50% everywhere else, 0% Canadian

Over the last six months, I've learned a lot about myself. Well, I guess I could say over the last 18 months... I've learned many of my flaws, my strength, my passions, what I want from life, and so much more. I've learned the shortness, and at times, abruptness of life. I've learned the impact one person's life can make. I've learned how to laugh, take a breath, and live in the moment. The last one in particular, is something I wouldn't necessarily attach to myself two years ago (although I am still guilty of thinking far beyond today)!  

Last night,  in what is becoming a conclusion to "Tutorial 'Hell' Week" tradition, I went out for dinner with a gang of friends - some newer, and some newish (...really 'newish' is actually a word?). And, like the 'tradition' of these nights out, it started with drinks, which two hours later resulted in quite the debate about where to go to eat. Now, let's just clarify one thing here, one person in particular tries effortlessly to get us to go to one location, and we all agree, but then when the time comes to eat, we all inadvertently change our minds and insist on going to Curry Mile (the complete opposite direction). For me, I do this mostly because, although most times I like to be a good human being, I do enjoy occasionally being a jerk, but also because by this point I'm so hangry that I don't want to walk the distance to the originally "agreed upon" spot.

Photo credit: Khalis Noori

When we arrived to our newly decided place of pending massive food consumption, a variety of dishes were ordered, and we happily passed around plates of things for everyone to share. It was pretty amazing - I don't feel that this is something that would happen back home, and in all honesty I instantly became overwhelmed with just how much was on our table! Perhaps the greatest part of this dinner was just sitting back for a second and realizing the range of nationalities plunked around the table, which led to some amazing conversation about geography, politics, languages and history! I'm fairly certain I learned more in those two hours than I have all term! This, is a true "university experience"!

Photo credit: Khalis Noori
I am reluctant to post this photo, mostly because I can't figure out how I look so abnormally formed...
I also appear to look strikingly like Tweeg from Teddy Ruxpin!

But what does this have to do with what I've learned about myself, and how I've come to question my 'Canadian-ness'? Well, one debate we had between bites was on the level of spice in each dish. On one side of me, I had a delightful chap from Afghanistan with a self-declared spice-intolerance, and on the other two heat-enthusiast men from India. The majority of the dishes ordered were of the mild-spice level, all of which were tasty! But, to test the spice-tolerance, of myself and my Indian friends the "spiciest curry ever" was ordered. Most people at the table refused to even try it. I guilted my heat-intolerant friend into taking one bite, and I basically shared the rest with the two guys to my right. This, my friends, is when it was declared that I have the "stomach of an Indian," for I did not find any of it uncomfortably spicy (and as a result, I think we now have a new challenge of finding something that is)!

So, over the last six months, the list of 'anywhere but Canada' associated traits I apparently have, has been growing. Things I apparently have:
1. The belly and behind of a Ghanaian
2. The accent of an American (probably the most offensive of all...haha)
3. The hair colour of the Irish or Scottish (depending on the person)
4. The humour of a Brit...or Dad (again depending on the person)
5. The spice-tolerance of an Indian
I have to say, I'm looking forward to discovering whatever other multi-cultural attributes I have. Especially since I apparently fail at living up to many of the Canadian stereotypes - loving/playing hockey, living in igloos, dog sleigh transportation, putting maple syrup and/or ketchup on everything, or saying 'eh' after every sentence...

-the Orange (not-so) Canadian

I think my label's expired...

The other day a friend referred to me as "rich." This marks, perhaps, the first time in my life that adjective was ever used in reference to me. The moment those words leapt off his lips, I felt sick and uncomfortable. Me? A rich kid?! Me - the girl whose mother skipped meals to ensure my brother and I could eat? Me - the girl who was once referred to as "the help's daughter?" Me - the girl who lived off of $12.50 a week in my first year of university because that was all I could afford? This one-worded description has been about all I could think about this week...and all because of a conversation about scholarships, which led to a question of how I was paying for my current academic endeavour. The interesting thing here, is that I didn't actually disclose my method of payment, other than confirming that I am not here on a scholarship. And while, no, I am not undertaking this part of my life with the use of a loan, it is not the result of my being "rich" either.

For the last few days I have considered how to approach this situation, and this method is by far the worst of my options, but to be honest, I've just worked tirelessly to rid myself of one label, only to be presented with yet another. I have avoided making friends with amazing people here, because I don't want to be associated with being "the girl whose mom died," which I struggled with immensely last year with people I knew before this was a fact. Of course, avoiding this situation has some obvious complications, being as I have a permanent identifier etched on my foot, but not many people ask about it's meaning. For the record - the placement is symbolic of the fact that although she's not physically here anymore, my Mom continues to keep me grounded, and the puzzle piece represents the massive chunk of me that a) is her and b) is lost because of her. And so, it goes back to my new status as "a rich kid."

Money has always been the least of my priorities. If truth be told, I'd love to live off the land in some shack in the middle of the woods where money isn't a thing. I pretty much want to be Snow White (less the seven men), where deer and birds help me through my morning routine, and hey, I've got the pasty skin tone already, so there isn't much of a stretch to making it happen! But, since that obviously isn't realistic, I now can't stop thinking about this awful word and how I can rid myself of it. I'm not here because I come from money. I'm here because I am without the most influential person in my life. I sold my home, my childhood, and the remnants of the one material thing my Mom work hard for and took pride in. My being here is ONLY because she is not. So, having that word attached to moving forward and living in her memory dirties it somewhat...it makes it feel less valuable...less significant. Sure, I get that I grew up 'Canada-poor' and that in comparison to an unfortunately-growing population of the world I lived (and continue to live) in excess. I'm not discounting that. But, if I am rich at all, it's because I had a Mom who gave everything for my happiness. I was spoiled with time spent and unconditional love, not material goods...because that's 'all' she had.

What does the Fawkes say?!

Well, my friends, I've fallen to peer-pressure once again! After a restless night resulting in my being up at 3:00 am (that's 11:00pm for most of you back home!), I couldn't resist the guilt-ridden pleas of my friends to join them for 'Bonfire Night' or Guy Fawkes Night. As per my usual failure to resist such pressures, I actually had an enjoyable night!

We met up at a bar after a long and semi-pointless dissertation writing workshop (apparently "water, water rights/access, and water boundaries" is not the correct answer to 'what are your interests?'!). In our newly forming tradition, the conversation transitioned from academic bitching to really weird topics, like pooping during child-birth and the results of an 18-year-old's 3-day long bad reaction to Viagra, you know, typical conversation amongst a bunch of 20-somethings over a beer, or my personal favourite ale...ginger ale (and no, I don't drink it because I'm a "ginger")! The purpose of this pitstop was to kill time in between class and the start of the festivities. When we decided we'd had enough of the increasingly disgusting conversation, we made our way to Platt Field Park. Sidenote: as we left, I noticed the two digit number marking our table. Yep, the number '27' makes an appearance once again!

I must say, I was quite surprised by what I saw when we arrived - it was like the Atlantic Winter Fair back home only less the Super Dogs and livestock (well, that part's debatable!)! There were rides and food trucks, and multiple children in strollers amongst the growing group of mostly university-aged participants. Seriously, why would a parent think it was a good idea to bring a small child to an event like this? Despite that, I was actually quite impressed by the range of people who had come out! It was the coldest night I'd felt since I arrived, but that didn't seem to deter anyone!

Our first goal was to find the food truck with the smallest line and consume ALL of the food. There's nothing like the bonding that happens between a crowd of strangers vying for a fried hotdog fresh from the jar, smothered in fried onions! One of the unavailable items at this spot was a 'Canadian steak'...anyone know what that might be? Apparently it's really good, as per the group of boys standing by us.

Next we made our way towards the bonfire, which had just been lit. Of course, we couldn't get anywhere near it, but that didn't stop me from attempting to take a picture of it...

Yep...that blob of light is actually the massive bonfire in the distance...

I don't think I'll continue on the path to become a professional photographer...at least not with my cellphone, anyway! It does look slightly like the outline of a pumpkin though, doesn't it?

Since we quickly accepted that we weren't going to get any closer to the fire, we decided to find a crazy ride to waste some money on... £5 to be exact! We found some brightly lit, turn thing, for which I do not know it's name (obviously!), and waited in line. Now, just to bring you up to speed, in between the attempt to get to the bonfire and making our way to this point, we had a long debate over whether or not a) the fireworks would soon be starting and b) we'd miss them if we were on a ride. Well, folks, I'm happy to report that just as we found ourselves in the line up for this brightly-lit, turny adventure, the first of many fireworks began. But here's the part of the night that blew my mind...we debated leaving the lineup to go watch them. I figured, by the time we got out of the line and found a place with a good view, they'd be over, and then we'd have to lineup again and start the whole waiting game over. We decided to stay in the line...but the fireworks did not end like they do back home (you know the ones, 3 red, 3 blue, a couple green, maybe a smattering of swirly yellow/gold ones, and then 3 minutes after they began they're over)! No, we went through the line, the entire duration of the 2-minute long ride, and still had time to scope out a spot to watch the last few minutes of the display! All-in-all, it must have been at least 20 minutes of firework-awesomeness. Nova Scotia - you need to step up your game!

After this, we, along with the 47 million* other people in attendance, decided we needed dessert - a crepe to be specific! So, off we went in search of a dessert shop in curry mile. To our surprise, there are a number of them (who knew?!). The girls got Nutella and chocolate soaked crepes, and we escaped the crowds and made our way home.

Well, that's all the crazy adventure for this girl, this week! I decided to forgo the Christmas lights extravaganza thingy, despite the desperate/drunken pleas of one friend, and instead went to bed at the late hour of 8:00 pm. A 12-hour sleep was in order. And that, my friends, is the tale of how one night out (which by the way, I was home by 9:00 pm that night), results in needing two days of recovery!

-the Orange Canadian

PS: To learn more about Guy Fawkes, do a quick Google search. It's an interesting part of British history!

*number may very from the actual number in attendance... don't judge me, I'm not a math major!

SO MANY STAIRS!

Yesterday I went on my first "big" adventure on my own. After a fairly busy week, I decided I needed to have a day to myself, outside of my usual setting. That day was spent in the beautiful city of York.

I decided to make it an early start and set out for Piccadilly Station around 7:30am. I took a new route, and surprisingly managed not to get lost, all while cutting 10 minutes or so from the usual time it takes for me to get there. After grabbing a coffee and a snack, I boarded the train for York. The trip itself was probably all I really needed...quiet, with beautiful sights to take in during the hour and twenty minute trek. I had a good chuckle at a group of guys who got on at one of the stops along the way, who discussed their friend's girlfriend and whether or not she could do better than him. They all agreed she could. However, my personal favourite quote was from one guy who confidently blurted out "there's no 'I' in ultimate frisbee! ...oh wait..."

Anyway, I arrived in York around 9:45am and made my way to War Memorial Gardens. There were only about five or so people there, so it was nice to just sit, take a breath, snap a few photos and venture on. In doing so, I also created a bit of a gap between the rest of the tourists that had been on the same train as me.

This is the entrance to the park.

Next, I made my way through the 'historic wall' that surrounds the city, and ventured to the Visitor Information Centre. When looking at what to do, prior to my travels, I was directed to a sight that suggested purchasing a "York Pass" which was a bit pricey, but ultimately would allow me to see all the big sights and save myself a few dollars (or pounds, I suppose!). For an future York destined travellers, unless you're spending multiple days there, I'm not so sure this was actually a good purchase. While I did save on the amount of stops I made, I probably wouldn't have visited all of the things I did just to 'break-even.' I didn't spend enough time at most places to actually make it worth my while. Just a thought, if you were interested!

Part of the wall that surrounds the city.

A view of the River Ouse.

From there, I walked to the Museum Gardens, where I enjoyed some time in nature. Do I ever miss living within walking distance of a forest, with big, beautiful trees to sit under and just contemplate life. At this same spot, was St. Mary's Abbey, or the remnants of, I should say! It is unbelievable to me to see the detail put into these buildings! I just simply can't imagine the work that goes into something like that! This is also the site of the Yorkshire Museum, where I spent maybe half an hour. There's only so much natural history/roman empire one girl can take in one country...

Just outside the entrance of the Museum Gardens.

The Yorkshire Museum in the background.

Remnants of the Abbey

A few of the neat buildings enroute to the next spot:

My next stop, was the one spot I was most excited to see. Thankfully, this one did not disappoint - York Minister! This was a pricey venture, as the York Pass didn't cover the full cost of entry. There are several options here, including the extra £5 I paid to climb to the top of the Central Tower. The list of people who are excluded from this was enough of an exercise (pregnant, claustrophobic, prone to vertigo, high blood pressure, and the list goes on), and that was before setting foot on any of the 275 steps to the top. It was well worth it though - let me tell you! I have a few pictures below of the views, but trust me they don't even remotely capture just how incredible the sights were! I would also like to have it on record that I climbed all 275 steps without losing my breathe, which is a pretty big switch from my usual 15 minute required recovery after marching up to the fourth floor of the BAC! How is that possible?! But seriously, if you can only do one thing when you're in York, this is it! Go to the Minister! While here I also sat in on the end of the church service that started while I was on the roof. Still not a believer, but what an experience!

York Minister

Views of the Minister, from the first "viewing platform" 

Views from the top!

The Treasurer's House is the beige-y stone building surrounded by trees,
partially blocked by the shadow of the Minister. 

Proof!

Inside the Minister.

Down below! The Crypt. 

Inside the Minister.

Inside the Chapter House.

During the service.

Alternative shots of the exterior.

I made a quick trip to the Treasurer's House, where I got creeped out by some of the paintings and quickly became impatient with little kids running around on their ghost hunt. Still don't like kids either...

The view from the garden at the Treasurer's House.

Inside one of the rooms. By far the most unnerving feeling I've had in a long time!
Probably didn't help that there was the creepiest painting of twin girls to my left!

I made the mistake of taking the "quick" route to my next two stops, which led me into massive swarms of people shopping and walking aimlessly. This is when I became aware that I was running out of energy, and that perhaps I had overestimated what I could accomplish in one day. Nevertheless, I made my way to the "Castle Area" of York, and made a quick trip to Clifford's Tower, which also was accompanied with beautiful views...and stairs.

A view of Clifford's Tower from the Castle Museum

View of the city from the Tower.

York Minister from the Tower.

Stairs.

The final stop before heading back to the train station, was the Castle Museum, which was the other spot I was really excited to see. A friend of mine visited York a few days before me and told me she spent over 2-hours in there. Me, nearing the end of my patience with small children and oblivious parents (don't worry - I do actually recognize that not all parents and children are this way! Still doesn't make me want them though! And yes, you can remind me of this if ever I have kids of my own!), I spent a whopping 35 minutes there tops! My favourite part of this museum was the nostalgic museum smell that it had. You know the one... Anyway, this was yet another one of those, not worth justifying my York Card purchase attractions, although I may have actually enjoyed it more, had I not have gone at the end of my day. Oh, and by the 'end of my day' I mean it was like 2:00pm!

After departing the museum, I decided to walk along the wall back to the train station. This is when I decided that I'm not really a fan of stairs, particularly when I'm tired! All in all, I probably climbed up and down about 350 stairs throughout my day! However, it was nice to walk, and take in a different view of the city. It was also nice to see how many people were out using it to spend family time.

View of the wall

The train station

I made it back home just before 5:00pm, and was pretty zonked. It was a great day, though, and just what I needed!

-the Orange Canadian