In case you didn't pick up on it in my last post, I have been worrying about money lately. A student loan that will be paid out THE LAST day to pay for tuition, combined with my inability to get a job in my current no-man's land, the need to buy my school books which I actually have to read this time, and my loathing to ask for money, have combined to make me a slight basket case. (On the plus side, I lost seven pounds in one month, so it's not all bad.)
Anyway, this past Saturday, I was kind of freaking out (as my mother, who was chatting with me over FB at the time, can attest), and wondering what the heck I was going to do, and if I should just come home, because besides books and basic needs, I also have a car payment, and two credit cards that need payments on them, and at least in CA I can sub. Mum reminded me that, hey, you can always pray about it. Heavenly Father wants to help us, but we've gotta ask. I was praying about it in my head during the R.S. broadcast, and when we were at Wal-Mart that night, Auntie Cath gave me a Sobey's gift card she never used, "Just in case." I prayed long and hard that night, thankful but still freaking out, and got some comfort, and the thought that I should fast the next day.
So, I fasted. It was hard, because I have church from 12:30 to 3:30, don't get home till four, and I'm hungry by then even when I eat before church. Sacrament meeting seemed to be geared toward me, what with all the "Trust in the Lord" theme woven throughout the talks. After church, Aunt Cathie and I went to Aunt Lilas' and Uncle Walt's for dinner, where Uncle Walt made the most delicious chili I have ever had the privilege to taste. I'm not kidding, I ate a huge bowl of this stuff, with visible mushrooms, kidney beans, and tomato chunks, all of which I dislike - honestly, I don't like chili in the first place. I like Uncle Walt's chili. I luuuurrrrve Uncle Walt's chili. I want to maaaarrrrryyyy Uncle Walt's chili, except I can't, because I'm already married to his biscuits, which are even better, and I don't want to be a bigamist. The only reason I didn't finish ALL my chili was because I had to save room for my biscuit, and even then, it was a struggle. I didn't even get to the coleslaw :-(.
Although I was quite content food-wise after dinner, I still wasn't sure what to do about the whole I-need-money-and-a-job situation.
Monday passed, I worked on my journal review for Wednesday, went to FHE, nothing of note.
Tuesday, I went to my Curriculum Theories class, chatted with my new friends M and J, and when the conversation turned to jobs, I mentioned how I wasn't working, which led to a recounting of my saga.
Wednesday, I had a scheduled phone meeting with CA unemployment to assess my eligibility to receive CA unemployment (I can, even though I am in Canada), and over the course of the conversation, I explained my predicament to the interviewer, who approved me for one week of unemployment payment (I'm getting some money, yay!), and then gave me some tips on the next round of interviews, which aren't yet scheduled. He told me to be honest that I am willing, ready, and able to look for work, and take any work I qualify for. He then advised me to look into on-line work, which I hadn't even thought of, but there's tons out there. I'm applying for freelance editing companies, we'll see what happens. He also told me to refrain from telling the next interviewer the saga, and basically "Don't cut yourself off from options" and I should be good for collecting unemployment. Very nice man, has visited Edmonton before, very helpful. Weird, because he works for the government ;-).
Then, that night at Research Methods class, my friend J surprised me with a gift certificate to Tim Horton's, a deli-ish restaurant, saying she had a hard time when she first moved to the states, and a lot of people helped her out, so she was gonna help me. I almost started crying in the middle of class, I was so touched. And thankful.
This morning, I was thinking I needed to get gas, because I have institute tonight, and I don't relish the thought of taking the LRT home at 10 p.m., so I was going to have to call Dad and ask for money, which I hate doing, because he never tells me no. Apparently, Heavenly Father (and Mum) had already talked to him about it, because when I went to check my bank account balance, he'd already put some money in.
So here's what I've learned: Anyone who says Heavenly Father doesn't answer prayers is either praying for the wrong thing, or more likely, not paying attention. And if you have something you're stressing about, pray. Pray hard, pray often, be specific about what you need, and then, (and this is the really hard part) be patient. And pay attention to what happens, not just in the hours to come, but days, weeks, and months. Often, it's like President Spencer W. Kimball said: “God does notice us, and he watches over us. But it is usually through another person that he meets our needs”. That's a lesson that I am probably going to have to learn, over and over, but I can tell you that this week, Heavenly Father heard my prayer, and answered it multiple times through many people. And I am thankful to Him, and to everyone who answered my prayer.
Thursday 29 September 2011
Saturday 24 September 2011
Neither Fish, Nor Fowl, Nor Good Red Herring
Right now, I am caught between two worlds. I am an American, living in Canada, attending an institution that accepted me as an international student. But, as I discovered when I crossed the border to get here, I am also a Canadian, and as such I am eligible for citizenship. But being a Canadian makes me ineligible for a study permit, and it is here where my troubles began.
When I crossed the border, I was overjoyed to discover that I am considered Canadian - I take pride in the fact that my mum is from Canada, and that I have family here, and that now I can claim Canada as my own. But just going on through the border, without any documentation for my status, i.e. "waiting for proof of citizenship", has created a whole set of issues that are really starting to make life difficult. Aside from the whole entering-the-ninth-circle-of-bureaucratic-hell debacle, some areas of life made more difficult by my in-between status:
1. Health insurance coverage. As a grad student at the university, I get health insurance coverage either way (int'l. or Can.) BUT when you turn in your application for insurance, you need to include copies of your proof of Alberta residency (check), a passport (check), and either a permanent resident card (like a study permit) OR citizenship card (ch-oh, no, I don't have either of those). So, no health insurance for me, right now.
2. Work. As an international student with a valid study permit, you can apply for a work permit, and apply for jobs. As a Canadian citizen, you get a Social Insurance Number (once you have proof of citizenship), which you need to apply for jobs. Guess who doesn't have either? THIS GIRL!
3. Loans. I DO have a loan set up from USDirect Loans, which is all well and good, but it doesn't get disbursed until Sept. 30th, and I won't get what's left after tuition until mid-October. I can apply for an emergency student loan to get the rest of my books for school, except, oh, wait, no I can't, because I have no STUDY PERMIT, and no SOCIAL INSURANCE NUMBER, because the guys at the border didn't GIVE me a study permit, because I'm Canadian, but I can't PROVE it until I get my citizenship card, which I will then have to use to get a SIN, which means I am stuck borrowing money off of my loved ones which, at nearly 28 years of age and after being gainfully employed for the past five years, feels really, really icky, and FURTHERMORE, loan people, what good does it do to disburse a loan that is supposed to pay for BOOKS for school THREE WEEKS AFTER SCHOOL STARTS? Do you KNOW how much textbooks cost? 'Cause they AIN'T CHEAP, and I had to use my FOOD MONEY to pay for them, and I STILL haven't gotten them all, and you won't GIVE me an emergency loan, because there are clowns to the left of me, jokers to the right, and here I am, stuck in the middle ALL BY MYSELF, and nobody at this university seems to know what to do with me!
So, to my siblings, take note: If, at any time in the future, you think you may want to move to Canada, claim your citizenship now. Because coming here first, and then claiming it? OY.
When I crossed the border, I was overjoyed to discover that I am considered Canadian - I take pride in the fact that my mum is from Canada, and that I have family here, and that now I can claim Canada as my own. But just going on through the border, without any documentation for my status, i.e. "waiting for proof of citizenship", has created a whole set of issues that are really starting to make life difficult. Aside from the whole entering-the-ninth-circle-of-bureaucratic-hell debacle, some areas of life made more difficult by my in-between status:
1. Health insurance coverage. As a grad student at the university, I get health insurance coverage either way (int'l. or Can.) BUT when you turn in your application for insurance, you need to include copies of your proof of Alberta residency (check), a passport (check), and either a permanent resident card (like a study permit) OR citizenship card (ch-oh, no, I don't have either of those). So, no health insurance for me, right now.
2. Work. As an international student with a valid study permit, you can apply for a work permit, and apply for jobs. As a Canadian citizen, you get a Social Insurance Number (once you have proof of citizenship), which you need to apply for jobs. Guess who doesn't have either? THIS GIRL!
3. Loans. I DO have a loan set up from USDirect Loans, which is all well and good, but it doesn't get disbursed until Sept. 30th, and I won't get what's left after tuition until mid-October. I can apply for an emergency student loan to get the rest of my books for school, except, oh, wait, no I can't, because I have no STUDY PERMIT, and no SOCIAL INSURANCE NUMBER, because the guys at the border didn't GIVE me a study permit, because I'm Canadian, but I can't PROVE it until I get my citizenship card, which I will then have to use to get a SIN, which means I am stuck borrowing money off of my loved ones which, at nearly 28 years of age and after being gainfully employed for the past five years, feels really, really icky, and FURTHERMORE, loan people, what good does it do to disburse a loan that is supposed to pay for BOOKS for school THREE WEEKS AFTER SCHOOL STARTS? Do you KNOW how much textbooks cost? 'Cause they AIN'T CHEAP, and I had to use my FOOD MONEY to pay for them, and I STILL haven't gotten them all, and you won't GIVE me an emergency loan, because there are clowns to the left of me, jokers to the right, and here I am, stuck in the middle ALL BY MYSELF, and nobody at this university seems to know what to do with me!
So, to my siblings, take note: If, at any time in the future, you think you may want to move to Canada, claim your citizenship now. Because coming here first, and then claiming it? OY.
Thursday 22 September 2011
I'm not in Provo Anymore
As I have wandered campus the past couple of weeks, trying to get my bearings and get settled in a school routine, I have come to appreciate this one grand truth: U of A ain't BYU.
I got my Bachelor's degree from BYU, and spent a blissful (or at least not totally traumatic) five years there (those of you not yet in university, try and figure out what you want to do BEFORE you finish your first year - it's easier that way). Attending a church-owned private school, that has an honor code, which includes dress and behavior rules, makes a huge difference in the atmosphere around campus - an atmosphere which I have only recently begun to appreciate, and miss. The (main) differences between the atmosphere U of A and BYU are as follows:
1. Smoking is allowed on campus at U of A. Not near doors, or indoors, and not near fresh air intakes, but anywhere else is fair game. At BYU, the smell of cigarette smoke is an anomaly, and causes those who smell it to cast their gaze wildly about in an attempt to find the perpetrator, and put a stop to the smoking. I am unused to heading to class and walking through multiple clouds of smoke. It's weird.
2. Coffee, coffee, everywhere, with nothing else to drink. Okay, so there are other drinks. BUT, there are also a lot of places to buy coffee, including multiple Starbucks around campus. And, if you can't get to the actual Starbucks, most of the little kiosk-y shops sell pre-made Starbucks, or other varieties. Everyone here drinks coffee, it feels like. If they're not waiting in line for coffee, they're sitting drinking it, or walking to class and drinking it. The smell is everywhere, often mixing with the cigarette smoke, so I often feel like I'm walking through a trendy poetry club or something.
3. "And he was like 'F--k you' and I said, 'No, go f--k yourself" and then he just f--king punched me, so I beat his a-- to the ground." Actual overheard portion of a conversation between two freshmen boys. At least, I assumed they were freshmen, as they definitely weren't shaving yet. Now, I taught middle school science, so it's not like swearing is new, but some of these U of A students are so prodigious with their swearing, my students would cry real tears of jealousy to hear the inventive ways in which they conjugate various words and phrases. At BYU, some students were afraid to read the words "damn", "hell", and "ass (referring to a donkey)" when asked to read scriptures aloud in religion classes. And nobody went around speaking in a dialect that requires a 1:3 ratio of swear words to non-swear words.
4. The noticeable lack of babies and young mothers. At BYU, it was not unusual to have either expectant or new mothers in class. I can't count on one hand the number of times I had a class with a new mom who brought her baby with her to class. And the professors had no problem with it, so long as mama kept baby quiet. I have yet to see any children on campus, at all.
5. No couches in the women's restrooms. I don't know if this is unique to BYU (possibly, what with all the young mommies), but couches in the women's restroom was the norm, and one I greatly appreciated when working a 12am-6am shift, with a 9am work meeting to follow. I have yet to locate a bathroom with a couch, and I despair of ever finding one. I miss the horribly ugly, but terribly comfy, brown couch in the restroom off the HFAC tunnel.
6. Toga parties are real. I had heard of them. I had seen them portrayed in movies, heard tale of them at other colleges and universities throughout the continent, but I had never seen one in real life...until tonight. Leaving institute, I heard raucous and wild laughter emanating from the sidewalk next to the parking lot. Looking over in that direction, I beheld....togas. Lots of them. Worn by boys and girls alike, all waiting in line to get on a bus from Lister Hall (a dorm) to go on the weekly university pub crawl. Backing out of my space, I noticed a gentleman crossing to the bus behind me stop to re-wrap his unraveling toga. I was afraid to keep watching for him, because I feared he might have decided to go commando under his toga (he didn't have a shirt on), and for a moment I was truly terrified that he was naked. Then I realized he was wearing khakis, so I didn't have to run him over for subjecting me to his nekkidness.
7. The university has a weekly pub crawl. Tonight's was toga-themed, but every Thursday night, around 9:30-10, when I'm leaving institute, students are lining up to take the buses out to the pubs. School buses. Taking students to the pubs. On a school night. No, I'm not in Provo anymore.
8. REAL DIET COKE, SOLD ON-CAMPUS!!!! Now this, I can get behind.
For the record, let me get one thing straight - BYU students aren't perfect, and it's not like Provo is only inhabited by Mormons. Also, I moved back to CA from Provo five years ago, and have not spent the last five years in a hermetically sealed bubble, where none of these unpleasant things could get at me. It's been quite the opposite - I've been teaching middle school science. But there is a certain feel to a college/university campus, or at least, a certain feeling I get when I am the student on that campus, and this time around, it's...different. Not necessarily bad, although it is jarring to hear my classmates swear during class discussions, but definitely different.
I got my Bachelor's degree from BYU, and spent a blissful (or at least not totally traumatic) five years there (those of you not yet in university, try and figure out what you want to do BEFORE you finish your first year - it's easier that way). Attending a church-owned private school, that has an honor code, which includes dress and behavior rules, makes a huge difference in the atmosphere around campus - an atmosphere which I have only recently begun to appreciate, and miss. The (main) differences between the atmosphere U of A and BYU are as follows:
1. Smoking is allowed on campus at U of A. Not near doors, or indoors, and not near fresh air intakes, but anywhere else is fair game. At BYU, the smell of cigarette smoke is an anomaly, and causes those who smell it to cast their gaze wildly about in an attempt to find the perpetrator, and put a stop to the smoking. I am unused to heading to class and walking through multiple clouds of smoke. It's weird.
2. Coffee, coffee, everywhere, with nothing else to drink. Okay, so there are other drinks. BUT, there are also a lot of places to buy coffee, including multiple Starbucks around campus. And, if you can't get to the actual Starbucks, most of the little kiosk-y shops sell pre-made Starbucks, or other varieties. Everyone here drinks coffee, it feels like. If they're not waiting in line for coffee, they're sitting drinking it, or walking to class and drinking it. The smell is everywhere, often mixing with the cigarette smoke, so I often feel like I'm walking through a trendy poetry club or something.
3. "And he was like 'F--k you' and I said, 'No, go f--k yourself" and then he just f--king punched me, so I beat his a-- to the ground." Actual overheard portion of a conversation between two freshmen boys. At least, I assumed they were freshmen, as they definitely weren't shaving yet. Now, I taught middle school science, so it's not like swearing is new, but some of these U of A students are so prodigious with their swearing, my students would cry real tears of jealousy to hear the inventive ways in which they conjugate various words and phrases. At BYU, some students were afraid to read the words "damn", "hell", and "ass (referring to a donkey)" when asked to read scriptures aloud in religion classes. And nobody went around speaking in a dialect that requires a 1:3 ratio of swear words to non-swear words.
4. The noticeable lack of babies and young mothers. At BYU, it was not unusual to have either expectant or new mothers in class. I can't count on one hand the number of times I had a class with a new mom who brought her baby with her to class. And the professors had no problem with it, so long as mama kept baby quiet. I have yet to see any children on campus, at all.
5. No couches in the women's restrooms. I don't know if this is unique to BYU (possibly, what with all the young mommies), but couches in the women's restroom was the norm, and one I greatly appreciated when working a 12am-6am shift, with a 9am work meeting to follow. I have yet to locate a bathroom with a couch, and I despair of ever finding one. I miss the horribly ugly, but terribly comfy, brown couch in the restroom off the HFAC tunnel.
6. Toga parties are real. I had heard of them. I had seen them portrayed in movies, heard tale of them at other colleges and universities throughout the continent, but I had never seen one in real life...until tonight. Leaving institute, I heard raucous and wild laughter emanating from the sidewalk next to the parking lot. Looking over in that direction, I beheld....togas. Lots of them. Worn by boys and girls alike, all waiting in line to get on a bus from Lister Hall (a dorm) to go on the weekly university pub crawl. Backing out of my space, I noticed a gentleman crossing to the bus behind me stop to re-wrap his unraveling toga. I was afraid to keep watching for him, because I feared he might have decided to go commando under his toga (he didn't have a shirt on), and for a moment I was truly terrified that he was naked. Then I realized he was wearing khakis, so I didn't have to run him over for subjecting me to his nekkidness.
7. The university has a weekly pub crawl. Tonight's was toga-themed, but every Thursday night, around 9:30-10, when I'm leaving institute, students are lining up to take the buses out to the pubs. School buses. Taking students to the pubs. On a school night. No, I'm not in Provo anymore.
8. REAL DIET COKE, SOLD ON-CAMPUS!!!! Now this, I can get behind.
For the record, let me get one thing straight - BYU students aren't perfect, and it's not like Provo is only inhabited by Mormons. Also, I moved back to CA from Provo five years ago, and have not spent the last five years in a hermetically sealed bubble, where none of these unpleasant things could get at me. It's been quite the opposite - I've been teaching middle school science. But there is a certain feel to a college/university campus, or at least, a certain feeling I get when I am the student on that campus, and this time around, it's...different. Not necessarily bad, although it is jarring to hear my classmates swear during class discussions, but definitely different.
Saturday 17 September 2011
Week in Review...
Okay, I'm going to try to give a brief summary of the week, because as far as notable achievements/milestones, there aren't as many, and I'm trying to catch up. We'll see how this works.
SUNDAY: Was cold and windy. I had my cute outfit all planned out - black skirt, blue shirt with the black flowers, silver shoes - and ended up grabbing a shawl to take with me, because it was COLD outside. Then I spent most of church fighting tears because I was homesick, and during Relief Society the two girls who'd left to go do something else at Saturday's activity, essentially abandoning me mid-conversation, were talking about how much they love all the R.S. sisters, and they're here for anyone who needs them, etc., and all I could think was, "Show, don't tell, and then I'll believe it." And then I got mad at myself for being too much of a coward to say something. Later that evening, I went to the CES Fireside by myself, because I was staying for Messiah rehearsals. I tried to find someone I knew to sit with, but I didn't see anyone, so I sat by myself at the back of the chapel. The fireside was really good, Elder and Sister Oaks, and I was able to enjoy it. Messiah rehearsals were AWESOME! I'm excited for that, and I got to see Auntie Li, and Uncle Walter sent me a homemade biscuit that was DIVINE.
Then, I got to go home and Skype with my family, which was sorely needed at that point. Bless you, Skype people, for making it free.
MONDAY: I entered the ninth circle of Bureaucratic Hell. So, I thought I had my study-permit issue all worked out. I had the name and number of someone in the registrar's office to call, so I could go in and show my paperwork and get my designation changed to Canadian, and get my fees reduced. Well, I called that person, and was told, "Oh, we don't deal with grad students, you'll have to go to FGSR. Bye!" After hanging up, I engaged in a little primal scream therapy, then headed up to campus to talk to FGSR. I got the same woman as before, who took my paperwork and disappeared for 20 minutes, then came back and told me I needed to go to the International Office (UAI) to work on getting a temporary study permit, as they didn't know for sure I'd be granted citizenship and wanted to make sure I didn't get booted from the country. So I went BACK to UAI, made an appointment to see an advisor, and had a little vent-fest with the receptionist, who remembered my saga and laughed when I told her I'd entered the ninth circle of bureaucratic hell, but agreed that circular non-answers seem to be all I'm getting.
I then had a break and had lunch, then had a meeting with Dr. N., my supervisor, and bless her heart! She told me to drop the 508: Media and Popular Culture in the Curriculum class I'd signed up for, because it didn't fit with what I'm focusing on (Technology Integration in the Science Curriculum), and set up an independent study course for me! I'd already wanted to drop the class - when the professor e-mails the whole class and tells everyone it's gonna be really hard, and even those who stay in it won't really understand it at the end, it doesn't pique my curiosity, or make me want to stick with it, it makes me say, "Ftt, fine, I'll go do something else". So, nifty, I get to do independent study.
After that I headed home, and spent the rest of the night catching up on reading for my Tuesday and Wednesday classes, but next week - FHE, baby!
TUESDAY: I had my meeting with the UAI counselor, and was once again told, "Um, not so much if Border services let you in" about the whole study-permit thing. Turns out, the FGSR advisor is just really worried that I'll be deported, and was getting on UAI's case to try and get me some sort of proof I can be there. So I'm going to talk to my bishop, who works for Border Services, and see if he can't write me a letter stating that no, they won't boot me out and it's okay for me to go to school, too. I had class later that evening - Curriculum Theory - and while it seems like it'll be pretty good, there's already a lot I disagree with, or agree with reservations, so we'll see how it all works out. I met some nice people, though, and made a new friend, Mandy. I also almost died of exposure, because it was COLD in that room. Like, it was already cold outside, and then the AC was cranked up to Arctic - and I wasn't the only one complaining, everyone else was freezing, too. At one point, we were going around the room talking about a curriculum object we used a lot, and when it was my turn, I sounded like I was going to cry the whole time because I was shivering so badly. Even putting my jacket on didn't help. So, Tuesday nights, blanket, beanie, hoodie, mittens, scarf, I might make it through this semester. I felt really bad for the guy sitting next to me, he had shorts on. Silly boy.
WEDNESDAY: Nothing of note, until class - learned how to use the university library journal and article search engine, and made a Ref Works account, which is REALLY nifty, because you just put all the articles, books, etc. you use for a research paper in one file, select your desired biblio format, and voila
THURSDAY: Institute, and I decided to go to two classes: Old Testament, because that's what I'm reading on my own right now, and I REALLY don't get a lot of it, and The Gospel and the Productive Life, which seems like it will be really useful. I met some nice people, most of whom are not in my ward, but I did meet a newly acquired member (they changed ward boundaries on Sunday), Raquel, who also has a deep and abiding love for Harry Potter, as well as Pride and Prejudice (and Zombies). Neat!
FRIDAY: I was a bum. Stayed in my sweats, did my nails while watching A-Team, read my assignments for Tuesday night (Dewey and Pinar - yeah, you've got some good points, but stop blaming people and tell me how we're supposed to fix it), "blogged" >shudder< and watched "The Story of Stuff: The Critique" for kicks and grins. (I'm weird, I know.)
And now it's Saturday, and late night tummy upsets have made me a cranky girl. Of course, this cranky girl had no pantyhose for church (can't put it off any longer, not in this weather), so I headed over to Shopper's Drug Mart for a pair, and, excuse me? Ex-CUSE ME? You want me to pay HOW MUCH for those nylons? Oh, really? And what, pray tell, makes them worth $25? Are they magical, and will give me a perfect figure while on? Were they hand made by nuns in a remote convent in the Alps? Are they stitched with pure gold? Then no, I don't want them. I eventually found the cheaper pairs, but the ONE pair that was in my size was Taupe. Now, I don't know what that color means to you guys, but to me it does not mean Dark Brown/Black, which is what their Taupe was. So I went to Wal-Mart. Just...let that sink in....I went to Wal-Mart....on a Saturday....in a city with about a million people in it. I also got lost going there, because it was the closer Wal-Mart, not the nicer one, and I've only been there once. It took me a good half hour to find it, and it was a zoo. I think Heavenly Father decided I needed a break, though, because I managed to find a parking spot close to the door, and didn't even have to cut anyone off to get to it.
Once inside - ow, Halloween exploded everywhere, and the searing neon orange they used to decorate the boxes made my eyes hurt. Made it over to the nylons area, and was dismayed to find that my reliable L'Eggs 5 pack for $5 was no more. Man, I used to get those at the Orem Wally World all the time and they were great. Sure, they weren't control top, or sheer, or silky, but they looked fine, and you could get three to four wearings a pair if you were careful. Why did they stop making/selling them? Or is it just this Wal-Mart that sucks? So, I found a pair in "Natural" which hopefully won't make my legs look awful tomorrow, sprinted to the express checkout, knocked aside an old man to get to the open register, paid, and made my escape. Oh, I did not, but there was an older gentleman who wasn't paying attention to his surroundings, so I tried to walk around him and ended up getting run into while he was unloading his cart.
And now I'm here.
SUNDAY: Was cold and windy. I had my cute outfit all planned out - black skirt, blue shirt with the black flowers, silver shoes - and ended up grabbing a shawl to take with me, because it was COLD outside. Then I spent most of church fighting tears because I was homesick, and during Relief Society the two girls who'd left to go do something else at Saturday's activity, essentially abandoning me mid-conversation, were talking about how much they love all the R.S. sisters, and they're here for anyone who needs them, etc., and all I could think was, "Show, don't tell, and then I'll believe it." And then I got mad at myself for being too much of a coward to say something. Later that evening, I went to the CES Fireside by myself, because I was staying for Messiah rehearsals. I tried to find someone I knew to sit with, but I didn't see anyone, so I sat by myself at the back of the chapel. The fireside was really good, Elder and Sister Oaks, and I was able to enjoy it. Messiah rehearsals were AWESOME! I'm excited for that, and I got to see Auntie Li, and Uncle Walter sent me a homemade biscuit that was DIVINE.
Then, I got to go home and Skype with my family, which was sorely needed at that point. Bless you, Skype people, for making it free.
MONDAY: I entered the ninth circle of Bureaucratic Hell. So, I thought I had my study-permit issue all worked out. I had the name and number of someone in the registrar's office to call, so I could go in and show my paperwork and get my designation changed to Canadian, and get my fees reduced. Well, I called that person, and was told, "Oh, we don't deal with grad students, you'll have to go to FGSR. Bye!" After hanging up, I engaged in a little primal scream therapy, then headed up to campus to talk to FGSR. I got the same woman as before, who took my paperwork and disappeared for 20 minutes, then came back and told me I needed to go to the International Office (UAI) to work on getting a temporary study permit, as they didn't know for sure I'd be granted citizenship and wanted to make sure I didn't get booted from the country. So I went BACK to UAI, made an appointment to see an advisor, and had a little vent-fest with the receptionist, who remembered my saga and laughed when I told her I'd entered the ninth circle of bureaucratic hell, but agreed that circular non-answers seem to be all I'm getting.
I then had a break and had lunch, then had a meeting with Dr. N., my supervisor, and bless her heart! She told me to drop the 508: Media and Popular Culture in the Curriculum class I'd signed up for, because it didn't fit with what I'm focusing on (Technology Integration in the Science Curriculum), and set up an independent study course for me! I'd already wanted to drop the class - when the professor e-mails the whole class and tells everyone it's gonna be really hard, and even those who stay in it won't really understand it at the end, it doesn't pique my curiosity, or make me want to stick with it, it makes me say, "Ftt, fine, I'll go do something else". So, nifty, I get to do independent study.
After that I headed home, and spent the rest of the night catching up on reading for my Tuesday and Wednesday classes, but next week - FHE, baby!
TUESDAY: I had my meeting with the UAI counselor, and was once again told, "Um, not so much if Border services let you in" about the whole study-permit thing. Turns out, the FGSR advisor is just really worried that I'll be deported, and was getting on UAI's case to try and get me some sort of proof I can be there. So I'm going to talk to my bishop, who works for Border Services, and see if he can't write me a letter stating that no, they won't boot me out and it's okay for me to go to school, too. I had class later that evening - Curriculum Theory - and while it seems like it'll be pretty good, there's already a lot I disagree with, or agree with reservations, so we'll see how it all works out. I met some nice people, though, and made a new friend, Mandy. I also almost died of exposure, because it was COLD in that room. Like, it was already cold outside, and then the AC was cranked up to Arctic - and I wasn't the only one complaining, everyone else was freezing, too. At one point, we were going around the room talking about a curriculum object we used a lot, and when it was my turn, I sounded like I was going to cry the whole time because I was shivering so badly. Even putting my jacket on didn't help. So, Tuesday nights, blanket, beanie, hoodie, mittens, scarf, I might make it through this semester. I felt really bad for the guy sitting next to me, he had shorts on. Silly boy.
WEDNESDAY: Nothing of note, until class - learned how to use the university library journal and article search engine, and made a Ref Works account, which is REALLY nifty, because you just put all the articles, books, etc. you use for a research paper in one file, select your desired biblio format, and voila
THURSDAY: Institute, and I decided to go to two classes: Old Testament, because that's what I'm reading on my own right now, and I REALLY don't get a lot of it, and The Gospel and the Productive Life, which seems like it will be really useful. I met some nice people, most of whom are not in my ward, but I did meet a newly acquired member (they changed ward boundaries on Sunday), Raquel, who also has a deep and abiding love for Harry Potter, as well as Pride and Prejudice (and Zombies). Neat!
FRIDAY: I was a bum. Stayed in my sweats, did my nails while watching A-Team, read my assignments for Tuesday night (Dewey and Pinar - yeah, you've got some good points, but stop blaming people and tell me how we're supposed to fix it), "blogged" >shudder< and watched "The Story of Stuff: The Critique" for kicks and grins. (I'm weird, I know.)
And now it's Saturday, and late night tummy upsets have made me a cranky girl. Of course, this cranky girl had no pantyhose for church (can't put it off any longer, not in this weather), so I headed over to Shopper's Drug Mart for a pair, and, excuse me? Ex-CUSE ME? You want me to pay HOW MUCH for those nylons? Oh, really? And what, pray tell, makes them worth $25? Are they magical, and will give me a perfect figure while on? Were they hand made by nuns in a remote convent in the Alps? Are they stitched with pure gold? Then no, I don't want them. I eventually found the cheaper pairs, but the ONE pair that was in my size was Taupe. Now, I don't know what that color means to you guys, but to me it does not mean Dark Brown/Black, which is what their Taupe was. So I went to Wal-Mart. Just...let that sink in....I went to Wal-Mart....on a Saturday....in a city with about a million people in it. I also got lost going there, because it was the closer Wal-Mart, not the nicer one, and I've only been there once. It took me a good half hour to find it, and it was a zoo. I think Heavenly Father decided I needed a break, though, because I managed to find a parking spot close to the door, and didn't even have to cut anyone off to get to it.
Once inside - ow, Halloween exploded everywhere, and the searing neon orange they used to decorate the boxes made my eyes hurt. Made it over to the nylons area, and was dismayed to find that my reliable L'Eggs 5 pack for $5 was no more. Man, I used to get those at the Orem Wally World all the time and they were great. Sure, they weren't control top, or sheer, or silky, but they looked fine, and you could get three to four wearings a pair if you were careful. Why did they stop making/selling them? Or is it just this Wal-Mart that sucks? So, I found a pair in "Natural" which hopefully won't make my legs look awful tomorrow, sprinted to the express checkout, knocked aside an old man to get to the open register, paid, and made my escape. Oh, I did not, but there was an older gentleman who wasn't paying attention to his surroundings, so I tried to walk around him and ended up getting run into while he was unloading his cart.
And now I'm here.
The Amazing-ish Race!
So this past Saturday (the 10th) was another major milestone for me in terms of Doing Sh-tuff That Scares the He-Crap out of Me. There was a multi-stake YSA activity, called The Amazing Race, that involved driving all over the city and doing stuff at different sites to get tickets for the door prize drawing at the end. I, in my infinite wisdom, signed up to be a driver for this activity - I knew I wouldn't go unless I'd made some sort of commitment, so before my brain knew what my hand was doing, I'd signed up, then passed the list on. So, like a good little YSA, I headed out to the Millwoods stake center around 6pm Saturday night to participate in the AMAZING RACE!!
Of course, because most Mormons are incapable of showing up to church functions ON TIME, I was one of a dozen people who were there at 6. And half of those people were the organizers of the event. It was painfully awkward for the first, oh, five or twenty minutes. There was a group of us standing in a kind of half circle, about three feet from each other, not looking at one another, just staring at the ground, and it's in these situations that I REALLY HATE the paralyzing sense of doom that comes over me and renders me incapable of speech. I mean, really, I have since come up with a bunch of different things I could have said to break the awkward silence:
"Hi, my name is Claire, what's yours?" being the first and most obvious, or
"Is there a no-talking policy that I'm not aware of?" humor sometimes works
"So, where is everyone from?" basic, I know
"Well, this is awkward." or even
"Okay, so, zombie apocalypse scenario: we're the last people alive and must band together for safety's sake. What are each of you bringing to the group, in 20 words or less?"
But NOOOO....my brain shuts down all non-life-sustaining functions, like speech, or thought, and I freeze like a deer in the headlights. It finally came down to one of the guys running the show to come over and introduce himself before I regained cerebral functions. (For the record, I kept thinking I knew him because he looked familiar, and then I realized that he looked like he could be Fady's, like, Caucasian twin. They're even about the same height. Fady was my personal trainer, and one of Gillian's H.S. friends.) So I introduced myself, he asked me where I was from, and this led to breaking the ice with another one of the guys just standing around, J, who hadn't been to YSA stuff in some time and was therefore unfamiliar with most of the people there, too. He agreed to be my navigator, but we ended up teaming with another car that was not full, S1, S2, and A. We got our stuff together and headed out to S1's car - and at this point I should have offered the services of my vehicle. His car was all nice, and new...and a compact. My es-cah-pey may not be new, but she's pretty nice, and NOT a compact. But, I didn't speak up, and thus got to spend the rest of the activity squished in the back with A and J. A, bless her heart, sat in the middle because she's shorter than me, and didn't once argue the point. Sweet girl.
The activity itself was pretty fun, but I'm sure it would have been "funner" if it'd been with a group of people I knew. Or rather, I kept thinking that it would make a great activity back home, and having Gillian, Michael, Matt, Megan, Cara, and Gina in one car with me would make it SUPER fun, and then I started thinking, well, it's kind of like our "adventures", but more structured. Something to think about for December...So, anyway, yeah, our activities:
1. Go to Southgate Mall and take a picture with the Shoes. There is a mall, not the huge theme-park one, nearby that has a pair of giant shoes with striped-stocking legs sticking out of them. Check. And no, I don't have a copy of the picture, but you can check out the shoes here.
2. Head over to Kinsman Park, and find the bishopric member there to get instructions. Here was our first snafu. We got to Kinsman Park just fine, but it's HUGE and we didn't know who we were looking for...we ran into two other groups who got there before us and had been walking around trying to find the people. Eventually, in a far distant corner of the park, we found the people, and had to chip golf balls into a circle to get tickets. Add golf to the list of things I am not, and never will be, good at. I am okay with this.
3. Travel to the Legislature building park (I don't know the official name). When we got there, there was plenty of parking down near the level we needed to be at. Yes, it was private parking for an apartment building, but there were almost NO cars there, and we needed 10-15 minutes, max. Nope. We parked in the public parking, at the top of the hill...and then hiked down the hill...and headed over to the amphitheater, where the guy there had just pointed two other groups to someone else, because he wasn't actually part of our activity (and thank heavens, because the girl with him was dancing around all crazy, and A and I were like, "Not gonna learn a dance, nu-uh" but we didn't need to). We got to play Keep Up with four balloons. Obviously, some of the guys in the group didn't play that game as children, because they were whacking the balloons like you spike a volleyball, which doesn't work so well for keeping them up. Light taps, people, light taps.
After earning our tickets, we hiked back up the hill (I had stupidly worn my stacked flip-flops, which made the hiking a pain in the....foot) and back to the car, where A and I expressed the opinion that what our team really needed was a little pick me up in the form of frozen, flavored sugar water, a.k.a., Slurpees. It then took us the next decade to get to them, because there was confusion between the gentlemen on where we were going next - S1 was following directions from S2 on how to get to the next stop, which conflicted with the directions from A and J on how to get to the 7-11. But we got there, got sustenance, and jumped back in the Squishmobile for the next bout of driving. Which also took a decade because our next stop was:
4. Churchill Square, and once again, diverging directions make for confused driving. Also, the side street we needed to turn down was blocked off by police. Not sure why. I felt like I was driving again, we made so many wrong and u- turns. Finally got parked, walked over to Churchill Square, and answered the following brain-teasers:
- Who was Churchill Square named after?
- What was he famous for?
- What was here 100 years ago? (Okay, so that last one was a little tricky, but a safe guess (farmland) was correct.)
5. Final stop, and one I wished we had gone in to - the Muttart Conservatory, which is 4 glass pyramid greenhouses with different biomes in each one. We just stayed in the parking lot and played a paper-plates and cans stacking game, and then it was time to head back to the stake center.
Back at the stake center...oy. So, I was talking to A for a bit, and then saw a couple of girls from my ward come in, so I went over and said hi, and was talking to C and girl B, when boy B comes up and, completely disregarding my presence, invites the girls I'm talking to over to someone's house. Now, I didn't particularly want to go to this person's house, and I was not invited to, so that was fine, but, and maybe I'm out of line here, I felt that it was rude that, as I'm standing there, TALKING TO THE GIRLS, he comes up, does not acknowledge my existance in the universe (and I'd been introduced to him previously at FHE), invites them to go, AND THEY LEAVE. I mean, C said 'bye to me, and she looked kind of awkward about it, but she still left. Anyone else think that's rude, or is this the norm? And, once again, brain shut-down. Mind-bottled, this time, mostly that people who are spoken highly of by adults I respect could act like that. I'm not saying he was wrong to invite them to go do something else, he was within his rights to do so, and they're certainly within their rights to go, but, I dunno, maybe not in front of someone whom you're not also inviting? When they're in the middle of a conversation? Anyone?
So, I gravitated back over to J, who had nobody to talk to either, and after a few false conversational starts, I struck gold: zombie apocalypse preparedness. You guys, I have found the leader of my Canadian Zombie Emergency Response Operatives team, and he's more prepared than we are. To the point of having a plan for building raised walkways to connect houses, and a stockpile of weapons - bladed and not - that Michael might weep real tears of envy over. I think, when the plague hits, y'all need to head north - but bring LOTS of supplies with you. That, and the fact that he plays Dead Space? I think I found Gillian a man :-) (He's a bit young for me, but it's good to have friends!)
At the end of the activity, I won a movie ticket! Which I was happy about, but...isn't this a YSA function? Isn't the goal of YSA to get people married and OUT of YSA? So why one ticket? Why not two, and then, I dunno...maybe I could....>hee hee< ask someone >snort< out on a date? >snicker, hic!<
Of course, because most Mormons are incapable of showing up to church functions ON TIME, I was one of a dozen people who were there at 6. And half of those people were the organizers of the event. It was painfully awkward for the first, oh, five or twenty minutes. There was a group of us standing in a kind of half circle, about three feet from each other, not looking at one another, just staring at the ground, and it's in these situations that I REALLY HATE the paralyzing sense of doom that comes over me and renders me incapable of speech. I mean, really, I have since come up with a bunch of different things I could have said to break the awkward silence:
"Hi, my name is Claire, what's yours?" being the first and most obvious, or
"Is there a no-talking policy that I'm not aware of?" humor sometimes works
"So, where is everyone from?" basic, I know
"Well, this is awkward." or even
"Okay, so, zombie apocalypse scenario: we're the last people alive and must band together for safety's sake. What are each of you bringing to the group, in 20 words or less?"
But NOOOO....my brain shuts down all non-life-sustaining functions, like speech, or thought, and I freeze like a deer in the headlights. It finally came down to one of the guys running the show to come over and introduce himself before I regained cerebral functions. (For the record, I kept thinking I knew him because he looked familiar, and then I realized that he looked like he could be Fady's, like, Caucasian twin. They're even about the same height. Fady was my personal trainer, and one of Gillian's H.S. friends.) So I introduced myself, he asked me where I was from, and this led to breaking the ice with another one of the guys just standing around, J, who hadn't been to YSA stuff in some time and was therefore unfamiliar with most of the people there, too. He agreed to be my navigator, but we ended up teaming with another car that was not full, S1, S2, and A. We got our stuff together and headed out to S1's car - and at this point I should have offered the services of my vehicle. His car was all nice, and new...and a compact. My es-cah-pey may not be new, but she's pretty nice, and NOT a compact. But, I didn't speak up, and thus got to spend the rest of the activity squished in the back with A and J. A, bless her heart, sat in the middle because she's shorter than me, and didn't once argue the point. Sweet girl.
The activity itself was pretty fun, but I'm sure it would have been "funner" if it'd been with a group of people I knew. Or rather, I kept thinking that it would make a great activity back home, and having Gillian, Michael, Matt, Megan, Cara, and Gina in one car with me would make it SUPER fun, and then I started thinking, well, it's kind of like our "adventures", but more structured. Something to think about for December...So, anyway, yeah, our activities:
1. Go to Southgate Mall and take a picture with the Shoes. There is a mall, not the huge theme-park one, nearby that has a pair of giant shoes with striped-stocking legs sticking out of them. Check. And no, I don't have a copy of the picture, but you can check out the shoes here.
2. Head over to Kinsman Park, and find the bishopric member there to get instructions. Here was our first snafu. We got to Kinsman Park just fine, but it's HUGE and we didn't know who we were looking for...we ran into two other groups who got there before us and had been walking around trying to find the people. Eventually, in a far distant corner of the park, we found the people, and had to chip golf balls into a circle to get tickets. Add golf to the list of things I am not, and never will be, good at. I am okay with this.
3. Travel to the Legislature building park (I don't know the official name). When we got there, there was plenty of parking down near the level we needed to be at. Yes, it was private parking for an apartment building, but there were almost NO cars there, and we needed 10-15 minutes, max. Nope. We parked in the public parking, at the top of the hill...and then hiked down the hill...and headed over to the amphitheater, where the guy there had just pointed two other groups to someone else, because he wasn't actually part of our activity (and thank heavens, because the girl with him was dancing around all crazy, and A and I were like, "Not gonna learn a dance, nu-uh" but we didn't need to). We got to play Keep Up with four balloons. Obviously, some of the guys in the group didn't play that game as children, because they were whacking the balloons like you spike a volleyball, which doesn't work so well for keeping them up. Light taps, people, light taps.
After earning our tickets, we hiked back up the hill (I had stupidly worn my stacked flip-flops, which made the hiking a pain in the....foot) and back to the car, where A and I expressed the opinion that what our team really needed was a little pick me up in the form of frozen, flavored sugar water, a.k.a., Slurpees. It then took us the next decade to get to them, because there was confusion between the gentlemen on where we were going next - S1 was following directions from S2 on how to get to the next stop, which conflicted with the directions from A and J on how to get to the 7-11. But we got there, got sustenance, and jumped back in the Squishmobile for the next bout of driving. Which also took a decade because our next stop was:
4. Churchill Square, and once again, diverging directions make for confused driving. Also, the side street we needed to turn down was blocked off by police. Not sure why. I felt like I was driving again, we made so many wrong and u- turns. Finally got parked, walked over to Churchill Square, and answered the following brain-teasers:
- Who was Churchill Square named after?
- What was he famous for?
- What was here 100 years ago? (Okay, so that last one was a little tricky, but a safe guess (farmland) was correct.)
5. Final stop, and one I wished we had gone in to - the Muttart Conservatory, which is 4 glass pyramid greenhouses with different biomes in each one. We just stayed in the parking lot and played a paper-plates and cans stacking game, and then it was time to head back to the stake center.
Back at the stake center...oy. So, I was talking to A for a bit, and then saw a couple of girls from my ward come in, so I went over and said hi, and was talking to C and girl B, when boy B comes up and, completely disregarding my presence, invites the girls I'm talking to over to someone's house. Now, I didn't particularly want to go to this person's house, and I was not invited to, so that was fine, but, and maybe I'm out of line here, I felt that it was rude that, as I'm standing there, TALKING TO THE GIRLS, he comes up, does not acknowledge my existance in the universe (and I'd been introduced to him previously at FHE), invites them to go, AND THEY LEAVE. I mean, C said 'bye to me, and she looked kind of awkward about it, but she still left. Anyone else think that's rude, or is this the norm? And, once again, brain shut-down. Mind-bottled, this time, mostly that people who are spoken highly of by adults I respect could act like that. I'm not saying he was wrong to invite them to go do something else, he was within his rights to do so, and they're certainly within their rights to go, but, I dunno, maybe not in front of someone whom you're not also inviting? When they're in the middle of a conversation? Anyone?
So, I gravitated back over to J, who had nobody to talk to either, and after a few false conversational starts, I struck gold: zombie apocalypse preparedness. You guys, I have found the leader of my Canadian Zombie Emergency Response Operatives team, and he's more prepared than we are. To the point of having a plan for building raised walkways to connect houses, and a stockpile of weapons - bladed and not - that Michael might weep real tears of envy over. I think, when the plague hits, y'all need to head north - but bring LOTS of supplies with you. That, and the fact that he plays Dead Space? I think I found Gillian a man :-) (He's a bit young for me, but it's good to have friends!)
At the end of the activity, I won a movie ticket! Which I was happy about, but...isn't this a YSA function? Isn't the goal of YSA to get people married and OUT of YSA? So why one ticket? Why not two, and then, I dunno...maybe I could....>hee hee< ask someone >snort< out on a date? >snicker, hic!<
Wednesday 14 September 2011
YSA Fun Times...or Something to that Effect
Thursday was a gloriously free day, with my only scheduled activity being the Institute Open House at 6 that night. I decided to take a trek over to the nice Wal-Mart Cathie had given me directions to, because I needed milk, and also to find some Yogurt and Green Onion Chips to try. I was successful, both in forging a trail to Wal-Mart (only one turn-around, and that was on the way home!), and in my procurement of Yogurt and Green Onion Chips. Oh my gosh, they are GOOD! I got the kettle brand kind, so there may be a difference in brand, but a Y&GO chip is like a mild, gentle version of a sour cream and onion chip. It's almost like plain chips that had a sour cream and onion chip waved over them at some point, but a little bit sweeter, and they don't give you that horrible chip-breath that usually comes with -& Onion flavored chips. Definitely need to buy some more. Next on the list to try: ketchup. I then killed time by watching Milla Jovovich kick zombie butt in Resident Evil, and of course Marlow, the guy working on the basement, comes up, sees I'm watching a movie and asks about it, so I pause it, just when there's a particularly gruesome corpse and blood spatter all over the screen (Spencer at the train, after the Licker got him, for those who have seen it), and he's like, "...Nice". I tried to explain about how zombie movies and the zombie apocalypse make for all kinds of fun with us back home, but he still thinks I'm weird.
The Institute Open House....eh, it was okay. I drove up with Amy, and she was very helpful in introducing me to people, but it was a HUGE crowd, which I don't do so well in (I'll probably have to get therapy for that at some point). Also, a LOT of younger kids, because it was ALL the YSAs in the city, which is comprised of six wards spread throughout the three stakes. So, a lot of kids, many, many of whom are just out of high school, who don't know how to stop talking and listen, which is one of my major pet peeves. Also, the main event of the night was a food eating contest, with pie, marshmallow, watermelon, and root beer competitions. Not something I really get into. But I did cheer Amy during the marshmallow stuffing contest, and tried to have a good time with it. I met some nice people, but most of them are not in my ward, so I probably won't see them much. But institute starts this week, so I'll be there...
Friday, I read my research methods book and tried not to pass out from boredom while doing so. I was very nearly unsuccessful, but divine intervention came in the form of a lady checking up on voter registration ringing the doorbell. Which then made me feel dumb, because I couldn't confirm Cathie's home phone number, or her middle name. I'm an AWESOME niece.
I felt even better when I learned Cathie'd made us appointments for makeover workshops at the Dior counter at the mall. It was really fun - after picking the colors I wanted the girl to use, she did one side of my face, and then had me do the other. And I actually managed to match her technique! I'm not completely makeup retarded after all! Okay, so I kept stopping every five seconds and asking, "Is this okay?" but at least she didn't have to leap in, grab the brush from me, and fix it. I even managed to re-create the look on my own for Saturday night. I'm a real girl!
The Institute Open House....eh, it was okay. I drove up with Amy, and she was very helpful in introducing me to people, but it was a HUGE crowd, which I don't do so well in (I'll probably have to get therapy for that at some point). Also, a LOT of younger kids, because it was ALL the YSAs in the city, which is comprised of six wards spread throughout the three stakes. So, a lot of kids, many, many of whom are just out of high school, who don't know how to stop talking and listen, which is one of my major pet peeves. Also, the main event of the night was a food eating contest, with pie, marshmallow, watermelon, and root beer competitions. Not something I really get into. But I did cheer Amy during the marshmallow stuffing contest, and tried to have a good time with it. I met some nice people, but most of them are not in my ward, so I probably won't see them much. But institute starts this week, so I'll be there...
Friday, I read my research methods book and tried not to pass out from boredom while doing so. I was very nearly unsuccessful, but divine intervention came in the form of a lady checking up on voter registration ringing the doorbell. Which then made me feel dumb, because I couldn't confirm Cathie's home phone number, or her middle name. I'm an AWESOME niece.
I felt even better when I learned Cathie'd made us appointments for makeover workshops at the Dior counter at the mall. It was really fun - after picking the colors I wanted the girl to use, she did one side of my face, and then had me do the other. And I actually managed to match her technique! I'm not completely makeup retarded after all! Okay, so I kept stopping every five seconds and asking, "Is this okay?" but at least she didn't have to leap in, grab the brush from me, and fix it. I even managed to re-create the look on my own for Saturday night. I'm a real girl!
Tuesday 13 September 2011
School Daze, or My Brain is Imploding
Wednesday was the first day of school. I didn't have class until 5pm, so I didn't plan to get up early, but I still woke up a couple hours before I'm used to. This ended up working to my advantage, because I checked my university e-mail, and discovered that I had a reading assignment for my Tuesday class that I needed to do before class started. Which is kind of unfair, I think, having a reading assignment before you've actually had your first class, but, welcome to grad school! This development was unwelcome, mainly because a.) it meant I had to buy the books for the class, which meant b.) I had to transfer money from my bank account to my OneCard, because c.) the university STILL hasn't finished my fees assessment so I can get my student loan, which covers the cost of books. So the money that my father had generously loaned me to help with my car payment (thanks, Daddy!), with a little left over, would now JUUUUUST cover my car payment, because I needed the little left over for books. The sooner I find a millionaire to marry, the better...>sigh<....
So, I transferred the money, got all pretty again (not that I have a choice, my hair has reached a "Do it every day or else" phase of growing out, argh), and headed up to school early, because any sane person knows that the best day for buying your books? Is not the first day of school. Not even close. In fact, I would go so far as to boldly state that the first day of school is, in fact, the exact opposite of the best day to buy your books. But I also knew that the first week would not be much, if any, better, so I decided to rip off the metaphorical band-aid and just get it over with.
It was....bad. Worse than I remembered from BYU, although, truth be told, I don't know that I ever went to get books the first day of school. But, I made it relatively unscathed to the EDSE section, found the two books I needed right away (I'm hoping the loan gets sorted out before I need the other two), and then made my way over to the lines to wait. And wait. And....wait for iiiiiit!....wait. For some odd reason, the song "Hotel California" kept running through my head, but I attempted to ignore it. And, at long last, I made it to a cashier. He rang up my books, and I handed him my OneCard, and he...looked at it, made "Buh?" face at me, then confirmed that I wanted to use it to pay....which I found odd, because a OneCard functions like a Signature Card at BYU, meaning you put money in your account, and can use it anywhere on campus like a debit card. It's one of the major selling points of the OneCard, a point I'd seen advertised ALL OVER THE DANG PLACE, so I'm not really sure why I got the "Why did she give me her ID card?" look, but he ran it through, and I left with my books...and decided to wander around the upper level of the bookstore, which can be very dangerous to my wallet. And, oh my gosh, if I'd had the money for it, I would have bought half the place out. I thought the BYU bookstore had a good amount of useless but fun gewgaws and doodads, but the U of A store has, like, three or four times as much, all crammed together, so on one side I'm looking at the adorable piggy banks (I tried to find piggy keychains, to replace my broken one, but they didn't have them), and on the other side: shotglasses, champagne glasses, beer glasses, beer mugs, coffee mugs, and flasks! All with the U of A logo on them! Okay, so that wasn't really a major perk for me, but I did kind of giggle remembering the 'toothpick holders' that comprise the entirety of BYU logo-ed drinkware. They DID have some nifty Native American (or, more likely, "Native American") jewelry that I kind of want, like, a lot. And some nifty looking cuff watches, and cute pens and pencils, and sweatshirts I'd look awful in because they're green and yellow, and not even a green I can wear (I can never wear yellow), and, and....butter dishes shaped like the Butterdome. I WANTS ONE. But, it can wait.
So after wasting time in the store, I walked over to the ed building for class, realized I had some time to kill, found myself a seat in the hall, and buried my nose in The Power of Six, until it was time to go to class.
Class....scared the crap out of me. It's a required class on Research Methods, which is supposed to help master's and doctoral students organize, design, and write their research projects or proposals. About half of the students in the class had already completed 1-2 years of their grad studies, and there were only three of us who were just starting our programs that day. I was relieved that one of the other students, at least, looked as lost as I felt. Class started out innocuously enough - everyone introduced themselves, where they were from, and their area of interest or research. Then we had to write the end to the phrase "Research is..." and "Education research is..." and I started jotting down responses...and then she sneak attacked with "What is your research question?" My brain went, "Uhhh....buuhhhh....wahhh...Why lady talk no sense?" I momentarily lost brain function, but once my sight, hearing, and cognitive processes re-started, I managed to jot down an uncoherent, garbled response that I then tried to explain to my tablemates as something I could maybe look at, potentially, as a possible research question, Y'know, in the future? Of course, I didn't really understand one of my tablemate's research questions either, and he admitted that he is not really sure where to go with it, and I kind of felt like telling him to maybe just focus on the technology aspect of it, and drop the other half, but that's mainly because I kind of get an irritated twitch going when I hear the words "Ecological justice" or "Economic justice" or "Social justice". That being said, I will end up having to bite my tongue with quite a few of my classmates, because they had some aspect of "________ justice" included in their research questions.
While the rest of the class was a little less scary than the first 45 minutes, I am definitely having to make a conscious effort to re-wire my brain back to academic language and thinking. This is difficult, mainly because I have little to no patience with academic language in the first place, and because I have spent the last five years reading a steady diet of children's fiction, with a little grown-up fiction thrown in, but never anything more difficult than, say, Michael Crichton, and my neurons are resisting the change. However, after having read the first five chapters of my Research Methods book, I have been relieved to find it direct and easy to understand. I just hope none of my other books get too heavy, because my head hurts already and I've only had one class. Too much more of this, and it might ACTUALLY implode.
So, I transferred the money, got all pretty again (not that I have a choice, my hair has reached a "Do it every day or else" phase of growing out, argh), and headed up to school early, because any sane person knows that the best day for buying your books? Is not the first day of school. Not even close. In fact, I would go so far as to boldly state that the first day of school is, in fact, the exact opposite of the best day to buy your books. But I also knew that the first week would not be much, if any, better, so I decided to rip off the metaphorical band-aid and just get it over with.
It was....bad. Worse than I remembered from BYU, although, truth be told, I don't know that I ever went to get books the first day of school. But, I made it relatively unscathed to the EDSE section, found the two books I needed right away (I'm hoping the loan gets sorted out before I need the other two), and then made my way over to the lines to wait. And wait. And....wait for iiiiiit!....wait. For some odd reason, the song "Hotel California" kept running through my head, but I attempted to ignore it. And, at long last, I made it to a cashier. He rang up my books, and I handed him my OneCard, and he...looked at it, made "Buh?" face at me, then confirmed that I wanted to use it to pay....which I found odd, because a OneCard functions like a Signature Card at BYU, meaning you put money in your account, and can use it anywhere on campus like a debit card. It's one of the major selling points of the OneCard, a point I'd seen advertised ALL OVER THE DANG PLACE, so I'm not really sure why I got the "Why did she give me her ID card?" look, but he ran it through, and I left with my books...and decided to wander around the upper level of the bookstore, which can be very dangerous to my wallet. And, oh my gosh, if I'd had the money for it, I would have bought half the place out. I thought the BYU bookstore had a good amount of useless but fun gewgaws and doodads, but the U of A store has, like, three or four times as much, all crammed together, so on one side I'm looking at the adorable piggy banks (I tried to find piggy keychains, to replace my broken one, but they didn't have them), and on the other side: shotglasses, champagne glasses, beer glasses, beer mugs, coffee mugs, and flasks! All with the U of A logo on them! Okay, so that wasn't really a major perk for me, but I did kind of giggle remembering the 'toothpick holders' that comprise the entirety of BYU logo-ed drinkware. They DID have some nifty Native American (or, more likely, "Native American") jewelry that I kind of want, like, a lot. And some nifty looking cuff watches, and cute pens and pencils, and sweatshirts I'd look awful in because they're green and yellow, and not even a green I can wear (I can never wear yellow), and, and....butter dishes shaped like the Butterdome. I WANTS ONE. But, it can wait.
So after wasting time in the store, I walked over to the ed building for class, realized I had some time to kill, found myself a seat in the hall, and buried my nose in The Power of Six, until it was time to go to class.
Class....scared the crap out of me. It's a required class on Research Methods, which is supposed to help master's and doctoral students organize, design, and write their research projects or proposals. About half of the students in the class had already completed 1-2 years of their grad studies, and there were only three of us who were just starting our programs that day. I was relieved that one of the other students, at least, looked as lost as I felt. Class started out innocuously enough - everyone introduced themselves, where they were from, and their area of interest or research. Then we had to write the end to the phrase "Research is..." and "Education research is..." and I started jotting down responses...and then she sneak attacked with "What is your research question?" My brain went, "Uhhh....buuhhhh....wahhh...Why lady talk no sense?" I momentarily lost brain function, but once my sight, hearing, and cognitive processes re-started, I managed to jot down an uncoherent, garbled response that I then tried to explain to my tablemates as something I could maybe look at, potentially, as a possible research question, Y'know, in the future? Of course, I didn't really understand one of my tablemate's research questions either, and he admitted that he is not really sure where to go with it, and I kind of felt like telling him to maybe just focus on the technology aspect of it, and drop the other half, but that's mainly because I kind of get an irritated twitch going when I hear the words "Ecological justice" or "Economic justice" or "Social justice". That being said, I will end up having to bite my tongue with quite a few of my classmates, because they had some aspect of "________ justice" included in their research questions.
While the rest of the class was a little less scary than the first 45 minutes, I am definitely having to make a conscious effort to re-wire my brain back to academic language and thinking. This is difficult, mainly because I have little to no patience with academic language in the first place, and because I have spent the last five years reading a steady diet of children's fiction, with a little grown-up fiction thrown in, but never anything more difficult than, say, Michael Crichton, and my neurons are resisting the change. However, after having read the first five chapters of my Research Methods book, I have been relieved to find it direct and easy to understand. I just hope none of my other books get too heavy, because my head hurts already and I've only had one class. Too much more of this, and it might ACTUALLY implode.
Monday 12 September 2011
One Day, I Will Know Where to Go...but Not Today
Tuesday the 6th was an interesting day, and my first inklings that graduate school is going to be vastly different from undergrad studies. A welcome reception for all of the Secondary Ed. majors was set up for that afternoon, and as I had made plans to meet with my supervising professor, Dr. N., I got myself all gussied up professional-like, and made my way to campus.
Getting to campus was no longer a problem, but once there, problems began again (good thing I gave myself an extra half hour, eh?). See, I checked the map before heading up, so I knew where the education building was - south of the LRT station. What I failed to realize was that, if I happened to go out the wrong door, instead of facing south (the direction I needed to go) I would end up facing west...see where this is going? So, once again I found myself taking an unplanned and unwelcome "tour" of campus, trying in vain to either raise a map on my phone, or find one of the elusive campus maps posted in those remote regions where only the few, brave (or seriously lost) students enter. It was my bad luck that they re-did the on-line campus maps, making them more interactive and too much for my phone to load quickly.
As I waited in vain for the map on my phone to load, I kept walking, and soon saw a distinctive garish yellow building ahead of me. The sports arena at U of A is painted a distinct, bright yellow that has earned it the nickname "The Butterdome". Thankfully, I had retained a piece of information from my driving tour of the campus that the Butterdome is down the street from the education building, and from there was able to make my way to the room I needed to be in - two minutes before the meeting was supposed to start, hot and sweaty and not looking remotely like I had when I left, but still before the meeting. Of course, I could have been twenty minutes late and still have gotten there in good time, but punctuality is my curse to bear, and I loathe getting anywhere late. Except church functions, where punctuality seems to be frowned upon...
The meeting itself - not much to report for the first half. People whose names I forgot two minutes later getting up and introducing themselves and talking up the university, and secondary education, and why we're all Cooler Than Everyone Else. Then it was time for the table questions, where you could go to different people and ask them questions about, say, Publishing for Journals, or Conference Presentations, or Library Use. I kind of meandered around and listened to the questions other people asked, trying to get an idea of what kinds of questions I needed to ask...because that's another issue I have. I don't ask questions a lot of the time, because I can't think of any I need to ask. Or rather, I make the assumption that I have the information I need, and unless something comes up to dispute that, I don't ask, because I have nothing TO ask...y'know? The thought that I may be required to publish papers to present at a conference had never even crossed my mind until then. I know it's standard for doctoral candidates, and professors, but for lowly Master's students?
Anyways, all this new and mind-bottling (yes, bottling) information made my head spin, and I just wanted to go home (my supervisor hadn't arrived yet), so when they busted out the vegan spring rolls and fair-trade coffee, I bailed. Of course, my supervisor arrived shortly afterwards...oops! (It's all good now, but that's another post.)
On the plus side, I went out the back of the building and discovered a secret path to the LRT station, which I can use for getting home after classes. On the minus side, the education building? In full view across the street from the other LRT station exit. Sometimes, I am an idiot.
Getting to campus was no longer a problem, but once there, problems began again (good thing I gave myself an extra half hour, eh?). See, I checked the map before heading up, so I knew where the education building was - south of the LRT station. What I failed to realize was that, if I happened to go out the wrong door, instead of facing south (the direction I needed to go) I would end up facing west...see where this is going? So, once again I found myself taking an unplanned and unwelcome "tour" of campus, trying in vain to either raise a map on my phone, or find one of the elusive campus maps posted in those remote regions where only the few, brave (or seriously lost) students enter. It was my bad luck that they re-did the on-line campus maps, making them more interactive and too much for my phone to load quickly.
As I waited in vain for the map on my phone to load, I kept walking, and soon saw a distinctive garish yellow building ahead of me. The sports arena at U of A is painted a distinct, bright yellow that has earned it the nickname "The Butterdome". Thankfully, I had retained a piece of information from my driving tour of the campus that the Butterdome is down the street from the education building, and from there was able to make my way to the room I needed to be in - two minutes before the meeting was supposed to start, hot and sweaty and not looking remotely like I had when I left, but still before the meeting. Of course, I could have been twenty minutes late and still have gotten there in good time, but punctuality is my curse to bear, and I loathe getting anywhere late. Except church functions, where punctuality seems to be frowned upon...
The meeting itself - not much to report for the first half. People whose names I forgot two minutes later getting up and introducing themselves and talking up the university, and secondary education, and why we're all Cooler Than Everyone Else. Then it was time for the table questions, where you could go to different people and ask them questions about, say, Publishing for Journals, or Conference Presentations, or Library Use. I kind of meandered around and listened to the questions other people asked, trying to get an idea of what kinds of questions I needed to ask...because that's another issue I have. I don't ask questions a lot of the time, because I can't think of any I need to ask. Or rather, I make the assumption that I have the information I need, and unless something comes up to dispute that, I don't ask, because I have nothing TO ask...y'know? The thought that I may be required to publish papers to present at a conference had never even crossed my mind until then. I know it's standard for doctoral candidates, and professors, but for lowly Master's students?
Anyways, all this new and mind-bottling (yes, bottling) information made my head spin, and I just wanted to go home (my supervisor hadn't arrived yet), so when they busted out the vegan spring rolls and fair-trade coffee, I bailed. Of course, my supervisor arrived shortly afterwards...oops! (It's all good now, but that's another post.)
On the plus side, I went out the back of the building and discovered a secret path to the LRT station, which I can use for getting home after classes. On the minus side, the education building? In full view across the street from the other LRT station exit. Sometimes, I am an idiot.
Wednesday 7 September 2011
Family Home Evening, or What It's Like to be Eaten to Death by Mosquitos
Monday was fairly uneventful until the evening. I had NOTHING to do during the day, so after reading a bit (The Power of Six, sequel to I Am Number Four), I decided to head on over to Blockbuster and get a couple of movies I'd been itching to see: The King's Speech (rated 14+ up here, hah!) and Jane Eyre (it has my beautiful future husband Michael Fassbender in it). So I spent the bulk of the day watching those, trying not to focus too much on the prospect of going to Family Home Evening (FHE for the uninitiated) that night, because then I just felt like barfing. Have I mentioned I get really nervous in social situations where I don't know many people? Well, I do. That shirt that reads "Ask Me About My Crippling Shyness"? That was made for me. So, yeah, not really looking forward to it.
Well, at about 7 I headed out the door and over to the church - it's just up the street - and almost immediately regretted not wearing sunglasses, because the sun was still very bright. Silly me, we're in the north countries! The Canadians may be feeling gloomy about how low the sun is, but to us Southerners it's still pretty darn high! Anyway, I made it to the church without getting run over (it was touch and go with those buses, I'll tell you what, and it's not like I was even weaving my way through the middle of the road - I was on the sidewalk), and was heartened that the 2nd counselor in the bishopric remembered my name, and now I feel REALLY bad that I can't remember his :-(. Anyway, after I sat down, I was cornered by an FHE committee member and asked if I'd give the opening prayer. No big, so I said yes. Five seconds later she's calling out to see if there's anyone who can play the piano. So I raise my hand. I've decided that's my thing - it's what keeps happening to me, no matter where I go - Cottonwood Ward, Crafton Hills Ward - I'm not the only one who plays, but I'm the only one there who will 'fess up to it. I blame Brother Palmer.
So after playing the opening hymn, and a short lesson on patriarchal blessings, the girl behind me asks if I'm Cathie's niece - her mum is R.S. president in Bearspaw ward, her name is Amy, and oh happy day, she's a teacher! I have a friend! Woo-hoo! We head out to the lawn, and herein lies my first true test of friendship - do I join her in the outfield of a kickball team, or sit out? Well, no one else was allowed to sit out, so I slipped off my totally kickball-inappropriate shoes and join her, and Angela the FHE mum, in the outfield. We had a very nice conversation throughout the course of the game, and I have found a fellow book geek. She even works at a book store - I'm so jealous!
The less said about the kickball game, the better. Suffice it to say, I didn't want to play in the first place because I SUCK at kickball, and Monday night's game only served to further reinforce said suckage. My kicking served to advance others a base - that was all. On the plus side, I know a few more people's names, and I have a ride buddy to activities, because Amy hates to drive and I have a car. And she carpools with a couple of guys from the ward. Neat! Now, if I could just find fellow Call of Duty players, I'd be set! (Just kidding, Mum...)
But seriously, the thing that stands out the most, both figuratively and literally, from Monday, is the mosquito bites I sustained. And of course, I'd put on my Avon Skin So Soft like a good girl, so I could smell nice but still repel mosquitoes. So where did I get bit? My head. Like, IN MY HAIR, and don't ask me how the little bloodsuckers managed to dig through to my scalp to leave me itching welts, because it's not even like they're in an easy access part of my scalp like my part, no, they're ALL OVER. The two exceptions are the one that's on my forehead, near my hairline, but not covered by it - no, that one just looks like a gigantic, angry zit - I've been letting my hair fall freely over that half of my face the past couple of days - and the one right at the joint where my thumb meets my hand. Still not sure how I didn't notice THAT one happening, especially since I felt the little vampires every time they got me on my head. I'd managed to go nearly two weeks without a bite - even after a walk through the parks at dusk - and in one evening I more than made up for it. Then I got to walk through swarms of No-See-Ums on my way home, and after the second or third swarm, I was ready to take my chances with the buses and walk down the middle of the road, as far from the greenery on each side as I could get - but I don't wanna die just yet, so I opted for the safer, but infinitely more irritating, route. Also, I saw a couple more snowshoe hares, and yeah, the one from the other night? Not that big. I kind of wanted to walk closer to one that was nibbling near some geese, but then I realized that, if the geese didn't peck me to death, the hare might actually be able to bite my leg off with his sharp pointy teeth! So I stayed away, made it home safely, and applied AfterBite to the bites I could feel. A good night :-).
Well, at about 7 I headed out the door and over to the church - it's just up the street - and almost immediately regretted not wearing sunglasses, because the sun was still very bright. Silly me, we're in the north countries! The Canadians may be feeling gloomy about how low the sun is, but to us Southerners it's still pretty darn high! Anyway, I made it to the church without getting run over (it was touch and go with those buses, I'll tell you what, and it's not like I was even weaving my way through the middle of the road - I was on the sidewalk), and was heartened that the 2nd counselor in the bishopric remembered my name, and now I feel REALLY bad that I can't remember his :-(. Anyway, after I sat down, I was cornered by an FHE committee member and asked if I'd give the opening prayer. No big, so I said yes. Five seconds later she's calling out to see if there's anyone who can play the piano. So I raise my hand. I've decided that's my thing - it's what keeps happening to me, no matter where I go - Cottonwood Ward, Crafton Hills Ward - I'm not the only one who plays, but I'm the only one there who will 'fess up to it. I blame Brother Palmer.
So after playing the opening hymn, and a short lesson on patriarchal blessings, the girl behind me asks if I'm Cathie's niece - her mum is R.S. president in Bearspaw ward, her name is Amy, and oh happy day, she's a teacher! I have a friend! Woo-hoo! We head out to the lawn, and herein lies my first true test of friendship - do I join her in the outfield of a kickball team, or sit out? Well, no one else was allowed to sit out, so I slipped off my totally kickball-inappropriate shoes and join her, and Angela the FHE mum, in the outfield. We had a very nice conversation throughout the course of the game, and I have found a fellow book geek. She even works at a book store - I'm so jealous!
The less said about the kickball game, the better. Suffice it to say, I didn't want to play in the first place because I SUCK at kickball, and Monday night's game only served to further reinforce said suckage. My kicking served to advance others a base - that was all. On the plus side, I know a few more people's names, and I have a ride buddy to activities, because Amy hates to drive and I have a car. And she carpools with a couple of guys from the ward. Neat! Now, if I could just find fellow Call of Duty players, I'd be set! (Just kidding, Mum...)
But seriously, the thing that stands out the most, both figuratively and literally, from Monday, is the mosquito bites I sustained. And of course, I'd put on my Avon Skin So Soft like a good girl, so I could smell nice but still repel mosquitoes. So where did I get bit? My head. Like, IN MY HAIR, and don't ask me how the little bloodsuckers managed to dig through to my scalp to leave me itching welts, because it's not even like they're in an easy access part of my scalp like my part, no, they're ALL OVER. The two exceptions are the one that's on my forehead, near my hairline, but not covered by it - no, that one just looks like a gigantic, angry zit - I've been letting my hair fall freely over that half of my face the past couple of days - and the one right at the joint where my thumb meets my hand. Still not sure how I didn't notice THAT one happening, especially since I felt the little vampires every time they got me on my head. I'd managed to go nearly two weeks without a bite - even after a walk through the parks at dusk - and in one evening I more than made up for it. Then I got to walk through swarms of No-See-Ums on my way home, and after the second or third swarm, I was ready to take my chances with the buses and walk down the middle of the road, as far from the greenery on each side as I could get - but I don't wanna die just yet, so I opted for the safer, but infinitely more irritating, route. Also, I saw a couple more snowshoe hares, and yeah, the one from the other night? Not that big. I kind of wanted to walk closer to one that was nibbling near some geese, but then I realized that, if the geese didn't peck me to death, the hare might actually be able to bite my leg off with his sharp pointy teeth! So I stayed away, made it home safely, and applied AfterBite to the bites I could feel. A good night :-).
See? I told you.
You've waited and wondered, and now, here it is! Gaze in terror upon....my OneCard picture!!
You see? YOU SEE? THIS is why I hate having my picture taken on the fly, why I made my mother take 20 or 50 pictures of me at home so I could go through each one and hopefully find a decent one, why I submitted it ahead of time - so I wouldn't have to look like THIS for the rest of my time here at U of A, but oh noooo.....they had to go and NOT GET the picture that I submitted, and then TAKE a NEW ONE when I WASN'T ready, so now I look, not just like Professor Umbridge, but almost like the spawn of Professor Umbridge and Corky from Life Goes On, and also? I look like I'm asleep. And have the shoulders of a defensive linebacker. Sweet. Goin' on my LDSMingle profile, that picture is. >Siiiiggghhhh<
You see? YOU SEE? THIS is why I hate having my picture taken on the fly, why I made my mother take 20 or 50 pictures of me at home so I could go through each one and hopefully find a decent one, why I submitted it ahead of time - so I wouldn't have to look like THIS for the rest of my time here at U of A, but oh noooo.....they had to go and NOT GET the picture that I submitted, and then TAKE a NEW ONE when I WASN'T ready, so now I look, not just like Professor Umbridge, but almost like the spawn of Professor Umbridge and Corky from Life Goes On, and also? I look like I'm asleep. And have the shoulders of a defensive linebacker. Sweet. Goin' on my LDSMingle profile, that picture is. >Siiiiggghhhh<
Monday 5 September 2011
The Weekend
Saturday morning I was conscripted by the Institute Choir Director and Institute Accompanist to go and help put together the music folders for this semester. This meant I had to get up at the unholy hour of 8:30, oh the humanity!! Once at institute, it was discovered that someone, or someones, had jacked about half of the music we needed to put in the folders, so that activity was put on hold. Once home, I decided I needed a short nap - I hadn't fallen asleep until nearly 2:30 the night before, so getting up at 8:30 really did take some effort. My short nap took three hours. I was tired.
When I got up, I was on my own, so I decided to, once again, test my navigational skills and see if I could successfully travel to and from a given point, with a minimum amount of turn-arounds and detours. I am happy to report that my trip to AdditionElle (a clothes store) was done with only one slight detour on the return trip, and that wasn't my fault. It was the fault of the jerk in the black truck who decided it would be fun to pace me when I signalled that I wanted to get over into the left lane. One moment he's all in a hurry, the next he's Sunday driving so I can't get in front of or behind him. Jerk.
I also made it to the CORRECT grocery store, and was triumphant in my procurement of Caffeine Free Diet Coke, ham, and Dill Pickle-Flavored chips. I was trying to find Yogurt and Green Onion chips to try, since I have been tasked with reporting on their yumminess by certain persons back home, but there was nary a bag to be found. So I settled on trying out the Dill Pickle chips. Sadly, I must report that Dill Pickle chips? Are not good. They're not horrible, and I suppose if I were in the throes of an overpowering salt craving they'd work, but they're not something I'd ever buy voluntarily again. They almost taste like Salt N Vinegar chips, but with a "dill" flavor mixed in that, while looking and smelling like dill, does not actually taste like dill, or even a dill pickle. Next time, I'll have to try the Ketchup flavored chips - unless they have Yogurt and Green Onion.
Sunday was my first day in my new YSA ward. I was nervous, I'll admit it, but I had a church buddy, the Institute Accompanist's daughter, Ariel, who gave me a ride. I got to ride in a Smart Car. Yes, they really are that tiny. My claustrophobia tried to surface, but I thought it would be rude to start pounding the windows and shouting "Let me out!" so I opted for deep breathing instead. Church itself was pretty good, although it was fast and testimony meeting and there were some loooonnnnggg awkward pauses between people. But Andy Samberg's secret twin is in my ward! He got up to bear his testimony, and I about fell out of my chair. There is also a girl in the ward who bears an uncanny resemblance in face, voice, and mannerisms to Kelsey O'Connor - her name is, no joke, Keltey (yes, with a 't'). Freaky!
Relief Society was also good, with a little amusing part thrown in. The teacher thought it would be nice to have everyone stand and say their name and where they're from. Nearly everyone there was from Edmonton or a nearby city. I was one of the last to go, and about 12 people just before me were all from Edmonton, and then I got up and said, "I'm Claire, I'm from California" and just about everybody gasped and started laughing. Fun times.
I made it out of church unscathed and unseen by the ward clerk, who has threatened to photograph everyone for the menu - I'll just submit a picture instead. Maybe the one that was supposed to go on my OneCard. After church, I hung around watching Pride and Prejudice until Aunt Cathie got up from her nap. Then we went on a walk with Kim, her neighbor, to go look at people's yards across the ravine. Apparently, the yards along the city park walkway can't be closed off - they have to have chain-link fences, so most people have landscaped their gardens to perfection. It was a hike to get there, but worth it. Of course, I didn't think to take any pictures until we ran across this little guy:
On our way back, I tried to get a few more pictures, but as I am the World's Worst Photographer, and I was using my phone camera, I only got a couple worth showing off. This is just off to the side of the road we were walking along:
When I got up, I was on my own, so I decided to, once again, test my navigational skills and see if I could successfully travel to and from a given point, with a minimum amount of turn-arounds and detours. I am happy to report that my trip to AdditionElle (a clothes store) was done with only one slight detour on the return trip, and that wasn't my fault. It was the fault of the jerk in the black truck who decided it would be fun to pace me when I signalled that I wanted to get over into the left lane. One moment he's all in a hurry, the next he's Sunday driving so I can't get in front of or behind him. Jerk.
I also made it to the CORRECT grocery store, and was triumphant in my procurement of Caffeine Free Diet Coke, ham, and Dill Pickle-Flavored chips. I was trying to find Yogurt and Green Onion chips to try, since I have been tasked with reporting on their yumminess by certain persons back home, but there was nary a bag to be found. So I settled on trying out the Dill Pickle chips. Sadly, I must report that Dill Pickle chips? Are not good. They're not horrible, and I suppose if I were in the throes of an overpowering salt craving they'd work, but they're not something I'd ever buy voluntarily again. They almost taste like Salt N Vinegar chips, but with a "dill" flavor mixed in that, while looking and smelling like dill, does not actually taste like dill, or even a dill pickle. Next time, I'll have to try the Ketchup flavored chips - unless they have Yogurt and Green Onion.
Sunday was my first day in my new YSA ward. I was nervous, I'll admit it, but I had a church buddy, the Institute Accompanist's daughter, Ariel, who gave me a ride. I got to ride in a Smart Car. Yes, they really are that tiny. My claustrophobia tried to surface, but I thought it would be rude to start pounding the windows and shouting "Let me out!" so I opted for deep breathing instead. Church itself was pretty good, although it was fast and testimony meeting and there were some loooonnnnggg awkward pauses between people. But Andy Samberg's secret twin is in my ward! He got up to bear his testimony, and I about fell out of my chair. There is also a girl in the ward who bears an uncanny resemblance in face, voice, and mannerisms to Kelsey O'Connor - her name is, no joke, Keltey (yes, with a 't'). Freaky!
Relief Society was also good, with a little amusing part thrown in. The teacher thought it would be nice to have everyone stand and say their name and where they're from. Nearly everyone there was from Edmonton or a nearby city. I was one of the last to go, and about 12 people just before me were all from Edmonton, and then I got up and said, "I'm Claire, I'm from California" and just about everybody gasped and started laughing. Fun times.
I made it out of church unscathed and unseen by the ward clerk, who has threatened to photograph everyone for the menu - I'll just submit a picture instead. Maybe the one that was supposed to go on my OneCard. After church, I hung around watching Pride and Prejudice until Aunt Cathie got up from her nap. Then we went on a walk with Kim, her neighbor, to go look at people's yards across the ravine. Apparently, the yards along the city park walkway can't be closed off - they have to have chain-link fences, so most people have landscaped their gardens to perfection. It was a hike to get there, but worth it. Of course, I didn't think to take any pictures until we ran across this little guy:
We were walking by this yard, and I was like, "Oh, cute, they have a giant bunny!" and was told in return, "No, that's wild. It's a snowshoe hare. Actually, he's kind of small." I know it's kind of hard to tell from this picture, but this hare is about the size of a beagle. Dad, be grateful we don't have these guys eating the lawn.On our way back, I tried to get a few more pictures, but as I am the World's Worst Photographer, and I was using my phone camera, I only got a couple worth showing off. This is just off to the side of the road we were walking along:
And, because I love clouds, I tried to capture the pretty colors from the sunset:
Overall, a good day. (But the No-see-ums have GOT to GO.)
Friday, Friday, Gettin' Down on Friday...
HAH! Now you have that song stuck in your head, mwah-hah-hah-hah! Okay, so I only did that because I've had that wretched song stuck in my head for days, and I felt the need to share my pain.
Friday was a good day, in that I didn't get lost, didn't get on the wrong bus, and managed not to anger the blisters on my feet TOO badly. I had an appointment at two with an advisor in the International office, to get my study permit situation (hopefully) settled once and for all, so I plugged in my desired arrival time into ETS and got my bus/LRT situation sorted out, with a schedule that was set to get me to campus about 1:48. I left the house a little after one, then promptly returned to the house to get my jacket - it was COLD on Friday. Like, low 40s cold, and what scared me, as I was shivering waiting for the bus, was that I realized that it is going to get A LOT colder as the year progresses. Everyone was right - I AM going to freeze. But, my leather jacket served me well on Friday, so (sincerely) thanks, guy who repaired my jacket. You did a great job.
I made it up to campus around 1:35. Apparently, the LRT goes a little faster than ETS estimates. I had time to kill, and thought about wandering campus some more - then my blisters started throbbing angrily (I think they can read my thoughts) so I just headed to the International office instead. I got there around 1:40 - the place was packed and hoppin', due to the barbecue that was taking place in the quad just outside the office. Joy. I managed to find a seat near the receptionist's desk. About two seconds after I'd settled down and opened my book, I was swarmed by a group of Asian girls, all talking to each other in their native tongue, all acting as though I was invisible. Or part of the chair. I ignored it and waited until it was near time for my appointment, then got up and made my presence known to the receptionist. When I turned back to take my seat again, I found it covered by all of the girls' purses and whatnot, so I gave it up as lost and just stood near the counter reading until it was my turn.
Talking to the advisor didn't take long, and she was able to put my mind at ease regarding the study permit. The university doesn't care if you have one, unless you're trying to get a job on-campus, so...I'm officially okay to start school on Wednesday...yay? I'm trying to be excited, but there's that young part of me that's like, "School? I thought we were done with that....>sigh< okay...."
Leaving the International office, I discovered it had started to rain - really rain - while I was inside. As I was walking outside, I remembered that my umbrella was still in California. Actually, both of them are. I'd meant to pack them, but at some point in time, the thought just fell out of my head. Nice. Thankfully, it was a short walk back to the LRT station, and as I was getting off the LRT, my bus got there - the right one this time - so there wasn't a whole lot of time spent in the rain.
That night, Aunt Cathie offered to take me to the West Edmonton Mall (or WestEd, as it's known locally). Now, I've only been to Edmonton once before now, and I was about four years old. I don't remember anything of that first trip, but this: Edmonton has a mall that has a roller coaster in it. That was all I could remember, ever, from that trip. That mall is the West Edmonton mall, and it doesn't just have a roller coaster. It has a small theme park, with multiple rides, including but not limited to: a roller coaster (a big one), giant swings, tilt-a-whirl, one of those raise you up high and drop you thingies (2, actually, one for small kids and one for grownups), another roller coaster where you sit in cars that you can spin like the teacups at D-land, a train, and a bunch of other stuff that I didn't really take in. That's in one part of the mall. There is also a water park, with some giant slides, a kiddie land, and a huge wave pool. There is a pirate ship over water, where there are bumper boats, and a dolphin show. And a seal show. There is an ice skating rink, and apparently the Oilers sometimes practice there. There are three food courts, two of them your typical mall food courts, and one called Bourbon street that hosts a bunch of different pubs and real restaurants. Oh, and there are about a million stores. And a hotel. We were there for nearly two hours, and all we did was walk from one end of the mall to the other and back. We went into, I think three stores, each for less than 10 minutes. It's huge, and it's all under one roof. I thought my head was going to explode. I also thought it was weird to have an amusement park and water park in a MALL, but, as Cathie pointed out, "What else are you going to do when there's six feet of snow outside?" What, indeed. Go to the mall! Bring your swimsuit and your ice skates!
Friday was a good day, in that I didn't get lost, didn't get on the wrong bus, and managed not to anger the blisters on my feet TOO badly. I had an appointment at two with an advisor in the International office, to get my study permit situation (hopefully) settled once and for all, so I plugged in my desired arrival time into ETS and got my bus/LRT situation sorted out, with a schedule that was set to get me to campus about 1:48. I left the house a little after one, then promptly returned to the house to get my jacket - it was COLD on Friday. Like, low 40s cold, and what scared me, as I was shivering waiting for the bus, was that I realized that it is going to get A LOT colder as the year progresses. Everyone was right - I AM going to freeze. But, my leather jacket served me well on Friday, so (sincerely) thanks, guy who repaired my jacket. You did a great job.
I made it up to campus around 1:35. Apparently, the LRT goes a little faster than ETS estimates. I had time to kill, and thought about wandering campus some more - then my blisters started throbbing angrily (I think they can read my thoughts) so I just headed to the International office instead. I got there around 1:40 - the place was packed and hoppin', due to the barbecue that was taking place in the quad just outside the office. Joy. I managed to find a seat near the receptionist's desk. About two seconds after I'd settled down and opened my book, I was swarmed by a group of Asian girls, all talking to each other in their native tongue, all acting as though I was invisible. Or part of the chair. I ignored it and waited until it was near time for my appointment, then got up and made my presence known to the receptionist. When I turned back to take my seat again, I found it covered by all of the girls' purses and whatnot, so I gave it up as lost and just stood near the counter reading until it was my turn.
Talking to the advisor didn't take long, and she was able to put my mind at ease regarding the study permit. The university doesn't care if you have one, unless you're trying to get a job on-campus, so...I'm officially okay to start school on Wednesday...yay? I'm trying to be excited, but there's that young part of me that's like, "School? I thought we were done with that....>sigh< okay...."
Leaving the International office, I discovered it had started to rain - really rain - while I was inside. As I was walking outside, I remembered that my umbrella was still in California. Actually, both of them are. I'd meant to pack them, but at some point in time, the thought just fell out of my head. Nice. Thankfully, it was a short walk back to the LRT station, and as I was getting off the LRT, my bus got there - the right one this time - so there wasn't a whole lot of time spent in the rain.
That night, Aunt Cathie offered to take me to the West Edmonton Mall (or WestEd, as it's known locally). Now, I've only been to Edmonton once before now, and I was about four years old. I don't remember anything of that first trip, but this: Edmonton has a mall that has a roller coaster in it. That was all I could remember, ever, from that trip. That mall is the West Edmonton mall, and it doesn't just have a roller coaster. It has a small theme park, with multiple rides, including but not limited to: a roller coaster (a big one), giant swings, tilt-a-whirl, one of those raise you up high and drop you thingies (2, actually, one for small kids and one for grownups), another roller coaster where you sit in cars that you can spin like the teacups at D-land, a train, and a bunch of other stuff that I didn't really take in. That's in one part of the mall. There is also a water park, with some giant slides, a kiddie land, and a huge wave pool. There is a pirate ship over water, where there are bumper boats, and a dolphin show. And a seal show. There is an ice skating rink, and apparently the Oilers sometimes practice there. There are three food courts, two of them your typical mall food courts, and one called Bourbon street that hosts a bunch of different pubs and real restaurants. Oh, and there are about a million stores. And a hotel. We were there for nearly two hours, and all we did was walk from one end of the mall to the other and back. We went into, I think three stores, each for less than 10 minutes. It's huge, and it's all under one roof. I thought my head was going to explode. I also thought it was weird to have an amusement park and water park in a MALL, but, as Cathie pointed out, "What else are you going to do when there's six feet of snow outside?" What, indeed. Go to the mall! Bring your swimsuit and your ice skates!
Saturday 3 September 2011
I Now Have an Extra Toe, or, My First Walk Around Campus (also novel-length)
Thursday was another day of firsts. I needed to talk to someone in the registrar's office about my lack of a study permit, coupled with my lack of proof of Canadian citizenship. I wanted to make sure that I wasn't gonna have problems starting school if I didn't have my study permit. At first, I planned to just go up on campus and ask someone, then got scared, and decided to call instead. I had the privilege of listening to the same message over and over while on hold, the kind that says, without actually saying it, "Please just hang up and go on the website. Please. We really don't want to talk to you. With all the technology available, and everything computerized, there's almost NO reason you need to talk to a live human being, so please hang up and go to www.ualberta.ca. Please."
Well, I'd already been to the registrar's page, and there was nothing related to my situation, i.e., What to Do If You Applied as an International Student, Then Found out You're Canadian, and Now Have No Study Permit and You're Waiting for Your Proof of Citizenship, so I stayed on the line.
When I finally got a live human being, she listened to my garbled explanation of my situation, then said, "We don't deal with graduate students here, you'll have to talk to FGSR (Faculty of Graduate Studies and Research)," and hung up. Thanks, anonymous phone lady.
So I hunted up the number for FGSR, and called them, which led to a similar message re: please just look on the website. But at least this time I got a menu option. After listening to the first four menu options, I finally got, "For other issues or questions, press 5" so I dutifully pressed 5 and waited. And waited. Stiiillllll waaaaiiiittttiiiinnngggg....hey, wait, what? Beep boop >buzzz< blip! [cell phone lights up to indicate the call ended].
I figured it was just a random glitch, so I called the number again, sat through the same "Look on the website, dummy!" message, got to the menu, pressed 5....and got the same random tones, right before I was hung up on AGAIN. There was no way to avoid it - I was gonna have to go up to campus, and since I needed to figure out the bus/LRT schedule anyway, that was my chosen mode of transportation.
Edmonton Transit Systems (ETS) has a very handy site where you plug in your start and endpoints, when you want to depart or arrive, and it gives you your trip options. Very helpful. So I got all my stuff together and strolled across the street to the bus stop to wait for the 40 Yellowbird at 2:12. Getting on the bus was no problem, but definitely felt weird, since before now the only time I've ridden a city bus was on vacation with a crew of family members. I nervously showed the bus driver my OneCard, because I wasn't sure if I needed to swipe it, or something. I don't - flashing it was enough, thankfully, because I'm sure if he'd really looked at it, he might've thought I stole a OneCard from a much toadier-looking person.
Getting on the LRT was also no big deal. I kept thinking I was gonna have to swipe my card at some point, or show it to a guard, but no. You just have it handy IN CASE someone asks - there are no turn styles, like DC or New York (the only experience with public transit I've had before now). So I boarded the train, and ended up sitting across from two girls who looked stereotypically Californian (fake blonde/streaked hair and orange tans), but had accents that were nearly Scottish, they were so thick. It was disconcerting.
I'd checked the position of the FGSR office on the map of campus on-line before leaving, so I thought I knew where to go. I was wrong, so very wrong! I turned left coming out of the LRT station, instead of right, and ended up walking around the HUB. The HUB is yooooooooggggeeeee. It's where international students are housed, it has a mall in the middle, and the LRT station underneath, and is about 5 city blocks long (no, that's not an exaggeration). So of course, I came out near one end, and walked along to the other end, because I thought the building I was trying to find was near that end.
And now, a few words about U of A's campus. It is very green. Lots of plants and trees and pathways among them, and a neat Geology garden full of huge, weird rocks that I wanted to climb over. Beautiful. Old, venerable-looking brick buildings with fancypants white trim, newer modern-looking glass and steel structures (some still being built). But among all of this nifty architecture and verdant landscaping, there was something missing....something off. After wandering around aimlessly for about 10 minutes, I finally put my finger on it. There were no FRICKIN' BUILDING SIGNS!!! I was used to BYU, where every building had a sign outside its main door telling you what the building was - "Joseph Smith Building", "Harris Fine Arts Center", "David O. McKay School of Education", etc. They don't do that here.
Once I realized that I was never going to find Triffo Hall if Triffo Hall didn't have a sign announcing its presence, I pulled out my phone and went to the on-line map. I even got a picture of the building in question. It was....made of bricks....with white trim...and there were some trees around it. It wasn't even a picture of the front entrance of the building, it was, like, a side, or something - no doors, only anonymous windows that looked like HALF the buildings ON CAMPUS.
Of course, even with the map, it still took me an eternity to find the building. Occasionally I'd find a sign that gave me information I could corroborate with the map - like "Agricultural Sciences" and then I'd find the building for Agricultural Science on the map, and pinpoint which grid square I was in. I was looking for D5. I ended up, at one point, in C3, because I'd had to detour around a large section of walkway and building that was blocked off for construction. I found a real, live campus map in C3, which showed me how far away I'd wandered from my intended destination, and after taking a picture of the map, because I was sure I'd never see one again in this lifetime, I hiked back up towards my building.
I think I probably passed Triffo Hall at least once, possibly twice, while looking for it. It's a lot smaller than the stupid picture leads you to believe, and it's also so close to this other yooge building, the Cameron (aww, I miss him!) Library, that it looks like it's part of the larger building. But find it I did, in the end. I managed to get there about 10 minutes before the end of office hours, which earned me a glare from the receptionist, but at that point I was beyond caring. I briefly explained why I was there to the receptionist, who called in an advisor for me to talk to. After explaining my situation, and how Border Patrol hadn't given me a study permit, she said, "Wow, I have no idea. We've never had a situation like this before." She then tried to tell me I was in the country illegally if I didn't have a study permit; I reminded her that the BORDER PATROL guy was the one who let me in the country and told me I was a citizen, so, not so much really. She referred me to U of A International. They are based out of the HUB. I'd walked out of the HUB about an hour earlier. My entire conversation with her took all of about 5 minutes, which could have happened over the phone if the stupid system hadn't HUNG UP ON ME, but nooo...
Anyways, so after taking my leave of Triffo Hall, I schlepped my way back to the HUB. I ended up in the mall, somehow - I just picked a door to go in, and that's where I ended up. After traversing half the length of the mall, I found a UAI info desk, where the (attractive) young man there instructed me to walk about a third of the way farther along to the door that would lead me down to their main office. I made it to the office, and managed to get the attention of the receptionist, who had to make me an appointment to talk to an advisor on Friday, because they were all doing orientation. After picking up my orientation packet, I limped back to the LRT station for the trip home.
Getting back on the LRT - no problem. Getting on the bus home - oy. So, I remembered that the bus I needed was the 40 Yellowbird. As I walked out of the LRT station, what was right there? 40 Yellowbird. So I hopped on, flashed my pass, and sat down. As we pulled out of the station, I saw another 40 Yellowbird bus, and felt a flash of worry, but I figured, well, it's the number and route I need, soo....
Soo...the bus doesn't go to my stop, this round. It doesn't even go to my neighborhood. I sat, and I waited, and I prayed really hard for the driver to turn right, turn right, right here, this is the way I need to---aaannnddd you turned left. Jerk. I ended up riding the whole route, up to the mall, and back to the LRT station, where I promptly fled the bus. I yanked out my phone and found the ETS site, punched in my coordinates and destination, and got....the 40 Yellowbird as my only option if I wanted to leave in the next lifetime. So, after taking some deep, soothing, don't-you-dare-cry breaths, I stomped back over and, in a near-yell, ask the driver if the bus stops at 11 Ave. He pulls out his route map and says, "Yup" like it's no big deal, and I tell him, "Okay, but I just rode the whole last route, and it didn't go over there, and this says 40 Yellowbird, which is what I need, so I had to make sure because I want to get home before I die." He tells me to sit up front, and he'll let me know when it's my stop. I wanted to say, no, I know my stop, you didn't go there, even though it's, ostensibly, on the 40 Yellowbird route, but there were people waiting to get on.
I think I may have hurt his feelings, because when he got to my stop he yelled, really loudly (even though I was right there), "For the lady who wanted 11 Ave, this is your stop!" Thanks, bus guy.
Once inside my room, I took off my shoes because my feet, which had been used to comfy open-toed flip-floppy-type shoes, were vigorously protesting their confinement in my Docs for the first time in months (it was cold outside). After pulling my socks off, I realized just how upset they were - I currently have a blister bigger than my little toe growing off the side of my big toe on my left foot, and the beginnings of another toe-sized blister on the side of my right foot.
Hopefully, my feet get over their confinement soon, because the past few days have been cold, and it rained a lot yesterday. Flip flops ain't gonna cut it no more.
Well, I'd already been to the registrar's page, and there was nothing related to my situation, i.e., What to Do If You Applied as an International Student, Then Found out You're Canadian, and Now Have No Study Permit and You're Waiting for Your Proof of Citizenship, so I stayed on the line.
When I finally got a live human being, she listened to my garbled explanation of my situation, then said, "We don't deal with graduate students here, you'll have to talk to FGSR (Faculty of Graduate Studies and Research)," and hung up. Thanks, anonymous phone lady.
So I hunted up the number for FGSR, and called them, which led to a similar message re: please just look on the website. But at least this time I got a menu option. After listening to the first four menu options, I finally got, "For other issues or questions, press 5" so I dutifully pressed 5 and waited. And waited. Stiiillllll waaaaiiiittttiiiinnngggg....hey, wait, what? Beep boop >buzzz< blip! [cell phone lights up to indicate the call ended].
I figured it was just a random glitch, so I called the number again, sat through the same "Look on the website, dummy!" message, got to the menu, pressed 5....and got the same random tones, right before I was hung up on AGAIN. There was no way to avoid it - I was gonna have to go up to campus, and since I needed to figure out the bus/LRT schedule anyway, that was my chosen mode of transportation.
Edmonton Transit Systems (ETS) has a very handy site where you plug in your start and endpoints, when you want to depart or arrive, and it gives you your trip options. Very helpful. So I got all my stuff together and strolled across the street to the bus stop to wait for the 40 Yellowbird at 2:12. Getting on the bus was no problem, but definitely felt weird, since before now the only time I've ridden a city bus was on vacation with a crew of family members. I nervously showed the bus driver my OneCard, because I wasn't sure if I needed to swipe it, or something. I don't - flashing it was enough, thankfully, because I'm sure if he'd really looked at it, he might've thought I stole a OneCard from a much toadier-looking person.
Getting on the LRT was also no big deal. I kept thinking I was gonna have to swipe my card at some point, or show it to a guard, but no. You just have it handy IN CASE someone asks - there are no turn styles, like DC or New York (the only experience with public transit I've had before now). So I boarded the train, and ended up sitting across from two girls who looked stereotypically Californian (fake blonde/streaked hair and orange tans), but had accents that were nearly Scottish, they were so thick. It was disconcerting.
I'd checked the position of the FGSR office on the map of campus on-line before leaving, so I thought I knew where to go. I was wrong, so very wrong! I turned left coming out of the LRT station, instead of right, and ended up walking around the HUB. The HUB is yooooooooggggeeeee. It's where international students are housed, it has a mall in the middle, and the LRT station underneath, and is about 5 city blocks long (no, that's not an exaggeration). So of course, I came out near one end, and walked along to the other end, because I thought the building I was trying to find was near that end.
And now, a few words about U of A's campus. It is very green. Lots of plants and trees and pathways among them, and a neat Geology garden full of huge, weird rocks that I wanted to climb over. Beautiful. Old, venerable-looking brick buildings with fancypants white trim, newer modern-looking glass and steel structures (some still being built). But among all of this nifty architecture and verdant landscaping, there was something missing....something off. After wandering around aimlessly for about 10 minutes, I finally put my finger on it. There were no FRICKIN' BUILDING SIGNS!!! I was used to BYU, where every building had a sign outside its main door telling you what the building was - "Joseph Smith Building", "Harris Fine Arts Center", "David O. McKay School of Education", etc. They don't do that here.
Once I realized that I was never going to find Triffo Hall if Triffo Hall didn't have a sign announcing its presence, I pulled out my phone and went to the on-line map. I even got a picture of the building in question. It was....made of bricks....with white trim...and there were some trees around it. It wasn't even a picture of the front entrance of the building, it was, like, a side, or something - no doors, only anonymous windows that looked like HALF the buildings ON CAMPUS.
Of course, even with the map, it still took me an eternity to find the building. Occasionally I'd find a sign that gave me information I could corroborate with the map - like "Agricultural Sciences" and then I'd find the building for Agricultural Science on the map, and pinpoint which grid square I was in. I was looking for D5. I ended up, at one point, in C3, because I'd had to detour around a large section of walkway and building that was blocked off for construction. I found a real, live campus map in C3, which showed me how far away I'd wandered from my intended destination, and after taking a picture of the map, because I was sure I'd never see one again in this lifetime, I hiked back up towards my building.
I think I probably passed Triffo Hall at least once, possibly twice, while looking for it. It's a lot smaller than the stupid picture leads you to believe, and it's also so close to this other yooge building, the Cameron (aww, I miss him!) Library, that it looks like it's part of the larger building. But find it I did, in the end. I managed to get there about 10 minutes before the end of office hours, which earned me a glare from the receptionist, but at that point I was beyond caring. I briefly explained why I was there to the receptionist, who called in an advisor for me to talk to. After explaining my situation, and how Border Patrol hadn't given me a study permit, she said, "Wow, I have no idea. We've never had a situation like this before." She then tried to tell me I was in the country illegally if I didn't have a study permit; I reminded her that the BORDER PATROL guy was the one who let me in the country and told me I was a citizen, so, not so much really. She referred me to U of A International. They are based out of the HUB. I'd walked out of the HUB about an hour earlier. My entire conversation with her took all of about 5 minutes, which could have happened over the phone if the stupid system hadn't HUNG UP ON ME, but nooo...
Anyways, so after taking my leave of Triffo Hall, I schlepped my way back to the HUB. I ended up in the mall, somehow - I just picked a door to go in, and that's where I ended up. After traversing half the length of the mall, I found a UAI info desk, where the (attractive) young man there instructed me to walk about a third of the way farther along to the door that would lead me down to their main office. I made it to the office, and managed to get the attention of the receptionist, who had to make me an appointment to talk to an advisor on Friday, because they were all doing orientation. After picking up my orientation packet, I limped back to the LRT station for the trip home.
Getting back on the LRT - no problem. Getting on the bus home - oy. So, I remembered that the bus I needed was the 40 Yellowbird. As I walked out of the LRT station, what was right there? 40 Yellowbird. So I hopped on, flashed my pass, and sat down. As we pulled out of the station, I saw another 40 Yellowbird bus, and felt a flash of worry, but I figured, well, it's the number and route I need, soo....
Soo...the bus doesn't go to my stop, this round. It doesn't even go to my neighborhood. I sat, and I waited, and I prayed really hard for the driver to turn right, turn right, right here, this is the way I need to---aaannnddd you turned left. Jerk. I ended up riding the whole route, up to the mall, and back to the LRT station, where I promptly fled the bus. I yanked out my phone and found the ETS site, punched in my coordinates and destination, and got....the 40 Yellowbird as my only option if I wanted to leave in the next lifetime. So, after taking some deep, soothing, don't-you-dare-cry breaths, I stomped back over and, in a near-yell, ask the driver if the bus stops at 11 Ave. He pulls out his route map and says, "Yup" like it's no big deal, and I tell him, "Okay, but I just rode the whole last route, and it didn't go over there, and this says 40 Yellowbird, which is what I need, so I had to make sure because I want to get home before I die." He tells me to sit up front, and he'll let me know when it's my stop. I wanted to say, no, I know my stop, you didn't go there, even though it's, ostensibly, on the 40 Yellowbird route, but there were people waiting to get on.
I think I may have hurt his feelings, because when he got to my stop he yelled, really loudly (even though I was right there), "For the lady who wanted 11 Ave, this is your stop!" Thanks, bus guy.
Once inside my room, I took off my shoes because my feet, which had been used to comfy open-toed flip-floppy-type shoes, were vigorously protesting their confinement in my Docs for the first time in months (it was cold outside). After pulling my socks off, I realized just how upset they were - I currently have a blister bigger than my little toe growing off the side of my big toe on my left foot, and the beginnings of another toe-sized blister on the side of my right foot.
Hopefully, my feet get over their confinement soon, because the past few days have been cold, and it rained a lot yesterday. Flip flops ain't gonna cut it no more.
Friday 2 September 2011
First Day ALL ALONE...8-O (this one is long...)
Wednesday was my first day well and truly on my own. Aunt Cathie had to go back to work, and I had a couple of things I needed to get done, like getting my citizenship papers notarized, and picking up my OneCard (the U of A's ID/Transit/debit card).
I woke up at 7:30, briefly debated getting up, but decided life was too short to get up that early when I don't have to. I ended up leaving the house around 11, after getting all gussied up, to head to campus for my OneCard. I had a nagging feeling that I might have to get my picture taken on campus, even though I'd submitted a photo the week before. (I made Mum take about a dozen pictures of me, then picked the one where I looked the least deranged. It's my FB profile picture now.)
The drive to the university was (thankfully) uneventful. I found a spot at one of the pay lots, and then promptly got to pay $2.00 for the privilege of parking there for half an hour. Actually, $2.25, because I tried to purchase more time, but the stupid thing wouldn't let me put another quarter in, and wouldn't give me the other quarter back. As I walked toward the Van Vliet centre, where they were passing out cards, I realized that I was walking in the back way. Not many people going the same way as me, but whatever.
Inside, I wandered around for a bit, trying to find a sign pointing me in the right direction. I didn't see an obvious flow of traffic, so I picked a random large hall to wander. As I was on the verge of walking out of the building, I passed a large group of students coming in. One of them was talking in an unmistakable Irish accent, another had to be Australian, and there was a beautiful tall African boy and girl walking with the group, speaking something that was definitely NOT English. "International students!!" I thought, then remembered that I'd forgotten orientation. Oops. I tacked myself onto the end of the group and we all trouped to the OneCard pickup together.
I wasn't sure which line to get in to pick up my card - the sign said A to I --> and H to Z <--. Not confusing at all. I had a small giggle when the Aussie girl said "zed" when talking about the sign. Then I remembered Canadians call it "zed" too, so I'm gonna have to work on that.
Getting to the front of the line, my worst fears were confirmed - they didn't get my picture. No card for me. Which meant I had to go stand in the Space Mountain-esque line to get a picture taken. By this point, my paid half hour was almost gone, so I hiked back out to the parking lot and paid $6.00 for an hour and a half of parking (I didn't like the look of the line I had to wait in, so I played it safe).
Of course, when I got back to the scary line, it had halved - I must have come at a peak time, and the fifteen minutes it took me to walk out, pay, and walk in saw an upswing in the productivity of the OneCard staff. It took far less time to get to the front of the picture line than it did to get to the front of the original pickup line. Sitting down to get my picture taken, I tried to sit up, arrange my clothes so nothing was revealed, arrange my hair so my face was visible, and smile in a way that didn't cause my right eye to scrunch into nothingness. The dude working the camera took the picture before I had finished my smile, and the picture itself is slightly squashed.
If Harry Potter ever gets re-done on BBC, I will be a shoo-in for Professor Umbridge based on that picture alone. I will post it, as soon as I figure out Aunt Cathie's scanner.
After leaving the Van Vliet centre, I decided lunch was in order. After a small pick-me-up (Diet Coke and a Subway sandwich), I went to get my documents notarized by a friend of Cathie's, Wendy, over at Centre 104, a big office building housing a bunch of law firms and a bank. I remembered how to get there, after I passed the turn into the parking lot. Which required me to go up and around to the next street, because many Edmonton streets are one-way, so U-turns are not possible. Coming back down the other street, I turned in one driveway too early, which required me to turn my car around in a lot full of new Mercedes. 3 point turn my booty, try 50.
After successfully navigating my way over to the correct parking lot, I walked into the building and realized:
a. I didn't know Wendy's last name, and
b. I didn't know which office Wendy worked in
I called Cathie and left her a message, sent her a text, and Facebooked her, just to be thorough, but after half an hour, concluded that she was probably in a meeting, and not in a position to answer my questions. So I headed home.
On my way home, I belatedly remembered that the flow-through merge lane I was stopped next to was the right turn I needed to make. Of course, I was too close to the truck in front of me to swing right, and by the time the light turned green and the truck moved, the idiot in the Audi next to me was futzing his sweet way along, blocking my attempts to get in the right lane. So I got onto Highway 2. And got off the 2 at the next exit, drove across the overpass, and got back on. I was nearly home when I got a text from Cathie letting me know the name and company of Wendy, so I turned around and headed back to Centre 104.
Wendy is a very nice woman, and was very helpful - she notarized all of my documents for me, wished me luck in my quest for citizenship, and didn't charge me at all. She even spared me The Conversation, and merely remarked that you didn't get many Californians moving to Edmonton.
Heading back home, I remembered that the milk was almost gone, so I decided to test my memory and see if I could find the grocery store. I almost made it. I found A grocery store, Sobey's, but not THE grocery store, Save-On. It was hidden behind the bank across the street from the Sobey's. Walking around Sobey's made me feel like I was walking around the Park City Albertson's - it's not just a grocery store, it's a POSH grocery store - they even have an olive bar. Not that I tried it, but it was there. They also don't sell ham in packages larger than 8 slices, so they're out.
There was a Tim Horton's across the street, and I'd heard rave reviews about Tim Horton's donuts, so I decided, given the day I'd had, that I'd try one out. Well, they're good, but good like a Krispy Kreme - it's yummy, but have more than 1 (or 2, if you're daring), and you'll go into sugar shock. I think I still prefer your typical, run-of-the-mill neighborhood donut shop donuts.
I made it home unscathed, and decided that it was time to start my blog, because there's just no way a day like that (or Thursday) fits into a pithy Facebook status update.
I woke up at 7:30, briefly debated getting up, but decided life was too short to get up that early when I don't have to. I ended up leaving the house around 11, after getting all gussied up, to head to campus for my OneCard. I had a nagging feeling that I might have to get my picture taken on campus, even though I'd submitted a photo the week before. (I made Mum take about a dozen pictures of me, then picked the one where I looked the least deranged. It's my FB profile picture now.)
The drive to the university was (thankfully) uneventful. I found a spot at one of the pay lots, and then promptly got to pay $2.00 for the privilege of parking there for half an hour. Actually, $2.25, because I tried to purchase more time, but the stupid thing wouldn't let me put another quarter in, and wouldn't give me the other quarter back. As I walked toward the Van Vliet centre, where they were passing out cards, I realized that I was walking in the back way. Not many people going the same way as me, but whatever.
Inside, I wandered around for a bit, trying to find a sign pointing me in the right direction. I didn't see an obvious flow of traffic, so I picked a random large hall to wander. As I was on the verge of walking out of the building, I passed a large group of students coming in. One of them was talking in an unmistakable Irish accent, another had to be Australian, and there was a beautiful tall African boy and girl walking with the group, speaking something that was definitely NOT English. "International students!!" I thought, then remembered that I'd forgotten orientation. Oops. I tacked myself onto the end of the group and we all trouped to the OneCard pickup together.
I wasn't sure which line to get in to pick up my card - the sign said A to I --> and H to Z <--. Not confusing at all. I had a small giggle when the Aussie girl said "zed" when talking about the sign. Then I remembered Canadians call it "zed" too, so I'm gonna have to work on that.
Getting to the front of the line, my worst fears were confirmed - they didn't get my picture. No card for me. Which meant I had to go stand in the Space Mountain-esque line to get a picture taken. By this point, my paid half hour was almost gone, so I hiked back out to the parking lot and paid $6.00 for an hour and a half of parking (I didn't like the look of the line I had to wait in, so I played it safe).
Of course, when I got back to the scary line, it had halved - I must have come at a peak time, and the fifteen minutes it took me to walk out, pay, and walk in saw an upswing in the productivity of the OneCard staff. It took far less time to get to the front of the picture line than it did to get to the front of the original pickup line. Sitting down to get my picture taken, I tried to sit up, arrange my clothes so nothing was revealed, arrange my hair so my face was visible, and smile in a way that didn't cause my right eye to scrunch into nothingness. The dude working the camera took the picture before I had finished my smile, and the picture itself is slightly squashed.
If Harry Potter ever gets re-done on BBC, I will be a shoo-in for Professor Umbridge based on that picture alone. I will post it, as soon as I figure out Aunt Cathie's scanner.
After leaving the Van Vliet centre, I decided lunch was in order. After a small pick-me-up (Diet Coke and a Subway sandwich), I went to get my documents notarized by a friend of Cathie's, Wendy, over at Centre 104, a big office building housing a bunch of law firms and a bank. I remembered how to get there, after I passed the turn into the parking lot. Which required me to go up and around to the next street, because many Edmonton streets are one-way, so U-turns are not possible. Coming back down the other street, I turned in one driveway too early, which required me to turn my car around in a lot full of new Mercedes. 3 point turn my booty, try 50.
After successfully navigating my way over to the correct parking lot, I walked into the building and realized:
a. I didn't know Wendy's last name, and
b. I didn't know which office Wendy worked in
I called Cathie and left her a message, sent her a text, and Facebooked her, just to be thorough, but after half an hour, concluded that she was probably in a meeting, and not in a position to answer my questions. So I headed home.
On my way home, I belatedly remembered that the flow-through merge lane I was stopped next to was the right turn I needed to make. Of course, I was too close to the truck in front of me to swing right, and by the time the light turned green and the truck moved, the idiot in the Audi next to me was futzing his sweet way along, blocking my attempts to get in the right lane. So I got onto Highway 2. And got off the 2 at the next exit, drove across the overpass, and got back on. I was nearly home when I got a text from Cathie letting me know the name and company of Wendy, so I turned around and headed back to Centre 104.
Wendy is a very nice woman, and was very helpful - she notarized all of my documents for me, wished me luck in my quest for citizenship, and didn't charge me at all. She even spared me The Conversation, and merely remarked that you didn't get many Californians moving to Edmonton.
Heading back home, I remembered that the milk was almost gone, so I decided to test my memory and see if I could find the grocery store. I almost made it. I found A grocery store, Sobey's, but not THE grocery store, Save-On. It was hidden behind the bank across the street from the Sobey's. Walking around Sobey's made me feel like I was walking around the Park City Albertson's - it's not just a grocery store, it's a POSH grocery store - they even have an olive bar. Not that I tried it, but it was there. They also don't sell ham in packages larger than 8 slices, so they're out.
There was a Tim Horton's across the street, and I'd heard rave reviews about Tim Horton's donuts, so I decided, given the day I'd had, that I'd try one out. Well, they're good, but good like a Krispy Kreme - it's yummy, but have more than 1 (or 2, if you're daring), and you'll go into sugar shock. I think I still prefer your typical, run-of-the-mill neighborhood donut shop donuts.
I made it home unscathed, and decided that it was time to start my blog, because there's just no way a day like that (or Thursday) fits into a pithy Facebook status update.
Thursday 1 September 2011
Opening a Bank Account, a.k.a, "You're gonna freeze!" redux
Tuesday morning came, and with it, the departure of my mother for parts south. I had a bank appointment to open a new account with Royal Bank of Canada in the afternoon, an appointment that I went to all by myself (oh hush, growing up scares some of us). My appointment was with Eddy (short for Edmonton, no joke) an accounts manager. If Eddy ever decides to give up banking, he can become a model. Not kidding. He was gorgeous. Eddy, like many others, is concerned about my well being in winter, as evidenced by this conversation:
[After I pull out my driver's license and passport card]
"California, eh? What part?"
"Southern. About 70 miles from the Mexico border."
"Oh my gosh! And you came here? What made you decide to pick Edmonton?"
"Well, I was a teacher, got RIF'd, decided to get my master's, and my auntie said I could come and live with her, so I applied to U of A. And got in."
"But you're going to die during the winter! Did anyone try to talk you out of it?"
"No, but I've had plenty of warnings about the weather, I'm just trying not to think about it too much."
"Well, come and see me when it gets cold, and tell me what you think."
"Um, okay."
So I got my bank account sorted out, then went across the street to get gas, as my car was running on fumes. I hadn't put any money in my RBC account yet (a check would take 15 days to process, and I needed to call Wells Fargo before pulling out a bunch of money). So I went inside to prepay for gas, and my card got declined. Three times. Red-faced, I left the gas station, rolled home (praying that the car could make it), then stormed upstairs to make a call to Wells Fargo asking them why they'd locked my account.
Luckily, Aunt Cathie intercepted me before I placed the call and pointed out that they'd probably seen my charge from Indigo earlier in the day, gone "Canada, WTF?" and locked the account just in case some nefarious person had gotten ahold of my card and gone on a book buying binge (if one book can be considered a binge). After a brief hold, I got on line with a pleasant sounding young gentleman, and explained to him that yes, it really was me in Canada, and that I needed to be able to access my money, and also, I'm pulling out a couple hundred dollars to put in my RBC account. After unlocking my account, I got to have another round of The Conversation:
"So, Canada, huh? Isn't Edmonton, like, really far up there?"
"Yeah, it's on the same latitude as the northern Aleutian islands, so it's pretty far up."
"And you're from California, you say? Where abouts?"
"Moreno Valley. Its-"
"Oh, I know Moreno Valley, I'm from L.A.! Wait, you left there to go to school in Canada?"
"Yeah. My aunt lives here, and they have a program I want-"
"But it snows, like, A LOT up there. And it gets REALLY cold. You're probably gonna freeze."
"Yup, that's what everyone keeps telling me..."
"Well, good luck, and try not to die when it gets cold."
Aww, even the random bank dudes are worried about me freezing to death.
I think I'm gonna start telling people I'm from Nome, Alaska.
[After I pull out my driver's license and passport card]
"California, eh? What part?"
"Southern. About 70 miles from the Mexico border."
"Oh my gosh! And you came here? What made you decide to pick Edmonton?"
"Well, I was a teacher, got RIF'd, decided to get my master's, and my auntie said I could come and live with her, so I applied to U of A. And got in."
"But you're going to die during the winter! Did anyone try to talk you out of it?"
"No, but I've had plenty of warnings about the weather, I'm just trying not to think about it too much."
"Well, come and see me when it gets cold, and tell me what you think."
"Um, okay."
So I got my bank account sorted out, then went across the street to get gas, as my car was running on fumes. I hadn't put any money in my RBC account yet (a check would take 15 days to process, and I needed to call Wells Fargo before pulling out a bunch of money). So I went inside to prepay for gas, and my card got declined. Three times. Red-faced, I left the gas station, rolled home (praying that the car could make it), then stormed upstairs to make a call to Wells Fargo asking them why they'd locked my account.
Luckily, Aunt Cathie intercepted me before I placed the call and pointed out that they'd probably seen my charge from Indigo earlier in the day, gone "Canada, WTF?" and locked the account just in case some nefarious person had gotten ahold of my card and gone on a book buying binge (if one book can be considered a binge). After a brief hold, I got on line with a pleasant sounding young gentleman, and explained to him that yes, it really was me in Canada, and that I needed to be able to access my money, and also, I'm pulling out a couple hundred dollars to put in my RBC account. After unlocking my account, I got to have another round of The Conversation:
"So, Canada, huh? Isn't Edmonton, like, really far up there?"
"Yeah, it's on the same latitude as the northern Aleutian islands, so it's pretty far up."
"And you're from California, you say? Where abouts?"
"Moreno Valley. Its-"
"Oh, I know Moreno Valley, I'm from L.A.! Wait, you left there to go to school in Canada?"
"Yeah. My aunt lives here, and they have a program I want-"
"But it snows, like, A LOT up there. And it gets REALLY cold. You're probably gonna freeze."
"Yup, that's what everyone keeps telling me..."
"Well, good luck, and try not to die when it gets cold."
Aww, even the random bank dudes are worried about me freezing to death.
I think I'm gonna start telling people I'm from Nome, Alaska.
Bienvenue a Canada
After arriving in Edmonton last Thursday, I got to enjoy a few days of rest, relaxation, and reconnecting with relatives. It had been three years since I last saw some of them, sixteen years since I last saw others, and some I had never met, so it was good to just hang out and enjoy their company. I've decided that, next to Cameron, my cousins' children, Tamsen and Rowan, are THE cutest kids in the world. I mean, I'd already seen the photographic evidence of their adorableness, but I hadn't had a chance to see how cute they were in person. Verdict: pretty dang cute.
Monday, I was very brave and walked over to a houseful of YSA girls to get a ride to FHE. Don't laugh, this was a big step for me! FHE ended up being at one of the myriad parks found in Edmonton, called Hawrelak park. It's huge, and we drove around for about 10 minutes just trying to find the group. While being introduced to some of the other YSAs, I got to have The Conversation:
"Hi, I'm __________________"
"Hi, I'm Claire Horspool."
"Nice to meet you."
"Nice to meet you, too."
[various inquiries about where I'm going to school and what I'm studying, and then we get to...]
"So, where are you from."
"Southern California."
"Oh my gosh, are you terrified for winter?! It gets really bad here, I hope you don't freeze!"
"Yeah, I've heard that. I'm trying not to think too much about it, just enjoy the rest of summer."
"Oh, well, let us know what you think of our winter when it gets here (hee hee hee)."
"Will do."
Even my new Canadian YSA friends are worried that I will freeze to death once winter hits. I'm starting to get a little worried.
But other than dire warnings of my sad fate by snow come winter, FHE was pretty fun. It's a neat experience, playing Bocce Ball while listening to bagpipes and being consumed by mosquitos. It makes me a little sad that, once school starts, I'll be in class Monday nights until 8.
Monday, I was very brave and walked over to a houseful of YSA girls to get a ride to FHE. Don't laugh, this was a big step for me! FHE ended up being at one of the myriad parks found in Edmonton, called Hawrelak park. It's huge, and we drove around for about 10 minutes just trying to find the group. While being introduced to some of the other YSAs, I got to have The Conversation:
"Hi, I'm __________________"
"Hi, I'm Claire Horspool."
"Nice to meet you."
"Nice to meet you, too."
[various inquiries about where I'm going to school and what I'm studying, and then we get to...]
"So, where are you from."
"Southern California."
"Oh my gosh, are you terrified for winter?! It gets really bad here, I hope you don't freeze!"
"Yeah, I've heard that. I'm trying not to think too much about it, just enjoy the rest of summer."
"Oh, well, let us know what you think of our winter when it gets here (hee hee hee)."
"Will do."
Even my new Canadian YSA friends are worried that I will freeze to death once winter hits. I'm starting to get a little worried.
But other than dire warnings of my sad fate by snow come winter, FHE was pretty fun. It's a neat experience, playing Bocce Ball while listening to bagpipes and being consumed by mosquitos. It makes me a little sad that, once school starts, I'll be in class Monday nights until 8.
Car Trippin' up the I-15, Part le Deux
DAY THREE:
As we're leaving the room, rolling a luggage cart that is packed right up to the top bar with my stuff (Mum rolling her two tiny bags along behind her), we pass an old man who looks at my tower 'o' stuff and comments, "Wow, you could give my wife a run for her money." Thanks, old man. Mum set him straight (kindly) but I still felt like a dork.
We made it back to the interstate with only a brief, unplanned detour, which gave us a chance to see the famous falls of Idaho Falls. I was....underwhelmed. But I'd kind of suspected that, given we were in a flat area with no nearby mountains, the falls themselves would be less than epic. Pretty? Yes. Epic? No.
Back on the interstate, the scenery is still beautiful, but there is a lot of open space between one city and the next. I mean, I'm used to driving along the freeway through five different cities without a break in civilization, but Idaho is not like that. Neither is Montana, which is where we headed next - Great Falls. Actually, we tried to set our sights on Shelby, which is only 35 miles from the Canadian border, but gosh darn it, Shelby only has two hotels, a Best Western and a Super 8. Well, after the Quality (lies!) Inn, Mum was having none of the Super 8 (neither was I, but I didn't have to be a brat about it, because it wasn't even an option), and the Best Western had no available rooms. I'm just curious about what goes on in Shelby - a small town, at least from what I could see - that fills up an entire Best Western hotel. Anybody?
Montana was, I think, my favorite state to drive through, which is weird because I had no such feelings after our last road trip to Canada, back in 2008. But I think it depends on which side you're driving through - the western side has gorgeous mountain roads, the east side...buttes. And fields. And more buttes. And more fields....you get the idea. Not that the buttes and fields weren't on the west side, too, but there was plenty of mountain driving through the Rockies that I got to enjoy fully because Mum was driving at the time. It helped break up the monotony.
Stopping in Great Falls for the night landed us in town around 5:30 pm, so Mum and I decided to poke around a bit. The hotel was across the street from a mall, so we headed on over, only to discover that it was a small mall after all. No fun. Chili's for dinner became our next goal - ours and everyone else's. The place was packed, apparently because some sporting event was being aired, and all the local sports fans had chosen Chili's as their preferred viewing spot. I happened to be seated next to a window looking through to the bar area, and noticed it was baseball. I have less than no interest in baseball, so I didn't pay much attention, until I noticed that the pitcher they showed looked really young. And so did the batter, and those outfielders seemed...scrawny. It was the Little League playoffs - Montana vs. California. I was grateful when Montana won, because from the sounds of those sportsfans, if they'd lost, I didn't want to think about what my CA plates would have incited some of the more rabid fans to do.
(No, I don't really think anyone would have done anything.)
DAY FOUR:
The last day of the trip gave me mixed feelings. On the one hand, the drive was almost over, and with any luck, would not have to be repeated until I was finished with my studies. On the other hand, I'd had a recurring nightmare the previous night that began with me showing my paperwork to the border agent, and ended with me being thrown in Canadian jail because I'd tried to bring my little pink pocket knife into the country with me, which they found in its secret hidden compartment in the bottom of my car when they brought the sniffer dogs out after searching it. As we got closer and closer to the border crossing, it got harder and harder to breathe. Not that I actually thought I'd get the sniffer dog treatment, or thrown in jail (back across the border, maybe, but not jail), but I WAS afraid there would be something wrong with the paperwork I had, making it impossible for me to get my study permit, and throwing all of my life plans out of whack.
Moment of truth: I pulled up to the window, handed the Hot Border Agent (yowza!) my passport and Mum's, and answered his questions. I even told him about the pink pocket knife, which he wrote down, but did not call in the dogs. He told us to pull around and find the immigration agent inside, and I regretfully took a last long look at Hot Border Agent before parking.
Inside, at the immigration desk, is where things got interesting. After showing our passports to the (not hot, and a girl) agent, she asked to see our birth certificates (which I had), then told us to have a seat. After a brief confab with her superior, she called us back up to talk to him. Hey, guess what? I'm a Canadian citizen! As far as the border patrol is concerned, I don't need a study permit, I can come to Canada all I want! Neat! After advising me to get a Canadian passport ASAP and teasing Mum about being from Winnipeg ("Yeah, it's a really nice place...to be from"), the border agent wished us well, and sent us on up the road.
Now, I'd heard that Canadians generally drive slower than Americans, and that they're really good at moving over and letting faster cars go around. While the second is true, the first is a dirty, filthy lie. As I pulled onto the highway and saw the sign (110 kph), I figured out that if I went about 80 (125-ish) I should be okay, and hopefully that wouldn't be too fast. The Albertans who screamed by me at Mach 1 were all laughing their heads off at the silly American car, I'm sure of it.
About a mile further on fate decided, now my border crossing fears were gone, that I needed another adrenaline boost to keep me awake and alert. Fate sent a livestock truck screeching onto the highway from a cross street - right in front of me. A quick, unannounced, unplanned lane change kept Mum and me from becoming a smear on the rump of the cattle car, and gave me the energy buzz I needed. After various unpleasantries were hurled in the direction of the truck, Mum observed "Bienvenue a Canada", which made me wish I'd had a welcome beaver there to greet me.
Five hours and one wrong turn (and attendant detour) later, and we pulled up in front of Aunt Cathie's house. We'd made it!
As we're leaving the room, rolling a luggage cart that is packed right up to the top bar with my stuff (Mum rolling her two tiny bags along behind her), we pass an old man who looks at my tower 'o' stuff and comments, "Wow, you could give my wife a run for her money." Thanks, old man. Mum set him straight (kindly) but I still felt like a dork.
We made it back to the interstate with only a brief, unplanned detour, which gave us a chance to see the famous falls of Idaho Falls. I was....underwhelmed. But I'd kind of suspected that, given we were in a flat area with no nearby mountains, the falls themselves would be less than epic. Pretty? Yes. Epic? No.
Back on the interstate, the scenery is still beautiful, but there is a lot of open space between one city and the next. I mean, I'm used to driving along the freeway through five different cities without a break in civilization, but Idaho is not like that. Neither is Montana, which is where we headed next - Great Falls. Actually, we tried to set our sights on Shelby, which is only 35 miles from the Canadian border, but gosh darn it, Shelby only has two hotels, a Best Western and a Super 8. Well, after the Quality (lies!) Inn, Mum was having none of the Super 8 (neither was I, but I didn't have to be a brat about it, because it wasn't even an option), and the Best Western had no available rooms. I'm just curious about what goes on in Shelby - a small town, at least from what I could see - that fills up an entire Best Western hotel. Anybody?
Montana was, I think, my favorite state to drive through, which is weird because I had no such feelings after our last road trip to Canada, back in 2008. But I think it depends on which side you're driving through - the western side has gorgeous mountain roads, the east side...buttes. And fields. And more buttes. And more fields....you get the idea. Not that the buttes and fields weren't on the west side, too, but there was plenty of mountain driving through the Rockies that I got to enjoy fully because Mum was driving at the time. It helped break up the monotony.
Stopping in Great Falls for the night landed us in town around 5:30 pm, so Mum and I decided to poke around a bit. The hotel was across the street from a mall, so we headed on over, only to discover that it was a small mall after all. No fun. Chili's for dinner became our next goal - ours and everyone else's. The place was packed, apparently because some sporting event was being aired, and all the local sports fans had chosen Chili's as their preferred viewing spot. I happened to be seated next to a window looking through to the bar area, and noticed it was baseball. I have less than no interest in baseball, so I didn't pay much attention, until I noticed that the pitcher they showed looked really young. And so did the batter, and those outfielders seemed...scrawny. It was the Little League playoffs - Montana vs. California. I was grateful when Montana won, because from the sounds of those sportsfans, if they'd lost, I didn't want to think about what my CA plates would have incited some of the more rabid fans to do.
(No, I don't really think anyone would have done anything.)
DAY FOUR:
The last day of the trip gave me mixed feelings. On the one hand, the drive was almost over, and with any luck, would not have to be repeated until I was finished with my studies. On the other hand, I'd had a recurring nightmare the previous night that began with me showing my paperwork to the border agent, and ended with me being thrown in Canadian jail because I'd tried to bring my little pink pocket knife into the country with me, which they found in its secret hidden compartment in the bottom of my car when they brought the sniffer dogs out after searching it. As we got closer and closer to the border crossing, it got harder and harder to breathe. Not that I actually thought I'd get the sniffer dog treatment, or thrown in jail (back across the border, maybe, but not jail), but I WAS afraid there would be something wrong with the paperwork I had, making it impossible for me to get my study permit, and throwing all of my life plans out of whack.
Moment of truth: I pulled up to the window, handed the Hot Border Agent (yowza!) my passport and Mum's, and answered his questions. I even told him about the pink pocket knife, which he wrote down, but did not call in the dogs. He told us to pull around and find the immigration agent inside, and I regretfully took a last long look at Hot Border Agent before parking.
Inside, at the immigration desk, is where things got interesting. After showing our passports to the (not hot, and a girl) agent, she asked to see our birth certificates (which I had), then told us to have a seat. After a brief confab with her superior, she called us back up to talk to him. Hey, guess what? I'm a Canadian citizen! As far as the border patrol is concerned, I don't need a study permit, I can come to Canada all I want! Neat! After advising me to get a Canadian passport ASAP and teasing Mum about being from Winnipeg ("Yeah, it's a really nice place...to be from"), the border agent wished us well, and sent us on up the road.
Now, I'd heard that Canadians generally drive slower than Americans, and that they're really good at moving over and letting faster cars go around. While the second is true, the first is a dirty, filthy lie. As I pulled onto the highway and saw the sign (110 kph), I figured out that if I went about 80 (125-ish) I should be okay, and hopefully that wouldn't be too fast. The Albertans who screamed by me at Mach 1 were all laughing their heads off at the silly American car, I'm sure of it.
About a mile further on fate decided, now my border crossing fears were gone, that I needed another adrenaline boost to keep me awake and alert. Fate sent a livestock truck screeching onto the highway from a cross street - right in front of me. A quick, unannounced, unplanned lane change kept Mum and me from becoming a smear on the rump of the cattle car, and gave me the energy buzz I needed. After various unpleasantries were hurled in the direction of the truck, Mum observed "Bienvenue a Canada", which made me wish I'd had a welcome beaver there to greet me.
Five hours and one wrong turn (and attendant detour) later, and we pulled up in front of Aunt Cathie's house. We'd made it!
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