mind the gap
map


People Safe From Being Picked Out of a Police Line Up
(at least by me)
jump the tracks
Laugh
Snark

Anna Overseas

8/11/2005

Lately I've been trying to collect Current British Slang into a book that exists only in my head. It gets frustrating in the middle of a conversation to have to interupt someone to ask them what the heck they meant.

Here's a brief collection:

punter = patron of a business. No idea where that would come from, since punter to me means football, for some reason. And by football, I don't mean soccer.

mump = as in "She had a mump at me". I think this kinda means angsting or complaining or moaning, but it might mean bitching at. Used by one of my coworkers when describing a conversation she had with one of the higher ups.

tit's up = as in "It's all gone tit's up". Probably means horribly wrong or awful, although the first time I heard it (when I was in Grade 7 Language Arts) was as a way of describing someone who'd died: she'd gone tit's up. I almost swallowed my tongue when my boss (not Kenny, his boss) used this about a situtation at work. I'm not a big fan of the word, and I had trouble telling him what he'd said that so shocked me.

Go to France = also used is "go to fuck". Basically, go fuck yourself.

knackered = which I've heard before (from Paul) to mean tired. Apparently also means broken.

I think those are the big ones.

The other thing that's really thrown me here is the assumptions people have no problem expressing. In Canada, I would never dream of asking someone with an accent how their vacation was going. We're a country of immigrants, I assume everyone I'm talking to, unless otherwise indicated, is living in Canada. (I'm usually right - Edmonton may have the World' Largest Shopping Mall, but we are not a tourist mecca.)

Here, I get asked on a daily basis in shops how my vacation is going. I usually just say "I'm not here on vacation, I've moved here, but I'm having a wonderful time". Of course, every time I hear myself saying this, I wince, because really, who the hell cares?

Related to that, the plane tickets have been purchased. Guess I am going to France.

Anna stopped here at 12:17 PM

8/7/2005

The last week I was in China, the thing that punched me in the gut and made me feel terribly homesick was a busker on the side of the road playing a Chinese instrument with strings. I can't remember it, but the sound of it is very haunting. As soon as I heard it, I had to find out where the music was coming from. I was out with my coworkers for a good-bye dinner, and they were confused as to why it was so important to me to listen to this.

One of the most popular buskers in Edmonton is a Chinese man who plays the same instrument. It struck me then that I was going to be home soon, but that I wasn't home right then, and it was hard not to start crying.

The thing that made me homesick here was going out for East Indian food. Edmonton has the most amazing East Indian restaurant called New Asian Village. The food is outstanding, the decor is wonderful, and the staff are amazingly friendly. There's countless pots of chai, and little mango liquers to end your meal with. You can chose to sit at a normal table, or in a private booth in the back with pillows, a low table, and curtains for privacy. The whole thing has a wonderful, exotic feel to it, and I have falled in love with Indian food.

My guidebook highly recommends Indian food here, so I went out to a place on Rose Street, expecting something like home.

Let's just say... not so much.

Well, let's say more. It wasn't just the decore (pink and blue pastels), or the service (rude). I think what really killed the experience for me was Madonna's Greatest Hits playing on the sound system. I just wanted to get out of there as quickly as possible. The food wasn't even as tasty as it is at home, and the nan bread was a pitiful imitation at best. I had no idea why the place was packed, or why anyone would ever want to come back.

On the walk back to my flat, all I could think about was how much I wanted to be at home at that moment, still tasting the wonderful chai tea on my lips, mocking Don for being over-caffinated, or chatting with Raven about various family types, or just something that wouldn't make me feel quite so much like a fish out of water.

Since then, I've found a place that makes amazingly good Indian Food, some of it even better than New Asian Village, but the entire decour of the place is set up like any other restaurant. I like the food, but I miss the feeling of an intimate restaurant with good food and better company.

And, well, I really miss Chai.

Anna stopped here at 8:50 PM

Some of the nicer photos from the trip to Lindisfarne are up.

I know, I keep writing about how beautiful the site was, but I really can't explain how. The coworkers I have that have been there loathed it, and those that hadn't couldn't understand why I'd want to go look at "an old church". But these are the things that drive me to come to places like the UK. It's not that I don't love Canada with a passion, and I don't ever want to lose my Canadian citizenship. But right now, it's this opportunity to see things that are older than anything but the trees in my country.

(I admit to having a very building-oriented appreciation for history. I'm only somewhat interested in the history of Canadian prior to Confederation. There's no buildings, you see, so I can't make it real in my head.)

Part of it is that sense of 'Look at my works, ye might, and dispair'. I tend to get caught up in the drama of life, and forget that, in a few years, the things that upset me now will seem like strange memories. When I look at historic sites, I can forget those things, concentrate instead on something bigger.

Another part of it is my obsession with trying to make real people out of historic fact. I have this dream of making history something that's interesting and real to more people. I think a lot about teaching, either high school or college, and taking history out of that dreary thing you do for a few hours every week and into a class that you can find exciting. I had one really good history teacher in university that did this, but it was more the art history and classics that managed to make things interesting for more people. You can't kill my love of history, no matter how dull the teacher, but I saw my fellow students' eyes glazing over, and it made me sad.

Another aspect of loving historic sites so much is this sense I get of them. I've been trying to write about that, but each time my words get in the way. So I guess I'll just say again that I found the site very moving. The sense of isolation, even in a place where there were people, was quite overwhelming. If I ever went on a religious retreat, I'd want it to be a place like Lindisfarne.

(Then there's the bit of me that never quite stops planning a new RPG. "Oh, the castle! You can totally rent it out for a wedding, which means I could totally rent it for a game, and it would be so great and wonderful and--" And then I banged my head against a wall for a minute until the thought went away.)

Lindisfarne is still a spiritual and religious retreat. There are many places in the village that are hosting retreats for people, and it's something I'm considering doing. I'm thinking about going there in winter, when it's cold and dark and I tend to lose myself in cold dark thoughts.

Anna stopped here at 8:05 AM

8/5/2005

Getting off the bus in Lindisfarne, I had this overwhelming sense of coming home. It's a small town, somewhere around 200 people, that swells in size every day due to the tourists. It seemed to be a very friendly place - there were kids and dogs running around, a tea-shop that got so overcrowded they were sitting people on benches in the back yard, and a museum curator who, after I bought my membershipt to the English Heritage Society insisted on calling me Miss Pearce for the rest of the day.

I didn't explore as much of the village as I would have liked, but everywhere I went made me feel at home. It's hard to explain. I've lived in places that I recall as being smaller (has anyone heard of Collington, AB?), and I've often yearned for a village live like that. (Yes, I went insane in Vegreville, but it's a small town with a lot of small town attitudes. I'd suspect that a town that doubles or triples inside every day for a few hours would have a different attitude towards that, and with Berwick-upon-Tweed being a 30 minute bus ride across the causeway, I think I could at least escape for a few hours and buy a book or something.)

It's just... everything about the place felt right.

Anna stopped here at 3:43 AM

8/3/2005

Things I Did Yesterday, a list, by jo

1. Bought a Digital Camera.

2. Took 534 pictures of my flat.

Of course, you need to read "bought" as "someone bought me", "yesterday" as "on Sunday, over the internet, with two day delivery", and "pictures of my flat" to include one video and a voice over picture that includes speculation on the mating habits of green couches in their natural habitat of the Anna's Apartment Outback.

But other than that, it's all true.

I'm trying to decide if I want to claim I've been covetting a digital camera for a long time now (true) or if I finally broke down and got one because Raven did, and I am nothing if not a follower (also true).

I took the camera to work last night so I could take many many pictures of the churches on my way home (no, that was the stated goal: I am going to take photos of all the churches I pass on the way home, and nothing else!), which took me an extra 45 minutes of walking home time. I am a tourist, see me photograph.

(I keep thinking I need to talk to someone about how to take a good photo, though. I mean, point and click makes things happen, but making nice things happen would be good, too.)

The point of this is that, once I get things set up properly, I should start putting purty pictures up here for everyone to see. Or at least upload them to my flickr site. (You can go there now and see some scans of photos from China, if you care to.)

Tomorrow I'm going to Holy Island, which is Lindisfarne, or so I'm given to understand. I'm trying very hard to keep from squeeing around my apartment. *smile* I get to see a ruined Abbey! YAY! I'm getting on the train just after work, then catching the bus. Basically, the causeway is only open for a bit in the morning and a bit in the afternoon, so unless I feel like taking a boat (or swimming), I have a nice limited window of time.

This weekend is the Con that Diane Duane is going to. I'm trying to be all cool and calm about the fact that she commented on my blog, but I'm failing miserably. *dies and is ded*

Anna stopped here at 2:40 PM

8/1/2005

As I've mentioned before, I'm planning a bit of a five year jaunt around the world. I've been planning one-year stops in Australia, New Zealand, and a few other places. It's a small world, and I want to see as much of it as I can.

I just hit a bit of a roadblock today though.

I've been sitting here a bit bored (and not feeling well -- damn it, why do I get sick when my boss is on holiday and thus I can't call in?) and decided to confirm the ages and stuff for travelling to the various countries I want to go to in the next little while. For most of them, I'm fine - the age cut off is 35 for everywhere except here and Australia.

Ah, Australia. Land Down Under, full of wallabes and people related to Crash. I sorta had this picture of me with a funky hat on, exploring the land and seeing Ayers Rock and generally being all touristy and happy (much as I am here, except with less rocks and more castles).

But things are not going to be as easy to get to Australia as everywhere else. They only offer 3 month long working holiday visas (although you can apply for a second one), and only until you're 30. Since I just turned 29, this means I have a little less than 2 years to get my Canadian butt down there. And I have to decide if it's worth it.

I mean, three months as a migrant worker doesn't seem like something I'd be good at (although if I keep walking up and down the many many hills of Edinburgh I'll definately be in shape for it). But on the other hand, it's a chance to see Australia, and complain endlessly about the heat and how they have Christmas in summer and generally have a good time.

It's a lot to think about (although it's not like I have to decide right now). I mean, it shouldn't be too hard for me to do a month or so in Australia after I'm done New Zealand, as a tourist instead of a worker. But I like living overseas. I like the chance to really dig your fingers into the place you're living, to get a better sense of the people. Heck, I just like the idea of being someplace long enough to actually be able to give directions somewhere.

I don't know. Like I said, it's not like I have to decide today, but I should probably decide by Christmas. (Which doesn't seem nearly so far away when work is advertising for Christmas parties and Kenny and I are in heavy negotiation over who's going to work during Hogmany.)

Anna stopped here at 11:38 AM

My boss is going on vacation for two weeks (and kinda sorta not really leaving me in charge, because yes, I'll be in charge, but he's a control freak so anything he can possible do before he goes is being done. Like the rotation.), and I will have one day off this coming week (Thursday), and two as-yet-unspecified days off the following week (or so is the assumption, because someone has to come in from a different department to give me time off). I mention this because I've decided to do some daytrips, and I'm terribly excited.

I'm a bit torn on where to go, and I have to keep reminding myself that I'm here for a year, and most of these places have been around for a very long time, and aren't going anywhere. If I put off going to Saint Andrews till next month, it's not going to suddenly fall into the sea or be carried off by faeries.

One of the things that has really been throwing me in my life lately is the sheer amount of choices I have. I'm coming up on 30, and I feel like I have far more choices than I did when I graduated from high school. I tend to find myself paralyzed with too many options.

So, I'm not sure where I'm going to go, but I do know that I'm going. I've narrowed it down to either Stirling, St. Andrews, or Berwick-upon-Tweed to see Lindisfarne Abbey. Not that it really matters. What matters it that I can do any of them. *smile*

I'll be going to Paris later this month. I've already booked my three days off work for it. I am counting down the seconds, but trying to remind myself to live in the moment, and enjoy this place, right here.

{Wow, did that sound like it belonged in a greeting card. *grin*}

Anna stopped here at 11:36 AM

7/29/2005

They have a nasty tendancy of playing the same CD obsessively at work, and I tend to get distracted and only catch parts of it. I have this song I barely know, "The Drugs Don't Work" stuck in my head right now, but only parts of it. On constant repeat. I am going mad.

Anyway. I wanted to blog about the Job Thingy.

After careful consideration I decided not to take the day job, which makes me feel terribly guilty (cuz my name is Anna Guilt Pearce. Don't let the L fool you), because all the actual direct advice I got (which was appreciated, don't get me wrong!) was to take the job. And it was good advice, for good reason.

But then I decided to discuss the issue at length (if by at length you mean 4 emails over the course of 30 minutes, only one of which had anything to do with the issue) with my best friend, who simply asked some very pointed questions about Long Term Goals And Stuff, and that was that. Being an experienced Night Auditor is something that will make it easier to get jobs night auditing at other hotels, and since I don't plan any permanent stays anywhere for the next few years, this seems like the type of job to "move" well.

Or so's the theory, at least.

It's been raining the past few days, which satisfies me on so many levels. It means it's cool, and it also means that Scotland is living up to its reputation of being all Rainy and Dank. (One of the ads on the buses here is 'It Scotland it rains 351 days of the year. By my calculation, we've had every sunny day we'll have this year since I got here. Bring on the rain!)

However, I've now damned myself with my coworkers due to this little gem.

Her: Dear god it's cold outside!

Me: No it's not.

Her: Yes it is! I had to wear a scarf today!

Me: Can you see your breath?

Her: No.

Me: Are the buses still running?

Her: Yes.

Me: It's not cold outside.

Her: Yes it is!

(repeat)

So, basically, I can *never ever* complain about it being cold in this country. But considering I remember winters where your eyelashes would freeze together if you closed your eyes too long, I don't think this will be a problem. (And these were less than 10 years ago...)

But, unrelated to that, I keep planning these little rants or comments or essays or somethings for my blog, start composing them in my head, and then something tends to happen among my circle of friends that makes posting it a Bad Idea, because I don't want anyone to think that I'm posting it about whatever is going on In Real Life. So I put it off for a while, other stuff comes up, I plan it out again, and something else happens that makes me decide to delay posting it.

Tomorrow I am planning on hanging out with the ORC people again, but there's a bus strike and I'm kinda leary on walking for an hour. Cuz I am lazy.

Anna stopped here at 6:58 AM

7/28/2005

Scotland, being a land of many strange and unusual people, has many strange and unusual drinks. I know this, because I hit the grocery store yesterday, and the drinks aisle (not including the alcohol) was much fuller than a similiar aisle back home.

I thought... hmm.... I have all these friends back home that want to experience Scotland in all its exciting glory. I should describe the cornacopia of drinks that one can pick up easily here.

So, without further ado, I present the first of what will become a regular feature on Anna Overseas, Drinking Games!

Irn-Bru

Irn-Bru is everywhere in this country, mostly on the sides of taxis. I think an add for Irn-Brue might have been the first thing I saw getting off the plane in Glasgow. It comes in a blue and orange bottle (of various sizes) or can, and it sells out almost as quickly as the Coke does at work.

The drink itself is a not-occuring-in-nature orange colour. I think it may glow in the dark, but I haven't actually tested this theory. It looks like clear orange soda, I guess.

I remember when I was flat hunting, the letting agent told me that Irn-Bru is the only thing that they can never get out of the carpets in the places they're cleaning up. They can get out red wine, blood, various set stains of other organic products, but not Irn-Bru.

How did I get talked into trying this? At a bar, of course. No alcohol was involved, but the whole thing had a feeling of a dare.

For the purpose of this article, I went out and bought a 2 liter of the stuff. (As though I don't get a can whenever I'm needing a quick pick-me-up at work.)

It smells like... like... ripe creamsicles. A little too sweet.

It tastes like... like... carobonated creamsicles. Not as sweet as it smells.

I do drink this stuff two or three times a week at work, because I like the kick it gives me.

Irn-Bru is apparently available somewhere in Canada, but I've never seen it.

Related Links:
Irn-Bru on Wikipedia
Irn-Bru's Official Website (warning: flash animations, and that manamana song)

Lemonade Shandy

I picked this up because it looked a disgusting shade of brown and it was 60 p. for a 2 liter bottle. Considering that a can of Irn-Bru at work costs 60 p, I figured this could be an interesting investment.

According to the lable, it's a "Carbonated drink made from a blend of lemonade and beer with sugar and sweetener", and is "Suitable for Vegetarians and Vegans." (It also gives its stats per serving size in 250 ml, whereas Irn-Bru gives it in 100 ml.) It has a Caution box, warning that it's a "pressurized container", and has an advice box. "Advice to Parents: Frequent drinking of sugary drinks and fruit juices may lead to tooth decay and poor nutition. Try to restrict these drinks to meal times and replace them with sguar free drinks or water. Avoid giving sugary drinks or fruit juices to babies. Remember it is important to brush teeth reguarily. Best served chilled." It also informs me that it contains glutens and no more than 0.5% alcohol.

It smells like... beer. Fancy that.

It tastes like... really good sweet beer. Complete with that strange little after taste you get when you drink beer. It's surprisingly good, and I think it's totally worth the 60 p. I spent on it.

I couldn't find any links on this stuff, but there's a link for Shandy on Wikipedia.

Juicy Juice

I picked this up at a corner store when I was craving juice and they didn't have any.

It's a different type of unnatural orange colour than Irn-Bru. It looks more like a slightly ill orange juice.

I no longer have the bottle, unfortunately, but I couldn't give up the opporunity to tell you all about the Juice So Sweet It Crunches, but still tastes sour.

This stuff was awful. Just atricious. It was so sugary it should have crunched when you drank it, but still had this awful taste to it. I tried adding water in an effort to make it any better, but all that did was make it a different shade of sickly orange.

I think I may make it a test of courage for all daring to pass my door. "You must drink this glass, and drink it down, and if you survive, you may pass."

Conclusion

Irn-Bru is my friend, even if it's not made from real Glasgow Girders.

Lemonade Shandy is just so weird, I want more.

We will not speak of Juicy Juice again.

Anna stopped here at 2:15 PM

Attention Friends of Don M.

Although normally a very clever man, Don is less than able when it comes to the intarweb.

I pointed out to him several weeks ago that his email account still had a reply to: field that lead to an email address that he cancelled at the beginning of June. He meant to fix this, and apparently failed.

If anyone out there has replied to an email of Don's without changing the email address in the reply to: field, he hasn't gotten it. He's not just ignoring you, he probably thinks you're ignoring him. (Okay, not anymore, because I just reminded him *again* that he hasn't changed it, and this time he swears he has. Really.)

IOW: Don is not being a jerk, he's just having troubles with his email.

(Raven, could I trouble you to post something similar on your blog? You know more of Don's friends than I do, and I'd feel bad if they thought he didn't care.)

Anna stopped here at 1:27 PM

 mind the gap

A 20-something Canadian who used to teach English in China. There's lots in the archives about my experiences with teaching, with culture shock, and with my adventures in China. Occasionally it meanders into melancholy (part of the culture shock), which must be very dull to read, so you can skip that.

But right now, I'm back in Canada, and kinda determined to do something with the several thousand photos I took, as well as write more about China and other stuff.

People I Could Pick Out of a Police Lineup
(and thus should stay on my good side)
change here for:
past imperfect

Site Meter