New Year

Weight: somewhere around 8st? (I don’t actually own a set of scales), units of alcohol 0 (vg – except when considering how much I drank on Hogmanay and am probably still processing), cigarettes 0 (see previous), calories approx. 1 million (New Year’s day hangover consumption. Also, couldn’t care less), New Year’s resolutions 2.

First blog entry of 2012, how exciting! Admittedly there’s been some radio silence on the blog front but I’ve been busy. With stuff. Lots of very important stuff.

I’ve been reading Bridget Jones’ recently (don’t judge me, it’s actually very funny. If a little scary at times. Surely not all women are that crazy? Hmm) for those who don’t get the opening reference.

Anyway, this blog is supposed to be about my travels. So what have I been doing since I last wrote? Lots and nothing I guess.

I got a new job on account of the last one cutting hours to the point of ridiculousness. So now I work in a place that sells noodles. Lots and lots of noodles. I therefore eat lots and lots of noodles.

I finally went on a couple of trips. I saw Orca whales on the ferry back from Victoria and lots of snow in Whistler. The snow was to be expected given it’s a ski resort, but it was still very pretty nonetheless. Now that I’m working in a full time job I’m planning on doing all that travelling I’ve been wanting to do but was too poor to actually do. Next step: compiling list of priorities and scheduling some time off work, huzzah!

Christmas was lovely, I spent it with Ian’s parents doing the typical eating lots of food and wearing daft hats. Boxing day was spent on the sofa, eating more food and watching the junior hockey championships. Canada has been kicking everyone’s ass incidentally. Hogmanay was also good, even though no one knows what that means over here. I worked til 9pm, which was fine because I have good people to work with, then went out to a bar and drank myself silly. The actually ringing in of the bells was accompanied by a (somewhat brief) extract of Auld Lang Syne, which made me kind of homesick. There was no drunken singing the song or hand holding or any of that stuff. I definitely think us Scots know how to ring in the bells better. However, the company was great, there was some awesome drunken dancing, some shots of Jack (ouch) and we even managed to score a taxi right after leaving. It was like a Hogmanay miracle.

On that note, I actually made New Year Resolutions this year. Firstly, I need to send my book off to publishers. It’s finally at a stage where I feel comfortable with it (I wont say finished because I’m not sure if it could ever be finished, I could keep playing around with it forever which is just pointless), and if I don’t at least try then I’ll be kicking myself forever. And I'd have a wasted of a LOT of time writing it. So I have a list of a whole bunch of publishers that deal with YA fiction and I’ll see where it goes. Secondly, I really miss derby. I’ve become a bit of an unfit mess so I need to pull my finger out, get back in shape and finally get back into derby. It’s about bloomin’ time.

2012: Bring it on.

Kissing Etiquette

There are probably a dozen things this post could be about, but there’s been something on my mind on and  off since I got here.

Kissing etiquette.

Now for those of you who’re thinking ‘typical Cara, mind in the gutter’, I’m not talking about something so simple as actual kissing (and please, my mind has plenty of other places to go… like thinking about kittens and ponies and shoes and wine. So there).

No no, I’m talking about the kissing etiquette of text messages.

You spend years dancing around the issue of text message kisses. For some people it’s easier than others. My mum for example, gets as many text kisses as I feel like putting in the message. She’s my mum. There’s no politics there. Fiona always sends three. To everyone. So I always send her three back, because she is my friend and I love her. Most friends get one, sometimes two if the subject matter makes it feel like two is appropriate. For example, a text to a friend I haven’t seen in a while and I miss. If I get a text from a friend without kisses it seems, well, kind of naked. Sometimes even a little rude.

Kissing etiquette is fairly straight forward when it comes to friends and family. Add in a romantic element, or even the potential for one, and it all gets a bit complicated.

Again, having spent years learning the intricacies of text kissing, one develops at least a basic feel for how to cope with these situations. Not that it never gets a tad complicated. A guy you’ve just met, and spent the whole night talking to, is now sending you texts. With a kiss at the end. What does it mean? Is he interested? He is, after all, a straight guy, who’s not into theatre (this is a whole separate sub-issue in the minefield of kissing etiquette and its related concerns which I will touch on shortly). Is he just being polite? How do you find out? Luckily you have a mutual friend, you can check if they get kisses at the end of their texts. They do? Okay, but is the context the same? How on earth do you find out?! And of course, now you’re replying with text kisses. Is that too forward? Maybe. But it’s rude not to. This is where kissing etiquette becomes grey and hazy.

A further complication I have come across, is that most people I know have a performing arts background. These types of people are far more likely to text kiss, even when you’ve just met. It’s less complicated if they’re a girl because, well, there’s less chance of misconstruing their intent. But I’ve lost count of the amount of guys I’ve met doing shows who sign off every text with a kiss. Straight guys. Who aren’t flirting. In some ways you'd think it makes it less complicated as you just begin to assume every guy you meet in a theatre sends kisses and to read nothing into it. But then you risk not paying attention when there is intent behind it and you end up accidentally leading a guy on, or at the very least not nipping it in the bud and the next thing you know you have a crying actor on your hands. Messy.

You may be wondering what this has to do with my Canadian travels. It is related, and I’m (very slowly) getting to the point.

When I started my MLitt, 4 of the 9 people in the class (8 girls and 1 token guy) were from North America. Obviously with such a small class, we all hung out together a certain amount and it’s fair to say that our little group became pretty close. We called ourselves MLitters and we rocked. Anyway, one thing I noticed when we all started was that the girls from America and Canada did not sign off their texts with kisses. Ever. It was rather weird to my text kiss sensibilities. But I guess I got used to it. I’m fairly sure I still sent kisses with my messages because a) they were my friends and that’s how we do things back home and b) they were girls and so less likely to think I was hitting on them. But there was definitely an adjustment period where I couldn’t tell if they were in a mood because their texts just finished. They weren’t rounded off with anything. Kisses had begun to feel like punctuation. A way to sign off a message that was less abrupt than a full stop and less childish than a smiley face/ sad face/ other emoticon.

Cue me finally getting to my point.

Upon moving to Canada, I quickly remembered this strange lack of text kissing and modified my behaviour appropriately. I do not send kisses in texts. Ever. I have people I would text kiss if I were back home, but here it’s just not done. I even discussed the cultural difference in text kissing etiquette between home and Canada with my old roommate, Annabelle, and she was kind of disgusted that this was normal back home. She couldn’t get her head around it at all.

So now, I’m kind of used to not finishing off my texts with kisses, singular or multiple. I haven’t signed off a single text with a kiss in 2 months. The only exception to that has been facebook messages to friends back home. But where text kissing was the norm (if sometimes a minefield of intent and analysis) now it’s not even a question.

It wasn’t until a friend of a friend moved here from Scotland this week that I started thinking about it again. We’ve been in touch for a few weeks and swapped numbers so we could meet up when she arrived. She text me the other day to make plans and signed off her message with a kiss. Even although we’ve never met. And do you know what? It felt normal. I, of course, responded with my own text kiss at the end of the message. It felt good. The way texts are supposed to read. I hadn’t realised how much I missed the minefield of textual kissing etiquette until I got that message. More importantly, it felt far friendlier than just ending a message with empty space. I’m not saying sometimes figuring out the murky grey areas of text kissing appropriateness doesn’t get frustrating, but sometimes it’s nice to let friends know you care. And it makes the message end in a much nicer way.

xx

See?

Some general ramblings

Seems like ages since I last posted anything so let me try and think through what I’ve been up to since then.

Okay well I got a job. In a restaurant. With amazing pizza. Which for anyone who knows me and my obsessive food habits will understand is the perfect place for me to work besides a theatre. Now if only I could combine eating and theatre… hmmm. Let me work on that one, I’m sure there’s a play in there somewhere.

Anyway, so mostly what I’ve been doing is working, writing and a spot of chilling in the sun. Yes, it’s still sunny here. We’re having a minor heatwave this week which is awesome. I think I can go fully into autumn now as I’ve had an actual summer. I even have the tan lines to prove it. My legs have even started to look less white and my legs never take colour. Sorry Glasgow, I love you but your weather sucks. And you have neds.

Which brings me to another point. People here are so freaking nice. It’s a little creepy. Even the drunks that hang around street corners looking for beer money.  We have one that sits outside the liquor store at the end of my block (aka the offy down the street). He says hi and bye to everyone who goes in, and they all say hi and bye back. No one glares at him and walks away and he doesn’t yell abuse in return. It’s the oddest thing. Just the other day I went in and he had a puppy with him. As I was going past he asked ‘do you like my new girlfriend?’ and it was genuinely funny. I laughed and said ‘she’s lovely’. There was none of that fake laugh to escape the scary drunk who might stab you if you don’t. Bizarre eh? It's like my entire world order has been turned upside down.

Other than that I’ve just been generally excited about such rock n roll things as finding out the library here has a great drama section and getting my theatre geekery on. Related to which is the Fringe started here yesterday for the next 10 days, as did Next to Normal which I am DYING to see (Harriet-this is where I shall be spending the money you gave me before I left). For anyone who doesn’t know what that show is, get yourself onto their website and have a look. Amazers.

In other news, the chefs in work seem to have nicknamed me ‘Yo Scotland’ and ‘Scottish’. Original? No, but I’m okay with that. Sometimes the classics are the best. And it’s certainly better that what I was nicknamed by my loving friends from school. I hope you guys know that you scarred me for life and that you’re the reason why I’m the fucked up mess I am today. Fact.

Canada vs Scotland

Okay, so here's my list of good vs bad things about Vancouver, which I've been learning over the past couple of weeks. This may change over the next while, but for now here are the important things to note.

Bad Things:
1) Cheese is really expensive. This makes me sad.
2) Dry shampoo is hard to find. Ditto on the sad.
3) It's rather far away from drunken nights out with my friends.
4) See above. It's important enough to count twice.

Good Things:
1) Steak is cheaper than at home, and is only sold is huge portions. I think their cows may be giants. Regardless, this is awesome.
2) Tropical Skittles rock. Far better than the boring original ones.
3) Public transit is a logical, functional service. In fact, the total opposite to home.
4) There's a pirate themed bar in Vancouver. On the waterfront. Awesomefish.
5) There are people here who like to cause carnage as much as me. This lessons points 3 and 4 on the bad side to just a point and a half.
6) There is sunshine.


So for the moment Vancouver is winning. The sunshine may not last, but when it gets to winter I can just console myself with giant steaks, tropical skittles and continue harrassing my friends to come out and see me. After all, carnage is most fun with those you love.
(Boak. Don't worry, I'm not turning all sentimental and mushy. You guys know who I love, don't make me say it out loud.)

Drinking? Me? Pfft.

Okay, sooo what have I been doing these last 2 weeks?

 Lots and nothing.

House sorted and all settled in. Definitely looks nicer than when a scruffy boy lived there (Aryo if you’re reading this, only kidding, I’m sure it was lovely… *cough*). I managed to get a job sorted pretty fast (Hostess, new Italian restaurant, NOM), thank god because I am bored and missing work. Yes, I am that sad. I’ve also been volunteering with a kids’ theatre company, and met up with the artistic director of Vancouver Youth Theatre today who asked me to run a kids drama workshop season in the autumn where they collaborate together to write and perform their own play. So it’s been a pretty busy couple of weeks. Add in to that various evenings of drinking with my new roommates and breaking in my new skates. Not at the same time however.

Specifically Saturday night which comprised of Chris (roommate) , Sher (sort of roomie out back who has the Westie) drinking on the deck before Chris and I leave for the fireworks. All I can say is they have amazing cider over here that’s sooo appley and is also 7%. Which we most definitely did not drink in the park watching said fireworks. This progressed to heading downtown to meet Aryo (sort of roommate for 2 days before I got his room) and some friends of his. Cue more drinking. This naturally led on to the genius idea of going out dancing. Of course, I was dressed in attire not exactly my top choice for going out on my first night out in downtown Vancouver. But the alcohol made this seem like a great thing regardless. And it was fun. Despite feeling like a scruff, there was a good funk band, lots of dancing and tequila. What more does a girl want? Oh and a weirdly pervy guy who kept looking over, really blatantly, and smiling. Even though we were in a group half guys and half girls. And did I mention the state I looked? Anyway, cue getting to bed at 6am, getting 4 hours sleep and being a vegetable on Sunday. It’s nice to know I can get into as much trouble here as I can back home. Huzzah! Now all I need to do is fly over my carnage causing companions and we can break this city.

Other than that life has been pretty chilled out. Eating and drinking and reading for the most part. The occasional spot of pervery on hockey players/skaters/artsy types, but that’s par for the course really. God, and tattooed basketball players. Nom.

Lovely, lovely Canadians

So, it’s been a busy couple of days. I arrived in Vancouver 10am local time, so 6pm back home. By the time I got to the B&B it was early afternoon and I was exhausted. I basically slept most of the first day there, waking only to find food and watch a movie before more sleep. It was good though,  I ended up on Vancouver time by the next morning.

I spent yesterday running around viewing places to live. There’s a lot of crap out there. The first place was pretty depressing looking but the girl who lived there was nice. The second was a nice place, the people okay (if a bit too perky and wholesome) but it wasn’t available for another 2 weeks meaning I’d be stuck in a nasty hostel for ages. The third was both horrific and depressing. Think cupboards half hanging off in the kitchen and middle aged Mexican women.

I was pretty knackered by evening and somewhat disheartened as it was my last night at the B&B too, and the only hostel with space left was a 14 person per dorm party hostel. I definitely don’t like people enough to share with 13 of them. So I’d applied for a couple more places and got an email straight back from one which was only a few blocks from where I was, and saying I could go round that evening to view it. It’s a whole house that’s shared with a mix of people from an older, lovely woman who chefs and used to work in the film industry doing casting, an aussie guy and a Korean girl studying contemporary theatre at uni. The owner lives out back in his own cottage with a lovely woman and her adorable Westie. He’s 10 and loves having his ears scratched. Clearly I signed up straight away. Not only that, but the owner offered me the living room to crash in for a night as my room isn’t ready til tomorrow, thus saving me the nasty hostel, huzzah!

Incidentally, this also illustrates that although, as the song goes ‘I’ve never met a nice South African’, I’ve yet to meet a not nice Canadian. I’m sure there are some, but so far I’ve had nothing but lovely people. (Oh, okay, I don’t really think ALL South Africans are horrible. I know one or two nice ones. Maybe that’s why they don’t live there anymore? Hmm.)

Phrases and words I don’t want to read when searching for a flat

I've been spending a lot of time the last few days alternating between packing and trying to find a place to live, which is a weird experience for me given I've spent almost 10 years in the one flat. Scary biscuits in and of itself. But there's one thing I've learned in all this recent flathunting experience, and that is I'm fussy (shocking I know). I'm not 19 anymore and I don't want to live in some dingy hole with a bunch of teenagers who can't wash up after themselves, and most importantly I need space to COOK. These have been a few of the most frequent/upsetting and generally ridiculous statements I've come across on my search:

‘Kitchenette’ – Are you freaking joking? What the hell am I supposed to do with a kitchenette?? No. Thank you. The very word makes me sad.

‘No alcohol’ – This doesn’t even need an explanation. I mean, come on!

‘Ideal for students’ – Read: manky cesspit. Complete with lazy wasters who bring their lazy waster friends round, never clean up after themselves and have shit chat. And are probably about 20 years old.

‘Shared room’ – What?! I’m sorry, I’m not  7. Do people actually live like that? Seriously? I’d last less than 2 weeks before cracking up and killing the unfortunate person for never having any personal space!

‘Commune’ – Um no. I like people. I also, however, like deodorant.

And finally, text speak and poor spelling. If you can’t use your words like a proper grown up then there’s no chance I’m moving into your house.