Vancouver Public Library

In an effort to save some money on textbooks I often find myself at the Central Branch of the Vancouver Public Library. Today was my first Sunday visit and I thought that I would relate some of my observations.

Sunday hours are extremely condensed. The library is only open from noon until 5pm which if you have serious work to get done or are a procrastinator like myself, might be something you consider.

Getting into the library is like lining up for a general admission rock concert. People clearly know where they want to be, and they are not afraid to throw some elbows to get their preferred seating.

My last point is a funny observance. As way of introduction I'll describe my deskmate. She was a slightly overweight girl in her mid twenties who was wearing a tight necked hoodie. At some point there was a person in and around our general area that had some serious body odour issues. I couldn't identify where the smell was originating and obviously neither could the girl sharing my desk. I could tell she suspected herself. She proceeded to insert her arm into the neck opening of her hoodie and scratch at her armpit vigourously. Having succeeded in eradicating her feigned itch, she quickly pretended to yawn covered her mouth and in that same gesture sniffed her fingers. Classic. She had obviously eliminated herself from the mystery of who stinks. I chuckled and continued my work...nothing was said but a slight blush indicated that she knew that I knew. Moral of the story? If your not sure that you stink...you probably do.

Never know what'll happen at the VPL.

S.

Holland Heineken House

Even though I have plenty to do at the moment it’s hard not to want to get out and experience some of the entertainment options we have right now in Vancouver that result from the olympic games. Tonight I set aside my work and took Victoria (after much pleading) to the Heineken house. Having spent some time in Amsterdam I thought it could be a good time. Victoria informed me that there was usually a several hour wait to get into this pavilion which made me assume that they’d brought the marijuana cafes and legalized prostitution with them from the Netherlands. Sadly this was not the case. While waiting in line we were approached by 2 dutch native trading their citizenship and a pass to the head of the line for cash. While we declined (our wait ended up only at the 20min mark) I had to admire their initiative, perhaps some of the prostitutional spirit had come with them, since these two were certainly selling themselves to the highest bidder. Once we got into the actual venue I was surprised by the actual lack of things to do. Much like my time in Amsterdam it seemed the Dutch here were encouraging Canadians to drink to excess, but my time in the Netherlands also exposed what would be my quest for the evening.

My problem is this: I was confused over the naming of the venue, was it the Netherlands, Holland, what was the name of this country? The name of the venue was the Holland Heineken House; not the Netherlands Heineken House, so I assumed Holland was the name. From my time in the Netherlands I knew Holland comes in two varieties in the Netherlands; North and South and both refer to a province of the Netherlands. Would we have a Canada house and then allow it to be named Ontario Labatt house? I think not. I began questioning the employees (after several glasses of beer), all of them indicated that the name Holland could indicate both the Netherlands and the province. I refused to believe them some critical piece of the puzzle was missing...I then asked what province they were from, the answer “Holland”. Gotcha. I began asking those not born in the province of Holland their thoughts. Universally they said that it was incorrect and should actually be named Netherlands house. Mystery Solved...who’s got my scubby snack?

A Wedding Toast

Quite recently I went home to Toronto for a wedding, the wedding was for my best friend. Stories began getting passed around as they often do, and I was reminded of one story in particular that made me grin, and I thought I'd share it. I’d reveal the name of my friend except that he is a lawyer and the story I’m about to portray while completely factual might be considered by some too revealing as to the content of his character. For the purposes of the story I’m about to tell I’ll refer to him as Ski.

The story takes place in Alacante Spain. Ski and I had just come off 4 days of heavy drinking in Barcelona and were looking for some time to recoup and reenergize ourselves. Fate was not on our side. Alacante was in the middle of a huge renaissance fair. Complete with straw covered streets and mead and honey liqueur. Drinking ensued and as time passed the inevitable hangover as well. We’d planned to lay low for the day and ride out our hangovers but alas this was not to be. Their are two features of our pension that are noteworthy for this story. The first and of lesser import was the fact that our room was situated over a cafe’s kitchen and as such was hotter than a baker’s zipper. The second was that we’d been warned not by our actual host but rather by other travellers that the plumbing in Alacante required that toilet paper not actually be flushed with the rest of the orchestra at the end of the concert, but rather placed in a bin. “A bin” Ski had scoffed “...savages, I’ll have none of it.” neither of us could guess exactly how fateful this decision would be.

Ski and I were each in our private purgatory. Rolling around in small beds in a hot room after drinking mead and eating payaya lead to the inevitable; My friend had to...release the hounds, as it were. Off down the hall to the bathroom he stumbled with all haste. More than 20 minutes past, when my friend returned he was white as a ghost, shaking. He didn’t say a word just grabbed me by the arm and yanked me out of the bed and down the hall. Now I’m 6’5” and weigh in and about 250 so manhandling me speaks to the state of mind of my friend. He was scared. The sight that greeted me... I’ll never forget. There was at least 3 inches of water and feeces floating around the bathroom like some perverse naval engagement and the water was rising. “What happened” I whispered. “I stuck to my guns and flushed the paper” he replied. “all this from one flush?” I asked “well at first it just wouldn’t flush”, he said “but my turd was givin me the stink eye so I went in for a second...then all hell broke loose”. “You never flush twice” I muttered to which he replied that “I wanted to see what would happen, curiosity got the best of me”.

It was quickly decided that escape was the only viable option, we need to cut bait now. Back to our room we ran and immediately started ramming clothes into our bags. A minute hadn’t pasted before there came a knock at our door. I opened the door a crack. It was one of the spanish students from down the hall who we’d been drinking with the night before. “my friend” he exclaimed “have you seen the bathroom?!?!” What followed can only be describe as the stuff academy awards are made of. “No” I said and for the second time in less than 10 minutes I found myself being dragged down that same hallway. “Answer me truthfully my friend” and with that he threw open the door to the bathroom “have you ever seen the like of THIS?” My performance continued unabated “Never, who could of done such a thing?” I asked with feigned ignorance “I’m not sure my friend but we must find out.” He pontificated. Off down the hall he headed while I raced back to our room. The rest of the clothes packed we started heading out the door. Down the hall all good. Stairs...same, and then I spotted them. The landlady was giving my spanish friend both barrels. She was screaming at him in a quick staccato of machine gun spanish. I looked back and Ski had his eyes pasted to the ground. As we squeezed by them I reached out and gave the spaniard a pat on the shoulder.

You jumped on a grenade that day friend and I think more of the Spanish every day for it. To my companion congrats on your wedding and here is to some of the memories we’ve made together.

S.

Canada vs. USA...

Super Sunday is HERE!!!!!!

GO CANADA GO!!!!!!!

Free Transit on the day of your event!

Hey everyone, I hope that you are all enjoying the Vancouver 2010 Winter Olympics. Natasha and I are trying to visit as many events and places as we can and as a result, we have neglected this blog a bit. Well actually, I guess I have since Tasha has actually done some posts :) Anyway, I am here to inform you of free transit!

If any of you are heading to an event around town and taking public transit then that is great! Because you will get free transit on the date of your event with your event ticket. What a great way to encourage people to take transit to the games instead of driving. But on a side note, public transit has been SOOOOOO much busier than the roads latley. Where is all this crazy traffic we've been preparing for? Well, I am not complaining. Anyway, please please take advantage of the free transit.

Oh! and if your in Yaletown, stop by the dollarstore there because they have LOTS of canada stuff for sale. Today we bought a pack of canada tatoos and some of those plastic air tubes that make noise when you bang them togethere. Does anyone know that those are called?

Show your Canadian spirit and enjoy the Olympic Fever!!!