You stand there, wait for it to happen, time passes, two trucks with chicks and music pass, too, and there comes the flame and ..... oooh ... alright ... so that was it? Think I'll head home then ... still: I was there! :-)
Wednesday, February 10, 2010
Olympic Torch Relay
So the Olympic Torch actually came through my street yesterday!
You stand there, wait for it to happen, time passes, two trucks with chicks and music pass, too, and there comes the flame and ..... oooh ... alright ... so that was it? Think I'll head home then ... still: I was there! :-)
You stand there, wait for it to happen, time passes, two trucks with chicks and music pass, too, and there comes the flame and ..... oooh ... alright ... so that was it? Think I'll head home then ... still: I was there! :-)
Friday, January 1, 2010
Moving in
There was this skinny guy in his hotel room, wearing just his underpants and a black shirt, ironing his white shirts and his blazer. Pop music came blasting from the TV, in sync with the iron's movements. Meet Mister T.
The first day of the new year and the day I'd leave the hotel and move into my room in Richmond. I figured this was the last chance I would have to iron my shirts which I'd be wearing for job interviews. Hence I got up early, shaved, took a long hot shower and finally turned on the TV as I set up the ironing board. Household chores always get on my nerves, so I was forced to make it as bearable as I can. Loud music usually helps ... (to the guests in the adjacent rooms: I'm still sorry!) With the shirts ready, I packed my stuff, parked the car in front of the main entrance (Do I have to mention that is was again raining like crazy?) and got me a luggage cart from the lobby. Even with the help of the cart I had to make the way twice. I'm definitely not a light traveller.
I was supposed to check out until 12 pm. At 12:03 pm I presented myself to the front desk, sweating and sneezing my way through the goodbye-hope-u-enjoyed-ur-stay-thank-yous. Moments later the silver Accent and I embarked on a journey to distant shores.
Warm-hearted Landlords and Cold Rooms
The shores were not so distant after all: I arrived at my future home a mere 7 minutes later. There it was, the house looked just the way it did on Google Street View. I rang the bell. No reaction. Rang again. Nothing. Hmmmpffh. This was one of the moments that reminded me on what kind of journey I was on: I had left Germany, had dissolved my old life via eBay, and had crossed the Atlantic to live in Canada, a country I had never been to. I had rented a room which I had never seen, and paid a deposit to landlords whom I had never met. It had gone pretty well so far, but would my lucky streak end here? I imagined myself running through Richmond's streets, asking random strangers for accomodation.
I dialed Judy's number. It rang. Once. Twice. Again. And Again. ("COME on!")
– Yes?
– Hi Judy, it's me, Tom!!! [I was already going by "Tom" instead of Torben. Much easier for everyone involved.] I'm standing here at the door ...
– Ah Tom! We not know when you arrive. Just a rittre second you wait, please. Yes. Thank you! Thank you!
Kwan greeted me at the door. An Asian in his early fifties, smiling cheerfully. Judy came down, obviously happy to see me. They didn't seem to be afraid of my baldhead. *phew* :-)
– Oh so you make de rong journey, jus arrive?
– No, no, I arrived a few days little earlier and stayed in a hotel for the last few days.
– Oh yes, da's good. So you rike Vancouver so far? Is a nice prace.
– Most definitely, I've been greatry ... erm, greatly enjoying myself so far! :-)
Whenever you don't understand somebody's accent or language, it's important to maintain the cool and pretend you are following every word they say. A sincere nod, a smile, or even a little chuckle will work wonders. At the same time watch out for key words and try to make some sense out of it. So I sat there: nodding, laughing, translating Rs into Ls in my head.
We went through the lease form, carefully adding "no party, no drug, no drunk, no visit". No comment. I kept on smiling. And then I got to see the room upstairs. The bed stared at me, all empty. No covers, no pillow. Something else was different, too ...
– Erm, it's not too big. That's fine. [Read: SMALL!] It's a little cold though. Where's the heater?
– Oh we no have heater, but we heat in general.
Now you have to understand that houses in North America are not what they are in Germany. You build a house in Germany, and it will exist for at least 200 years, surviving wind, weather, and two world wars. Houses in North America are not like that. The walls are thin, made out of wood. Windows are a constant source of cold air, creeping in through every crevice.
– So there's no way to heat this room?
– I have some cover which we can put in windows. It wirr keep cord outside, get warm. Funny, even former tennant, a Russian, he use covers.
Nice. "Passive" heating. Now WAIT a second! Even a Russian would rather have his windows sealed off from the cold outside? What could that mean? What could it mean, Kwan? That this room is effin' freezing!!!! I would have to do something about it or die of hypothermia. In the meanwhile I fought off the cold using the styrofoam covers Kwan had given me. I pretended it had gotten warmer already.
The Bare Necessities
There was this skinny guy in his small room in Richmond, looking pale and exhausted. Two large suitcases, a printer and a flock of shopping bags filled the room which seemed to burst at any moment. Chaos ruled the room, chaos ruled the guy's head. Again: meet Mister T, with a slight fever and a headache.
It was 6 pm: I had withdrawn money to pay the rent, returned the car, and – through three shopping tours – had bought a pillow and a comforter set, ingredients for my müsli (every day should start with a healthy breakfast, no matter where you are) and other items which you need when starting at Zero: 30 plastic hangers, a pair of fleece pants, an electric water kettle, a set of flatware, a bowl for müsli, one tall glass, one oversized mug and one small plate. (Thank the Galaxy that stores are open on Sundays and holidays!)
It took me about an hour to move my stuff into the wardrobe and the desk. Now that I had effectively moved in there wasn't much space left. I gazed "across" the room, wondering where the stuff in those two IKEA boxes I had a friend of mine send me would go. I couldn't imagine it. Oh well, until they arrived I would have enough time to think about it.
Here's a tip if you should ever move from Europe to North America: don't bring any bed clothes with you. Beds are different here: not just the sizes. You need a comforter blanket, a thin flimsy sheet, and the mattress sheet. When I bought the set, the lady at the store had informed me that it still might be too cold. She was going to be right after all.
The last thing I did was test the internet connection. That worked like a charm. At least one thing. I would have to get used to this room, to this place. I felt reminded of the time when my ex-girlfriend had moved into her tiny room in Aix-en-Provence. It had all felt so shabby and old, and we would have to buy the basic things she would need. We had come with my car and had taken a few trips to IKEA, Carrefour etc. etc. I had felt so sorry for her, for the situation, and I had hated to leave her alone. Now I believe that I was more shocked than her.
So now it was my turn. Still, I wasn't unhappy. It would just take some time. I was living the dream, after all.
The first day of the new year and the day I'd leave the hotel and move into my room in Richmond. I figured this was the last chance I would have to iron my shirts which I'd be wearing for job interviews. Hence I got up early, shaved, took a long hot shower and finally turned on the TV as I set up the ironing board. Household chores always get on my nerves, so I was forced to make it as bearable as I can. Loud music usually helps ... (to the guests in the adjacent rooms: I'm still sorry!) With the shirts ready, I packed my stuff, parked the car in front of the main entrance (Do I have to mention that is was again raining like crazy?) and got me a luggage cart from the lobby. Even with the help of the cart I had to make the way twice. I'm definitely not a light traveller.
I was supposed to check out until 12 pm. At 12:03 pm I presented myself to the front desk, sweating and sneezing my way through the goodbye-hope-u-enjoyed-ur-stay-thank-yous. Moments later the silver Accent and I embarked on a journey to distant shores.
Warm-hearted Landlords and Cold Rooms
The shores were not so distant after all: I arrived at my future home a mere 7 minutes later. There it was, the house looked just the way it did on Google Street View. I rang the bell. No reaction. Rang again. Nothing. Hmmmpffh. This was one of the moments that reminded me on what kind of journey I was on: I had left Germany, had dissolved my old life via eBay, and had crossed the Atlantic to live in Canada, a country I had never been to. I had rented a room which I had never seen, and paid a deposit to landlords whom I had never met. It had gone pretty well so far, but would my lucky streak end here? I imagined myself running through Richmond's streets, asking random strangers for accomodation.
I dialed Judy's number. It rang. Once. Twice. Again. And Again. ("COME on!")
– Yes?
– Hi Judy, it's me, Tom!!! [I was already going by "Tom" instead of Torben. Much easier for everyone involved.] I'm standing here at the door ...
– Ah Tom! We not know when you arrive. Just a rittre second you wait, please. Yes. Thank you! Thank you!
Kwan greeted me at the door. An Asian in his early fifties, smiling cheerfully. Judy came down, obviously happy to see me. They didn't seem to be afraid of my baldhead. *phew* :-)
– Oh so you make de rong journey, jus arrive?
– No, no, I arrived a few days little earlier and stayed in a hotel for the last few days.
– Oh yes, da's good. So you rike Vancouver so far? Is a nice prace.
– Most definitely, I've been greatry ... erm, greatly enjoying myself so far! :-)
Whenever you don't understand somebody's accent or language, it's important to maintain the cool and pretend you are following every word they say. A sincere nod, a smile, or even a little chuckle will work wonders. At the same time watch out for key words and try to make some sense out of it. So I sat there: nodding, laughing, translating Rs into Ls in my head.
We went through the lease form, carefully adding "no party, no drug, no drunk, no visit". No comment. I kept on smiling. And then I got to see the room upstairs. The bed stared at me, all empty. No covers, no pillow. Something else was different, too ...
– Erm, it's not too big. That's fine. [Read: SMALL!] It's a little cold though. Where's the heater?
– Oh we no have heater, but we heat in general.
Now you have to understand that houses in North America are not what they are in Germany. You build a house in Germany, and it will exist for at least 200 years, surviving wind, weather, and two world wars. Houses in North America are not like that. The walls are thin, made out of wood. Windows are a constant source of cold air, creeping in through every crevice.
– So there's no way to heat this room?
– I have some cover which we can put in windows. It wirr keep cord outside, get warm. Funny, even former tennant, a Russian, he use covers.
Nice. "Passive" heating. Now WAIT a second! Even a Russian would rather have his windows sealed off from the cold outside? What could that mean? What could it mean, Kwan? That this room is effin' freezing!!!! I would have to do something about it or die of hypothermia. In the meanwhile I fought off the cold using the styrofoam covers Kwan had given me. I pretended it had gotten warmer already.
My room (notice the pink styrofoam in the window)
The Bare Necessities
There was this skinny guy in his small room in Richmond, looking pale and exhausted. Two large suitcases, a printer and a flock of shopping bags filled the room which seemed to burst at any moment. Chaos ruled the room, chaos ruled the guy's head. Again: meet Mister T, with a slight fever and a headache.
It was 6 pm: I had withdrawn money to pay the rent, returned the car, and – through three shopping tours – had bought a pillow and a comforter set, ingredients for my müsli (every day should start with a healthy breakfast, no matter where you are) and other items which you need when starting at Zero: 30 plastic hangers, a pair of fleece pants, an electric water kettle, a set of flatware, a bowl for müsli, one tall glass, one oversized mug and one small plate. (Thank the Galaxy that stores are open on Sundays and holidays!)
It took me about an hour to move my stuff into the wardrobe and the desk. Now that I had effectively moved in there wasn't much space left. I gazed "across" the room, wondering where the stuff in those two IKEA boxes I had a friend of mine send me would go. I couldn't imagine it. Oh well, until they arrived I would have enough time to think about it.
Here's a tip if you should ever move from Europe to North America: don't bring any bed clothes with you. Beds are different here: not just the sizes. You need a comforter blanket, a thin flimsy sheet, and the mattress sheet. When I bought the set, the lady at the store had informed me that it still might be too cold. She was going to be right after all.
The last thing I did was test the internet connection. That worked like a charm. At least one thing. I would have to get used to this room, to this place. I felt reminded of the time when my ex-girlfriend had moved into her tiny room in Aix-en-Provence. It had all felt so shabby and old, and we would have to buy the basic things she would need. We had come with my car and had taken a few trips to IKEA, Carrefour etc. etc. I had felt so sorry for her, for the situation, and I had hated to leave her alone. Now I believe that I was more shocked than her.
So now it was my turn. Still, I wasn't unhappy. It would just take some time. I was living the dream, after all.
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