or visit the potty, or … hummm.
Thursty… and then…
Well, after I ran out of imaginative ideas of believable excuses… I have to face the facts.
… I am having slight indigestion problems, as soon as my eyes fall on my stacks of books and articles, I go a bit green… tomorrow will be definetly better...
Plus, I feel safer staying away from excel today since I feel that one crash,
Only, one little crash of excel … and my computer might not survive my wrath.
So it is for M.Boo’s safety too…
M.Boo is my computer by the way… Yep, as soon as I had gotten him,
I called him, M.Boo…
Just one of those inexplicable moments where it just pops up in your head.
Tomorrow, will be fully dedicated …

So here I am, with M.Boo, laying in a hammack, outside in the sun, writing my blog …and watching the cars go by on the autoroute (autoroute means highway… and yes, we have a highway in our back yard)…
Now, I know what you are thinking… what am I doing laying around if I keep complaining about not doing anything except sitting on a dam chair!!! I should be running around with my dog playing catch, racing up and down hills with my bike, or hiking or playing frisbee .. SOMETHING!!! ANYTHING!!!!
But no… I am stuck, stuck sitting or laying … because my (stupid) little foot, the right one with 4 little toes and one big one, decided that it was in pain.
Yes, mysteriously out of function.
I was walking… (yes, I said walking) to the bus stop on thursday… and then suddenly my foot was in pain??!!!
I first thought I was crazy… I mean I did not twist the ankle, step on anything, drop anything on it, no bus, bike or car ran over it, nothing…
I was just walking normally and then….
Aouch… Aouch… What is wrong with my foot!!!
AahHh!
I mean, I know it has been out of practice a little lately and has been bearing a bit of extra weight maybe (Side effects of being chained to a chair and computer)… but for it to jump out suddenly and say…
woooohw, I had enough, stop walking on me I hurt!!!
!! Just like that…
I though it was a bit of an exageration, and a bit excessive of him…
so I continued making my way home: didn’t have a choice anyway!!
(I was actually limping, and taking foot breaks!!)
Weird, very very weird.
So I decided to treat it as a sprained side of foot…
(but I did not put ice, I hate ice… maybe I should of… anyway)
So Friday at work, I wobbled down the hallways… my lab friends were laughing at me! “Haven’t been here 2 days and you managed to get dammaged already!!”

You see, during my two years here in the Montréal lab… many little adventures have happen … which, rightfully (sadly) earned me the reputation of getting “damaged”.
(Believe me, I wish I had a reputation for anything else… )
if interested... see olds stories I,II II,IV... of my time in Montreal lab... (I have others too.. hihi!!)
... I did not expect I was going to write about all these old stories... but hey... I'll catch up with the new ones too...

Old story I

2005-08-06T22:20:00.000-03:00

Very, very early in my thesis (my second offical monday)…
I came in wobbling… sitting down holding my back like a granny and having to push myself off the counters to get up from any sitting position… well, you see, that weekend…
I had stubbornly thought I was going to change the mind of a stubborn horse… He was going to gallop down the road and turn left… not right as he always did… and so… he gallopped down the road and … as he turned right, I went flying right into a sand-dune.
As I was spitting out what I could, I tried to get up… and realized
my leg was dragging…
dragging!!!!
I do admit a moment of panick stuck me… I started to crawling down the street on three legs as fast as I could… as if I was trying to run away from this foreign dragging leg… it looked dead!
I was like… ahahahhahhh!! Get it off me!!!!!
I slowly realized it was my leg… (all thought it did not feel like it, because it did not feel anything)….
I calmed down and stopped my desperate three legged crawl … I just stood there… well, let’s say crouched there… and waited… and for a split second, I thought:
Well, this is it… (picturing myself as a female version of Terry Fox…)
But then it happened…
PAIN!!!
AhhhHH! Lovely, lovely pain… everywhere!!
My leg, my back, my arm, and still lots of sand in my mouth!! …
Pins and needles, numbness, but a numbness I recongnize… like if I just kicked the vaccum cleaner I left lying around but with my whole leg.
By then, I knew I was going to be okay… I knew this pain, and I knew…
It hurt like hell, but it was going to go away!

Old story II

2005-08-06T22:18:00.000-03:00

Then… not to long after…
I was just picking up speed after a stop sign on my bike… when, a car… slid through his stop and hit me.
I went flying into the pavement head first
(no helmet) (yes I survived) (yes, I was lucky).
All I remember was watching the pavement get closer and closer and thinking, I am going to hit my head… and then, bang, it hit...
As soon as the ground stopped my body, I spang up like a superball to my feet as if to say… I am alive!
People were surrounding me, surprised, just as I was, that I was standing. We all expected me to fall over any minute now… but I didn’t….

HHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAhahahah!!!!!
Hahahha!!!! I am sorry…
HHHahahahahha!!! I can’t stop laughing!!!! Just as I was writing that… !!!hahah!!!!
I do not think any one of you will believe or understand what just happened!!!! Here I am writing, about all these unlucky stressfull times, and here I am squirming in my hammack, and the damm thing..
Topples over!!! I fricking fell out of the hammack!!!!
My water bottle and computer went flying!!! I mean, seriously!!! I couldn’t get up right away just because I could believe it and was laughing my guts out!!!!
I fricking can’t stop laughing!!! Hahahha!!!
Can you belive that!!!!! I am trying to simply relax and take care of my dam foot, and here I am falling over in hammacks…
WITH my computer!!!!! Poor thing!! Oh my goodness, I can’t believe that just happened!!!!! I hope I did not dammage it… there is grass stuck it the…
Oh, my!! this is probably not as funny for you… but dam!!! I am floored!
What is it with me!!!!!!!!!
Okay… sorry about that… I just, just can’t believe it..!
back to my story… were was I!
(hahahah) no definetly… no one will ever understand, how funny that was.
Anyway…
that time, I did go to the hospital just to get my head checked out. I had such a bump on my forehead!! Like a cartoon,
it grew… like pinocchio nose but in my forhead.
Then, after a couple of days, the accumulated liquid did not resorb right away it kind of drooped down and spead out, making wavy bumps in my forhead…
people thought I looked like the Klingnogns from StarTrek…
(Luke, how do you write Klingnons??)
too bad it was not halloween…
other than that, scratches and bumps, and lots of very impressive bruises!!!!
(I mean very impressive)…
And of course lot’s of wobbling down the lab hallways.
And lot’s of… what happened???!!!…
Ah, well, got hit by a car…

Old story III

2005-08-06T22:17:00.000-03:00

Then, (I’ll try and not fall out of the hammack again…), a couple of weeks later, maybe one or two…
I had just recuperated from the other accident… I was wizzing down a street on roller blades, as my laces got caught in my other skate,
I fell down instantly banging my head so hard on the ground I forever dented my brand new helmet (I had just bought it, after the other accident!!) And scratched my face all down my left cheekbone…
everything else was fine (relatively)… I fell so fast I did not even have the reflex to put my hands down… the helmet took most of the blow… but this time. I did not spring to my feet, this time, I did loose it a bit… everything was spinning. Cars were stopping, people picked me up, I was damaged that time. But still, I was fine… lot’s of new questions to answer… what happened to your face?!… well, roller blades you see… humm…

Old story IV

2005-08-06T22:16:00.000-03:00

Then. (no, it is not finished… But please remember this is on a span of 2 years).
I was doing the very time consuming and girly activity of leg waxing
(I still do not understand why we do this but… somehow, I rather just do it and not face all the dirty looks you get if you don’t).
Anyway… experimenting with microwavable wax set in some weird bottle I had never used before…
after microwaving it. I could see, the wax in the bottom was still solid whereas the wax on the top was extremely liquidy…
so my very intelligent brain thinks: I’ll put the cap on and mix it…
and as I start mixing… the cap is propulsed off and the wax squirts out exploding out of the bottle!!
Pooof!!!
… Hot wax… everywhere… burning!!!
MY FACE!!!!!
Ahhhh!!!!! I put my hands to my face to try and stop the burning sensation, and fled to the bathroom…
It felt as if half my face has been burnt off…
The only thing that is my mind is the movie: the man without a face.
I thought I was going to be supporting a Freddy Cougar look!!
These are the moments you realize just how much your face means to you and how much vanity you actually have…
I thought… nobody will even love me again!!!! Oh!!! My!!
Come on, you have too look at it… look at it… just look… see how bad it is…!!!
Come on you can do it!!
1,2,3 GO!
Ahh! I was already crying… but my tears went from a bit of desperation to lot’s of relief (relief is a small word)…
it was not so bad, it was okay.. I was happy.
The wax landed on my face mostly in droplets squattered everywhere, that is why it hurt so bad and everywhere. But most of the burns were small to medium. There was just one bigger spot on my right cheekbone and most of the damage was done in my neck. I was also burt down my back
(since I did not attend to them right away they had more time do dig in the skin …eiuhhh!)
But who cares!!! It’s my back!!! AND My face does not look like Freddy Cougar!!
I almost (I said almost) happily picked up the now cold and sticky, jammed wax all over the floor… (because I threw the bottle of course)…
Next day… I could not hide it. Everybody was asking. Everybody. I tried to come up with a better, more exciting story to explain it… anything else but waxing!!!!
But I couldn’t… it was too funny…
The worst was the hockey guys…
I remember walking in the hockey room, right away, all the guys were asking and asking…
What happenned now???…
How do you explain, to 20 guys stairing at you… half concerned half smirking at the way you look…
How do you explain to 20 guys, that you were waxing your legs when…
First they (of course) did not understand…
having no knowledges what so ever about how these things work…
after they (of course) laughed, and laughed and laughed…
Then, they made me repeat with all the guy technical details of..
yes, I know that when I put the cap back on and then mixed I warmed up the air, that expanded and that made the pressure build up and the cap forcefully pop off and send all the wax flying… and… they needed all the technical details of waxing, and microwave use and… (they are guys…)
Then, on the ice (where everything is semi-serious…) they couldn’t stop smiling at me with this repressed grin… !!!!
The story spread to the opposing teams… everybody knew.
Everybody teased. I teased back as much as I could…
told them they should try waxing… !!!
Being the only girl in the whole league…. I can say… I was out numbered.
Anyway, now, I have extra freckles (especially in my neck) and 2 big round spots in my back… but that is it.
Then, there was some wobbling down the lab halls from a twisted ankle from frisbee, 2 other car-bike accidents and countless numbers of bruises, bumps and scratches from hockey or soccer.. So yes, a reputation to get damaged, but this time I had no story to tell my eager lab friends… nope, this time, I was just walking…. I don’t know. Weird.
And beware of those hammaks!!! Dangerous things!!!

Hello to all... i am still alive.

2005-07-20T15:08:00.000-03:00

Yes, alive and surviving. This master thesis thing is hard and stressfull (will i ever get it doneE!!!) 41 days left...
41!! The hardest part is sitting on this dam chair, my bum is accumulating damage, my back is not happy and my wrist get aches and pains because of typing or "mousing"...
I have not written or talked to anyone of you for a while now... I am a thesis vegetable. I go outside to eat lunch and to walk home, only to cover myself with my cover, sometimes not even getting in pyjamas, sometimes... okay, most of the time.
You see,
doing anything else then thesis create strong guilty feelings... and so I rapidly return to staring at my screen... even if no words come out ...
Sometimes they do... sometimes they don't... please please... come out faster.
I wish I could type right not with a limited amount of fingers...
... i wish i could spell and i wish caffein would actually work.
but Laurence said something to me that really helps,
I wrote it on one of my post-it (a green one) and stuck it to my computer screen... sometimes I stare at it, but never very long because
it tells me to hammer away at my thesis...
and to be happy to hammer...
so i try, and try to feel happy everytime i press on my little (now dirty) key board... i am getting closer...
I don't like the delete button... but it is necessary sometimes...
I guess even delete he is part of finishing.
41 days... tomorrow I will count my pages...
for now, I must return.
...
I do not have the time to write my stories... for now...
but one day i will catch up...
I will see all of you soon since I will be back in Montreal on the 1st of August.
...
.... 41 days,
good bye... for now

I am proud to say I added a new link...

2005-07-08T11:42:00.000-03:00

I added a new link to my blog... (please feel free to visit!!)
especially if your in an intellectual mood...
(but it's okay if your not...you can visit anyway!!)

On the right there.. yes just there..!!

I put the link to some of Laurences stories... and writings.
HA!!

...
shut...

(don't tell him, he doesn't know...)
....

Trip with Laurence!!! (After, conference!!)

2005-07-06T06:01:00.000-03:00

I discoved how to insert pictures!! Haha! They are not all here just a few, all others are still on Flickr... so you guys will have to go see them there anyways..
(well, only if you are interested.. hihi!!)

Of course the stories of my trip are not all written in yet, it will take some time to catch up. I only write when my brain is dead from proteins and genes and things ... so patience Laurent!!!!

So here is the...
Croatian ballet try outs at Rab... You should of seen my "grand ecart" with complet back twirl right into the adriatic sea... (not quite but ...)
I did forget that this was salt water... hummm.

Here, Laurence looks like he is kissing me, but in fact he is tempting a sly move to get me to fall into the lakes... you can see it... ha!!! I have proof!!!!

This was a ferry crossing (we were heading for another mystical croatian island).
Saddly this picture poorly captures the "mystical" ambience... I kept watching the sky, in case dragons were going to come out of some mysterious cave lodged in one of the baren rocky islands...

This was in ...
I'll have to look up the name... to complicated for non-slovenian type brains.
Right after this picture I fell backwards over the fence!
(haha!! Didn't happen but it could of!!..)

Well, there we were sitting in some stairs waiting for the bus to take me away to the airport, separation is emminent, even if we are trying to forget about it.

In my lost bag, I had M.Sixtopus (among other things). So, at my return to the lab, the wonderfull people here gave me a new M.Sixtopus: homemade out of green socks. He now sit on my computer encouraging me in my thesis typing!!!
Thank you for M.Sixtopus!!!
Yes everyone, M. Sixtopus is back, with longer and crawlier legs, a bit paler in color but with the same silly smile.
I will be 82 years old remembering the "legend" of the Sixtopus comeback!
Thanks again!

My name is, my birthday is, i was born in....

2005-07-04T17:39:00.000-03:00

So our festival night finished a little early, we ended up visiting the Milano police station filling the “police report”… Nice policemen in Milan, a bit slow but very nice. I was very very glad to have Laurence with me to help me in my “adventure”. I don’t think I thought of anything. Right away, Laurence was on the phone, he called about 3 places before I understood he was in the mist of cancelling my credit card, getting the address of the police station, the Canadian consulat in Milan AND arranging that my plane ticket be replaced. All I had to do was remember my name, birthday and home address and … sign the dotted line on the bottom of the report.
Cancelling my Visa was actually funny. We call in to say: “look my card has been stolen, can we cancel it?”
Yes, Mamm, what is your card number please.
Well… I don’t know the card is gone.
Mamm, we cannot cancel the card if you cannot give us the card number.
What!
Don’t you have a billing receipt or anything that would have the card number?
No, I am in a funny country.
Well, mamm it will be difficult to…
What do you mean! This doesn’t make any sense… the card is stolen and I can’t cancel…
…
To my relief, she finally, started to ask me security question age, place of birth, address, ect ect…
With such a strong italien accent… the conversation was speckled with “whats” and “sorry I did not understand”s…
I guess it did not help that I was on a cell phone, in a noisy eco”ing” place… my card was finally cancelled… I think.

We then, decided to take the luxury of taxi”ing” back to the hotel. Taxi full equipped with yelling, swearing, italien driver.
It was time to part.
I climbed the tower to my fancy hotel (hoping Carlos and Olga would already be in, since I did not have the key).
Laurence headed out into the warm night to walk back to the youth hostel he was staying at.
ByyyyeEE Laurence!!! See you tomorrow, 8h, Del duomo square.

Carlos and Olga were not in yet. Had to wait outside, locked out of the room. Well, at least I could take off my dinky sandles, my feet were killing me!!

Worst things can happen

2005-07-02T20:09:00.000-03:00

I was exhausted. And the situation was getting funnier and funnier. There I was.
Going travelling.
On credit.
With no more credit card.
Stripped of all cash I possessed.
Laugh or cry, laugh or cry?!! I can’t believe this!!! Here I was remembering a taxi drivers sage words:
“When god seems against you, he is not. It just seems that way for the moment, but it will pass… “
I was wondering if this was some weird version of a challenge for me, to see if I would break down? I was on the edge. Laugh or cry?
My laugh was nervous, it was not a freeing laugh, not like the one I felt when I missed the plane but still I laughed, thinking:
“worst things can happen in life.” But that is actually a scary thought for me… “Gee, ... hope they won’t happen!!”

No cigaretta!!!

2005-07-02T19:37:00.000-03:00

My heart was beating very very fast, not because of the overdose on caffein but because I was about to see him. And there he was, strolling around with his scruffy grand-voyageur look making his way through the festive crowds. At that second, I was completely alive again. After some kissing.. hihi!! just a bit... we made our way through the crowds and found a bench. It was a festival "nuit blanche" night: People, music and lot's of people. We were just sitting there happy to be together, talking about what kind of icecream we were going to get.
When some guy comes up to us and asks us for cigarretta..
no, no, cigaretta, sorry.
The guy left, only to come back and ask us again for .. cigaretta, cigarreta!!! With a bit to much arm movements...
" no, no,no, cigaretta..." (thinking, go away!)
As I turned back around confortable in my bench ...I felt nothingness besides me.
Ah! Dam it, where is my bag!
It was in fact gone.
Gone with passport, 700 euros (let's not think in canadians dollars okay) , plane ticket, all identification and M. Sixtopus (my want to be toy octopus). What could I do but say... farewell M.Sixtopus.
Yes, the italien adventure was started.

Presentation day

2005-07-02T19:09:00.000-03:00

Woke up...
Let say.
I don't really remember. I just know at some point, I was reworking the slides with Zdenka in her hotel room. We finally cut out 1/3 of the slides 1 hour before we left for the conference. Well, I knew it was going to happen. There was too much stuff. Funny, I just continued doing and doing more, eventhough I knew, it wouldn't fit. Anyway,... I knew so it was okay. I was going to get this over with.
So, overdosed on coffee, we headed out to the confrence. Before I knew it, it was over. It was done. I thought I would be elated with joy. It was finished!!! But I wasn't. I did a good job, not great but good. I was happy, but an empty happyness. Their was relief but only some. It was if my emotions were dulled to the point of not feeling. Of course, I kept this indifference inside on the outside I tried to be the way I was supposed to be. After everything was done, all the normal chitchat and polite praise was over, life was coming back to me. In a few hours, I was to meet Laurence at the mysterious Del Duomo at 7h. Del duomo at 7h.
Slowly my stupor was fading. Olga, Carlos and Zdenka are nice, funny and lively people. Their energy started to rub off on me.
Before leaving the conference. I stopped at the travel grant office and recieved my 570 euros in cash. 570 euros ment to cover my travel expenses. These 570 euros is the only money I had. Since, my CHUM pay check from montreal had not gone throught for 2 weeks now for some technical reason that still was not fixed. I had a credit card.
We were going to have drinks!! So quick quick, back to hotel, change (put new cute summer dress on) and we all head out to Del Duomo square. I was just starting to wake up to the italien adventure...
There were in the sun having wine in a small italien café-terrasse. Laughing, telling stories and before we knew it, Zdenka had to leave for her supper, Carlos and Olga had to meet up with some other friends at some statue with it’s arms in the air and I had to meet Laurence.

The heat of Milan

2005-07-02T18:58:00.000-03:00

Let’s say that plane ride was a defining moment for me. My forehead was hurting by then, so I unstuck it form the hub-plane window… and ….
Headed out in the hot night of Milan
I smelt of travel, sitting on the floor of the bus station, I was going to survive this.
Oh! Cool! Italien double decker bus! … To the CITY! Let’s go.
My two good friends from the Montreal lab, Olga and Carlos, a Russian and a Libanese, were waiting for me at the hotel. They (of course) wanted to know the full “missing the plane” story. We laughed. We laughed very hard.
The room was minuscule. 2 single beds, 3 people. I volunteered to sleep in the middle, squished into the gap between the “stuck together” beds. We were like kindergarden kids. Laughing, and silly picture taking… Tomorrow was presentation day. But at this point, I did not want to think about it.

Less funny, lost thoughts on plane...

2005-07-02T18:20:00.000-03:00

A bit of sleep came to me on the plane. I woke up to the Alpe mountains poking out over the clouds reflecting the evening sun shinning orangy light everywhere. Mesmerizing is all I can say. I stared transfixed, forehead squished on the hub-plane window. Nothing was going through my head. No thoughts. No thoughts but no feelings either. Emptiness.
All the scardyness, the panick, the stress was gone but so was the happiness, excitement, energy or life. There was nothing.
I could have been the chair I was sitting on.
Then, finally: a thought.
How did I get myself into this state again? How did I totally lose myself, again. For some random 10 minute presentation in some random fancy conference?! There must be more important things to life. Meaningful things. Things that wouldn’t keep draining me at each corner. At this moment, I knew I could continue doing this. But.
I would be in constant battle with myself. With time, I might get better. But.
How much time, how many battles will it take?
In science, there are always new and more important deadlines. They keep lining up. Conference, master thesis, articles, conference, PhD thesis, grants, articles… Maybe they are called deadlines because they can kill people, slowly. Some people are very resistant, others sensitive. I have a deadline sensitivity aggravated by gross unorganization in combination with a senseless drive to “give everything I have”… Keep going all out, no limits. It is destroying me. I get accute unproductivness stress that hinders all productivness. Then, I loose myself in repetitive panicked attempts to “make” the deadline.
Some people think I am good at science. I somehow always pull through, barely making it. But, I am loosing too much life energy too fast.
My mind cannot let go, it goes on and on deep into the night, rambling about important silliness.
Sleep is a gift.
A gift I do not have.
I need to find a place that would give me that. I see too many sleepless nights in research.

Milan "take two": second departure

2005-07-02T17:51:00.000-03:00

I slept maybe 4 hours that night, high stress. Reread article, reworked the conclusion etc etc... I'll sleep on the train.
But I had not been sleeping for at least a week, hit with accute presentation preperation stress.
At this point, my zombie automatic pilot broke down. I found myself talking to myself as I was struggling to get ready. "Come on girl. move. You'll get through this. You can do it. Push. Just this time, one last time. (even if I had heard it all before)
Yep. I was at that point... surprised myself a couple of times in a transfixed stair, "waking up" wondering how much time just flew by. But I had a plan.
Aeroport, 3 hours before plane.
Sinzianna was witness to my second agitated departure… Ran out the door, in halo of panicked energy, byeEEEEEE!!!!
My bag boucing up and down, my straps flapping in the wind, I ran walked, ran, walked to the train station. I was hot, tired and dripping with sweat again but … this time…
I was early
(a bit)
I hopped on the train, and … Ladies and gentleman, I got to the aeroport !!
My last fear.
Falling asleep and missing the plan.
Must not sleep. Sitting is dangerous.
Solution, aeroport shopping stores! Keep busy, get coffee, get cute summer dress…
You need it for conference anyway, plus Laurence might think you’re cute. Humm!! Tomorrow, you will see him!!! (nice thought)
… must survive presentation first. Must get on plane first.

Milan "take two": square one, Nottingham

2005-07-02T17:16:00.000-03:00

So there I was, squirming in my shoes, with all my stuff, standing in front of Marije and Sinzianna's place waiting for them to answer the door. Sinzianna's voice of surprise on the intercom was worth another blast of laughter. She opened the door for me and by the time I was up at her flat, she was already poring me a glass of wine saying:
“Now, tell me: I gather you caught the train but missed the plane”.
Yep.
The story was out.
We laughed, she laughed. Then, just to make sure I really had forgotten my passport, I pulled it out from the bag I had left in the corner of her living room…
I then made my way downstairs, disturbing Catriona and Luke in the middle of StarWars… to tell them about the “time-plane-train Wars”. They laughed too, they would of pored me more wine if I did not already have some. Nice to have friends.
Then, Marije came in.
“What the (hell) are you doing here!!!!!“
(I am proud to say I know what dutch “shock” looks like! Haha!)
So, I had to explain again, missed the plane, so decided to come back and pick up my forgotten sleeping bag and passport…
She became a shocked dutch in laughter (funny sight).
They we're all very impressed with my innate ability to “mess up”.
I know I was.
... funny, but anybody that has known me for a longer time were not surprised.
but I still was...
is there something that I am not getting?

Milan "take two"... the adventures continue!

2005-07-02T17:06:00.000-03:00

Missed the plane, what else can go wrong? I almost felt safe. The "mess up" event of the month had happened. All "mess up" energy building around me had been dissipated, freshly unleashed. I was going to be safe for a while!! Well… as life would have it, things happen … and then, other things happen…

Milan.... well... maybe.... chapter 4

2005-06-16T20:39:00.000-03:00

So. People.
This is why, why I am laughing, laughing and not crying. My eyes were watering up... tears were just about to form, my whole body felt like collapsing on the bench and then just at that moment.. I started to laugh. Laugh, and laugh, my abdominals hurt. I streemed out of the aeroport can't believing what I had just achieved.
and: Julie. Je sais... que si tu lis ceci... tu vas tellement etre decouragee de moi!! Pense que ... maudit, y faut que je vive avec moi-meme 24h sur 24.
I missed the plane. Wow. I am almost glad I actually missed the plane, imagine, getting over here... and just not having my passport! I feel much better having forgotten my passport AND having missed the plane anyway...
Now, should I just tell Zdenka (my boss) that I missed the plane or do I have to actually admit that I missed the plane AND forgot my passport AND lost a days work, running, pedeling, train"ing", taxi"ing" and running some more.
AND... not finishing my powerpoint slides for the presentation...
... hummm...
Well, here I am. On the train, leaving liverpool, heading back to Nottingham... (to fetch my passport). 114 pounds (114 pounds meaning money, papa, not weight!!) and 6 diet pepsi down... Seriously wondering, where is my brain?? Maybe, one of those sheep in the fields took it?? Maybe, I am supposed to be out there with them, eating grass... Humm, forgot to eat! Funny, I am not hungry, I'll save money on food.
Maybe the plane will crash and this will have saved me. Or, it would of crashed if I had gotten on it. Their would of been a plane-Celine-situation interaction that would of been disasterous... and knowing that tomorrow's winds are be better for me to fly, God saved me...
ahh... well, must find time to finish conclusion slides...
let's keep laughing, no break downs... sleep, try and sleep.
Milan: take two, tomorrow.
(at least, I will have my sleeping bag this time!!)

Milan.... well... maybe.... chapter 3

2005-06-16T20:36:00.000-03:00

FUCK! (sorry mommy and papa, but that was the word for the moment)
Oh!Gee!! Shit! and tabarnaque!!!! also passed through my mind.
then silence.
then another Fuck.
then, maybe... maybe they will take me anyways.
Now, walking, I found the counter. " Is this the line up for Milan?" (knowing perfectly well, that it was too long to be it at this time).
She said: "the gates for Milan closed a while ago".
Yes... well... humm..
and I guess you don't take passport"less" people, either...
"no."
Well, humm, ...I guess I won't be going to Milan today.
"no."
ah! .. well, fair enough...
She pointed me to the lady behind the "booking counter". Nice lady, tryied hard not to laughed at me. She transferred my ticket to tomorrow, with a 40 pound fee charge. She finished off with: " Well, see you tomorrow, a little earlier and with a passport..."
Ah! yes, see you tomorrow, tomorrow I should get it right.

can my

Milan.... well... maybe.... chapter 2

2005-06-16T20:35:00.000-03:00

Train... It's coming, it's late, I'm okay.
Good! Stress level, not decreasing, concentrate, decrease stress level.
Maybe I could get a diet pepsi??
OH! Train! Ah, tickets, okay good! find nice spot, start relaxing, make friends with very nice lady in front of me and little kid next to me.
Long train ride.
long, train, long ride...
hummm... What time is it?? Humm... What time is plane at?? Oh!
I ask the lady: " do you think I will make my plane?"
Ammm, welll, hummm...
no.
NO??!!!
Well, hummm... maybe?!? ... If you run fast, forget the bus and get a taxi... and there be no traffic.
Ah! (hope!!)
I run fast, I'm okay... I'm okay.
Train doors open, Celine darts out, bags bouncing up and down, straps dangling...
TaXI!!!
Aeroport!!
Swiftly trying to zoom through traffic: "What time are you flying at??"
6h15.
"Humm, traffic you know, .. but I will try to get you there. Maybe."
Maybe.
I'll take maybe. Lot's of maybes today.
My leg was dancing on it's own, up and down, needed to "pi", was bitting my nails and twitching my plane ticket...
Aggravating!! Those little old ladies and red lights!!
AHHhhhh!!! AAAAHhHHhhh!!
Stressfull riding a taxi, you can't do anything. You sit there. So there I was... Sitting. Thinking.
"Do they take very badly twitched plane tickets??!" humm...
Taxi door opens, Celine darts out, bags bouncing up and down, straps dangling...
and then
I think...
Oh! God, I forgot my passport.

Milan.... well... maybe.... chapter 1

2005-06-16T19:06:00.000-03:00

People.
Do I have a brain?? no really??!!!
Here I am sitting alone in a train, laughing.
(everybody is watching but I can't stop)
I am wondering where is my brain??!! Must of lost it somewhere...
If anybody sees it running around ... PLEASE please catch it ... and tell him I miss him very very much... and would he please return to me.
... I can't stop laughing.
I was on the edge of crying... but... instead I thought: I have a choice. Can't I just laugh?!! hummm let's try laughing... my abdominals are now suffering from accute "crisis laughter pain". You see, I have a presentation and conference in Milan. My train leaves at 2h (in my head, because I know me...). "On paper" it was 2h25 but I told my brain 2h. My set objective was 1h40 at the train station. 1:40.
Up at 6h00, get to the lab, finish power point slides, make coffe, finish more slides, fiddle, fiddle, make more coffee... time time, run. Get plane ticket, get train ticket, run back... copy my still "unfinished" presentation on my memory stick, on a CD, send it to myself and to Zdenka (my boss) by email... (will finish later I think). Ran to Dany, Manon's and little Yohan's (all ready sweating) Quick quick, must pack anything, everything. I don't care. Oh!! Dam!
Sleeping bag! Sleeping bag at Marije and Sinzianna's place!! Must get sleeping bag!
Gee! come on, you have time, you can make it it's only 1h50!!!
Huge bag on back, small packsac equilibrated on front handle bars of my bike, pedling, pedeling, fast fast, sweat dripping stinging my eyes, my hair is stuck to my face, can't move it away: because can't let go bag, delicatly balenced on my handle bar! Bumps, turns and sways. People looking at me funny, racing down the canal, but I don't care. I'm going to make it.
If...
If ... I forget about the sleeping bag.
Who needs a sleeping bag anyway. Real campers don't need sleeping bags!! Forget about the fancy sleeping bag and just ... GET TO THE TRAIN STATION!!!
2h18, lock bike, come on just lock it!!
RUN!!!
Platform 4b.. liverpool... 4b.. 2h20.
... sweat running down my face.
The train is not there.
yet.

Leavingg!!!!!

2005-06-11T17:09:00.000-03:00

Well, I am guessing… for those who haven’t been MSN”ing” with me… (because they already know all about everything… aie! Laurent & Sylvie!!)
You guys must want an update on … humm…
The mysterious Laurence O’dwyer guy (perfectly Irish name, no??)…
... the guy that stole my heart and ran away with it (literally).
Well, I haven’t been writing too much about him… because as life is never simple and always get complicated just when you’re thinking you’re doing good… well…
Things get unpredictable…
And since I didn’t even know what to think anymore, forget about writing about it… but here… I will try…
There I was taking my time, writing to you guys, phoning you guys…. Struggling with the notion that “he” is different (a bit weird honestly… I mean he talks to ducks what to you expect!!) Actually, come to think of it… he talks to anything around him, pens, chairs, cats, hats and I am sure he talks to ants he just didn’t admit that to me yet!
Anyway… I was busy ignoring this growing feeling of intense .. humm! let’s call it …curiosity…
put simply… I would catch myself wondering on a regular basis: humm... what else does he talk to?...
Fishy!! (but I don't love this guy)
… so while I was trying to deny existence of “fishy” thoughts…
Laurence, as it turns out…
was doing some of his own feeling ménage!
He surprised the lab with his decision: He was leaving the lab.
WHATTTT???
Yep! He was leaving.
Leaving to become a “penniless writer” (as he puts it). To pursue something that he really wants to do. (So when he said: I just want to write… well, he meant it literally).

LEAVVIINNGGG!!!! WHAT!!!!
The lab, going back to Ireland...
LeAVINGG!!

BUT YOU CAN’T LEAVE!!!!!!!
If I would of yelled that out like I felt it inside…
he probably would have been very perplexed… (because at this point there was still an eerie state of nothing”ness” between us…)
This leaving bit, was a shock to me… it was not that I didn’t expect it (because I kind of did). But a shock to feel such an emotional blow inside.
Me and my emotional control… went back up stairs and pretended to yawn… to anyone noticing any signs of watery eyes…
Don’t think Petr (the funny Tcheq guy) believed me. HaHa!! Because, later, Petr and I had lunch together, sitting in the grass, on a little hill. And he point blank asked me (with his funny Tcheq accent..):
do you love Laurence?
My mouth blurted out YES! so fast, that I don’t even know where it came from. Tried to catch it and put it back in my mouth… but it had already jumped out...
So, I desperately tried to babble on and transform the YES! into a mellow “maybe” but… I was caught.
Red handed.
Not by Petr… but by myself.
Houston we have a problem…
I am in love with a guy that is leaving!!!!!!

Shower ... disaster

2005-06-09T12:43:00.000-03:00

Yesterday morning, I woke up and went out for a fast bike ride... all over Wallaton park, and visited the deers and their mini bambi babies... with spots and everything!!!
Then I can back... took a shower at the University.
Almost finished my nice long shower, I noticed that my feet were pitter patting in a lot of water... and then I saw.
the drain was bloqued...
but...
the shower (very badly designed) has no lip or "container" at the bottom to collect or retain the water.. so... since the floor of this shower is equal to the floor of the rest of the room, the water had dribbled out... flooding the mini shower room
and all of the annexing toilet room!
And I am talking about 1 to 1/2 an inch of water covering everything depending on the angle of the floor!!! ... nothing I could pick up fast fast and pretend it never happened...
Humm...
So I quickly resorted to plan B:
run!

Climbed up on small table to put my pants on (not to get them wet...)
fast, fast, collected all evidence of me ... to leave incognito.
...
As I was closing the door of the sinistered bathroom...
I saw...
the water had made it to the hallway!...
and there was a growing ring of "wetness" forming in the carpet around the door...
Oh boy, better get out of here even faster... ahhh!!...
Not me, not me , I did not do anything...
(... Gee! my hair is wet, it will give me away!..)
not me!!! Didn't do anything!!!
I fled. quick, quick... got up stairs fast, keeping an almost normal looking pace
and hide behind my computer.
Don't know if I will risk any futur showers in that place again.
Might look suspicious... ... humm.

So, my adventure of the day..
bathroom flood...
but... what a bad design of a shower...!!!
...
why do these things always happen to me??...
because I am a bubble head ( my dad would say..)
ha!! ...

PICTURES!!!!!

2005-06-05T06:49:00.000-03:00

News, News!!!
All people invited to see my ... pictures!!!
(well, some pictures..)
They are posted on the web site

http://www.flickr.com/photos/abee12/

You can also just click the link...(I made it haha!! very proud!)
So click on
"My pictures on flickr"
it is in the tool bar "links" on the right!
Bye bye!!! (more to come!)

What Julie Berube (and Stephane think...)

2005-06-04T12:25:00.000-03:00

Julie and Stephane are my lab friends back in montreal...
Here is what Julie had to say about me being with a poet guy... !!

"ah ouin!? Tu t'es fait un chum? Ben coudonc... Stéphane et moi, on rigole de te savoir avec un poète. On est pas sûrs que vous allez gagner des concours d'organisation spatio-temporelle... hahahahahahahaha"

english translation: they are chuckling at the idea of me with a "poet"... in that we would never win any kind of spatio-time organisation contest...
...
who wants to enter a contest like that anyway?!!!
... hummm.
and!!!
I am organized!!!
Laurence thinks so!
:)

Another dog story from papa!

2005-06-04T12:18:00.000-03:00

I have been letting the dogaroo loose around the airport for a few days to see how well that could go. She runs after everything, buterflies, frogs, canada geese.... even when they overfly the airfield at 1100 feet overhead. She has also discovered the little creek and river and goes and bathes regularly... or should I rather say, goes and muddies herself regularly. She mostly follows me around while I do the whipper snipping on our little golf course or grass cutting on the runway. She follows me on the tractor... actually thats wrong too, she leads me the way in front of the tractor. She trots along in front of 6 spinning lawn blades snipping away the grass very close to her tail!!! When I get at the end of a run and turn around, she'll keep going until she notices that I'm not behind and she'll franticaly rejoin me and pass ahead and the senario starts over. At a certain point she got pretty tired and the heat was pretty bad so I lifted her on to my lap and whe did another few rounds. I'll have to make her a litlle basket or something.

I still do not think I can let her loose when people are around as she then goes completely deaf to any command...
She also got real friendly with Balou (see Balou and her new haircut in one of the pictures) and they lie together in the grass under shady spots. Balou will get a drink in the condo now and then and Mia does'nt seem to mind. The doggy condo is now beside our trailer. Mis has not yet eaten any of the two remaining chickens but I do not trust her too much... she really smaks her lips when she spots them pecking around the coop. It was good to hear your presentation went well but what about the extra pages missing for the master's ? Reading your page makes me think you are living in some kind of hippie communitie or sect or something. Whish we had more $$$ then I might worry less... well, maybe not but ...
I love you too, keep in touch, papa

Papa's description of my dogaroo

2005-06-04T12:17:00.000-03:00

I do not know how to tell you this but your dog is not a dog at all. It's a
kangaroo in disguise. I know this may be difficult for you to understand
but I've been studying it's behavior since it having moved into it's new
doggy condo and I'm now convinced it somehow got mixed into kangaroo genes.
I still do not take chances in letting it loose around the airport as it
does not respond to any command other than bouncing around at the slightest
distraction, it being a little piece of rubber or the odd insect that
happens to fly by. I also believe that he prefers his chicken very fresh
which goes against the kangaroo theory them being herbivores. Our herd of
chickens have learned to not get too close to any chicken eating dogaroos.
Could also call him a digaroo as I believe he is trying to add a basement to
his present logging accomodations. We think of you often, big hug from me, papa

HAPPY BIRTHDAY PAPA!!!!!!!!!!!

2005-06-02T12:34:00.000-03:00

HaaaAAPPPY BIRTHDAYYYYYYY PApa!!!
Happy birthday, happy birthday... HAPPPYYY BIRRRTHDAYYYYY
To .... YOUUuuuuUUUUUUU!!!!
Love you lots lots...
how old did you get again?...
I have a card here for you... but (of course) I did not send it!!
it will come!! ....
with a little old friend of yours!!
LOve you!!

It is done, finished and over!

2005-06-02T10:50:00.000-03:00

Presentation ... done.
I am happy.
My voice got a little shacky in the begining but it straightened out.
A couple of french words... reticulum endoplasmique and compensatoire (somehow I just couldn't say compensatory... 3 times it came out in french).
On all my slides, I wrote cytosqueleton... (that had cytosKeleton on them)
hihi!
I am down to 6 normal looking finger nails (the others got stuck in a blender somewhere). A bit nervous, I would say...
but it went just fiiIne!
Actually it went really fiine, even got some discussions going.
Answered technical scientific question making serious reference to a cross between a doberman and a chiwawa... everybody laughed but everybody understood.
... Well done everyone! (Laurence would say) ha! ...
but I ate too many cookies again!!
I was acutely affected by stress induced cookie gobling!! (a serious condition that affects me from time to time...)
After 3 days of full "computer-sitting down" in combination with "acute cookie gobling"... ahummm...
I still like thinking it is the washing machine incident that makes my jeans less stretchy... ahumm!...
I will find me some hills to run up!
Going to Milan in 15 days!!!! Wooow! That's fast!

Presentation

2005-06-01T21:27:00.000-03:00

AHHHHHHhhhh!!! Going a little crazy.
Have a presentation to give in less then 12h. 2 days of intense power pointing! My bum took the shape of the chair again, did nothing else (no frisbee, no cricket, no hockey, no running, no jumping up and down)! The most I did was to type standing up (to give my bum a rest)!! Lots of stuff to do, with priority on one thing... but I don`t think I have time... maybe (If I don`t sleep...) hummm, but I promised myself I would never do that again (not sleeping)... hummm. I will go to bed!

Washing machine adventures….

2005-05-30T16:05:00.000-03:00

Here I am trying to recuperate what I can from a washing machine disaster! I guess I set the settings wrong or something because I did not dry my clothes but cooked them… litterally cooked! As in ….
One of my spandex sport t-shirts: melted!
It now looks like a twisted alien form bundle that doesn`t stretch anymore as the fabric fibres are now melted together.
And then, many of my “expired” bras, having had their life extended by clever hockey tape repairing, are now stuck all together as the hockey tape melted.
I couldn’t help laughing when, I saw my “still alive” sports pants (also repaired with hockey tape: since my bike ate the bottom right leg of them). As I lifted the pants almost half of the clothes came with it… all glued together.
One of my sweaters has also taken a bizarre form … it`s a bit shrunk (quite shrunk actually!!). I don`t know how I`ll get in it next time!?
My elastic stretch“able” jeans… are… all small and twisted … hopefully they might still be stretchable… there is also a couple of T-Shirts that would fit Laurie or any other 5 year old kid.
As I was picking away and pulling off all the melted plastic bits from the rest of my spareable clothes… I found my (now) very clean and sterilized swiss army knife (Yes people, I washed it!!… ).
Saddly, the typical “swiss army” red plastic platings on the sides of the knife were all melted and twisted off… My knife is now, an unrecognisable, tuff looking, full metal silver knife. Who needs plastic decorative plates?! … It might be less pretty … but it is thinner and probably lighter … haha! (but I still liked it better with the pretty red plastic useless decorative side plates!!!) Oh! Well… but “swiss army” really should make their knives washing machine safe, no??!!! Maybe I`ll complain! …
Anyway, I am going to have to invest in some clothes… hummm, and I will stay away clothes cooking washing machines!!!