This journal is obviously defunct... until further notice.

All aboard the internet bandwagon to facebook and flickr!

http://www.flickr.com/photos/doublethinker

Someone please give me a gmail invite, my qlink address is going to expire and I can't exactly rock sillymango @ hotmail . com into my adulthood.

Grad school planning is under control, at last. I am applying to: history at Toronto and Alberta, planning at Toronto and Queen's, and Public Policy/Development at Carleton. I'm kinda really into Toronto, so it would suck to leave the city, but I'll be likely offered a lot more money elsewhere.

"Why I can't get over Burkina Faso" or "Someone stop me from pulling an Angelina"

( Sapone )

Just got back from a wonderful, amazing trip to Kingston. Not that I had forgotten how amazing my friends are, but it's nice to be reminded. I've been drinking a hell of a lot in the last few days - after drinking (and, er, inappropriately playing footsies) with some coworkers last night, I nodded off on the bus and missed my stop. Actually, I seem to have come down with a serious case of TTC narcolepsy. In the last couple weeks, I've catnapped on the bus/subway about five times. I haven't found myself stranded at Finch station yet, but I'm worried that the time may come!

Ahem. Here is another attempt to revive this bad boy.

So I got the job at the Gladstone, and have been working there for about two weeks now. I have absolutely no complaints about the place - the clients and coworkers are interesting and nice, it's different than Second Cup, it puts me in touch with a lot more artistic and community events, and to top it all off, the pay is pretty good. I have to work a lot of morning shifts (7:00AM shift in Parkdale means Caitlin gets up at 4:30 in Leaside!) but I'm slowly getting used to them.

My life in Toronto is slowly developing, I suppose, although sometimes it feels like a snail's pace. I'm not leading nearly the lifestyle that I thought I'd be leading this year, but maybe once I move downtown in December that will change. I need to read more... I am deathly afraid that my brain is turning to mush post-university. I haven't really made new friends in Toronto, not really, although I've started to meet and even hang out with new people. I am still finding the city a bit lonely, and I go back and forth between missing Kingston or Burkina Faso. I have been gone from Burkina Faso for about as long as I was there, now, but I still find myself bummed out a lot, for reasons that I can't quite explain. Hopefully all this remnant-of-adolescent-angst will clear itself up, but I'm still somewhat in a rut. A lot of my most important relationships with people have changed, so I end up just calling my mother for any sort of feeling of continuity in my life.

Speaking of my family, my Dad had open heart surgery, and he's doing okay. Not sure if I mentioned that at an earlier date. My aunt and uncle and I have been getting along fabulously (I think) and I am actually growing fond of my aunt, who intimidated me before.

My German (who was not really "my" German for the last week he was there) went back to Germany as week ago, so I am most definitely and clearly single, again. I don't seem to meet any menfolk (outside of work) in Toronto, though, so my status will probably remain the same for a while.


I think... no, I am SURE, that I will come to Kingston either from Sunday-tuesday or monday-wednesday. What a hopping time of the week!

Has anyone ever had a zen-like moment of intense google detective work?

Three more shifts at Second Cup! One more tonight, two more next week. With every passing shift, I care less!

My* pesky German is coming back tomorrow, and (despite the fact that he's lived in Toronto longer than I have) he wants me to show him the town before he goes back to Germany at the end of October. Any suggestions? Where should one go "sightseeing" in the GTA?

* Using the word "my" loosely, as I still have sort of mixed feelings about him.

I'm so contradictory. As soon as I decide I don't like livejournal anymore, I have the desire to post lots again.

I got a job at the Gladstone Hotel, which means no more dangling on the Second Cup poverty line for me. I'm really excited, because the place gives me a good vibe. And (despite the fact that I bought an overpriced GRE book) I decided to say fuck it to going straight to a PhD program in the States... I'm just going to apply to a few Master's (history, urban planning, and public policy/development) programs in Ontario, see where I get in, and stop freaking the fuck out. I moved to Toronto to have fun, I finally reminded myself.

Why is it that I can have Jolene cut my hair while she's high or drunk and I love it, but as soon as I dish out any cash for a haircut, I get self-conscious? I like my new haircut in theory, but I'm not sure if it suits me. I feel like it's a cross between trying-to-be-trendy and my-sixteen-year-old-brother. Ah well, I will grow into that. Barring that, I have a growing number of hats.


(I know it's absolutely ridiculous to smoke up my eyes, play on the cameraphone until I get a photo that looks cute, and then post it with a complaint about my haircut, but what's livejournal if not self-serving?)


I went to see the New Pornographers last night, but neither Dan Bejar or Neko Case were there, so I felt sort of ripped off. Not only that, but I think Terris and I (plus three young men we befriended) were the only ones moving, let alone dancing, in the whole crowd. Come on, people. The New Pornographers aren't exactly "thinking music." Why would you go just to stand still?

Arrrrg... I really hope I get that job at the Gladstone. I can't stand the idea of having to complete any more of Second Cup's online training. (Even though I have been working at Second Cup since I was 18, my boss at my new cafe insists on me doing the new training. I didn't do it for the first month on the job, and this week she told me I had to start it now.) It is so insulting to my intelligence.

Best of all is the "Difficult Customers" module. You get to play "choose-your-own-adventure" type scenarios, and if you say the wrong thing, this might happen:



But don't worry, if you play things right, you might be able to make this bitch happy:



Ahem. If anyone from Second Cup googles this, I am so getting fired.

Maybe I'm not sick of this thing.

Yaarrrrr... I think I am sick of livejournal.

I didn't really believe in reverse culture shock until I came back to Canada this month. I have found the last three (relatively simple) weeks completely overwhelming. Maybe I just got used to a slower pace of life in Burkina Faso, but sometimes I think that I liked myself better when I was overseas, when nothing seemed to faze me. Well anyways, I walked around town this afternoon all panicked for no good reason except HOLY FUCK WHAT'S UP WITH CANADA? I remained in the same wacked out mood until I sampled a woman's vegan cookies in Kensington market. She was so entirely nice and talkative - a SIGN OF LIFE, or at least INTERACTION AMONGST STRANGERS that I had become so accustomed to overseas. I think my mood changed for the better after that.

Germans are crazy. I arrived at work yesterday to find Andreas smirking at me, and telling me to put my street clothes back on. He had gotten both of our shifts covered, and was taking me on an outing. Once we left the JCC, he pulled out two 100 level Blue Jays tickets he had won. I laughed, knowing full well how boring he was going to find baseball. But, sure enough, after taking me out to dinner there we were at the Rogers center, front row seats. I tried to watch the game, but Andreas (who seems to have shed a bit of his "gentlemanly" qualms) seemed to have a hard time focusing on the field. At 9:30, with half the game to go but a party in Little Italy to attend, and with a German complaining "dis game is so fucking boring" (agreed) we made a graceful exit.

( More photographs )

At Andreas' insistence that is it "so fucking stupid dat you vork at Second Cup with a university degree" I have started looking for a "better job." After he leaves to go traveling in a week (and leaves North American permanently mid-October) I guess he won't be able to distract me from my job search.

Finally got some film developed. I can't believe I took this photograph and it wasn't staged. (In other words, these boisterous Ghanaian children are actually running at me like crazy.)

German flirting?

"Dat girl should not vear dose clothes. She looks like a sausage. You vould look nice."


Well, turns out two things have not changed after going to university. I am still working at Second Cup, and I still have my penchant for inappropriate workplace flirtations.

So, I am working at Second Cup in the Annex. The same job I had before I went to university, only for about 2 dollars more an hour. Thank you, Arts degree. Well, the main reason that I took this job is that I am broke and don't have the funds to be unemployed while looking for better work, so I am just going to serve the coffee while I spend the next two months working on grad school applications.

Funny, I was complaining so much about the overwhelming lack of anonymity in Burkina Faso, and now that I am in Toronto I find my complete anonymity overwhelming. I have been pretty bummed out since leaving Ouagadougou, and the complete lack of connection I feel to everyone walking down the street or on the TTC exacerbates my "reverse culture shock." I need to get out and meet new people, but who knows where to start in a city this big. I got really used to Kingston, where connections and new friendships came as easily as procrastinating at the Common Ground.

Well, anyways, I have only been here for a week now, so this feeling is only natural. I was expecting as much - since I got little to no culture shock in Burkina, I figured I would get the reverse kind when I got back.

Work is okay, though. Truth be told, I really like working in coffeeshops. My coworkers seem for the most part nice, and a very flirtatious one keeps it amusing. Unlike the Second Cup I worked at last summer, here most people are in their twenties, so I am not the "old cougar."

Who-ah. I am back in Canada (in Toronto for good now, except I will be road tripping with my Dad on Thursday and Friday) and already don't know what I should do with myself. Getting MY LIFE started is quite overwhelming.

Ahem. I guess this is my last post from abroad. I leave late tomorrow night for Paris, and leave Paris a day later for Toronto. I will be up at the cottage with my family for the weekend. Then, since my Dad is driving back to Edmonton as he does every year, I will accompany him as far as Thunder Bay. I am not sure exactly what day I am flying out of Thunder Bay, but I should be back in Toronto around the 6th. If anyone knows about any jobs that would be up my alley (not picky, I just want to make at least 9 dollars an hour) now would be a nice time to let me know.

I have spent just enough time in Jordan to know that I want to travel more in the Middle East. I really wanted to go to Syria, but it turned out you can only get the visa in Canada.

What have I been up to? Such cultural experiences as ( cutting Saleem's hair ), driving through the streets of Amman blaring the (strangely enough, quite catchy) Hezbollah theme song, and accidentally interrupting a prayer when I entered a small shop only to find the shopkeep on his knees towards the door (and Mecca).

I have been walking around today with a roll of b&w film in my camera, but I seem to be unable to take good photos here. I have begun to wonder if one needs to be an asshole to take good photographs of people while travelling. I mean, I have seen lots of interesting images - women swimming in burkas in the Dead Sea against the backdrop of the hills, a child peering out of his house into the sunlight on one of Amman's many stone stairways. But I just can't bring myself to take photographs of these people without asking, and, well, once you ask, the good image is often gone. I took some such "surprise" photographs at the beginning of the summer in Burkina, which will probably turn out lovely but might not be worth the yelling that ensued. And I also learned that the process of surprise photography made me feel like an asshole, so I almost entirely stopped.

Remind me to say something funny about this photograph once I am out of Jordan... the ears, the ears are everywhere!

I managed to go the whole summer without getting groped, but today I was groped by no less than two teenage boys. (I don't know what about today's outfit really says "grope me"... I am wearing the same button up top that my grandmother also owns and baggy capris that barely show more ankle than many veiled women do.)

The first was a fairly typical gropage - boy grabs my ass, I slap his hand away, he runs off, but the second was quite impressive. I am walking down a busy street, and two teenage boys walk towards me, eyes not on me, like they are looking past me at something else. The moment that they are just about to cross my path, the nearest one quickly reaches out, squeezes my boob and deftly pulls his arm back, not once slowing his pace or even blinking an eye as he passes me. I managed to yell a quick, disgusted "fuck you" (really should work on my arabic) but am more amazed at the incredible dexterity of this young man's act to really do anything else. Seriously, the grope (though obviously rude, disgusting and uncalled for) appears to be the result of stealth, coordination and practice. Imagine what this young man could do if he applied such talents to worthier causes. Seriously, become a ninja or join the circus, or something.

It is a good thing I am leaving Jordan soon. It has only been a week and a half, and I've already gained a pound or two from all the sweets... but they are so delicious, and I can't seem to resist a daily (ok, a couple times a day) treat drenched in syrup. Well, whatever. I'll be back to a vegetarian, bran-and-yoghurt filled diet in Canada soon.

It has been one hell of a week, mostly because I'm retarded. To cheer myself up (and not be lame and "talk about my feelings") here's a silly comparison between two cities in several trivial categories.

Ouagadougou vs Amman

Cola: How is it that in Burkina, one of the poorest nations in the world, bottles of Coke (always Coke) are almost twice as big as those in Canada? In Amman, on the other hand, cola (usually Pepsi) is served in wussy, skinny cans? I'm not much of a pop fan, but seriously, the winner in this category is Ouagadougou.

Food: Now, let's see. In Ouaga, unless you go to an upscale, foreign-owned restaurant, your choices are basically overcooked rice with sauce, overcooked pasta with sauce, thin soup and, if you are really lucky, couscous with sauce. In Amman, even the meals that smell like vomit (mensef) taste delicious. Winner: Amman.

Topography: Amman is like a free stairmaster. It is the hilliest city I have ever seen. No wonder Jordanians have nice asses. And, despite the sheer exertion that exploring Amman requires, the climbing allows for some breathtaking views. In Ouaga (and the parts of Burkina I saw) there are shrubs higher than the biggest hills. Winner: Amman.

Beauty of women: I am not going to get too much into this one, but nothing can compare to the gracefulness, lovely faces and bright coloured clothing of Burkinabe women. Winner: Ouagadougou.

Hotness of men: I guess I didn't meet the right guys, but not once was I tempted to break QPID's "no sexual relations" policy in Burkina Faso. Not only do most guys dress like it is 1985, but many men coming on so strong or following me for blocks on end was a huge turnoff. (If our project had been among the beautiful and intriguing Ghanaian men, on the other hand...) In Amman, on the other hand, well, young Arab men are hot. Maybe it is because, as Saleem told me, Arab mothers tend to cut their babies' eyelashes so they grow back longer. Winner: Amman

Banking: It is a headache getting traveler's cheques changed here in Amman. I go to a bank, and they tell me to go to an exchange bureau. At the exchange bureau, they tell me to go to a bank. Repeat several times. When I finally find an exchange place that with cash my cheques, I am forced to accept absolutely horrendous rates. In Ouaga, though the tellers take forever, they always change the checques and give great rates for Euros and American dollars. Winner: Ouagadougou

Public Disturbances: I didn't really see much in either city, but I just saw a car chase in West Amman, so for the moment, winner: Amman

Frozen treats: Although I was delighted at the selection in convenience store freezers here in Amman, I have to admit, I miss the cheap, delicious, and Ghanaian-made FanMilk products that are found everywhere in Ouagadougou. I never thought that sucking overproduced ice cream or fudgescicle out of plastic bags could ever be so fulfilling, but it is. Winner: Ouagadougou.

Children: Though Saleem tells me that Arab women have a lot of children, I miss Burkina, where clouds must rain children or something. To be honest, I miss seeing a gaggle of giggly children at every step. Winner: Ouagadougou

Explorability: I never enjoyed Ouaga for more that a few days because it is difficult to just explore. Vendors are aggressive and young men never shied away from following me, so I would always end up jumping in a cab, tired out, after a half hour of walking. Here, men leer a bit, and always say "Welcome, welcome" at the sight of white skin, but then let me walk in peace. Add to that the beauty and calm its winding side streets, and Amman is a city I could wander with a camera on hand for hours. Winner: Amman.

Bugs: After malaria-carrying mosquitos, giant spiders and weird giant black bees (and that's just in the city, don't even get me started on Sapone), Amman just fails to impress. Until I see a fucking scorpion, Ouagadougou is the winner of this category.

Crossing the street: Jaywalking, though exciting, is not too hard here in Amman since apparently there are huge consequences for hitting even the most idiotic pedestrian. I can't even begin to count how many times I almost got hit by one of Ouagadougou's millions of motos. I still shudder when I remember the words to one particular song: "vroom... demarrer le moto!" Winner: Amman.

Currency: Jordan, your currency fucking sucks. Are you telling me I can only get 60 JDs for one of my dollars? So much better in Ouaga, where changing a couple bucks makes me feel like I am loaded. Winner: Ouagadougou.

Bathrooms: I won't even get started on Ouaga. But in Amman, not only are the bathrooms often nice, they usually contain an exotic delight: a bidet. How fun! Winner: Amman.

Okay, that is enough for today. So many other ridiculous categories I could think of, but I better get on my merry little way.

Oh, something hilarious: You know how in Canada, when a truck is backing up it makes a beeping noise? Here it plays a little song. Kickass.

On a hike at Mujib Nature Reserve today, while swimming across an algae filled river:

"Oh God, I think I got some water in my mouth!"

"Hey, that's even better since there is a dead bird floating next to you."

"Ha ha, very funn- OH GOD YOU'RE NOT JOKING!"

Well, I think I just got the water on my lips, and not actually in my mouth, but we'll see if I have avian flu tomorrow.

I really like it here, and I am having a hard time believing that I am going back to Canada so soon! I don't know why, but I feel a lot more at ease here, even when walking around by myself, than I ever did in Ouagadougou. Everyone says "welcome, welcome" and looks at my overly freckled face, of course, but there are none of the annoyances that comes from being a white girl in Ouaga. (In other words, I can walk down the street without the guarantee of having a young man following me within 30 seconds, and only being able to get rid of his company by jumping in a cab.) During the day, I have been visiting various sights with a group of British friends visiting until Sunday, since Salim has to work during the days. At night, we have gone out a bit (maybe I just like Arabs, but a bar here contains more good looking people than I thought possible), ate a ton (food here is heaven after the rice with sauce I ate all summer), and learned lots about the infamous "third world bourgeoisie," as Salim calls it. While Burkina Faso didn't actually change many of my preconceived notions about what West Africa was going to be like, Amman has been surprising in a number of ways, which I might only be able to concretely describe after I get back.

For now, a few photographs from last night at "Amigo," a nice little spot that could seriously be anywhere in the world.

Salim (trying to look dangerously sexy, but just turning out looking constipated) and I:






We had to duck for several police checkpoints. Great idea: sneaking around guys with assault rifles to save the half JD that a :b would cost:


Amman:


And, found on Salim's laptop, me in third year, high in my PJs after accidentally burning my nose with a lighter: