For 5 years I've been using my "magic" mug from Beijing, China. I call it my magic mug because when you put hot water in it, the picture on it changes to reveal the Forbidden City.
However, this mug has always been finicky. Its magic resided in a plastic covering on its outside. You can imagine that over the course of five years, this plastic has started to goop up. You could see fingerprints melted into it, and despite the care I gave it, it was rolling into gunk in a few places.
Last week I finally got tired of having a crappy looking mug. I decided, "Okay Mau, time to suck it up an rip off it off and have a regular mug with no magic.
Well, as I started to scrape the plastic off, I noticed that it was coming off... Easily. What the heck? I continue to pull it off and lo and behold! Oops, that plastic should have been removed YEARS ago. Five years to be exact. Umm, oops?
So now I have a pretty and shiny mug which is goop-free but still retains its magical properties! Yahoo!
Wednesday, February 09, 2011
Saturday, January 15, 2011
Back to Ontario
It seems that many a peeps has been disappointed by my lack of posts lately. Since I am laid up with a bad back today I’ve decided to give my fans what they ask for: A burst of nothing but Mau! Oh happy day!
Before I begin though, I’d like to share a funny/sad fact. I’m truly losing the skills I learned in Quebec. Yesterday, I realized that I was no longer making typos on my English keyboard. Yup. When I first moved back to Ontario, I was constantly fumbling at typing – inserting the wrong character here and there. I’m pleased that I don’t have to stop, scratch my head and wonder, “Where the hell is the proper key?” But it’s also kinda sad.
Anyways, there are a few key things I’d like to write down before I forget because, damn, they were funnier than hell when I moved back to Ontario.
- During my first weekend here, my friend Shruthi came to visit. When she finally arrived, she looked very hesitant when she knocked on the door. It turns out that right before she came to my apartment (I live on the second floor of a house), she accidentally went to the wrong house. How the hell is that possible? Well, I live on Ellis Avenue. She went to my house number on Ellis Crescent, which is right down the street. When she arrived there, she knocked on the door and asked for Maureen… And was escorted to the little 90-something-year-old Maureen who happened to live there. Yup, I have a senior-citizen twin living down the street from me. Whoops! Needless to say, when friends come to visit now, I emphasize that they visit Ellis Avenue, not Crescent.
- On my first day of work at RIM, my manager took me around and introduced me to a zillion people. I was overwhelmed with names and faces, but one stood out. I interrupted my manager and asked the guy, “Wait, don’t I know you from Ottawa?” It turns out that I didn’t know him (which was a relief, because I kept thinking, “I thought his name was Dave! Not Greg!). Nope. I know his twin brother. Hell, I went to SCHOOL with his brother. What are the chances?! For my first month of work, whenever I heard the guy’s voice, I kept wanting to make sarcastic and inappropriate remarks, but then I’d remind myself, “Wait a second Mau, you don’t know him well enough to say that.”
- On my second day of work, I decided to go explore the building on my own a bit. I visited one of the kitchens, didn’t recognize anyone and was about to leave when some guy randomly asks me, “Hey, are you Melanie’s sister?” I was like, “Who the hell is this random person, and how does he know who I am?!” It turns out that he’s one of my sister’s patients, and they had been gossiping about me. When he heard there was a new Tech Writer in his building, and heard my sister’s description of me (hmm, wonder what she said?) he put two and two together.
One of the other big changes in my life since moving is that I have now joined the ranks of automobile owners. That’s right. I got me a car! That being said, it was not a simple or easy process.
Because I’m vehicle incompetent, I enlisted my father’s aid in car shopping. He gave me the task of test driving a few cars before he came, so that I’d be familiar with the different feels of them. Well zomg. The day I arranged to do some test drives, it was raining. And I don’t like driving at the best of times. However, I was more afraid of my father’s reaction than of driving, so I forced myself to go out. I tested a Nissan Versa and a Mazda 7 Hatchback (which I was drooling over).
The moment I drove out of the parking lot in the Mazda 7, I was stressing out madly. I could NOT figure out what was going on, but it kept losing all power (not stalling, but the engine would have absolutely no oomph). I wasn’t even sure if the damned thing was an automatic or standard, because the shifter looked like a zig-zagged automatic and nothing I’d ever seen before. I made it all the way down the street before I turned back and pleaded for help from the salesman. It turned out that the car had the option to drive like an automatic OR a manual, and I had accidentally put it in manual mode. Umm, oops?
The day we went car shopping for real, also turned out to be a blizzard. How lovely! My dad and I braved the highways to go to Stratford, where I test drove a multitude of vehicles. (I was hell bent on finding something, just so I could get this ordeal over with.) However, we finally gave up and returned to KW. By the time we visited a few other lots with no luck (but many more test drives – each with me, white-knuckled behind the wheel) I was ready to give up. (Did I mention that there was one car where neither my dad nor I could figure out how to turn off the damned windshield wipers?)
Before we called it quits, my dad and I decided to visit one last random dealership. And that my friends, is where I met the love of my life. The most hilarious car dealer came out and introduced us to a black 2009 Kia Rio5. It was like at first sight, admiration at the mention of the price, and adoration after I slid behind the wheel. While test driving, I told my dad, “Dad, I want this car.” He started chattering about how we could look at others, etc. and I interrupted him again with, “No. Dad, I WANT this car.”
That, ladies and gentlemen, is how I came to be the proud owner of Utjabanish, which means “car” in Cree. (I briefly contemplated naming it “The Dark Knight/Knave” but this stuck.) My legs have practically atrophied from lack of use since I got it. And I swear, the first time I went grocery shopping, I could hear heavenly choirs singing. I never realized what freedom could be had with a vehicle. I no longer have to consider the weight of the stuff I’m buying in case I have to lug it home. I don’t have to plan my trips around bus times, etc.
Another… Interesting (I use this word hesitantly) experience I had was right before Christmas. My sister texted me, “Want to see Hendel’s Messiah?” A quick Youtube search revelead that I liked that Christmas/Christian song so I said sure. Thank God there are gun laws in Canada because by the end of that night, both Steve and I were ready to put a bullet through either our own heads, or my sister’s. It was long. It was boring. And at the crux of the show, my sister sent me into a massive, MASSIVE giggle fit that had my crying with the effort of containing myself. And at the end of the show, my seat neighbour, a former member of the choir, asked me, “So, did you enjoy the show?” I was beyond impressed with my ability to lie through my teeth and assure him, “It was absolutely lovely!”
That’s it for now folks. It’s time to go put a hot water bottle on my back and self-medicate with cookies. Until next time!
Monday, October 11, 2010
Final destination
I just spent a lovely weekend with my family! We had many hijinks and laughs, but like all good things, our time together came to an end.
To go home, I had to catch the plane from Toronto To Montreal. By now flying is completely normal for me. I'm utterly blase. I did have a moment of concern when I first arrived at the airport since I couldn't see my flight listed on any boards. I shrugged it off and checked in anyways with no problem. When I arrived at my gate, it also showed a big sign indicating the flight was going to Montreal. Phew. Grab a seat, fetch my book, and relax till I gotta go. I got on the plane and got comfy.
By the time I got on the plane I was thoroughly bored so I put on my headphones and tuned out the airline attendants and their usual announcements. When I heard them say, blah blah blah "en route to St. John's" I ripped out my ear phones and jerked upright. What the hell?! How did I get on the wrong plane?! None of the other passengers moved or did anything obvious, but it was like we were all holding our breath, waiting to figure out how we all managed to get on the wrong plane.
Then the attendant laughed and told us that it was just a joke. Phew!
To go home, I had to catch the plane from Toronto To Montreal. By now flying is completely normal for me. I'm utterly blase. I did have a moment of concern when I first arrived at the airport since I couldn't see my flight listed on any boards. I shrugged it off and checked in anyways with no problem. When I arrived at my gate, it also showed a big sign indicating the flight was going to Montreal. Phew. Grab a seat, fetch my book, and relax till I gotta go. I got on the plane and got comfy.
By the time I got on the plane I was thoroughly bored so I put on my headphones and tuned out the airline attendants and their usual announcements. When I heard them say, blah blah blah "en route to St. John's" I ripped out my ear phones and jerked upright. What the hell?! How did I get on the wrong plane?! None of the other passengers moved or did anything obvious, but it was like we were all holding our breath, waiting to figure out how we all managed to get on the wrong plane.
Then the attendant laughed and told us that it was just a joke. Phew!
Wednesday, October 06, 2010
Je ne care pas
I am finally a true citizen of Montreal. I was chatting with my coworker one day in French and in the midst of our conversation I told her, “Je ne care pas.” When I realized that I had mixed the two languages together I started chuckling.
Despite my nefarious use of franglais, she completely understood what I was saying. She assured me that my unthinking blending of the two languages means that I am a true Quebecer, since they’re notorious for stealing English words.
Of course, my French isn’t all sunshine and roses. There was a moment yesterday when I wanted to ask her a question about archiving emails. Just as I started to pronounce the word, “archiver” I realized I couldn’t remember if it had a hard or soft “ch” sound. Instead I stuttered over the “ar” syllable for a good 15 seconds before finally giving up. It went something like this: “Alexandra, quand je veux ar-ar-ar-ar-ar-ar-ar-ar-ar-AUGH!” We both burst out laughing at my complete and utter failure to speak.
Some other crazy things about languages here in Montreal is how they affect English. On the island, certain words and grammar are stolen from the French. Instead of convenience stores, we have dépanneurs. Instead of training, we go for formation. You don’t use highways, you use autoroutes. You also open and close things rather than turn them on or off. (E.g. I’m closing my computer. I’m opening the lights.)
Despite my nefarious use of franglais, she completely understood what I was saying. She assured me that my unthinking blending of the two languages means that I am a true Quebecer, since they’re notorious for stealing English words.
Of course, my French isn’t all sunshine and roses. There was a moment yesterday when I wanted to ask her a question about archiving emails. Just as I started to pronounce the word, “archiver” I realized I couldn’t remember if it had a hard or soft “ch” sound. Instead I stuttered over the “ar” syllable for a good 15 seconds before finally giving up. It went something like this: “Alexandra, quand je veux ar-ar-ar-ar-ar-ar-ar-ar-ar-AUGH!” We both burst out laughing at my complete and utter failure to speak.
Some other crazy things about languages here in Montreal is how they affect English. On the island, certain words and grammar are stolen from the French. Instead of convenience stores, we have dépanneurs. Instead of training, we go for formation. You don’t use highways, you use autoroutes. You also open and close things rather than turn them on or off. (E.g. I’m closing my computer. I’m opening the lights.)
Saturday, October 02, 2010
Growing up
Once in awhile I stop and wonder, "How did I get here?"
I'm not talking about getting to certain locations either. No, I'm referring to life. I wonder, "How did I end up in this situation?" or "I never anticipated this for my future, how did I end up here?"
When I first started university, I had the ambition to be a Spanish major. 5 years later I graduated with a degree in History, went on an exchange to Hong Kong and did co-ops across Canada. That was certainly not how I envisioned my university life, but I like how things turned out!
After my undergrad I pursued graduate studies. 2 years later I found myself having withdrawn from university, working full time for a Hepatitis C scholarship program, traveling to Europe, and then living in Montreal. Again, this was never on my life's agenda!
Now here I am again, prepping to move back to Ontario, to a field of work I thought I'd avoid at all costs, and now I'm contemplating buying a car. Having been a pedestrian for the past 8 years, I am probably shocked by that last bit the most.
It's so interesting to see the changes that have been wrought in me. I remember in 2003, my friends and I signed a lease to an apartment together. When we handed over the deposit, I remember literally shaking with nerves and excitement. (My portion of the cheque was only $800.) Now here I am, bandying about the idea of buying $10,000 cars and talking about saving up for a house.
This is one of the reasons why I called my blog, "Mau's Stepping Stones" - because really, no one can anticipated where life will lead them.
I'm not talking about getting to certain locations either. No, I'm referring to life. I wonder, "How did I end up in this situation?" or "I never anticipated this for my future, how did I end up here?"
When I first started university, I had the ambition to be a Spanish major. 5 years later I graduated with a degree in History, went on an exchange to Hong Kong and did co-ops across Canada. That was certainly not how I envisioned my university life, but I like how things turned out!
After my undergrad I pursued graduate studies. 2 years later I found myself having withdrawn from university, working full time for a Hepatitis C scholarship program, traveling to Europe, and then living in Montreal. Again, this was never on my life's agenda!
Now here I am again, prepping to move back to Ontario, to a field of work I thought I'd avoid at all costs, and now I'm contemplating buying a car. Having been a pedestrian for the past 8 years, I am probably shocked by that last bit the most.
It's so interesting to see the changes that have been wrought in me. I remember in 2003, my friends and I signed a lease to an apartment together. When we handed over the deposit, I remember literally shaking with nerves and excitement. (My portion of the cheque was only $800.) Now here I am, bandying about the idea of buying $10,000 cars and talking about saving up for a house.
This is one of the reasons why I called my blog, "Mau's Stepping Stones" - because really, no one can anticipated where life will lead them.
Wednesday, September 29, 2010
Etiquette
This may or may not be true. I’m writing this based on my recollections. So if any of the individuals involved get offended by my portrayal of them, I apologize in advance.
My family is generally a very courteous bunch. In public we say please and thank you. (In private, this might not always be true.) We hold open doors or strollers or elderly people, etc. I have maintained these habits unto today.
If I get to a door first, I try to hold it open for those behind me. Obviously if there’s a stampede of individuals, I don’t bother. If I see a woman with a stroller or a delivery person with a large load to carry, I hold open doors for them too. (I also get really irritated when these people see me holding open the door but insist on hitting the handicap automatic door opener. It’s like, “Geez! I’m standing here waiting to help you but you don’t trust me?!”)
However, even though I’m all for equality between the sexes, I do find it very gratifying when a guy holds open the door for me. Or even better, when they scramble to hold open the door for me. It just shows some good old fashion politeness/chivalry in my opinion.
Now, let the guy bashing begin. On Friday I went out with 3 of my guy-friends. I was the token chick in the group. That entire night, I don’t remember them holding the door open for me once. Not once! And this is even after I would hold open doors for them! I mean, if we went into a building and there were two sets of doors, I would hold open the first door and let them pass. However, instead of returning the favour, these guys just sauntered through the second set of doors without reciprocating!
To be fair, I do recall that at one set of doors going to the subway, one of the guys did stop to let me go first. We did the awkward, “You go, no you go first” dance and I did end up going ahead of him. It was the double-door incident that made me notice how ungallant these guys were being. I started paying attention afterwards to see if it was just my imagination or if these slights were real.
Again, to be fair, two months ago I was out with two of these same guys for the Just For Laughs festival. I neglected to bring an umbrella and it started to monsoon rain. Luckily it was warm, so I wasn’t overly miserable. One of the guys tried to share his umbrella with me, which was rather pointless in my opinion – I was already soaked, so why make him get partially wet too? He insisted and I gave in for a bit, but we were constantly bumping into each other and once in awhile his umbrella would tilt and send a huge stream of water down my back. Later on that night, again they both tried to share, but I’d either get floods of water down my back or boobs, or the shorter guy would try to take my eyeballs out with the edges of his umbrella.
So if you’re a random guy out there reading this, the message is: The majority of girls still like the door being held open for them!
My family is generally a very courteous bunch. In public we say please and thank you. (In private, this might not always be true.) We hold open doors or strollers or elderly people, etc. I have maintained these habits unto today.
If I get to a door first, I try to hold it open for those behind me. Obviously if there’s a stampede of individuals, I don’t bother. If I see a woman with a stroller or a delivery person with a large load to carry, I hold open doors for them too. (I also get really irritated when these people see me holding open the door but insist on hitting the handicap automatic door opener. It’s like, “Geez! I’m standing here waiting to help you but you don’t trust me?!”)
However, even though I’m all for equality between the sexes, I do find it very gratifying when a guy holds open the door for me. Or even better, when they scramble to hold open the door for me. It just shows some good old fashion politeness/chivalry in my opinion.
Now, let the guy bashing begin. On Friday I went out with 3 of my guy-friends. I was the token chick in the group. That entire night, I don’t remember them holding the door open for me once. Not once! And this is even after I would hold open doors for them! I mean, if we went into a building and there were two sets of doors, I would hold open the first door and let them pass. However, instead of returning the favour, these guys just sauntered through the second set of doors without reciprocating!
To be fair, I do recall that at one set of doors going to the subway, one of the guys did stop to let me go first. We did the awkward, “You go, no you go first” dance and I did end up going ahead of him. It was the double-door incident that made me notice how ungallant these guys were being. I started paying attention afterwards to see if it was just my imagination or if these slights were real.
Again, to be fair, two months ago I was out with two of these same guys for the Just For Laughs festival. I neglected to bring an umbrella and it started to monsoon rain. Luckily it was warm, so I wasn’t overly miserable. One of the guys tried to share his umbrella with me, which was rather pointless in my opinion – I was already soaked, so why make him get partially wet too? He insisted and I gave in for a bit, but we were constantly bumping into each other and once in awhile his umbrella would tilt and send a huge stream of water down my back. Later on that night, again they both tried to share, but I’d either get floods of water down my back or boobs, or the shorter guy would try to take my eyeballs out with the edges of his umbrella.
So if you’re a random guy out there reading this, the message is: The majority of girls still like the door being held open for them!
Conversations with the big guy
Zomg. My head was going to explode this morning. Today was the first discussion session for the grad course that my organization runs. I was running around (figuratively) like a chicken with my head cut off, trying to tackle all the stuff that popped up all at once.
Luckily everyone managed to attend with little to no problems. It went very smoothly. We just need to encourage the Francophone/Allophone students to speak some more and life will be perfect!
My boss came to do a short post-mortem session with me afterwards. We discussed some possible issues for future sessions, etc. Finally he tells me, “Feel free to make use of me in any way that is needed.” (As in, feel free to call him for help if the course is having problems.)
I replied, “Those are dangerous words to say in my presence.” (In the sense of, I might call on him all the time.)
He says, “Well, you know me. I’m quite willing to help, but I’m not always prompt on responding to my emails.”
I couldn’t stop the sarcasm from erupting, “Really? I hadn’t noticed!”
He just cackled in response.
Monday, September 27, 2010
Snubbing
Since arriving in Montreal, I’ve become remarkably good at snubbing people. Most of it is justified – e.g. I don’t bother replying to people handing out the Quran, or bible, or copies of the Bhagavad-Gita. Nor do I accept flyers or pamphlets from the people protesting puppy mills, etc. Nope. When I’m walking, I tend to charge ahead and bull through things. If someone’s overly aggressive, I just jump out the way and detour around them.
It took me a full month (or two) to train one fellow not to pester me though. Everyday outside of my metro station there’s a guy handing out free copies of “24 Heures” – a French newspaper. He’s very aggressive about handing them out. He’ll nudge himself in your way to try to force you to take the paper. He also announces over and over, “24 Hours, free to take, 24 Hours,” etc. It’s very aggravating. It also doesn’t help that it’s morning whenever I encounter him. As already mentioned, I don’t do mornings.
After a month of ignoring him though, he got the hint. Now whenever I pass by him, he withholds his newspapers and just nods in recognition of my surliness. Phew.
It took me a full month (or two) to train one fellow not to pester me though. Everyday outside of my metro station there’s a guy handing out free copies of “24 Heures” – a French newspaper. He’s very aggressive about handing them out. He’ll nudge himself in your way to try to force you to take the paper. He also announces over and over, “24 Hours, free to take, 24 Hours,” etc. It’s very aggravating. It also doesn’t help that it’s morning whenever I encounter him. As already mentioned, I don’t do mornings.
After a month of ignoring him though, he got the hint. Now whenever I pass by him, he withholds his newspapers and just nods in recognition of my surliness. Phew.
Thursday, September 23, 2010
Going bananas...
Last year my apartment suffered a break in. I came home to discover my bananas were hanging half way out the kitchen window and that some nefarious fiend had stolen my $2 avocado! The nerve!
Obviously this wasn't a common criminal. No, this must have been the work of a super-squirrel! One that could climb vertical surfaces without a safety harness. Who could leap long distances without fear!
How did they accomplish this fiendish act? Well, during the summer I have my AC installed in my kitchen. However, when it's not too hot, I like to keep the window open as far as it can. Unfortunately the way it is set up, I can't close the screen at the same time, so there's always a 20 cm gap. That's how the brutish beast accomplishes his acts of terror.
This year, he seemed to have avoided my apartment again. (Or perhaps my fruit selections weren't to his taste.) However, last Saturday something woke me up at 6am. I heard a small clunk sound and some scratching. My heart was pounding. I thought there was a burglar in my apartment! I played dead, trying to figure out where the sound was coming from. Eventually I realized that the sound was too quiet to be a person and it stopped, so I assumed that it was a mouse.
I was wrong.
When I finally got up, I discovered that my archenemy had struck again. He decided to dig around the oregano plant that was sitting on my counter! Dirt was everywhere! If you know me, you know not to mess with my plants. I patched up my plant as best I could and resolved to close the window that night. And after a day full of cooking and grocery shopping, that's exactly what I did.
Except he outsmarted me again.
The next morning I decided to make pancakes and top them with a banana. But when I fetched said banana, I discovered that he had partially eaten one of them!!!
Apparently the monster conducted a raid during mid-day while I was home! Can you believe his gall? Never mind that; I'm more horrified by the fact that I got beaten by a SQUIRREL. Needless to say, the AC is now removed and the screen is back in place.
That doesn't stop him from dreaming though. Today I heard what sounded like someone moving a ladder outside. I pulled back my kitchen window curtains, and there he way. Clinging to my screen. I could see his wicked plans for theft in his beady little eyes. Luckily he was foiled by the screen. Phew!
Obviously this wasn't a common criminal. No, this must have been the work of a super-squirrel! One that could climb vertical surfaces without a safety harness. Who could leap long distances without fear!
How did they accomplish this fiendish act? Well, during the summer I have my AC installed in my kitchen. However, when it's not too hot, I like to keep the window open as far as it can. Unfortunately the way it is set up, I can't close the screen at the same time, so there's always a 20 cm gap. That's how the brutish beast accomplishes his acts of terror.
This year, he seemed to have avoided my apartment again. (Or perhaps my fruit selections weren't to his taste.) However, last Saturday something woke me up at 6am. I heard a small clunk sound and some scratching. My heart was pounding. I thought there was a burglar in my apartment! I played dead, trying to figure out where the sound was coming from. Eventually I realized that the sound was too quiet to be a person and it stopped, so I assumed that it was a mouse.
I was wrong.
When I finally got up, I discovered that my archenemy had struck again. He decided to dig around the oregano plant that was sitting on my counter! Dirt was everywhere! If you know me, you know not to mess with my plants. I patched up my plant as best I could and resolved to close the window that night. And after a day full of cooking and grocery shopping, that's exactly what I did.
Except he outsmarted me again.
The next morning I decided to make pancakes and top them with a banana. But when I fetched said banana, I discovered that he had partially eaten one of them!!!
Apparently the monster conducted a raid during mid-day while I was home! Can you believe his gall? Never mind that; I'm more horrified by the fact that I got beaten by a SQUIRREL. Needless to say, the AC is now removed and the screen is back in place.
That doesn't stop him from dreaming though. Today I heard what sounded like someone moving a ladder outside. I pulled back my kitchen window curtains, and there he way. Clinging to my screen. I could see his wicked plans for theft in his beady little eyes. Luckily he was foiled by the screen. Phew!
Friday, July 09, 2010
"It's ok to ask for help."
I found a website today entitled, "You were doing it wrong". Essentially it's a compilation of confessions from people who realized, late in life that they've been doing things wrong - sometimes the stories are innocuous, sometimes embarrasing and funny. There's a lot of people who mention that they've never learned to pronounce words properly (e.g. segue, salmon, etc.). One person mentioned how they finally learned to eat a kiwi (cut in half and eat with a spoon) and afterwards, 5 people replied with astonishment - they too didn't know how to eat a kiwi properly!
So as I said, most of the stories are funny. But this one caught my eye because it was so much longer than the others. And upon reading it I couldn't help but be touched. It was pretty damned amazing. So amazing that I wanted to repost it here.
So as I said, most of the stories are funny. But this one caught my eye because it was so much longer than the others. And upon reading it I couldn't help but be touched. It was pretty damned amazing. So amazing that I wanted to repost it here.
There are two things I've done wrong for most of my life.
My folks came over from Korea, and I was born a year after they'd arrived. I grew up in a traditional Korean household, as the oldest of three boys, and was tasked with the duties and responsibilities one would imagine as being typical for anyone who is the oldest sibling of a bunch, as well as being expected to pursue the prototypical and stereotyped alpha Asian male: be the second head of the household, behind the father, accept responsibility for the stupid things your younger siblings may have done, excel in all things academic, and become successful in a professional sense.
So I did all that. I didn't know what else I could do. I studied everything, with most things being genuinely interesting, and a few things being completely dull but pursued due to parental pressure. From an early age, I was picked out from amongst the other school kids and underwent rigorous testing, just to prove I could score greater than the XXth percentile on one test or another. I was given labels as a testament to my test-taking abilities, but the only ones that really stuck were "geek," "nerd," and other pretty base terms that didn't have much to do with intellect at all.
When there was a question, I was expected to answer it. Not just simple questions, but questions that had to do with culture (I'm a first-generation American), or questions regarding neighborhood or family politics (yes, there are neighborhood elders or Korean "godfathers," and all sorts of other related nonsense).
I grew to be a jack-of-all-trades, master of none. I knew a lot about a lot of things, a little about almost everything, but not everything about anything. I had a brief stint at an Ivy League university, at a relatively young age, lived on my own, read Atlas Shrugged, and everything clicked: I am great. I am smart. I will be successful.
I went on to medical school, and for reasons I'll get to in a moment, ended up pursuing a residency in primary care, forgoing the more competitive specialties. I was at the top of my game, and then a whole bunch of things happened at once.
Pop got sick. Really sick. Girl cheated on me, left me. I had no money. I was going to two different plasma centers, cheating the system by coating my pinky nail with nail polish and using acetone I hoarked from the med school to get rid of the dye that lit up under a blacklight at the plasma places, used to mark people so that they couldn't go to multiple centers. I don't think it fooled anyone. I was depressed. Everyone's still looking to me to be the head of the household while my father wasn't doing so well. My academic performance suffered, I shunned my friends, and I tried to fix things on my own, the way I'd always done-- the way I was raised to do.
Professors and attendings would ask if I was ok. Is everything ok? You look worn out. Is everything ok? And I'd say, yeah, everything's fine. I'll just study more, or work more, and things will improve.
Things didn't improve.
One snowless February afternoon (For some reason I always remember it being snowless, even though it almost never snows here), as I was walking back from giving plasma, I got really, really cold. Entering my apartment, I got really lightheaded, and I had a sudden urge to take a shit. So I went. All that plasma they take out of you while you're watching Lifetime movies on those small TVs with the bums who're wondering what a Korean guy is doing giving plasma in an area with no Asian people? They replace it with saline. And that saline must've just gone straight into my bowels. I had a single bout of massive diarrhea, barely made it to bed, and woke up twenty hours later.
I gave up on donating plasma. A few days later, I was stopped in the hallway by the head of neurology-- this is a guy I really didn't know, and he said something like this to me: Hey, look. Look. I don't know what's going on, and I don't know what you're going through. It's none of my business. And then he said this, verbatim: "It's ok to ask for help." And he gave me the number to a psychiatrist.
And really, seriously: I might post funny stories about apples, or other humorous anecdotes about The Way Things Are, but that one phrase was like discovering something so wondrous, so foreign, that my brain could never have fathomed it as a possibility. It's ok to ask for help. So I did. And things got better. My colleagues helped me. My friends helped me. My family helped me: people whom I've known for my entire life helped me. It's always been easy for me to tell other people "that's what friends are for," or "that's what family's for," but it took me decades to accept it for myself as even a mere possibility.
I am very successful now. Professionally, yes, but more importantly, personally: I have FRIENDS. I have FAMILY. I know now that I've had and will always have people who will not simply support me, but HELP me. And more than anything else, these simple facts have helped me become the physician I am now: have advanced my career to the point of pretty much absolute success and satisfaction. My patients like me. Their families like me. The hospital staff likes me. I have the respect of my peers. I feel that I am a decent physician, and a good man. Why?
Because I take my time to break things down so that people understand what I'm talking about when it comes to their loved ones. Because I know it's not just enough to take care of the patient, but that it's also my responsibility to take care of the family and friends and their bedside. Because I am able to admit, often remind myself of, and am supremely humbled by the fact that I was so wrong about two things for most of my life: that for all I may think I know, there's so much I do not know and cannot even fathom to know, still. And that it's ok to ask for help.
I was also wrong about Atlas Shrugged being great.
posted by herrdoktor at 8:12 PM on July 6 [277 favorites]
Wednesday, July 07, 2010
Lovely Loos
Zomg! Why didn't anyone ever tell me about this contest? Lovely Loos It fits right in with my bathroom obsession. Must visit Toronto and Vancouver now.
Thursday, June 17, 2010
Friday, June 04, 2010
They say you can’t teach an old dog new tricks. My father (who reads this blog) aptly demonstrated this saying.
A couple of weeks ago he mailed me a package. I was unaware of this fact until my mother asked why I hadn’t phoned them about it yet. She gave me the package’s tracking number so I could figure out when it was going to arrive. The next day I checked the number and I could follow the package’s progress from Owen Sound to Montreal and… Back to Owen Sound?
My father, in all his educated glory, forgot to write my apartment number on the package. Therefore the post office received it, sent it to Montreal, discovered they didn’t know which of the 17 apartments in my building to give it to, so they returned it to my parents.
This isn’t the first time this has happened either.
A couple of months ago my dad did the same thing. Luckily my landlord happened to be there, so he accepted and delivered the package to me.
The best thing about the story this time is that my mom double checked and asked him, “Did you remember to put the apartment number on it?”
He replied with a roll of the eyes and an exasperated, “Yes dear.” (I can totally picture this and hear his tone of voice.)
Now that I think about it, mail has been around since forever so the adage about old dogs and new tricks doesn’t apply. How about this instead? He’s just getting senile.
A couple of weeks ago he mailed me a package. I was unaware of this fact until my mother asked why I hadn’t phoned them about it yet. She gave me the package’s tracking number so I could figure out when it was going to arrive. The next day I checked the number and I could follow the package’s progress from Owen Sound to Montreal and… Back to Owen Sound?
My father, in all his educated glory, forgot to write my apartment number on the package. Therefore the post office received it, sent it to Montreal, discovered they didn’t know which of the 17 apartments in my building to give it to, so they returned it to my parents.
This isn’t the first time this has happened either.
A couple of months ago my dad did the same thing. Luckily my landlord happened to be there, so he accepted and delivered the package to me.
The best thing about the story this time is that my mom double checked and asked him, “Did you remember to put the apartment number on it?”
He replied with a roll of the eyes and an exasperated, “Yes dear.” (I can totally picture this and hear his tone of voice.)
Now that I think about it, mail has been around since forever so the adage about old dogs and new tricks doesn’t apply. How about this instead? He’s just getting senile.
Tuesday, June 01, 2010
Homonyms
On Sunday night I was arguing with two friends over homonyms. I felt that French had more homonyms (words that sound the same but are spelled differently) than English. I mean, come on, when conjugated, many French verbs sound the exact same. Take the Imperfect verb tense as an example. You add the following endings to the verbs:
He put me even further in my place when he emailed me Alan Coopers' Homonyms. Wow. Them's a lot of homonyms. I don't think I'll argue against English not having homonyms anymore...
- ais*
- ait*
- issons
- issez
- aient*
He put me even further in my place when he emailed me Alan Coopers' Homonyms. Wow. Them's a lot of homonyms. I don't think I'll argue against English not having homonyms anymore...
Monday, May 31, 2010
Politically Correct
The Economist.com is prepping to do an article on non-PC jokes. To prepare, they asked their readers to deliberately leave their favourite non-PC jokes in the comments sections. The only guidelines they gave were, "Readers are welcome to post jokes in the comments section below and to recommend the ones they like best. A future column will pick some winners. Political correctness will not be applied, so ethnic stereotypes, historical grudges and other forms of grotesque unfairness will (within reason) be tolerated." Some of them like this jem are hilarious:
A Romanian and a Hungarian fishing in the same River. One of them catches The Golden Fish. The fish proposes to fulfil one wish to each of them.
The Hungarian is the first to have an idea. "Hey Fish, do you know the Chinese wall?"And another:
"Yes."
"Take it and surround Hungary with it, so that no Romanian can ever enter Hungary."
"Ok, no problem."
The fish turns to the Romanian, "What about you?"
"Well, tell me, does that wall have any doors?"
"Nope."
"Windows?"
"Nope."
"Then, fill it with water."
Bill Clinton, Silvio Berlusconi, and Nicolas Sarkozy were all killed by an al-quaida bomb in Davos. As they stood before God, they were each asked to confess their sins and justify their entrance into heaven. "Well, God" Bill Clinton spoke up, "I know Ive had some trouble with women... but Ive always helped the poor and stood against racism". "OK, you can enter", said God. "Almighty God", Spoke Sr. Berlusconi "I know I have had trouble with the finances... but Ive always protected the Church". So God lets him in too. "Ahem...M. God" Said President Sarkozy, "I believe you are sitting in my chair."And another:
Communism, Socialism and Capitalism are having a planned meeting: Socialism arrives late, all wrinkled up, sweating, catching its breath and excuses itself:And yet some more:
- I'm sorry I'm late, I was at a meat shop in the queue waiting to be served.
Capitalism ask: - What's a queue?
Communism ask: - What is meat?
- Scientists conducted an experiment: two men and a woman from France, England and Soviet Russia each, were placed on desert islands. When the scientists revisited them in a year they found the French living on the island with one man married to the woman, another being her lover. The British were not speaking to each other, because they were never properly introduced and the Russians had the following arrangement. The scientists found a wooden house in the middle of the island, two men were inside sitting at big desks - one said: General Secretary, the other Executive Chairman. When asked about the woman, the men replied: "Oh you mean the PEOPLE, the people are working in the fields..."
- Have you seen the French battle flag? A white cross on a white background
- A Pole and a Texan are sitting in a bar, discussing how much land they own. As the drinks become emptier the claims become bolder. In the end after the latest harangue by the Pole, the incensed Texan stands up and says "Son, if I were to get up and the break of dawn and get in my car and start driving. Come nightfall I'd still be on my land." The Pole reaches over, sympathy showing in his eyes, patting the Texan on the back, he says "I'm so sorry, I used to have a car like that too."
- A Gypsy son asks his father,"Daddy, what is democracy?" His father replies,"It is when white people do all the work, and we collect all of the benefits." Son, "Don't they mind?" Father, "Of coarse they do, but if they try to do anything about it, we just shout "Racism!" [This isn't necessarily funny, but wow it's crazy some of the grudges that are carried...]
- A Russian, Ukrainian and Belarussian are sitting down, each on their own park bench. All three benches have a nail pointing out of it. First the Russian sits down, feels the nail, gets angry and kicks the bench, takes a stone and beats the nail flat. The Ukrainian gets up surprised, sees the nail and comes to the idea that he might use it for something, so the drags it out with some pliers. The Belarussian feels the nail, but keeps sitting, as he assumes that this is probably the way it is supposed to be.
- If people from Poland are called Poles, then what should we call people from Holland ??
Where there's smoke, there's fire
Sometimes it's hard figuring out why you don't want to get up in the mornings. Today I woke up and really didn't want to get out of bed. More so than normal. And by the time I got to work I was feeling ill, but I couldn't quite put my finger on why. I had several theories:
- I was randomly sick.
- I was up later than normal last night. Sometimes lack of sleep can make me feel sick.
- I hadn't eaten enough this morning. Again, sometimes lack of food can also make me feel sick.
Wait, smoke in Montreal? Yes, that electrical fire smell that I first thought was in my apartment, and then thought was outside in my neighborhood, and then thought was inside my head (since how could a small follow me across half the city to work) is real. It's the result of 52 local forest fires in Quebec, 8 of which are burning out of control.
Environment canada even updated their forecast to have a "smoke" warning. Yikes! And looking at my friends' facebook statuses from Ottawa, they too are seeing and smelling smoke. That's just crazy!
Friday, May 28, 2010
Tough morning
It was tough getting out of bed this morning. I woke up at 2 AM, and then 6 AM. And then I was woken again at 6:47 by the garbage trucks. I contemplated getting up but I was too cozy so I went back to sleep until 7. And when my alarm clock went off I was still too cozy so I reset it till 7:12. (Not 7:10, not 7:15, because one is too early, the other too late.) But at 7:12 I was still tired so I reset it again to 7:25. And at 7:25 I turned it off again and lay there, trying to muster the energy to rise. But mustering is a lot of work, so I didn't get up until 7:30. Thank goodness I had a shower the night before.
Wednesday, May 26, 2010
Head scarves
Quebec is currently trying to pass a law to ban the wearing of niqabs (the muslim head scarves that cover your entire face) if a) you work for the provincial government or b) you want provincial services.
However, the law for the “reasonable accommodation of minorities” isn’t talking about minorities in general, it’s pretty much targeting muslims alone. I personally am against this law. I’ve been sitting around, quietly disagreeing with this law, but my private musings aren’t going to do too much good if people assume my silence means acceptance. Therefore I am saying out loud (or at least electronically) that I am against this law.
To a certain extent at least. Obviously there should be times when a woman will have to expose her face, but she should be accommodated with a curtained off area, being guaranteed service by another woman, etc.
Of course I am supporting the niqab with the assumption that the woman is wearing it by choice. If the government is against it because they see it as a form of suppression, then they should dedicate their time and resources to understanding why these women wear the head scarf. Rather than banning the clothing, the government should also ensure that the women who are forced to wear the scarves have alternative options, safe havens they can flee to if necessary. If we can provide safe houses, counselling and other resources for abused women, we can surely provide it for victims of religious oppression, right?
Canada is supposed to be a haven of multiculturalism, right? We allow our RCMP officers to wear turbans, people can wear their kirpans, asian restaurants have their mini-shrines, etc. If we’re going to ban niqabs then we should ban all religious symbols including the ones listed above. And let’s not forget nuns’ habits or crosses in public spaces. Hell, to be fair, I won’t even want to see a cross hanging on a necklace! And then there’s the issue of the Lord’s prayer that’s still said in some public schools and even at the Quebec government. Now there’s a religious symbol that bothers me. I first heard the Lord’s Prayer in grade 7. I have never understood why we have a public prayer in a supposedly secular setting.
The Charest government is claiming that 94% of Quebecers and 80% of Canadians agree with the banning of the niqab. However, when the bill was first introduced, it was killed after 3 days. Phew! If this bill does eventually pass, I will seriously reconsider voting for the Liberals in the next election… But of course, my choice will also depend on how much support there is for the PQ and Conservatives.
However, the law for the “reasonable accommodation of minorities” isn’t talking about minorities in general, it’s pretty much targeting muslims alone. I personally am against this law. I’ve been sitting around, quietly disagreeing with this law, but my private musings aren’t going to do too much good if people assume my silence means acceptance. Therefore I am saying out loud (or at least electronically) that I am against this law.
To a certain extent at least. Obviously there should be times when a woman will have to expose her face, but she should be accommodated with a curtained off area, being guaranteed service by another woman, etc.
Of course I am supporting the niqab with the assumption that the woman is wearing it by choice. If the government is against it because they see it as a form of suppression, then they should dedicate their time and resources to understanding why these women wear the head scarf. Rather than banning the clothing, the government should also ensure that the women who are forced to wear the scarves have alternative options, safe havens they can flee to if necessary. If we can provide safe houses, counselling and other resources for abused women, we can surely provide it for victims of religious oppression, right?
Canada is supposed to be a haven of multiculturalism, right? We allow our RCMP officers to wear turbans, people can wear their kirpans, asian restaurants have their mini-shrines, etc. If we’re going to ban niqabs then we should ban all religious symbols including the ones listed above. And let’s not forget nuns’ habits or crosses in public spaces. Hell, to be fair, I won’t even want to see a cross hanging on a necklace! And then there’s the issue of the Lord’s prayer that’s still said in some public schools and even at the Quebec government. Now there’s a religious symbol that bothers me. I first heard the Lord’s Prayer in grade 7. I have never understood why we have a public prayer in a supposedly secular setting.
The Charest government is claiming that 94% of Quebecers and 80% of Canadians agree with the banning of the niqab. However, when the bill was first introduced, it was killed after 3 days. Phew! If this bill does eventually pass, I will seriously reconsider voting for the Liberals in the next election… But of course, my choice will also depend on how much support there is for the PQ and Conservatives.
The New World
Tuesday, May 25, 2010
White Water Rafting
Several weeks ago my friend Victoria informed me that for her fiancé’s birthday, they were gathering a group of friends to go white water rafting and would I be interested in coming along? I figured, why not? Sure I haven’t gone swimming in years, and am not a huge fan of water in general, but how dangerous could it be if the rafting company was willing to take complete amateurs out into the rapids?
Apparently I was the only one who thought that way. By the time the actual day for rafting came up, only 4 of us, my friend, her fiancé (Rupesh) and his friend (Siraj) showed up. Everyone else chickened out!
We made it to the rafting site by 8:00 AM and went through the process of registering and getting our equipment. Because it wasn’t the busy season, the company provided us with full wetsuits (meaning they covered us from ankles to our wrists all the way up to our necks) for free. I must say that wet suits are very flattering for the figure, but are beyond difficult to get into. By the end of the day though, I was very happy to be wearing it.
Before moving to the water, we were given a basic briefing on our equipment, safety procedures, and possible scenarios we might encounter. Interesting tidbits included our life jackets – these jackets were specially designed for white water rafting (or at least for falling into rapids) because they had a short “cape” on the neck that would flip up and supposedly create a pocket of air for you – meaning that it would force the current to go around your head rather than over it. Of course, this cape only works if you’re facing in the right direction – more on this later.
As mentioned, we were also walked through some possible scenarios and what to do during them. E.g. What do we do if we fall out of the raft? What if the raft flips over? What do we do if we’re swept away from the raft? Etc. At the beginning of the safety lecture, the guides mentioned that there were white helmets and red helmets available. If you took a red helmet it indicated that either you couldn’t swim or you were less comfortable in the water. It didn’t necessarily mean that you would be saved first, but it let the guides keep an eye on you. Up until the safety lecture I had every intention of wearing a white helmet, but after hearing about sharp rocks, riptides that could hold you under the water, etc, I swallowed my pride and nabbed a red helmet and felt so much better for it (not that it did me any good all day).
Upon getting into the rafts we were taught and practiced the various commands. For example, we learned what to do if the guide yelled “paddle hard” (a normal paddle, but faster and pulling back harder – essentially you were paddling like a bat out of hell), “get down” (meaning that you slid off your seat into a crouched position and grabbed on to the perimeter line – also known as the “oh shit” line), and “hold on” (maintain your position, grab the OS line, and hang your body weight down and into the centre of the raft. It sounds simple enough, but until you actually ventured on to the rapids, you continually forgot about the OS line and could not appreciate its security.
Also, before each rapid, the guides would also give you a briefing on what to expect, what you were trying to do, and what to do if you fell out or if the raft flipped over. Therefore they’d say, “Okay, if we flip over, I want you to swim towards the boat. If you can’t reach the boat, swim towards the left shore. We’ll pick you up from there!” (Before each rapid, our boat was filled with my out-loud muttering, “Okay, Mau, aim for the boat or left shore. Boat or left shore. Don’t go right.”)
One thing that I never really clued into before was the fact that there’s no way to secure yourself to a raft. I always assumed there was a rope or something to help keep you in there. But there’s not! (Which makes sense, since if you were strapped in, it would be very unpleasant when the raft flipped over.) To sit in the raft, you have to sit on the outside edge of the raft (again, I always assumed that you sat on the middle sections that look like inflated seats) and then you wedge your feet into the crevice of the inflated cross-tubes in front and behind you. That’s all. The only way to attach yourself to the raft is by holding on to the OS line, which is hard to do when you’re being thrown about and also trying to hang on to your paddle – and it doesn’t help that you’re usually holding on to the paddle with your dominant hand meaning that you can’t grab the OS line with your dominant hand. Therefore I always found myself holding both my paddle and the OS line with one hand, meaning my paddle would smack into the water and cause both me and the boat more turbulence!
Finally we arrived at the rapids. I must admit that when I first saw them, I wasn’t overly impressed. They looked small! How on earth could this be exciting? Well, I asked, and Nature answered.
Our raft was always the first one into the rapids. The guide yelled for us to paddle hard, so I started paddling like mad, except, suddenly I’m paddling air! That’s right – my side of the raft has literally bounced out of the water and I can’t reach the river anymore. The next thing I know, we slam back down into the water and so I start paddling like crazy again only for the raft to fly up into the air again. The third time we slam up, we continue to go up, up, up and over. That’s right, we flipped the raft completely upside down! I came up underneath the raft, bumping my head – I panicked and started kicking my feet like mad until I came up to the surface.
And then I realized where the true dangers of rafting come from. Sure, I was on the surface of the water, but I was still caught in the dissipating rapids. I kept getting waves in the face, causing me to gulp in water – I couldn’t get a full breath of air. Finally though, the waves slowed, and I saw our raft. Victoria was near me, and I could see Siraj and Rupesh getting towed back to the raft via a safety kayaker. Our guide (who by this point had righted the raft) threw the tow line to me and Vic, so we managed to get back on the raft too.
Wow. I cannot believe how physically exhausted I was. My entire body was trembling. I could barely manage to sit upright – nevermind helping my friends back into the raft. We all lay at the bottom of our raft for a few moments, gathering our wits and strength. When I finally gathered myself and sat up, I was surprised to see how far we had drifted from the rapids!
Our guide was completely enthusiastic, happy with our results, etc. Meanwhile I’m huddling in the raft, wailing internally, “What did I get myself into? How can I go through that again?” But since I didn’t want to be a spoilsport for everyone, I kept my mouth such, even as my stomach twisted with nervousness while paddling back to the rapids. (It turns out later that all of us were experiencing the same emotions, but none of us wanted to say anything.) One amusing thing to happen though was that the first thing Victoria said when she got back in the raft was, “I lost my shoes!” Yes. Her water shoes were literally ripped off her feet by the rapids. Whoops!
The second time we went through was a bit better – we had a better idea of what to expect (e.g. I knew not to be surprised to find myself suddenly paddling air). We also managed to NOT flip the raft over, which was a huge plus in my books.
On our third time through the same rapids we managed to catch the “surf.” Essentially that means that we had guided our raft into a spot on the rapids where the conflicting currents captured the raft and kept it in one position, so we didn’t have to paddle or anything. However, all good things must come to and end. The front of our raft started drifting out of position, and the next thing I know, I’m flying through the air again. Luckily I was holding to the OS line this time. I came up underneath the raft this time, was able to grab a half breath of air from the air pocket, and then I popped to the outside of the raft. Everyone had managed to hold on to the line, so our guide was able to flip the raft right side up and get everyone in. I was very happy after that second flip – it was a lot less chaotic and I didn’t get mouthfuls of water this time. Now that I knew what to expect, I was reassured by the whole process.
The next set of rapids we went to were called the Garburator. Our guide assured us to not worry if we couldn’t catch the surf because it was very hard to do at this time of year, etc. He also told us that if we fell out, or if we flipped the raft over, to not worry about getting back to the raft. Instead, we were supposed to swim towards the right side of the shore where other guides were waiting with ropes to tow us in, and there were safety kayakers waiting downstream to help guide us in.
So we went over the rapids and then paddled to get into position for our first “run.” When all the other rafts were in position and the safety people in place, there was nothing left but to paddle hard into the rapids. We didn’t quite catch the surf – instead we bounced around a bit and then got spat out. We paddled like mad to get back into calm waters so we could try again and wasted our time watching the other boats and kayaks go through. We also got to watch the other 6-man raft in front of us flip over. Reassuring? I think not. Then it was our turn again.
We paddled like mad with our guide turning our raft as necessary. Suddenly we hit a massive wave and boom! We caught the surf! Our raft was bouncing around in one spot. We kept getting faces full of water, but it was cool knowing that we weren’t doing anything except sitting there holding on to the OS lines.
But all good things must come to an end. The front of our raft started drifting sideways to the current. By this time I had developed a Pavlov-like response – I knew that when we drifted horizontally in the rapids, it usually resulted in our raft flipping. Once again I was airborne and flung into the water.
I popped up and immediately saw the kayakers pointing me towards shore, so I started fighting the current to get close enough. A guide threw me a rope and I caught it. Rupesh’s and my ropes got tangled, so we had to drift a bit downriver before we could be pulled up. Getting out of the water proved to be a harder feat than expected – the shore was really steep, and although the rocks on top were dry, just below the water line they were slimy slimy slimy – so slimy that you couldn’t get any traction!
With a guide’s help I crawled up to shore. At that point I heard them telling us, “Don’t worry about your friend – they’ve got her down at the end.” Eh? Friend? I look around, I see Rupesh and Siraj, but Victoria’s nowhere to be seen. I glance down the river, and I see her waaaay downriver, holding onto our raft that had also drifted quite far. Rupesh, Siraj and I portaged our way down the river to meet up with Victoria at our lunch site.
Poor Vic! The Garburator was not kind to her. I didn’t realize it at the time, but when we slammed into that massive wave and caught the surf, Siraj had actually been launched out of his seat and back on to Victoria’s lap! In the video that we bought, you can actually see him flying out, and his half-hearted attempts to get back to his seat, but the current and waves were too rough that you didn’t want to stand up. Apparently when our raft flipped over, Siraj landed on Victoria. And when she popped back to the surface, she was facing upstream, getting the full strength of the Ottawa River current in her face! So, like me when we first flipped the raft, she kept getting a face full of water. And then she missed grabbing the safety ropes. And then she was still panicking and not able to breathe when a kayaker helped her out. She lost her hold on the kayak and ended up getting swept all the way downstream through ANOTHER set of rapids by herself. By the time we met up with her, you could tell that she was not a happy camper, and I don’t blame her at all. In her shoes, I’d probably have burst into tears.
After a light lunch (I was worried that my lunch would revisit me if I ate too much), it was off to the river again!
We had to travel through some small rapids with no problem. And then we came to another set and waited for the group to catch up. While waiting, the guide explained that we weren’t going to try any tricks on these rapids – we just wanted to get to the other side. However, if we did fall out or flip the raft, we were supposed to either grab on to the boat or swim towards the left shore. He then elaborates, “If you find yourself going towards the right shore and can’t escape, flip on to your back and be prepared to brace your feet against the shore. This area is called Butcher’s Knife for a reason. The rocks on shore are very sharp and have been known to pop rafts and pop people.” Umm, gulp? We made it through unscathed and waited to make sure none of the other rafts needed help.
The group then took another short break where everyone clambered out of the rafts and went cliff jumping. I and two other people stayed nice and dry on shore. I figured that I had already spent more time in the water than I have in the past 5 years, and I wanted to conserve my strength for whatever insanity happened next.
Our last set of rapids involved us trying to do a trick that made our boat stand up at a 90 degree angle. Yikes! Our guide made us shift so that we were all sitting in the front compartment of the boat. We then paddled like crazy against the current to get into the right position. Suddenly the guide yells for us to get down. I’m sure some people can do this and look like a professional, but I essentially flung myself down on the bottom of the raft.
Apparently we did manage to make the raft stand on end. And I say “apparently” because I didn’t actually witness it. I saw the end of our raft lifting up at a 45 degree angle, and then I became occupied with the fact that we were sinking into the water face first. And then I became even more occupied with the fact that we all then fell out of the front of the boat. LOL Luckily the raft didn’t flip over and we all held on to the OS line.
The guide pulled Victoria in, and then started yelling at Siraj, Rupesh and I to lift up our feet. I didn’t understand what the issue was – I mean, I could touch the bottom of the river, but since he was the boss I did what he said. The current was pushing the boat towards us, and we were between the boat and the shore. That’s when I became very thankful for the full length wet suit. I could feel my legs scraping against the rocks. If I hadn’t had the wet suit on, my thighs and calves would be scraped beyond belief!
That was essentially the end of our rafting experience. We traveled downstream and stayed around to make sure that the big 12-person rafts didn’t need help while they were doing tricks. (Our rafts were too small to try to do tricks in the rapids – apparently if we fell out, we’d get caught in a riptide and the only way to get out would be do roll into a ball and sink to the bottom current, and hold your breath for 30 seconds until the current spat you out on the other end. No thanks!) We then had to paddle for about 20 minutes to get back to the base camp.
Overall it was an amazing day. I never really thought about doing rafting before, so I’m happy Rupesh organized it. I think he and I were the only ones to escape relatively unscathed. As mentioned, Victoria lost her water shoes on the first rapid. At lunch she discovered that she lost an earring, and every time she fell in the water, she lost her paddle too. Siraj lost his sunglasses. My “souvenirs” consisted of two blisters, water in my ears, some massively sore triceps the next day, and an impressive sunburn on my face. (My hands were also massively sun burnt – they were so red they looked like a baboon’s behind!)
Would I do it again? I’m not sure. I had fun, but it was continually nerve wracking. I don’t know if I liked that sensation. Every time I went under the water, I had to keep my eyes screwed shut so that I didn’t lose a contact, which most assuredly did not help with the panic issues. Maybe if I had laser eye surgery it’d be okay. At least we had a great day with great weather for the experience!
Apparently I was the only one who thought that way. By the time the actual day for rafting came up, only 4 of us, my friend, her fiancé (Rupesh) and his friend (Siraj) showed up. Everyone else chickened out!
We made it to the rafting site by 8:00 AM and went through the process of registering and getting our equipment. Because it wasn’t the busy season, the company provided us with full wetsuits (meaning they covered us from ankles to our wrists all the way up to our necks) for free. I must say that wet suits are very flattering for the figure, but are beyond difficult to get into. By the end of the day though, I was very happy to be wearing it.
Before moving to the water, we were given a basic briefing on our equipment, safety procedures, and possible scenarios we might encounter. Interesting tidbits included our life jackets – these jackets were specially designed for white water rafting (or at least for falling into rapids) because they had a short “cape” on the neck that would flip up and supposedly create a pocket of air for you – meaning that it would force the current to go around your head rather than over it. Of course, this cape only works if you’re facing in the right direction – more on this later.
As mentioned, we were also walked through some possible scenarios and what to do during them. E.g. What do we do if we fall out of the raft? What if the raft flips over? What do we do if we’re swept away from the raft? Etc. At the beginning of the safety lecture, the guides mentioned that there were white helmets and red helmets available. If you took a red helmet it indicated that either you couldn’t swim or you were less comfortable in the water. It didn’t necessarily mean that you would be saved first, but it let the guides keep an eye on you. Up until the safety lecture I had every intention of wearing a white helmet, but after hearing about sharp rocks, riptides that could hold you under the water, etc, I swallowed my pride and nabbed a red helmet and felt so much better for it (not that it did me any good all day).
Upon getting into the rafts we were taught and practiced the various commands. For example, we learned what to do if the guide yelled “paddle hard” (a normal paddle, but faster and pulling back harder – essentially you were paddling like a bat out of hell), “get down” (meaning that you slid off your seat into a crouched position and grabbed on to the perimeter line – also known as the “oh shit” line), and “hold on” (maintain your position, grab the OS line, and hang your body weight down and into the centre of the raft. It sounds simple enough, but until you actually ventured on to the rapids, you continually forgot about the OS line and could not appreciate its security.
Also, before each rapid, the guides would also give you a briefing on what to expect, what you were trying to do, and what to do if you fell out or if the raft flipped over. Therefore they’d say, “Okay, if we flip over, I want you to swim towards the boat. If you can’t reach the boat, swim towards the left shore. We’ll pick you up from there!” (Before each rapid, our boat was filled with my out-loud muttering, “Okay, Mau, aim for the boat or left shore. Boat or left shore. Don’t go right.”)
One thing that I never really clued into before was the fact that there’s no way to secure yourself to a raft. I always assumed there was a rope or something to help keep you in there. But there’s not! (Which makes sense, since if you were strapped in, it would be very unpleasant when the raft flipped over.) To sit in the raft, you have to sit on the outside edge of the raft (again, I always assumed that you sat on the middle sections that look like inflated seats) and then you wedge your feet into the crevice of the inflated cross-tubes in front and behind you. That’s all. The only way to attach yourself to the raft is by holding on to the OS line, which is hard to do when you’re being thrown about and also trying to hang on to your paddle – and it doesn’t help that you’re usually holding on to the paddle with your dominant hand meaning that you can’t grab the OS line with your dominant hand. Therefore I always found myself holding both my paddle and the OS line with one hand, meaning my paddle would smack into the water and cause both me and the boat more turbulence!
Finally we arrived at the rapids. I must admit that when I first saw them, I wasn’t overly impressed. They looked small! How on earth could this be exciting? Well, I asked, and Nature answered.
Our raft was always the first one into the rapids. The guide yelled for us to paddle hard, so I started paddling like mad, except, suddenly I’m paddling air! That’s right – my side of the raft has literally bounced out of the water and I can’t reach the river anymore. The next thing I know, we slam back down into the water and so I start paddling like crazy again only for the raft to fly up into the air again. The third time we slam up, we continue to go up, up, up and over. That’s right, we flipped the raft completely upside down! I came up underneath the raft, bumping my head – I panicked and started kicking my feet like mad until I came up to the surface.
And then I realized where the true dangers of rafting come from. Sure, I was on the surface of the water, but I was still caught in the dissipating rapids. I kept getting waves in the face, causing me to gulp in water – I couldn’t get a full breath of air. Finally though, the waves slowed, and I saw our raft. Victoria was near me, and I could see Siraj and Rupesh getting towed back to the raft via a safety kayaker. Our guide (who by this point had righted the raft) threw the tow line to me and Vic, so we managed to get back on the raft too.
Wow. I cannot believe how physically exhausted I was. My entire body was trembling. I could barely manage to sit upright – nevermind helping my friends back into the raft. We all lay at the bottom of our raft for a few moments, gathering our wits and strength. When I finally gathered myself and sat up, I was surprised to see how far we had drifted from the rapids!
Our guide was completely enthusiastic, happy with our results, etc. Meanwhile I’m huddling in the raft, wailing internally, “What did I get myself into? How can I go through that again?” But since I didn’t want to be a spoilsport for everyone, I kept my mouth such, even as my stomach twisted with nervousness while paddling back to the rapids. (It turns out later that all of us were experiencing the same emotions, but none of us wanted to say anything.) One amusing thing to happen though was that the first thing Victoria said when she got back in the raft was, “I lost my shoes!” Yes. Her water shoes were literally ripped off her feet by the rapids. Whoops!
The second time we went through was a bit better – we had a better idea of what to expect (e.g. I knew not to be surprised to find myself suddenly paddling air). We also managed to NOT flip the raft over, which was a huge plus in my books.
On our third time through the same rapids we managed to catch the “surf.” Essentially that means that we had guided our raft into a spot on the rapids where the conflicting currents captured the raft and kept it in one position, so we didn’t have to paddle or anything. However, all good things must come to and end. The front of our raft started drifting out of position, and the next thing I know, I’m flying through the air again. Luckily I was holding to the OS line this time. I came up underneath the raft this time, was able to grab a half breath of air from the air pocket, and then I popped to the outside of the raft. Everyone had managed to hold on to the line, so our guide was able to flip the raft right side up and get everyone in. I was very happy after that second flip – it was a lot less chaotic and I didn’t get mouthfuls of water this time. Now that I knew what to expect, I was reassured by the whole process.
The next set of rapids we went to were called the Garburator. Our guide assured us to not worry if we couldn’t catch the surf because it was very hard to do at this time of year, etc. He also told us that if we fell out, or if we flipped the raft over, to not worry about getting back to the raft. Instead, we were supposed to swim towards the right side of the shore where other guides were waiting with ropes to tow us in, and there were safety kayakers waiting downstream to help guide us in.
So we went over the rapids and then paddled to get into position for our first “run.” When all the other rafts were in position and the safety people in place, there was nothing left but to paddle hard into the rapids. We didn’t quite catch the surf – instead we bounced around a bit and then got spat out. We paddled like mad to get back into calm waters so we could try again and wasted our time watching the other boats and kayaks go through. We also got to watch the other 6-man raft in front of us flip over. Reassuring? I think not. Then it was our turn again.
We paddled like mad with our guide turning our raft as necessary. Suddenly we hit a massive wave and boom! We caught the surf! Our raft was bouncing around in one spot. We kept getting faces full of water, but it was cool knowing that we weren’t doing anything except sitting there holding on to the OS lines.
But all good things must come to an end. The front of our raft started drifting sideways to the current. By this time I had developed a Pavlov-like response – I knew that when we drifted horizontally in the rapids, it usually resulted in our raft flipping. Once again I was airborne and flung into the water.
I popped up and immediately saw the kayakers pointing me towards shore, so I started fighting the current to get close enough. A guide threw me a rope and I caught it. Rupesh’s and my ropes got tangled, so we had to drift a bit downriver before we could be pulled up. Getting out of the water proved to be a harder feat than expected – the shore was really steep, and although the rocks on top were dry, just below the water line they were slimy slimy slimy – so slimy that you couldn’t get any traction!
With a guide’s help I crawled up to shore. At that point I heard them telling us, “Don’t worry about your friend – they’ve got her down at the end.” Eh? Friend? I look around, I see Rupesh and Siraj, but Victoria’s nowhere to be seen. I glance down the river, and I see her waaaay downriver, holding onto our raft that had also drifted quite far. Rupesh, Siraj and I portaged our way down the river to meet up with Victoria at our lunch site.
Poor Vic! The Garburator was not kind to her. I didn’t realize it at the time, but when we slammed into that massive wave and caught the surf, Siraj had actually been launched out of his seat and back on to Victoria’s lap! In the video that we bought, you can actually see him flying out, and his half-hearted attempts to get back to his seat, but the current and waves were too rough that you didn’t want to stand up. Apparently when our raft flipped over, Siraj landed on Victoria. And when she popped back to the surface, she was facing upstream, getting the full strength of the Ottawa River current in her face! So, like me when we first flipped the raft, she kept getting a face full of water. And then she missed grabbing the safety ropes. And then she was still panicking and not able to breathe when a kayaker helped her out. She lost her hold on the kayak and ended up getting swept all the way downstream through ANOTHER set of rapids by herself. By the time we met up with her, you could tell that she was not a happy camper, and I don’t blame her at all. In her shoes, I’d probably have burst into tears.
After a light lunch (I was worried that my lunch would revisit me if I ate too much), it was off to the river again!
We had to travel through some small rapids with no problem. And then we came to another set and waited for the group to catch up. While waiting, the guide explained that we weren’t going to try any tricks on these rapids – we just wanted to get to the other side. However, if we did fall out or flip the raft, we were supposed to either grab on to the boat or swim towards the left shore. He then elaborates, “If you find yourself going towards the right shore and can’t escape, flip on to your back and be prepared to brace your feet against the shore. This area is called Butcher’s Knife for a reason. The rocks on shore are very sharp and have been known to pop rafts and pop people.” Umm, gulp? We made it through unscathed and waited to make sure none of the other rafts needed help.
The group then took another short break where everyone clambered out of the rafts and went cliff jumping. I and two other people stayed nice and dry on shore. I figured that I had already spent more time in the water than I have in the past 5 years, and I wanted to conserve my strength for whatever insanity happened next.
Our last set of rapids involved us trying to do a trick that made our boat stand up at a 90 degree angle. Yikes! Our guide made us shift so that we were all sitting in the front compartment of the boat. We then paddled like crazy against the current to get into the right position. Suddenly the guide yells for us to get down. I’m sure some people can do this and look like a professional, but I essentially flung myself down on the bottom of the raft.
Apparently we did manage to make the raft stand on end. And I say “apparently” because I didn’t actually witness it. I saw the end of our raft lifting up at a 45 degree angle, and then I became occupied with the fact that we were sinking into the water face first. And then I became even more occupied with the fact that we all then fell out of the front of the boat. LOL Luckily the raft didn’t flip over and we all held on to the OS line.
The guide pulled Victoria in, and then started yelling at Siraj, Rupesh and I to lift up our feet. I didn’t understand what the issue was – I mean, I could touch the bottom of the river, but since he was the boss I did what he said. The current was pushing the boat towards us, and we were between the boat and the shore. That’s when I became very thankful for the full length wet suit. I could feel my legs scraping against the rocks. If I hadn’t had the wet suit on, my thighs and calves would be scraped beyond belief!
That was essentially the end of our rafting experience. We traveled downstream and stayed around to make sure that the big 12-person rafts didn’t need help while they were doing tricks. (Our rafts were too small to try to do tricks in the rapids – apparently if we fell out, we’d get caught in a riptide and the only way to get out would be do roll into a ball and sink to the bottom current, and hold your breath for 30 seconds until the current spat you out on the other end. No thanks!) We then had to paddle for about 20 minutes to get back to the base camp.
Overall it was an amazing day. I never really thought about doing rafting before, so I’m happy Rupesh organized it. I think he and I were the only ones to escape relatively unscathed. As mentioned, Victoria lost her water shoes on the first rapid. At lunch she discovered that she lost an earring, and every time she fell in the water, she lost her paddle too. Siraj lost his sunglasses. My “souvenirs” consisted of two blisters, water in my ears, some massively sore triceps the next day, and an impressive sunburn on my face. (My hands were also massively sun burnt – they were so red they looked like a baboon’s behind!)
Would I do it again? I’m not sure. I had fun, but it was continually nerve wracking. I don’t know if I liked that sensation. Every time I went under the water, I had to keep my eyes screwed shut so that I didn’t lose a contact, which most assuredly did not help with the panic issues. Maybe if I had laser eye surgery it’d be okay. At least we had a great day with great weather for the experience!
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