Kayaking Weekend: Part I

Ow.

More to come as my muscles continue to unclench, but the quick summary is that it was fantastic again. H20Adventures is a great company to experience this sport with.

MUST. NOT. BLOG

Drew gave me a call yesterday to tell me about something taking place at the AMC, but then placed a gag order on me so I couldn't blog about it. It seems she wanted to cover the event all on her own.

I wonder if I would get knocked out if I went down there and tried to take a picture? It might make up for the pics I lost from my evening at Brutopia.

Hot enough to watch the Hulk

So I escaped to the Paramount to watch the premiere of the Hulk. Not bad... I spotted Stan Lee, but I missed Lou Ferigno (they were together, so keep an eye out for them in the film).

Whoever did the scene transitions for this film must've been very well paid! They work alot with the comic strip panels to present multiple viewpoints in various scenes. Interesting, but a bit distracting.

There was also a bit too much surreality, symbolism, and avant-garde/artsy-fartsy images for a film whose main character's most complicated line would be "Hulk will smash" and "Puny human".

He's big. He's green. He wears stretchy purple pants (which never seem to tear apart, despite almost everything else he's wearing). He leaps tall rocky precipices in a single grunt. His father is played by King of the Scruffy Beard, Nick Nolte.

Adding alot of kooky lights and textures and making them swirl around his head during an emotional crisis doesn't turn Bruce Banner into a Gamma-iradiated Andy Warhol.

I'll give it a shakey 7 on 10. Unless you want a no-brainer to escape the heat, rent it in the fall.

The Internet has it All

... but then, where would we put it?

If you're having trouble getting to sleep (and with the temperature rising, I know I will), you can cure those sleepless nights using the tried and tested method of listening to a dog snore.

What's that you say? You don't have a dog? Then surf on over to Ebay.ca and you can buy a tape of Ruger snoring. Just let those drool encrusted jowls rumble you off to the Land of the Forty Winks.

Just to be flexible, you can pay using Visa, Mastercard, and Canadian Tire money. You can't get more Canadian than that without building a log cabin using a hockey stick and a stuffed beaver.

History of la Fête Nationale: Saint-Jean-Baptiste Day
Source unknown

On the 24th of June, Quebec celebrates the Fête Nationale, formerly known as the Fête de la Saint-Jean.

The origin of the holiday was the pagan celebration of the summer solstice; a celebration of light and a symbol of hope. Then, in the reign of the French king Clovis, the annual event was christianized and became a religious celebration of the birth of John the Baptist. Saint John is known as the Precursor of Christ, the light of the world - thus the link with the solstice and the bonfires.

The religious festival of Jean Baptiste had particular importance for all the catholics of Europe, and especially for those of France, where in the night from the 23 to June 24 in Paris, the king of France himself would light the bonfire.

Once in America, the French continued to celebrate this event: the Relations des Jésuites refer to the custom as early as 1636, when Quebec City had a population of about 200. But it was then a very pious, religious festival, with processions in the streets of the city.

After the conquest of New France by the British, the celebration of St-Jean-Baptiste Day lost some of its importance, until 1834 when newspaper editor Ludger Duvernay organised the first "nationalist" banquet in Montreal.

In 1834, Ludger Duvernay, editor of La Minerve and one of the founders of the Saint-Jean-Baptiste Society, invited about 60 important business and political figures to a banquet on the 24th of June. The participants, of French and English origin, would discuss the future of the Canadian people and explore ways to affirm its identity.

At that time in Lower Canada, to be 'nationalist' was to call for responsible government and a greater say in the management of the Canadas. Thus, it wasn't surprising to see a great number of English-speaking Montrealers take part in this nationalist banquet, which was held in the gardens of a prominent lawyer, John McDonnell.

Though the initial nationalist banquet was a great success, the annual event was put on hold during and immediately after the 'Patriot's Rebellion' of 1837-38. Celebration of the Fête de Saint-Jean reappeared in Quebec City in 1842, but as a religious festival with a great procession. Montreal followed suit in 1843.

By the end of the 19th century and the beginning of the 20th, the annual celebration had grown and was celebrated with much fanfare everywhere and large processions in Montreal and Quebec City. In 1925, the Quebec legislature declared the 24th of June a holiday.

The Quiet Revolution of the early 60's brought about rapid social change. The people of Quebec rejected the conservative values of “duplessisme” (for former Quebec Premier Maurice Duplessis) and began questioning the social order. It led to calls for bilingualism, for biculturalism, and for the autonomy of Quebec. The concept of 'French-Canadian', with its three main components of thought: agriculturalism, anti-statism and messianism, was rejected by many and replaced with that of the 'Québécois' - masters of their destiny, and “Maîtres chez-nous”.

The evolution of Saint-Jean-Baptiste Day from a religious to a nationalist celebration was complete by 1975, when Gilles Vigneault came out of retirement to perform his song Gens du pays which became a virtual anthem for the Québécois people.

In 1976, the Parti Québécois under René Lévesque swept into power on the promise of holding a referendum on 'sovereignty association'. In 1977, the PQ government passed legislation making Saint-Jean-Baptiste Day the official national holiday of Quebec and an official paid holiday. The name of the holiday was then changed to la Fête Nationale, though many still refer to it as la Saint-Jean.

Customs and Traditions Associated with Saint-Jean-Baptiste Day

Bonfires
Traditionally, bonfires are a big part of the festivities. As the sun sets, man perpetuates the light by lighting the bonfire.

Many towns and cities in Quebec celebrate the holiday with a bonfire in the town square and/or staging firework displays. The celebrations are similar to those held in the U.S. to commemorate the 4th of July and in Canada on Canada Day.

Parades
By the end of the 19th century, in Quebec and Montreal, St-Jean-Baptiste Day was being celebrated with great pomp and ceremony. Parades and decorations took on an impressive display.

The parades include banners, floats and marching bands from different organizations. The floats are meant to represent a situation, tell of an historic event or symbolize aspects of French-Canadian institutions, language and culture.

Ringing of the Bells
Bells have long played an important role in our lives. Historically, they were an instrument of communication and were used to announce the time, assemble the population and proclaim major events.

Even though bells are no longer used as a primary means of communication, their function of assembling the people remains.

The First Swim of the Year
At the beginning of the 19th century, in towns and villages along the St-Lawrence River, it was customary to take the first swim of the year on the eve of St-Jean-Baptiste Day.

Even today most swimming pools in Quebec open for the season around St-Jean-Baptiste Day.

Bloggers can party

I went to a house-warming part-eh on Saturday night and was pleased to run into a few fellow bloggers. But I get ahead of myself...

Trying to get to the Bodacious Abode proved to be most difficult due to an evening of fireworks having just taken place. Downtown was crawling with folks and autos progressing at a crawl's pace. Drew and I were zig-zagging up and down the one-ways, trying to escape the mob, but we finally ended up getting stuck in a dead-end. Right street, but wrong side of the through-way.

Since we were so close-by, we decided to leave the SUV and walk a few blocks. I put our beverages in my backpack and we started up the road. We came to the through-way that lead to Jacques-Cartier bridge and the traffic was tremendous. Drew, in her forthwith way, darted across the road and I tried to follow suit.

I was decidedly not as graceful.

The first enegetic foot I put down was in a pothole near the curb. This launched my body forward most unexpectedly, throwing me off balance. Add to that momentum were the six beers in my backpack that added to my forward (de)motion. I gangly lurched across the road, with all the headlights illuminating my klutzy ballerina moves, and desperately tried to regain my footing, all the while, my head stayed about 1 foot above the pavement.

Fortunately, I managed to regain my footing (but not my composure) when I hit the opposite curb. I was sooooo glad that I did not receive a 21-horn salute in recognition of my poetic near-miss.

We continued on our way to the part-eh and proceeded to mix and mingle. As I found out later, Drew was chatting with some guy who was trying to compare her to Hollywood celebrities (try to tell me that's not a pick-up line). I joined the conversation late, so I had no idea that Drew was looking for the name of Liv Tyler when she suddenly asked "Armageddon?". I blurted out the first name I could think of: "Steve Buscemi?", to which I was rewarded with a spray of water in the face from her martini glass.

Drew regained her brownie points for finding me later and apologizing. Apparently, we are now even for a faux pas I had committed some months earlier involving a french fry and and unfortunate trajectory.

As I said earlier, many fellow bloggers were in attendance, so we were able to chat in person rather than through out blogs and comments. I caused Sniffles to blush furiously as I praised her artwork recently featured in the Yellow Doodle Museum.

Actually, this whole weekend has been about celebrating moments with friends. Ceri had her going-away party on Saturday afternoon and AJ had her coming-in party on Sunday night. All that celebration and I didn't even celebrate La Fete Nationale.

Oh well... maybe I'll do something on the actual day tomorrow.

Big Excitment, Bad Timing

I just popped over to the IBM building for a quick bite, and just as I sat down to eat my grub, an alarm sounded "PLEASE EVACUATE THE BUILDING". I took the drink and the meal, and abandonned the fruit salad. Drat!

Once I got outside, I finished off my meal and then walked around. There were cops and various emergency vehicles strewn around the block with flashing lights and neon-colored badges. The people were very calmly filing out the main door (I left via the cafeteria door), popping out the cell phones, and relaying the news. According to the folks who were now milling about in the parking lot across the street, there's a fire that broke out inside the IBM building somewhere, so evacuation procedures were put into action.

I'm sitting back in my office facing the building (only here one more week!) and I can see them all still there, peering up at the building. I can't see any smoke from where I'm sitting. Now that everyone is safe, a minor explosion would be nice.

Just for dramatic effect.

By the way...

Tonight is our final evening of English storytelling for the season (until October 2003) and is entitled Tales for the Summer Solstice (or "What I was doing while waiting for the new Harry Potter book to be released"). This means that most of the stories of the evening will be centered around the summer and the sun (more or less).

We also have special guest John Swan, a published author from Toronto, who will be telling us a story from his new book Hard Boiled Love.

It will be taking place at 8 pm at Cafe Perk Avenue (4872 Parc Avenue, just south of St. Joseph). This is a cool cafe that once was an anitque shop, but everything (maybe even the kitchen sink) is still for sale. The cost is $5 ($3 for Guild members).

If you haven't checked it out yet, don't miss your last chance before the fall! See you there!

Blogging Deja Vu -- Episode #1

I was going to rant about something that's been coming up lately in conversation, but then I realized I had already blogged about it. Have my life experiences started turning into re-runs?

Actually, I guess what I need to add to this is that, in addition to men not being creatures of subtlety, it's not productive to try to read deeper meanings into what we're actually saying. Unless we're trying to be clever, what we're saying is usually what we mean.

And anyways, even if we are thinking one thing and saying another, it's probably better to just leave it alone unless you're really ready to hear what we really really think. Of course, when that happens, you have no right to be angry with us because we tried to spare you, we really did. Sometimes, we just need some time to sort out what's going on.

After getting whacked about the head a few times for being too honest, we tend to start picking our moments of blunt honesty more carefully, saving our moment for when they really matter.

For example, if you really think that peanut on your hat is quite adorable, then we can just agree and move along, keeping our eyes on more attractive parts of your attire. But if you insist that we need to turn left here instead of right, then we will probably speak up at that moment.

Who says men don't learn?

Bombay Goodness

Of all the banquets I've organized in the past two years, this was by far the most complicated, mainly because the management at the Bombay Palace kept getting my instructions wrong. To me, it was very simple. June 18th, 6:30 pm, expect 50 people, charge a flat rate per person, collect the drink tickets and the end, and charge a flat rate per ticket.

Then the called me every week to confirm the date (the 18th), then they got the date wrong, then they wanted a $500 deposit two days before the banquet, then they quibbled with me over the drink prices. Yikes. Next time, I'm going to write it all down as a contract, have both of us sign it, and whip this paper out whenever there's a contention.

But as to the actual banquet, everyone seemed to have a good time. The food was excellent, the service was quick and courteous, the resto was quiet (no blaring music), the premises was clean, and the people were happy. If you want to go for some good and cheap Indian food, I highly recommend the Bombay Palace down on Ste. Catherine street (near the Pepsi Forum (AMC) where you can only buy Coke).

Another Montreal dining secret revealed!

Sushi Secret

There a great new place for sushi down on Greene avenue called Kashima. They got all the best stuff that makes my taste buds go gaga: Spider, Kamikazi, Rainbow makis are my favorites, but everything else is delectable. The resto is of a cozy size, they present the sushi nicely, the service is attentive and personable, and the price ain't bad ($70 for two).

Their main problem is location: they're on the second floor of a block of shops, so it's not that visible. They hung out some red lanterns, but it can still be difficult to find. They are on Green Avenue, western side of the street, just south of the grocery store.

So if you're contemplating some sushi in the coming weeks, give Kashima a try and I promise you'll not be disappointed. I'm always so well treated in that place, I just want it to succeed.

Any other Montreal secret restos to share?

Charlie's Translators

On the way home from Domaine, I happened to notice a billboard heralding the upcoming Charlie's Angels: Full Throttle movie. Of course, the sign was in French, so it had the French version of the title, but it read as Charlie et ses Droles de Dames (which roughly translates back to "Charlie and his Weird Ladies"). I'd be willing to rent the movie in French just to hear what comes out of the Voicebox.

Now I realize that this was the title of the French version of the TV show, but those were the days when the French version was adapted in by translators in France. Anyone who watches the Quebecois version of The Simpsons will attest to there being a distinct dialectal difference between these continental divides (for an online comparitive analysis, see the Batman translation I mentionned recently).

To my mind, a better translation would've been Les Anges de Charlie: Haute Vitesse or Les Anges Guardiennes de Charlie. Come to think of it, can you even say Charlie in French? Shouldn't it be Charles?

It could've been worse, I suppose. We could've been stuck with:

Les Anges de Charlie: Plein étrangler
Les Belles Pitounes de Charlie: On y va a Full Pin
Charlie et ses Mignones: Ecrase la Pedale
Charlie et ses Poulettes: Tien-toie Bobby Pin!
Charlie et ses LightSpeeds: Ma Klaxxonette est Brisé

Forecast

This is what my weekend is going to sound like:

WHACK! WHACK! "It's not dying.... Run!"

Squish... slosh... "Ugh... my socks are wet and my shoe is stuck in the muck... Argh! Kern! Run!"

"What the hell is that?" *peering into the darkness* "Argh! Undead! Run!"

"Are you hurt? Let's sit over here and we'll see what we can do..."

"Who goes there?" *No answer* "Run!" *while running*: "Y'know... if the beasts on this world ever learn to answer "It's just us", we're going to be in alot of trouble."

"That's it... I'm going to bed." ZZZZZZZZZIIIIIIIPPPPPP "Whew... I love my tent. ZZZZZZZZZzzzzzzzzzzzZZZZZZZZZZZzzzzz"

Longing

I'm looking out the window of my office. I can see the Bell Centre, the IBM building, PVM, and Montreal Trust in the distance. The rain has driven the dirt streaks in angled directions on the windows. I can't tell if it's still raining, but a quick glance at the streets below tell me it's not. The haze in the air smacks of humidity though: there's more rain on the way.

I can't even being to imagine how much these buildings must've cost to put together. The rise from the ground, shiney monoliths, silent guardians, forming the downtown landscape and speaking of untold monetary potential. I can see the distorted reflection of my own building in a mosaic of windows and steel. Below, the parking lot is predominately filled with black cars.

I wonder at the money that most flow in and out of these businesses that produces these buildings, keeps them lit, supplies them with paper clips and coffee cups. I look at them and I see opportunity. I see opportunity for my company (Documentia Inc.) to work on something new, interesting, and challenging. And most of all: be handsomely paid for it. I see them as a stepping stone that could lead to my Dream Business of owning a documentation centre and publishing house. And maybe somewhere in all that, I could get myself a car again. Maybe buy a house. Maybe travel a bit more.

And then I shake my head and buy a lottery ticket.

I know I don't need materialistic things to make me happy. I know that having things doesn't lead to happiness and I can't take my toys with me when I move on to the great beyond. But I don't live in Amish country: I work in the city, I live in the city. I'm surrounded by expensive stuff all the time, surrounded by advertising that tells me that I'd be so much happier with a washboard stomach, tussled hair, and clothes that have an odd habit of flying off my body whenever a photo op turns up.

I can tune this crap out most days, and then other days I'm just filled with a longing for something I can't define. Sometimes I think that thing is stability, sometimes I think it's simplicity. Other times I think it's having a house like my parents have, or a car like my buddy has, or a life-partner like so many others have. I know all these things come with their own blessings and curses, but even thought it should be mowed once in awhile, the greenness of that grass can be difficult to ignore.

Then I smack myself upside the head, count my blessings, and admonish myself for idle soul prancing. My life's not so bad, really. I live in a nice part of NDG, my debts are low, my complications are mostly self-induced.

I think that it's the potential of what I could or should be doing that can sometimes be a tad overwhelming. Most of the time, it's enough to push me in the right direction. Sometimes, it stops me dead in my tracks.

Time to start walking again.

==============
I kid you not. Just as I'm about to hit Publish on this entry, the sun started poking through the clouds, lighting up the town, chasing away the rain. Were I religious man, I would ponder the theological meaning behind it all.

As a spiritual man, I'm content with just smiling.

Morning Temptation

Drew and I were walking down Ste. Catherine street this morning when I noticed a red Volkswagen cabriolet (with the top down) parked in front of a fruit shop. I caught my eye because of the For Sale sign (chant after me: Idon'tneedacar, Idon'tneedacar, Idon'tneedacar). As I leaned in to read the fine print on the sign, I noticed that the car was idling (and it wasn't the fine purr of a healthy engine, I noted).

"This car could be really cheap if I just drove away with it right now," I smirked.

"The guy could easily track you down," Drew pointed to the passenger seat. "He would just need to call you on his own cellphone."

Sure enough, the boy's cellphone and wallet were sitting in plain view on the passenger seat. In an open convertible. On Ste. Catherine street. Whatta maroon. I don't know about Montreal, but I know that it's illegal in Westmount to leave an opened convertible parked unattended on a public street (I know this from having to bail a friend out of this situation when he ran afoul of the Westmount police).

Y'see... it's times like these that I wish I kept my digicam on me at all times. I would've named this picture German design, human stupidity.

An Unexpected Brush Against a Leg

I was out at MovenPick on Sunday night with Drew and the boy, Miss Piggy, her man (Kermit?), and their baby girl Maura, and Katarina ("I'm a Massage Therapist, dammit!"). MovenPick has good food, but it ain't given away by a long shot. I had one of those Asian Meal in a Soup doodads and a crepe and ice cream for dessert and it cost over $20. Yikes! It's been an expensive weekend foodwise.

As I was chatting with Miss Piggy, I felt an odd brush against my inner thigh. I had two thoughts at that exact moment:

1. That must be Newton (my cat) brushing up against me.
2. I'm not at home!

I yelped at that moment and looked down. Maura was crawling underneath the table, hunting a rogue balloon.

Inner monologues can be amusing.

Movie list

Thanks to the trailers at Quicktime.com, there's a whole whack of non-Hollywood films I want to see. The question is, will they come to Montreal and when?

The Cuckoo
Marooned in Iraq
Whale Rider
The Shape of Things
Shaolin Soccer
The Dancer Upstairs

Yes yes... I know it's Disney, but with my softspot for superheroes, the trailer for the Incredibles gave me a chuckle.

And this trailer for The Order looks great, although I couldn't help think about how funny it would be to have Tom Bosley as Father Dowling do a cameo in this film.

Does anyone else in Hollywood think of these things?

Friday Funnies

It's a beautiful day, so I decided to give myself a morning at the park instead of parking it at my desk. Ya, I know. It's a costly thing to do when you're a freelancer, but I prefer to see it as personal sanity investment (and I got to play in the kiddie park with Drew and her son).

I'll be going to storytelling tonight at Cafe Perk (I'll be telling an African myth about the first morning) and then off to the Old Dublin to see Brendan Nolan play a set. I'm not staying late though (y'hear?)... There's a guy that's going to be there who's a big wig with the Celtic Festival and I'm going to schmooze him to see if I can get a storytelling gig out of him.

So here are a few links that amuse me. Enjoy!

Knights of the Dinner Table: if you've ever role-played, you'll understand.
Talking Xylophone: it's verbally naughty and not worksafe (unless you have a headset) (thanks be to Toast)
Batman translated in French and Quebecois: lots of swearing in French, but listen to each one a few times. Even if your French is shakey, you'll clearly hear the difference between French in France and French in Quebec.

All New Rights

While waiting for the bus yesterday, I noticed a poster for a July 5th Rally to be held in Lafontaine park to protest the lack of suiltable housing in Montreal. The rally will manifest itself as the construction of a Tent City (similar to the one that was recently removed in Vancouver).

While I recognize the need for affordable housing in this city (the city isn't nearly as vacant as it was when I first moved here), the poster stated something about people having the RIGHT to squat in abandonned buildings. Was the Canadian constitution updated and I missed a memo?

If I owned an abandonned building, no one has the Gods-given right to live there without my permission. If that were true, I would've moved into the old firestation at the top of Cote St. Luc (which is currently being renovated as a luxury condo) in a heartbeat.

The July 1st madness is coming up and I'll be hunkered down in my pad, avoiding all the moving madness.

Here's an idea Mr. Tremblay: do away with the whole July 1st Moving Day bit. Maybe people would be able to find suitable housing if they didn't have to pay a mover 130/hour to move all their crap on the same day. I've done that. Not doing it again.

The next time I move, it will be into a house. And if I have to move on July 1st, I'm putting all my stuff in storage for on June 15th and then moving it all in on July 15th. Believe it or not, including the storage costs, that plan turns out to be way cheaper than moving on the 1st.

Only in Quebec.... Only in Quebec...

Jolt

Okay... so I was concentrating on this document, right? I'm proofing a whole gaggle of docs and I can't leave work until they're done, right?

I've got the headset on, listening to my MP3s, when And She Was (Talking Heads) suddenly comes into play. It's silent for a second and then David Byrne shouts "Hey!".

I'm so glad these windows can't open. It would've been a long drop to the street if I had managed to jump out of the window with the shock.

I just can't get this concentrated. Time to look out the window for a bit.

Back to work.

Tummy Rumbles

Ye Gods... I need some structure. I went home last night with the intention of cooking myself some supper. Before I knew it, I had fallen asleep on the couch in front of the tube with my cat nestled snugly in the crook of my knees.

A few years ago, I had taken on so many activities, I was never home at a regular hour, so I got out of the habit of eating meals according to a schedule. Any dietician will tell you this isn't a good thing.

As it is, I'm having a Red Letter day if I manage to cook myself some grub in the morning and in the evening (although I can't even remember the last time that happened).

Even when I decide I'm going to cook something, I'm always short two or three main ingredients. What I need to do is decide what I'm going to cook during the day, stop off at the market on the way home, and then cook it that night. No TV. No computer. No distractions.

I'm not a bad cook when I decide to put my mind to it. As many people will attest, it can be unmotivating to cook for yourself.

I wish I could be more like Blork and make cooking more of an adventure.

Then again, maybe I don't want the theme song from Indiana Jones playing in the background when I'm trying to make a souffle. It just begs disaster.

Play Golf, Be Saved

With the summer holidays coming up, finding good clean fun for the entire God-fearing Canadian family to do can be difficult.

Fortunately, we can always look to our neighbours to the South to realign our moral compasses. So without further ado, I give you (or they give us) Golgotha Mini-Golf.

Three white crosses loom near the parking lot and mark the final hole; to get there, determined players putt their way through the hazards and miracles of the Good Book. After renting a club and ball in the gift shop, eager Golgotha fans line up at hole #1, The Book of Genesis. The first nine holes are inspired by the Old Testament: Adam and Eve's expulsion from the Garden of Eden, Moses parting the Red Sea, Daniel and the Lion.

My only question is: if you get a Hole in One, will they reward you with holes in five?

I would've gone to visit this site if for no other reason to see if they would let me in sporting my pentacle.

Unfortunately, as of September 2002, the site seemed closed an in a gradual state of deterioration. It seems that the Saved and Unsaved have found other ways to spend their time.

Drat.

I'm going to miss my window

I'm on the final month of my current contract, and thus far, I've got nothing else lined up to take over. But I'm not too worried about it: that's the life of the contractor: Really Busy, Really Not, Really Busy.

I had originally planned to take some time off during the summer and visit Halifax, but I think I'm going to focus on spending some more time in Quebec city visiting the folks, the family, and the friends.

Not only do I get to spend some time with my parents and enjoy their lakeside cottage priviledges, it'll also give me some time to make Documentia business contacts in the area. If there's one place in Quebec that needs English writers, it's Quebec city.

Gotta keep hustling. Gotta keep bustling.