Hotdog, Sausage, Coke, and the Dialectic
Bonjour tout le monde!
An older woman stopped by my house a few moments ago to offer me the chance to reduce the cost of electricity through sound with her for only $5 per month. I told her that I would be happy to pay for her to do that this month. She was very pleased and said she would return on an every two week schedule to align the whole house, stairs and everything. Starting with the stairwell, and then moving to the front door I watched as she would tap the facing of each wall moving around the sides of any molding or obstruction in a clockwise fashion. Watching her reminded me of how my great grandmother use to bless, or pray for her house, every night by first crossing her self (forehead, right side, belly, left side, repeat, in the Russian Orthodox manner) and then crossing too each wall of each room. As the woman finished aligning my home the bells of the church around the corner took up for the 6 o'clock reminder of God's blessings. The woman invited me to step outside with her saying some people like to look at the alignment from the outside to make sure it is complete. Not knowing what to look for I simply smiled at her appreciating the fresh air and full blooming trees outside.
I returned yesterday from two weeks in Toronto, the largest city in Canada and fifth largest in North America, just five and a half hours west of Montreal. Montreal's metropolis area boasts 3.5 million people, while Toronto metropolis hosts 5.1 million. My first week there I stayed with friends in a beautiful, quiet neighborhood on the southern portion of the city. The neighborhood's history apparently can make claim to the title of "deadliest area in Canada" but with recent gentrification things have radically changed. Walking through the area you wouldn't think to worry about such violence. My second week took me to a residence room at the University of Toronto campus, site of one of the biggest philosophy programs in the world with over 50 professors teaching for that department alone. Across from my residence was an "All-night Hotdog, Sausage, Water & Coke" stand that I discovered a fondness for one night at about 3 AM when I realized I was hungry after several hours of reading Hegel. Hegel would do that to anyone. Reading too much Hegel in one sitting has a similar effect as a hangover. You wake up from the haze of the dialectic realizing you need salts, electrolytes, and maybe another bloody mary to resolve things. Being now back in Montreal I have a huge craving for a hot dog and coke. You might recall that mobile food stands are illegal here in Montreal so the chance of finding an all-night hotdog, sausage, water and coke vendor is unlikely.
I have to admit it's a strange experience spending time again in an Anglophone city. After two years now living in Francophone-bilingual Montreal I get confused reading all English restaurant menus and am thrown by the process of buying things in English too. I'm used to the feeling of such events being slightly agitated by the expectation of not quite understanding things. Suddenly being confronted with actually knowing the language it feels as though I might not understand any longer how to respond to such obviousness. Marketing ploys are more common in Toronto as well. There are advertising signs in Montreal but not as many and them being written in French it's as if the signs simply don't call for me to notice them. Everything being written in English feels as though I'm constantly being bombarded by billboards demanding I pay attention to them. There just isn't enough of me to go around. More disturbing though then the advertising is the ability to understand all the conversations of people around me. It was almost disappointing to realize what people spend their time talking about, though I comfort myself with the idea that the topics might not be much different in French, they just sound prettier in all those vowel-filled Francophone sounds.
My entire family of three has been enjoying traveling adventures. Even Rosie, the bird, went on a little road trip across town to stay at my friend Brian's house while I went to Toronto. She seemed quite shocked by the display of total movement outside the car windows but calmed down again immediately when set next to Brian's radio and electronic keyboard. She's a big fan of music, after all. Rachel, on the other hand, is all the way up on the Western coast of Alaska actually commercial fishing with my family. She's got her own chest waders, rubber boats that really cover her almost all the way up to the chin. She's learning how to balance while walking in water that deep as the fish crew walks along pulling salmon from the net. The last few days have even taken her to the fish site in the middle of the night. I began fishing at the age of 9. At the time that was the earliest any of us had started since our family standard was 10. Rachel's broken my record now by starting at the age of 7. She's working for a living while I keep working on Hegel. Once I get further along the dialectic (get more of my school work done) she and I will rejoin here in Montreal.
The summer in Montreal is beautiful. It's a perfect time to visit. I do plan on returning again to Toronto for part of July. A number of friends are spending summer there so I'd like to have time with them. There is something appealing too about celebrating life through the obviousness of my own language.
Hope you're all doing really well! I look forward to hearing from you!
Elaine
An older woman stopped by my house a few moments ago to offer me the chance to reduce the cost of electricity through sound with her for only $5 per month. I told her that I would be happy to pay for her to do that this month. She was very pleased and said she would return on an every two week schedule to align the whole house, stairs and everything. Starting with the stairwell, and then moving to the front door I watched as she would tap the facing of each wall moving around the sides of any molding or obstruction in a clockwise fashion. Watching her reminded me of how my great grandmother use to bless, or pray for her house, every night by first crossing her self (forehead, right side, belly, left side, repeat, in the Russian Orthodox manner) and then crossing too each wall of each room. As the woman finished aligning my home the bells of the church around the corner took up for the 6 o'clock reminder of God's blessings. The woman invited me to step outside with her saying some people like to look at the alignment from the outside to make sure it is complete. Not knowing what to look for I simply smiled at her appreciating the fresh air and full blooming trees outside.
I returned yesterday from two weeks in Toronto, the largest city in Canada and fifth largest in North America, just five and a half hours west of Montreal. Montreal's metropolis area boasts 3.5 million people, while Toronto metropolis hosts 5.1 million. My first week there I stayed with friends in a beautiful, quiet neighborhood on the southern portion of the city. The neighborhood's history apparently can make claim to the title of "deadliest area in Canada" but with recent gentrification things have radically changed. Walking through the area you wouldn't think to worry about such violence. My second week took me to a residence room at the University of Toronto campus, site of one of the biggest philosophy programs in the world with over 50 professors teaching for that department alone. Across from my residence was an "All-night Hotdog, Sausage, Water & Coke" stand that I discovered a fondness for one night at about 3 AM when I realized I was hungry after several hours of reading Hegel. Hegel would do that to anyone. Reading too much Hegel in one sitting has a similar effect as a hangover. You wake up from the haze of the dialectic realizing you need salts, electrolytes, and maybe another bloody mary to resolve things. Being now back in Montreal I have a huge craving for a hot dog and coke. You might recall that mobile food stands are illegal here in Montreal so the chance of finding an all-night hotdog, sausage, water and coke vendor is unlikely.
I have to admit it's a strange experience spending time again in an Anglophone city. After two years now living in Francophone-bilingual Montreal I get confused reading all English restaurant menus and am thrown by the process of buying things in English too. I'm used to the feeling of such events being slightly agitated by the expectation of not quite understanding things. Suddenly being confronted with actually knowing the language it feels as though I might not understand any longer how to respond to such obviousness. Marketing ploys are more common in Toronto as well. There are advertising signs in Montreal but not as many and them being written in French it's as if the signs simply don't call for me to notice them. Everything being written in English feels as though I'm constantly being bombarded by billboards demanding I pay attention to them. There just isn't enough of me to go around. More disturbing though then the advertising is the ability to understand all the conversations of people around me. It was almost disappointing to realize what people spend their time talking about, though I comfort myself with the idea that the topics might not be much different in French, they just sound prettier in all those vowel-filled Francophone sounds.
My entire family of three has been enjoying traveling adventures. Even Rosie, the bird, went on a little road trip across town to stay at my friend Brian's house while I went to Toronto. She seemed quite shocked by the display of total movement outside the car windows but calmed down again immediately when set next to Brian's radio and electronic keyboard. She's a big fan of music, after all. Rachel, on the other hand, is all the way up on the Western coast of Alaska actually commercial fishing with my family. She's got her own chest waders, rubber boats that really cover her almost all the way up to the chin. She's learning how to balance while walking in water that deep as the fish crew walks along pulling salmon from the net. The last few days have even taken her to the fish site in the middle of the night. I began fishing at the age of 9. At the time that was the earliest any of us had started since our family standard was 10. Rachel's broken my record now by starting at the age of 7. She's working for a living while I keep working on Hegel. Once I get further along the dialectic (get more of my school work done) she and I will rejoin here in Montreal.
The summer in Montreal is beautiful. It's a perfect time to visit. I do plan on returning again to Toronto for part of July. A number of friends are spending summer there so I'd like to have time with them. There is something appealing too about celebrating life through the obviousness of my own language.
Hope you're all doing really well! I look forward to hearing from you!
Elaine
posted by hawkbrwn at 6:31 p.m.
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