Canada and Ithaca
Canadian Fact: The name "Canada" was actually produced by accident. Canada's founding fathers, Dalton MacKenzie, Wilfrid Borden, and Jacques Laurier, decided the fairest way to name their newly confederated colonies was to each choose letters drawn randomly from a hat. The each wrote a letter and drew. Dalton looked at his piece and said "Mine says 'C', eh?" Wilfrid declared "I got 'N', eh?" And finally, "This one says 'D', eh?" read Jacques... But seriously, they say 'eh' a lot.
I've heard plenty of jokes about Canada and many derisive nicknames like America Light, America Junior, America's Hat, etc. But truly, it is America's Suburb. Staying with a painfully suburban family helped me reach this conclusion, but I think it's pretty good. Canada is that safer, cleaner, prettier, friendlier place with a strict homeowners' association just a little outside America. And while it's 'zee', not 'zed', poutine is good stuff.
I didn't really know why I was going when I went. I knew Cam lived there and was getting married soonish and Mike was going to see him, and I knew it was not entirely far from Ithaca. It turns out I went because Cam and his fiancée were having a stag and doe party. I wikipedia'd this and discovered it is a party for both the bride and groom intended to raise money for their wedding and honeymoon. This is achieved through entry fees, raffles, games, and so forth. And I was put in charge of The Great Canadian Whack-off. I discovered this was only somewhat less exciting that it sounded. You hit a nail into a log in as few whacks as possible. At first I wanted to be in charge of the flippy cup tournament, but, because I was not, I got to display my skills to yet another unsuspecting country. We lost, but because the Canadians on our team dropped the ball - Mike and I were adroit and Cam cheated shamelessly.
It was all fun with much Canadian beer and whiskey (which they, irritatingly, called rye even if there's no rye in it), but then one of Cam's groomsmen whom I'd befriended invited me out to his car where he smoked me up and I promptly lost my mind. I've never felt anything that seemed so much like insanity. I left myself a note on my phone that says "Everything confirms everything; nothing confirms nothing." I was not much of a help with the cleanup.
After being well-accommodated and slightly uncomfortable in Cam's fiancée's family's large home for an extra day (making four) I found the couch I'd arranged before could not be rain-checked for a day. I sent out a flurry of requests on CouchSurfing.org and contemplated sleeping in a park on my Greyhound trip to Ithaca. When I arrived, I had gotten a positive response and followed the directions somewhat outside the town to this:
Only slightly daunted, I entered. And was not murdered at all! In fact, my host, Marvin, is very hospitable and, of course, the consummate hippy. His housemate is a writer/cartoonist in his fifties and is also very nice and we've all spent a good bit of time chatting. I guess another person lives here whom I bumped into briefly. The "couch" is a mattress in a guestroom I'm sharing with a cat. I'm about to embark on my second night of sleep here after having checked out a couple of apartments in town. Marvin happened to know a dude living in a nascent coop I was unaware of whom he put me in touch with; he is very interested in filling some rooms and I'm going to check it out tomorrow. Marvin also knows my host for tomorrow, who invited me to go climbing with her.
Phase one: Obtain housing - in progress
Phase two: Obtain employment - pending completion of phase one
Phase three: ?
Phase four: Profit
Also I talked with Jordan for a long time last night. I guess I'm hard not to love. Can someone back me up on this?
I've heard plenty of jokes about Canada and many derisive nicknames like America Light, America Junior, America's Hat, etc. But truly, it is America's Suburb. Staying with a painfully suburban family helped me reach this conclusion, but I think it's pretty good. Canada is that safer, cleaner, prettier, friendlier place with a strict homeowners' association just a little outside America. And while it's 'zee', not 'zed', poutine is good stuff.
I didn't really know why I was going when I went. I knew Cam lived there and was getting married soonish and Mike was going to see him, and I knew it was not entirely far from Ithaca. It turns out I went because Cam and his fiancée were having a stag and doe party. I wikipedia'd this and discovered it is a party for both the bride and groom intended to raise money for their wedding and honeymoon. This is achieved through entry fees, raffles, games, and so forth. And I was put in charge of The Great Canadian Whack-off. I discovered this was only somewhat less exciting that it sounded. You hit a nail into a log in as few whacks as possible. At first I wanted to be in charge of the flippy cup tournament, but, because I was not, I got to display my skills to yet another unsuspecting country. We lost, but because the Canadians on our team dropped the ball - Mike and I were adroit and Cam cheated shamelessly.
It was all fun with much Canadian beer and whiskey (which they, irritatingly, called rye even if there's no rye in it), but then one of Cam's groomsmen whom I'd befriended invited me out to his car where he smoked me up and I promptly lost my mind. I've never felt anything that seemed so much like insanity. I left myself a note on my phone that says "Everything confirms everything; nothing confirms nothing." I was not much of a help with the cleanup.
After being well-accommodated and slightly uncomfortable in Cam's fiancée's family's large home for an extra day (making four) I found the couch I'd arranged before could not be rain-checked for a day. I sent out a flurry of requests on CouchSurfing.org and contemplated sleeping in a park on my Greyhound trip to Ithaca. When I arrived, I had gotten a positive response and followed the directions somewhat outside the town to this:
Only slightly daunted, I entered. And was not murdered at all! In fact, my host, Marvin, is very hospitable and, of course, the consummate hippy. His housemate is a writer/cartoonist in his fifties and is also very nice and we've all spent a good bit of time chatting. I guess another person lives here whom I bumped into briefly. The "couch" is a mattress in a guestroom I'm sharing with a cat. I'm about to embark on my second night of sleep here after having checked out a couple of apartments in town. Marvin happened to know a dude living in a nascent coop I was unaware of whom he put me in touch with; he is very interested in filling some rooms and I'm going to check it out tomorrow. Marvin also knows my host for tomorrow, who invited me to go climbing with her.
Phase one: Obtain housing - in progress
Phase two: Obtain employment - pending completion of phase one
Phase three: ?
Phase four: Profit
Also I talked with Jordan for a long time last night. I guess I'm hard not to love. Can someone back me up on this?