Living With the Enemy

Ottawa: How I Don't Really Know Ye

So I've been in Ottawa for nearly two weeks now, and so far, it's ok.  I mean, it's nice enough, but I haven't really seen or done enough yet to give it much of a review either way.  It didn't help we arrived ten days before any of our furniture did.  Sleeping on the floor has a way of taking the magic out of things, especially if you're prone to a bad back.

But that's not to say I've been blind to what's around me.  There's plenty that's caught my attention.  For example, the milk.  Can you believe it comes in bags here?  It's the strangest thing.  Where I come from milk is sold the natural way: in plastic jugs.  Milk in bags seems, well, wrong.  Like Ontario as a province suffers from a subconscious longing for breastfeeding.

Something else I've discovered: shawarma.  It's a Lebanese food where chicken or beef is cooked on a spit, and it is one of the tastiest things I've ever had.  I could seriously eat this every day.  Unfortunately, shawarma leads to smelly burps, and my wife has recently decreed I am only allowed to eat it on Tuesdays, preferably when she is out of the house.

And I can't forget about the francophones.  I knew before moving here that there is a lot of french in Ottawa, but I didn't know to what extent.  Enter any store and half the conversations are in french.  It's bizarre.  Almost like I've walked in on the set of one of those CBC shows I used to watch when I was a kid.  My wife is a francophone, so for her, it's great.  For me and the kids, though, it will take some getting used to.

There's more of course.  I hate the local hockey team's logo.  And there's more deciduous trees than you can shake a stick at.  And there's actually a man a few doors down whose name is Luscious.  But before I write about that I need to take some time and absorb my surroundings, so that the next time someone asks me if I know where such-and-such street is, I can do more than dumbly shake my head.

I'm Here!

Just a short post to announce I'm finally in Ottawa.  I'm still in the process of unpacking, but at least the computer is put together.

I will put a longer post tomorrow, with loads of witty observations about this new city of mine. (have to love the shawarma)

Unfortunately, at the moment I'm wrestling with a nasty headache, so until sometime tomorrow afternoon: I love you all. :)

Meet the Fiends Living in my Sock Drawer

 Poor Olivia. She's dressed to go somewhere fancy, but before she can actually leave there's an important phone-call that needs finishing, and wouldn't you know it, the person on the other end keeps putting her on hold. It's been going on like this since March of 2002. (That's like ten years of being forced to listen to crappy instrumental versions of popular radio tunes) If I was Olivia I'd simply hang up.

They Have Toilet Paper in Ontario, Don't They?

Well, it's go time.  After I publish this post I will be unplugging the computer and placing it in a box, and it will not be removed until we've reached Ottawa.

It's bizarre thinking this time next week I will be in Ontario.  I think for the first year I will continue living by Pacific Standard Time.  That will mean sleeping until 1 p.m everyday, but I think people will be understanding.  And if they aren't, well, they're Ontarians, and I can't really do anything about that.

Speaking of sleep, I was actually hoping to get some before the movers come in the morning, but that doesn't look like that's going to be happening.  So until the next time I see you: good night!

Meet the Fiends Living in my Sock Drawer

Duane Gro Bub is a relatively new inhabitant of my sock drawer, emigrating from one of the lower circles of Hell sometime in mid-October.  I didn't even know he was there until I found him napping in the corner using one of my good socks rolled up into ball as a pillow.  Never one to waste an opportunity, he gave me one of his business cards before shooing me away to go back to sleep.

Turns out Duane is a realtor, and with a move to Ontario on the horizon, I decided to give him a call.  He wasn't much help, though; all he was concerned with was ensuring our house sold as soon as possible, which meant listing it somewhere south of thirty dollars.  Not only that, his breath reeked of sulfur.  He tried to hide it by gargling from a bottle of Lysol, but that just made him smell like a public toilet.  Even worse, he refused to wear trousers.

In the end I decided not to go with old Duane. He was nice enough, but I just wasn't comfortable dealing with someone who, every time he reached over to write something on his notepad, I could see his balls.

9 Days and Counting

The 'For Sale' sign is up.  In nine days we are leaving Mission, BC for Ottawa, Ontario.

Just typing that gave me the dry heaves.  What are we doing moving across country like this?

I know my younger self would be very disappointed in me; at one point I disliked Canada's most populous province so much that if a fortune teller told me I would move there one day, I probably would have rented a time machine for the sole purpose of telling me not to do it.  (which would actually explain the whispers of 'you'll regret it' I hear every night while falling asleep.)

But we are doing it, and to be completely honest, I'm kind of excited.  We'll have a whole new city to explore, with lots of old buildings and gargoyles.  And I'll be able to eat poutine!  In Quebec!  Made by real Quebecers!

The only thing that worries me is the cold.  Here in Mission, it rarely falls below 0 degrees. (Celsius, for all those wondering)  Ottawa on the other hand, well, lets just say people are running around in t-shirts and shorts when the temperature hits -7...

Oh, it's probably not fair busting out the ellipsis like that.  There's nearly two million people living in the Greater Ottawa region, and they survive the winter just fine. (albeit with horribly chapped lips and staticky hair) And the cold there is a drier kind of cold, whatever that means. 

And however low the temperature drops, it has to be better than the weather in BC.  Did you know we haven't had a sunny day since September 28th, 2011?  And I don't expect there will be one until mid May.

No, it's a good thing we're getting out of here.  Being the sensitive artist type, the rain is slowly killing me.