Last Call

“Adventure is a path. Real adventure – self-determined, self-motivated, often risky – forces you to have firsthand encounters with the world. The world the way it is, not the way you imagine it. Your body will collide with the earth and you will bear witness. In this way you will be compelled to grapple with the limitless kindness and bottomless cruelty of humankind – and perhaps realize that you yourself are capable of both. This will change you. Nothing will ever again be black-and-white.” – Mark Jenkins 

These last four months have been a wonderful ride.


Some things I've noticed upon my return to Ontario...

1. I can taste the air here. It has texture. Is it supposed to?

2. Running in Ontario is harder than in Victoria (see point 1).

3. I have slept on a mattress on the floor for over a year.

4. Food is so cheap here! I've never been so happy to go grocery shopping.

5. Just when you thought they couldn't do anymore construction on campus...

6. Hamilton needs to learn what qualifies as a "mountain".

7. In Victoria, you can stand at the edge of a street - no crosswalk, no nothing - and cars will stop to let you cross. Only in Victoria...

8. Giving my brother Call of Duty: Black Ops for Christmas was probably not as smart an idea as I originally thought.

And one last item of business -- checking off the to-do list!

- go downtown and make tea in the middle of the street
[X] do groceries w/o going to a major grocery store
[X] join an activist group
- act on an opinion
[X] live out your third chance
[X] knowingly make a mistake
[X] tell a stranger the truth
- draw a portrait of one of your housemates -- there was an ongoing joke with my roommates that they would approach me with a bike helmet saying, "I want you to draw me wearing this. Only this." It never happened.
[X] go kayaking -- Thank you to Jake's inflatable kayak.
[X] take a walk off the beaten path (literally)
[X] perform a song to someone
[X] write a manifesto of Franzi's musings
[X] allow yourself to feel intense, constructive emotion in the rain
- skydiving
- skinny dip in the ocean -- I should get partial points for swimming in the ocean several times, as well as a lake.

All in all, it's been an experience for me, and I thank all my lovely readers for taking the journey with me. Much love to you all and have an exciting year!

Cheers,
Franzi.

PS. All names are fake. Try figuring out who you are.

Like a Roulette Wheel

[X] live out your third chance

This last week has been bizarre.

Things are moving fast right now - a lot lot faster than anticipated. Everything has changed since this morning. I'll keep you all updated as things go and I have time to digest them, but it looks like I might be returning sooner than planned.
I gotta ask - with all respect to my wonderful friends - that you give me a couple days to work things out before the hangout sessions and tea parties begin (I would love a tea party, that's not sarcasm by the way). I've missed you all terribly, and I can't wait to see all of you and share stories. I'll be in touch and I hope things are going great for everyone. Enjoy the last few weeks of summer!

Cheers,
Franzi.

Boys and girls, come out to play

Things to bring to a cemetery at night for a ghost walk:
- flashlight -- you probably won't use it. If you do, you will see exaggerated shadows everywhere. Also kills your night vision. But hey. It could be useful.
- phone -- fully charged. Tell people where you're going. Check in with them. While a paranormal kidnapping is not so likely, a fully human one is.
- digital recorder -- with fresh batteries. Well, why not? I mean, that's why you're there, right? Besides, it's cool to listen to it later on and see what you missed.
- med kit -- if you're going off-trail.
- an extra person -- because it'll be quite a bit more scary alone.

* bolded items = things I actually brought.

I have a 35 minute recording of my ghost walk, which starts with observing that it's a full moon and wishing I'd brought along a friend. Turns out going to the cemetery on a Saturday night is not just my idea of fun. There was a group of five girls there too, along with two peeps who were sitting in the middle of the plots and smoking up.

I also remembered the advice that Szálka gave in her Grade 7 Individual Research Project presentation on ghosts -- say a little "Hey spirits, I'm not here to disturb you, so let me pass in peace" spiel. You can laugh if you want, but in her wise words, "If there's nothing there, then you've wasted 17 seconds of your very busy lives, I'm sure." Also made me feel better.


Kind of a cool experience. Definitely better if you're walking on the paths than meandering through the plots. My respect for the dead is high enough that I don't like the idea of treading over people's bodies while looking for the main path. Also, full moon is the way to go for sure. Much better vision and you don't need a flashlight throwing shadows of crosses everywhere.


Also - mausoleums are creepy in every light. They have gates, for goodness' sakes. I mean, what for?

By the way...

It's been brought to my attention (cause I'm blind) that some of you lovelies got a little bit miffed and/or offended about this post. I did not intend to say "f*** you, Ontario", and I certainly regret if that's how it came across. While travelling itself is not a new experience for me, I do believe the dynamics - for me personally - of how and why people stay in touch have changed. I was trying to explain what I've been experiencing in that post, but it seems I alienated a few people and ticked off a couple more.
Don't underestimate how much you guys mean to me :) It's only a trip if you've got somewhere to go home to.

3 weeks and counting.

The Zeitgeist Movement

[X] join an activist group.

Worst feeling is getting called out by your friends.
"Franzi, you have all these opinions but... I've never actually seen you act on them."
This was what led to "act on an opinion" and "join an activist group" getting put on the list. And yeah, I'm not super proud of it, but it's definitely true. Partly because the activist groups I hear about always seem to be completely unwilling to compromise on their own opinions, often leading to violence and open threats. (I won't post examples, but a few of you out there have had this discussion with me before).
I believe that a group of people willing to change things cannot start by dividing the world into "us" and "them", "validated" and "misguided". The worst is when the word "justifiable" becomes involved.

Why are you bringing this up now, Franzi?

One of the guys I train with is part of a movement called the Zeitgeist Movement. (let's call him Jack). During one of our parkour meets, Jack started taping up pieces of paper with questions printed on them (generally in hard to reach places).
Questions such as, "Does nature accept mastercard or will we have to pay for what we take in another way?"
"Are you truly learning if you remain unchanged?"
"What is your greatest contribution?"
and my favourite (because I hung by a chain over the edge of the pier to tape it on the side) "Are we really hardwired for anything?"
This was part of Jack's own initiative, culture jamming, which is "trying to reach people with new forms of media". The questions were designed to get people to stop and think. It was strangely gratifying to see crowds forming around some of the posters.

 We had a discussion after one of the meets and he introduced some of the basic ideas of the Zeitgeist Movement, including the belief that our current socio-economic system is unsustainable and based off of an abused and fundamentally flawed value system. Throughout the critique on modern value-systems is threaded the idea that society should be based off of available resources, where sustainability, equality and efficient resource management. That sounds pretty heavy, and I was more than a little ready to start playing Devil's Advocate.

I'm currently doing some research and swapping emails with Jack in an attempt to understand and get an appreciation for what this group stands for and values. It's intriguing enough that I will most likely be posting a longer article about the group in the near future, including some of my own questions as answered by Jack.

Despite my questioning and poking, I will consider this as "joining", if only because I'm a member of the group for the Victoria Chapter on facebook.

Here's a little something by my favourite darkly sardonic comic writer Joey Comeau and Jess Fink. A cute illustrated story, We Are Become Pals!

"This DJ takes requests...

...and then throws them in the f***ing trash can."

I've achieved a new level of hardcore: injuring a tendon while fist-pumping at a concert.

Victoria's Annual Electronic Music Festival took over Centennial Square last weekend to showcase some of the most talented and prominent artists and djs of the Pacific region. It ran both Saturday and Sunday, with a daytime festival running eleven hours starting at noon, followed by an afterparty spread out over 5 night clubs. The Sunset Room had artists booked until 5:30 in the morning.
My roommate Devon and I got there bright and early - 1 pm on the Saturday where we paid $5 for a wristband and unlimited access for the entire day. Which is unreal. As the sister of someone intimately involved in the music festival shebang and its promotional activities, $5 is good. Some people were miffed. Used to be free, apparently.

In true Victorian fashion, people showed up in all shapes and colours. I say that with particular reference to the furry leg warmers that a lot of girls were wearing, but also to the crazy hair colours and tattoos I saw. Oh! And the circus-grade hula hoop artists and hackey-sack-ers. There was a stand that did some awesome body paint and a lot of people were walking around with leopard spots and feathers.

One kid had a Santa hat and beard.

And the music - DUDE. Mind-blowing. I arrived as Space Age (midtemp-glitch-dubstep, psychedelic-downtempo) was finishing his set, which was groovy. The guy I really enjoyed was next up - King Kornelius (electro house, dubstep). Super set with some awesome music. Check him out on facebook and the whole shebang. This is probably the music I threw my elbow out on.
Next up was a guy who looked about 16. ...Oh, apparently he's 21. This kid's got the smile of true shit-disturber. Especially when the "VEMF Dance Team" got up in front of his turntables to dance for the crowd. Ben Chemikal (speed garage, dubstep) from Duncan on Vancouver Island. Some serious talent. Some serious aviator shades.
Mazeguider (glitch hop, crunk, techno, progressive -- I'm not making this up, I swear) took us for a trip down some tribal tunes, which was like slithering through a jungle on meth. Wicked.
Check out the other artists that were there. Guaranteed you'll find something to make you sit up a little straighter, get up and start dancing.

My main tip for these festivals - bring earbuds! And arrive nice and early to get your ticket. An hour after Devon and I got our tickets, the line reached the length of the block. Even after they made a separate line for people who already had tickets and were just trying to get in.

Security was cool though. This discussion actually happened.
"Can you open your bag for me please?"
"Sure."
"Are you carrying any liquids on you?"
"Er, sunscreen?"
"No liquid explosives today then?"
"Nah, thought I'd leave off it for today."
"Gets heavy to carry around, I bet."
"Yeah, looking into alternatives."
"Aight, enjoy."
"Cheers."

Itadakimasu & Guten Appetit

Back in May, Nina - a German student - gave me a cute little nickname: Biotonne. Essentially, "Organic Waste Container". It started when I took the whipped cream from her Belgian Brownie that she had ordered (she didn't want it) and was perpetuated at work when I regularly offered to finish my colleagues' meals when they'd had their fill.
"Don't worry, Franzi will eat it," Nina would laugh. "She's a little Biotonne."

I love food. And since I also like to write, here it is. A review of several of Victoria's restaurants.

Penny Farthing
Location: Downtown Oak Bay
Occasion: Impromptu dinner with Gabriel and Nina after work
Victoria is a very British city. It's got the feel of coastal bay breeze and a mild tea obsession battling against North American coffee culture. (Tea wins. Just saying.) What it also has an overflow of "traditional" pubs, usually with an Irish / Scottish / tartan theme (see Irish Times, next to Bastion Square or Bard and Banker, across the street). The waitresses and bartenders all wear tartan kilts. Guinness posters all over the walls. You know, the usual.
Food wasn't half bad, actually. I ordered a curry (shocker), while Gabriel and Nina each tucked into Fish and Chips served on newspaper-print serving napkins. I laughed when I saw "Bangers and Mash" on the menu. And there was a Guinness Brownie for dessert - would have liked to taste a bit more of the beer but hey, chocolate is chocolate.
Nice place, but the atmosphere that I thought was unique and charming is practically identical to Irish Times (and probably Bard and Banker too). Right down to the Guinness dessert. Still a good place to go for a laugh and a pint.

Sizzling Tandoor
Location: Downtown Victoria, Johnson St between Douglas and Government St
Occcasion: Visit from Dad
Whenever my father and I go out for dinner, it is invariably Indian food. Having worked in London, my dad has spent many after-work hours recovering with a pot of curry. I just think it's delicious. We've amassed quite an index over the years of restaurants.
This one beats them all. Even though the decor is surprisingly... not (an Indian restaurant without tassels and murals on every square inch of the wall is just lacking), the food makes up for it tenfold. They had ten different types of naan bread alone, including rosemary naan, naan stuffed with potatoes and peas, and lamb naan, which we tried. My dad - after having said how tired of Italian food he was - ordered the Chicken Tikka Pasta Alfredo - "Sizzling Tandoor Style". I went for a Mango Curry.
Flat out amazing. Incredible taste, texture, colour, and presentation. I hadn't eaten for six hours and I was stuffed after half a plate. Even the sweet lassi (yogurt-based drink) was the best I've had. The pasta alfredo was also a nice surprise - Indian and Italian is not something I would have picked as a winner, usually. Mind blowing. And not even half bad on the prices. The kheer for dessert was a bit heavy on what I think was nutmeg. And pistachios. Still cool and sweet though.
Even the pappadum dipping sauce was amazing.

Rebar
Location: Twenty steps from where I meet the guys for parkour at Bastion Square
Occasion: It's a Wednesday
Hailed as one of the best vegetarian / vegan / alternative restaurants in Victoria, and with good reason. They offered the most amazing rosemary focaccia to start, spongy and oily, with large salt crystals hanging on like tears. The tazo chai tea latte (how redundant is that drink name, really) I ordered came with a whole cinnamon stick perched on the mug, with milk foam piled in and around it. Delicious and foamy. Yum.
I was introduced to Pacific salmon back in May - it's heavier and has a wilder taste than the Atlantic salmon we know so well in Ontario. The BBQ Salmon Burger I ordered kind of smothered the taste with house barbecue sauce, but made up for it by using a creamy dill-based slaw instead of onions or relish. Dill features heavily in my grandmother's cooking - and, in turn, my mother's. Always strikes me how quickly taste or smell brings back memories.
They didn't have any of the blueberry pie that I've been jonesing for all day - not to mention I barely got through the burger - so no dessert for me.

As students, we get bogged down with what's cheap and available - always worth it to switch things up and take yourself out for dinner sometime!

PS. For all you serious food-enthusiasts out there, read "Tongue" by Kyung-Ran Jo. Fiction novel that's centred around food with a semi-disturbing twist at the end for thriller gourmets.

5 Weeks

I have just realized with horror that I have exactly 5 weeks remaining of my stay here. I'm trying to remember how that happened.

Although if I think about it, my time in Ontario feels like it happened years ago. I've got this vague sense of "I'm moving into a new house at some point" and "There are probably people I will have a reunion with", but all of that just feels so... 

It's ironic. This past week, I finally feel really settled here. Work kicked up a notch, and despite the soul-crushing start to the week, it's become almost a challenge now. And I am highly competitive when it comes to something I can do well. I mean - this is one of the only labs in Canada that investigates these kinds of chemical properties. I am so far into the dark (= pure, non quantum) side of chemistry that seeing a bottle marked "PBS" for the first time in months actually made me giggle. (It's been a weirdly intense week at work.)

If I can get my footing in this field and not make a fool of myself at the conference in August, bitch please, I got this academia oyster in the bag.

A large part of this "Victoria ain't so bad" realization comes from getting fed up with facebook. There is no such thing as distance or closure when your entire population of contacts from the last five years is just a mouse click away. I find myself getting annoyed by people who are on the other side of this country, simply by reading their status updates. By the way, Ontario - WE GET IT. IT'S HOT THERE. For bleep's sakes, can you keep the sarcastic comments to a minimum? You think it's cute when you do it - there are 100 of you all saying the exact same thing. 

Social media brings a whole new dimension to travelling. When I was a kid, travelling meant distance, withdrawal, and a sense of exploration or deviation from what you knew. But now, I can carry on an hour long conversation with someone I haven't seen in months - over a computer screen.

I'm a people person in the sense that if I talk to you, I want to be able to see all your little idiosyncrasies and antics. And lately, I find myself lurking on facebook in the vague hope that somebody has something to say.

So here it is. 5 weeks until I fly home, and I've decided to give myself a bit of space to actually dive in here. Literally. It was 23 degrees today and I went swimming in the ocean. 

I guarantee you I won't be posting on facebook about that. I'm saving stories for a barbecue, not a status update. 

PS. I'm not being bitter. I'm waking up. I don't need a clever profile pic to remember all your wonderful imperfections. Let's have coffee instead and do something real.

Better step up, Mr. Tambourine Man...

Street theatre is one of those things that I embrace with all my soul. I feel like it's right for entertainment to take place out in the open, without a spotlight or curtains. There is nothing more real than blue skies and concrete to bring a performance to life.

Stroke of luck then that the first annual International Busker Festival was spreading love all over downtown Victoria - for the entire week. Like all the best things, I only found out about it by finding myself in the middle of a trapeze show.

Aerial Angels are spunky, fiery, and brilliant. This was seriously a show. They were funny and blended so well with each other and the audience. Trapeze, aerial silk, and precision bull whip - oh yeah. There was good-natured humour throughout the whole show - including their introductions. "This is Spike! Her body was used as a model for the baby velociraptor in Jurassic Park! She's so popular that she spends 3 hours on facebook rejecting friend requests!"
The trapeze was daring and technical - and performed at "concussion height", which was graphically described as dangerous enough to kill and splatter brain matter all over the concrete. (The yoga mat that was placed under the artists as the "crash mat" was hailed as "the Sham-wow for blood"). The aerial silk was haunting and terrifying - watching anyone slither to a breath-taking stop 12 inches from concrete upside-down is something to remember for a lifetime.
As part of the precision bullwhip act, an audience member was brought to the front and had a celery stalk shoved under his groin - which was then surgically snapped down to size at 700 m/s -- the celery, not the groin. He looked pretty queasy but props to him, he didn't faint. (Or move. At all. Luckily.)

Unfortunately I only caught the tail end of these next guys I want to talk about - but I was completely blown away and got a picture with them after. Chris Murdoch and Jake West, who perform under the name Both Sides Of The Coin, are charismatic, entertaining and highly skilled. Chris Murdoch also introduced me to something I've never seen before: contact juggling. I could watch videos of this all day. And with a 9-crystal ball routine (as Jake West - master of physical comedy - loved to emphasize), set to Bonobo's "Stay The Same" - the sun setting and turning each ball into an orb of light - just... absolute perfection.

Amazing initiative from the organizers to bring street theatre to such an incredible level - and for everybody willing to watch.

You want fries with that?

So. I kind of got eaten alive at work.
At least, it feels like I did.
I had a meeting with my supervisor. To start off with, my report had so many stupid little mistakes. (Mislabelled axes stupid. Missing units stupid. Not running the references through Refworks stupid.) It encompassed the last month of my research, which has been less than coordinated due to science being awesome and the usual "Will this work? No. Okay. Will this work? Not consistently. Okay." thing. Also, this is not my field of expertise, if I can claim such a thing two years into an undergraduate degree. I have never focused on these kinds of chemical characteristics and a lot of it is not intuitive to me.
Half the time, revelationary conclusions I'd made were taken in the stride of "Duh. And then?". She called out every single bit of bullshit I had. She'd highlighted one of my sentences and read it aloud. "Franzi, this sentence makes no sense. When I see words like this, I can tell that you either don't want to explain it or you don't understand it."
"I wasn't sure if it was important enough -"
"Can you explain this to me?"
I did.
"From now on, put everything into the report. I see it a lot that people use flowery words - and you are an eloquent writer - in papers so their TAs that are marking 20 reports won't see that they don't understand. But I will notice."
She informed me that by the end of the summer, she wanted me writing reports at the graduate student level.
"You have done more literature research in these last two months than any grad or summer student," she pointed out. "It's a great procrastination technique," she laughed. " I know that one! 'Oh, I'll just read another paper...'"
I laughed along. Cause seriously, what else am I going to do? Do you know how embarrassing it is to make a false claim and then get told in a group meeting that so-and-so published information to the contrary some ten years ago? I do. When I start a project, I gather information. I didn't realize that it was a disproportionate amount.

Both she and my grad supervisor must have coordinated at some point. A lot of the things they were claiming as priorities were things that I remember them saying a month ago - I have a good memory for things like this - to forget about or shift focus away from.

The meeting was half an hour. I left the room feeling sick to my stomach for reasons I couldn't explain.

Let me be clear. I am not complaining that I got this wake up call. I very much respect my supervisor, and have been trying to prove myself as a good choice for the student exchange since Day 1.
Only one thing to do. Forget about it for the night. Go boarding. And kick ass for the remaining month and a half.

Oh, on the upside, she said I was competent in the lab. That was at the beginning of the meeting.

Swinging Space Age Bachelor Man!

I believe in a strange sort of karma, so I want to openly apologize to the universe for what I put the chicken drumsticks through before finally getting them into the frying pan. No animal that's already died should have to endure that. Although in my defence, if I had a decent knife, it would have been a lot neater.

My roommate has redeemed himself. He had absolutely no recollection of the night - I'm not surprised - and was genuinely horrified when I told him everything. He'd also scored tickets for the most brilliant musical in all of Space and Time - Jacob Richmond and Brooke Maxwell's Ride The Cyclone. This is by far the absolute most AWESOME piece of ANYTHING I have ever seen. The story centres around a rollercoaster accident that claimed six members of the St. Cassian Chamber Choir as its victims. The fortune telling machine at the carnival feels responsible for predicting their deaths and brings them back to life for one night so they can tell their stories.
It was unreal.
The opening lines were already great, and ended with "...any person's time of death. Please, put away your phones. I assure you, none of you will be receiving life changing news. Except for one of you. My condolences."
And the music, ohmygoodness. Words can't describe. I would go again - probably will go again - just to hear the songs. The critic who was there for the show we saw liked it also. (Ignore what he says about Misha. Misha was godly.)

On a sidenote, I did a handstand today and held it for one solid second. It all starts with one.

Oh, and Jake doesn't like my longboard, but that's only because mine's less springy than his and requires some skill to balance on. Pbbbbbt.

Serotonin hangovers suck.

I really have no patience for drunks anymore. I grew up on the idea that drinking was a casual thing, like some wine during a special dinner or a beer at a barbecue. Bonfires with a little something extra to keep you warm once the fire dies.
University's taught me otherwise. It's the party culture, I mean, I get it. And since chemists are notorious alcoholics - I blame our curriculum - I've got nothing against having a huge sendoff at the end of a semester you didn't think you'd make it through (yeaaaaah, Chem Bio '13). Thing is though, we had a party, got drunk, and then I went home and went to sleep (at 10. We started early.)
I didn't go home and hammer on my roommate's door before five in the morning. Three times.

The first time I ignored it - probably just dreaming. The second time I made a point to ignore it. Seriously. Who would be stupid enough to wake me up this early in the morning? How long have they known me, two and a half months now?
The third time I went to the door. No one there. I crept into the kitchen and lo and behold, my roommate Jim is silhouetted against the early lightening of the sky at the kitchen sink.
"Jim? Jim, did you knock on my door?"
"No. I banged on it. I didn't knock. I banged on it."
"...Are you okay?"
The guy stumbled as he went to lean against a counter.
"Are you okay?" I asked, again. " 'Cause I can smell it from here, dude..." Cigars. Lots of cigars. And very clearly drunk. He made a grandiose gesture at the window.
"Look, it's almost morning!"
"...Go to sleep, eh?"
Anyway, he went to bed and I tried to get back to sleep - failing horribly for a couple hours. Once it was time to get up, I was so relieved that I promptly fell asleep and overslept.
My ex-roommates know this well: I don't function well on little sleep. It does not make me a better person.

One of the first things I did in the lab today was break a 250 mL beaker. While cleaning a fresh one in the fumehood, I squirted a substantial amount of methanol outside of the sash. Later in the morning, I overfilled an organic waste container, which spilled out in the fumehood. I knocked over 6 of the 8 volumetric flasks I was working with. The NaCl solution I was transferring decided it wanted to be all over the lab bench instead.
My labmates had to contend with hearing glassy plunks and thuds followed by muffled expletives. And a 25 min solution prep took 2 hours to complete. Including the 10 minute break I took to get a grip and relax.

Franzi, you're clumsy. Oh, without a doubt. I will never deny that in this lifetime. There is such thing as a significant deviation from the norm, though. And yeah, I blame Jim. I mean, the drunk Jim from last night.

It's no secret that our friends circle went through some rough patches this year. And while a lot of it was from just regular hookups, a large chunk was fueled by alcohol-driven "he-saids" and "she-saids" and "they-dids". The truly wasted become entirely self-centred - their universe revolves around their thoughts, their emotions, their issues. Their desires. That's when you wake up the next morning and go "Ah, shit, he/she/the dog/my neighbour/my ex is never talking to me again after that."
Way to go, genius. I hope your id's satisfied.

This is turning into a longer rant than I wanted. That's fine. I feel a lot better.
This helped too.

Power to the Hips!

Men have the weirdest proportions. They've got these big shoulders balanced on ridiculously small hips. It feels tempting to see if a well-placed hip-bump couldn't bring them toppling down. A physique like that should be good for swimming, boxing, throwing objects and climbing (can't make up my mind about running). As my osteopath said in response to my question about pull ups, power comes from the triangle shape of widely-set shoulders tapering down to a point. Which is fantastic, if you want to do muscle ups professionally for the rest of your life. As for the rest of the sports world, it's a mystery to me why - based on proportions - women haven't taken over years ago.

Like for boarding. My roommate Devon tried out my longboard today. The way women and men move is so profoundly different - it's no wonder we have typically "feminine" and "masculine" sports. Boarding should definitely be a women's thing, though. Our shoulders are smaller framed and our centre of gravity is an inch lower and further back. More importantly though, we have got hips.

Oh yeah. Big hips, more stable, a broader stance, and because we walk with style (you can't not with hips) all those little stabilizer muscles are elastic and well-trained. Now, skateboarding, snowboarding, surfing and long boarding are all pretty similar. Now this next bit comes from a woman's point of view, fine, but:
How do males do curves?? It's so easy - a beautiful coordinated symphony from your abs to your hips, your thighs to your knees and the board just ... follows. I had a much harder time with other sports, such as rock climbing or soccer or what have you. But boarding? I was pretty much stable after an hour. It's just... groovy. I could cruise for ages. Women have more control over their hips. In my mind, I see a nation of really badass women shredding up the streets the way we should be doing.

Get these twigmen out of our way ;) let's get carving!

Be Your Own Hero

Thought for the day: civilizations with opposable thumbs could be brought down by a single badly-placed paper cut.

If you haven't seen Whip It, you should. It's cute, it's funny, and it makes my heart sing to see so many empowered women in tattoos and full eye make-up, pounding each other into the side boards in the name of sport. Also, if you haven't seen Whip It, it's going to make this post a little confusing.

I WENT TO A ROLLER DERBY MATCH: Victoria's Eves of Destruction vs Slaughter Valley's Death Rattle Rollers. Seeing as my only experience with roller derby was Whip It, I wasn't sure what to expect (although I was hoping against hope that Jimmy Fallon would be there). But it's all there - the players are all female, fishnet tights and booty shorts, fully geared up in a helmet, mouth guard, elbow pads, wrist pads and knee pads. They were selling cupcakes as a fundraiser with little chocolate decors in the shapes of lipstick, a roller skate, and penises.

Unique to this sport is that the players get to pick their own names and the number under which they skate, and boy, these names are amazing: Darth Maulher, Scuttlebutt Jibber Jabber, Owl Stompya, Hudson Smack, Scarie Antoinette, Yvetta Vendetta, Major Felony, Miss Direction, Juke Jill N' Haul, Volatile Velvet, Carmen Die-Oxide, Haul Ass Hanna... The list - literally - just goes on. My personal favourite of the night was Isla Eatyobabies from the Death Rattle Rollers.


Franzi, is there some sort of sport involved in all this wonderful madness?
Oh, yes. The rules are fairly simple and allow for all kinds of shenanigans. A block of team members from both teams - the blockers - skate ahead. The second whistle lets the jammers - one member of each team, denoted by a star on their helmet - loose. They skate up to the blockers and try to get past them. So the blockers are trying to help their own jammer while stopping the other one from getting through.
This is a contact sport. These woman are tough as nails. And fast - Crimson Reign, an Eves Jammer, usually got past the Death Rattle blockers before they even realised she was there. I saw hits that brought two or more players down and almost collided into the "Crash Zone" section of the audience (18+) where I was sitting.
It was absolute strategic insanity from start to finish - and there are very clear strategic plays being employed. I was surprised at the audience, too - ranging from 6 to 60 years in age.

I've tried a lot of male-dominated sports (karate, parkour, rock climbing, longboarding, snowboarding) but even I wouldn't go near this sport. Too hardcore for me :P

Super night out - would see them again in a heartbeat.

Hey - did you know Hamilton has a team?

Ka-zing

[X] perform a song to someone
[X] knowingly make a mistake

Check and check. On Tuesday, every machine in the fluorimetry lab as well as my lab mate Lissa lay witness to me singing Florence's part in this mashup. The door was open, so probably most of the basement labs heard it, actually...

As for the mistake... I've bought a longboard. I don't know what came over me - they just look so damn cool. Maximum chill cruising. Comparatively cheap, considering most of them run from $210 - $300. Her name's Mandy and she's got blue wheels.
She's also awesome fun. :D Up and down the street, yeaaaaaah...
My poor parents, I can feel their blood pressure rising from here - I'M OKAY. I'M WEARING A HELMET AND KNEE PADS. And after 2 years of parkour, I've become quite good at catching myself if I fall.

I have no idea how I'm getting it back to Ontario.

No diggity, no doubt... Play on playa...

The No Pasta Challenge

Anyone who lived with me last year knows my bipolar attitude toward cooking. Once I find a healthy alternative to whatever the rest of the house is eating, I tend to stick with the same recipe for weeks before I get bored enough to resort to what other people are eating. Cue guilt and repeat.
I've eaten pasta 3-5 times a week since I've moved here. It's fast, it's simple, and it requires minimal brain power to not pour boiling water all over yourself. I figured it was okay - it's not like it's KD I'm eating, *coughJimcough*.
As predicted, a lab member recently renounced all people who were unable to take care of themselves to the point where they ate only pasta. Wait, I'm being unhealthy, what? And because I'm such a proactive little sheep, I've decided that this is my week of culinary exploration - a new non-pasta dish for each night!

Tuesday: Mushroom... Dish (Names are not my strong point here).
          Dice onion and brown in butter. Spice with saltnpepper and paprika. Dice up mushrooms - whatever's cheap, in my case, champignons - and stir into onions. Toss and fry until golden. At the last minute, add endive for extra crunch. Turn off the heat and stir in two dollops of plain / natural yogurt. Don't heat up any more because the yogurt will curdle... Serve with bread.
Wednesday: Pork w/ Onions
         I had half an hour to cook at eat, so I just fried some pork with paprika and onion. Protein ftw!
Thursday: Stuffed Tomatoes
          Exactly what it sounds like, but I made the mistake of toasting rye bread instead of using croutons - definitely not the best choice. Also, these things need a good hour in the oven...
Friday: Burgers
          Beer, barbecue, burgers, beer nuts, mango salad, party mix and movies. Rock on.
Saturday: Stuffed Tomatoes Reprised
         Yeah, I had to give that another go. Much much better with ground beef filling.
Sunday: ...Chicken Alfredo Penne
          ...Okay, fine, but that was my housemate's dinner that she made for us to make up for missing our BBQ.
Monday: ...Pasta.
           Okay, I couldn't go a week without pasta. In my defence, if I'd been feeling better I would probably made an effort.
Tuesday: ...Pasta
          Nope. No excuse.

End result: fail.
Additional notes: food in Victoria is ridiculously expensive. You're better off buying cheap vegetables and whipping something random together, or living off of KD. Or Pasta. Yum.

Keep it moving, keep it flowing

Let's give it up for a city that doesn't run out of things to do!
These past few weeks, whenever I've gone downtown to train or, well, lurk, there has been some sort of festival or mass event going down. The same's been true for my frequent visits to Willows Beach.
Other than the Cycling Grand Prix, I also walked into the Jump Ship Freeriding Competition on June 10th. It was a massive weekend event that had the most skilled and daring riders in and out of the region. There was also an awesome DJ with pounding dubstep. It was an awesome setup, with a giant ramp and an even larger crash mat for tricks, and a real obstacle terrain where riders were giving it their best right on the waterfront. Jake got some awesome slow-motion footage on his spiffy camera and man, I wish I could do those flips on a bike.

There was also a Wine and Cheese event with beer and music downtown yesterday, but I missed it due to climbing rocks at Willows Beach and coming across the MEC Paddlefest, which was like the family reunion of all kayakers and canoers of Vancouver Island. I have never seen so many kayaks. It's like the Grand Prix all over again with all their fancy gear.
Hey Franzi, why didn't you follow up on your "go kayaking" challenge from your bucket list, hmm? 
Yeah, I don't have an excuse other than the lack of gear and the fact I'd just been climbing over a peninsula. Oh, and I got distracted by a very small donkey being lead by a string through the crowd.

And today, there was an elaborate scavenger hunt near where we were training. It was kind of amusing to see groups of people pass by our spot, search every nook and cranny, and then run off shouting.

Next week there will be a block party a few streets from my house. *fistpump* And free movies at the downtown bandshell for all of August. *double fist pump* And an electronic music fest. *triple fist pu - explode*

Hybrid cars don't make good accelerant!

So, how about last night's game, eh?
I didn't actually see any of it - fortunately, so I'm told. I had a previous commitment to meet up with some other writers in Victoria and have deep Discussions and a critique session. One of our topics was the old chestnut "people never change." As you might have guessed, I don't agree at all. My life's philosophy is firmly rooted in the idea that people are very much in charge of what actions they take and how they are affected by things around them. I do acknowledge that some events can be of enough consequence to promote change without conscious control of the person him- or herself. The idea, though, that people are cemented into one predictable set of responses for the rest of their life is incomprehensible to me.
The argument came up that some people, regardless of external influences, are hardwired to exactly that - a predictable, almost instinctive set of cause/effect statements. Some sort of default system that runs deep.
Nasrin, an Iranian woman, made a really nice analogy using a cedar tree and a fig tree. A fig tree will grow from a shoot into a sapling into a fruit-bearing tree. How it grows is dependent on its surroundings - the same seed would not grow the same way twice. However, a fig tree will never be a cedar tree. Fig tree stays fig tree.
I had a mayan hot chocolate. There was a totem pole in the cafe. It was one of those nights.

The first I heard of the rioting in Vancouver was a couple hours later, now that we'd relocated to a bakery where one of the employees was streaming the game on his laptop. I didn't even really believe him at first. Dude, rioting? In Vancouver? In the stoner province of Canada, yeah, right. The radio station in the car had several live interviews going on. It sobers you up pretty quick. Also, apparantly, this has happened before.
Someone had set a pick up truck on fire. Garbage was being scattered on the streets. Fights breaking out among the crowd. Flash bangs interrupting the radio broadcast.
Police had used tear gas - although I heard the story that crowds had tossed them straight back, well done...

So here's what happened in Victoria: obviously, people were not super excited about a 4-0 loss. There were a lot of people talking. There was a single cop car on the street, talking to a pulled over truck. Some guy jumped up and down beside a bar to get rid of some extra energy.

That's it.

Clearly, we decided, the 18 - 30 population in Victoria either a) didn't care or b) was too high to care. It's one of those stereotypes that works in their favour. It's the ocean air. Besides, do hippies watch hockey? Does anyone know that?

Pretty embarrassing, Vancouver...

Two posts, one day.

Today's events deserve a unique post.

Sunday parkour downtown! It was unprecedently hot this weekend, which is the best weather to do cardio and conditioning in. There was an explosion of interest in the facebook group from newcomers, and I was all prepped on shirking teaching duties on someone else for a change before it became my "thing" like back home. No fear, though, because not a single newcomer showed up. Surprise, surprise. (To all non-traceurs reading this, hearing someone say "I would love to learn parkour" is analogous to "I've always wanted to go to Europe" or "I should really learn German." You know who you are.) Actually, two new guys did show - friends of someone else who trains. One of them just sat there on account of not wearing proper shoes. Lame.

Anyway, we exhausted our options (and ourselves) in all the unsheltered sun-blasted spots downtown when one of the guys, Jacob, mentioned a beach with some awesome training spots. "And there's a tree. A shady tree." Sold. Thus began our expedition to find this beach.
To be fair, we never actually did get lost. It's just that Jacob had fluctuating confidence in his own directions. "I think it's this way." "This probably isn't the most efficient route." "I don't think this is the field." "Oh, I remember this playground." We'd come across a children's playground with one of those awesome water sprinklers.
I suggested we go run through the sprinkler. The water was a life saver in that heat. All three of us were soaked to the skin after and fully energized. Those poor parents of those kids. I'm not sure they knew what to make of us. Jake had his camera so we also have video footage of us frolicking, along with our epic hair-battle (I declare a win - my hair is the ShamWow of blondes).
We ended up walking barefoot for the next little while.
"Oh, that wasn't the playground I thought it was. But I remember that tree stump!" Uh huh. Sure, Jake.

We stopped at two more places on the way - some boulders and the fabled Shady Tree. I was still soaked. When we got to the beach, the view was incredible. Snowy mountains, almost within reaching distance, all along the horizon. The street became a short stretch of green that dropped abruptly twenty feet to the shore.
"Yeah, this is the right beach. But it's not the right place..."
When we finally got there, it was a good 4 km from where we'd started downtown. It was a good training spot, but allergies and sun were getting the best of us, so we decided to head back after a short while. At least we know what bus to take next time, though.
Overall, a really awesome day with my new training buddies. Have a feeling that good times will be aplenty.

For Media Monkey - I had an awesome flow routine worked out when I went training solo downtown.

Hamilton Parkour, I miss you guys! Keep moving!

My garden, your hands.

So Thursday I went rock climbing with a friend I've made here. It was one of those spur of the moment things where I realized I'd been sitting in front of a computer screen (okay, while getting paid) for 6 hours and couldn't stand the idea that I was gonna sit on a couch all night.We went to a place in a slightly sketchy-looking neighbourhood called CragX. I've been to Climber's Rock back in the Hammer - which will forever be my rock climbing mecca - so by comparison, it was a little small and limited if you just wanted to boulder. But there were some pretty tough routes and we were totally spent an hour and a half later. I spent ten minutes trying to get this "easy" route which seriously challenged my flexibility and grip strength. I even got and ripped two blisters on one hand. Man, I never get blisters. I blame all the hand lotion in the lab (when you go through 4L of methanol in under two days, you wash your hands a lot). Bouldering has that unique ability to make you feel totally uncoordinated even after months of doing it, so it was a really awesome feeling of achievement when I managed two of the marked routes.
Thanks to the guys who gave us chalk and advice on some of the tricky holds!

I had this bizarre encounter on my way back from training alone downtown the next day. I was at the bus stop when a woman crossed the street to offer me flowers. "From my garden to your hands", a gift. As is the universal nature of such meetings, she then proceeded to tell me her life's story. How she grew up around here and had family in London, Ontario... How she was waiting for a friend that she'd known for 40 years, how they'd found each other again randomly earlier that week... Some guy was walking past that she knew so there was another reunion and a recap of the lost friend story, although this time she added "...and she's taking me to her place to get high!"
It took everything in me not to burst out laughing. As my supervisor pointed out later, the last original hippies must be at least 57 now. I know now, in my heart, that somewhere in Victoria is the most bitchin' senior's home in Canada. I'm coming back here to retire.
She also told me that she's officially a native elder in August and where I could find the reserve if I wanted to be there. I now have an open invitation for coffee and tea in this woman's house. I'm not sure what I did to deserve this.
The flowers were nice, though. Looked like a blend of trilliums and snapdragons on steroids.

My life is a movie.

When you scorn a writer, she goes global.
Not that I'll be naming names. Or situations.

This is actually just a huge shout out to all my friends from back home who will gladly take my messed up shit any hour of the day or night and listen to every last word of my rants.

Love you guys.
Miss you more.


What an asshole.

Thanks, kiddo.

"Mommy, that girl almost fell on her face!"
Thanks, kiddo. Keep being awesome. Turns out I still can't walk up a flight of stairs. In a skirt, carrying popcorn no less. Grmpf.
In other news, Kung Fu Panda 2 is totally hilarious and cute and well worth your time. Go see it and try to pick out the (unnecessarily...?) star-studded selection of voice actors (Jack Black, Angelina Jolie, Dustin Hoffman, Jackie Chan, Lucy Liu, Seth Rogen, Jean-Claude Van Damme, Michelle Yeoh... honestly, if I recognize most of the names, it's overkill... Although Yeoh was perfect.)

So last weekend, while I was eagerly waiting the start of a super-awesome training day (glorious sunshine for 4 consecutive hours! What?!), I realized that Bastion Square - where we were meeting up - was boxed in by two fences and about 30 really fast cyclists. There was the annual Grand Prix going on.
I walked around - cause walking through was a bit difficult - and saw that one of the corners in the rectangular racing track was padded with two rows of sacks of housing insulation. The nickname for that turn is "crash corner". No, seriously. It's a super difficult technical turn, not only because it's 90 degrees after a downhill stretch, but also because the road curves away from the direction you want to go in. I think that's called a "camper". Anyway, it seems that most years, there's some sort of horrible fly-away, especially when it's raining.
And cyclists are hardcore. I always forget how fanatical true athletes can be about their sport. There are $10000 bikes! I mean, there was a division for kids aged 9+! Not to mention some really focused looking high schoolers who were "potential Olympic hopefuls".
Oh, and they had trance music playing over the speakers. Armin van Buuren ftw.

Training was awesome - about 10 people came out. Good times :D more to come.

Tongues of Fire

[X] allow yourself to feel intense, constructive emotion in the rain

Okay, there wasn't rain. That would have been too Hollywood.
But there was a slam poetry competition, a hug, and a moment in the mecca of all women's emotional troubles - the bathroom stall.
Good enough.

Sick.

I would give up fame and fortune for someone to come over with a bowl of chicken noodle soup right now.

Seattle, part 4

DAY 3

I awoke to the idiot sleeping in the bunk below me causing earthquakes with his drunken elephantine method of walking, rolling over, or breathing. The next time I awoke to Nina telling me to get up.
I have to say - best night's sleep in a long time. Even with Erdbebenmann (as we referred to the idiot for the rest of the day) traversing the room like a withdrawing crack addict.
Oh, and the window was mysteriously open again.

We power-walked to the Seattle Centre and saw the Space Needle. We were on a time constraint, so we decided not to go up (also, one of us has a fear of heights). It was also closed, at 9am on a Monday. Our German punctuality and early sense of productivity was confused at this. Don't they want our money?
The greatest regret of the day was being unable to go to the Experience Music Project - by the time they opened, 10:05 am, we would have had half an hour, tops, before having to walk to the ferry for 11:00. We got some snazzy shots of the wicked architecture while we waited, undecided, for it to open.
Finally, we opted to walk around some more - bought a chai latte at another Starbucks - and walked to the port where the ferry was docked.

Arriving home, I was a state of total numbness. Even now, my whole body is telling me to just stop. However, we were already invited to our supervisor's house. We spent dinner recounting the trip and blaming various inconveniences and straight-up fails of the trip on each other. Despite our teasing, it was super-enjoyable and I don't regret a single moment. If you approach me in person, I will happily retell parts of the story with more detail and appropriate hand and facial gestures. :)

Once I have energy and time (not tomorrow), I will get pictures up.
Until then, check out the links and get a listen on Lykke Li.
Cheers,
Franzi

Seattle, part 3

So - we left the hostel at around 8:30 am and returned 5:45 pm with very few purchases, sore feet, and several bad Chemistry jokes regarding our energy levels and lifetimes of compounds.
We were also running out of N-foods and E-foods. The bad luck was that in German, most foods end in -n, -t, -s, -i, or -e. We got desperate at some points.
"Neanderthal."
"Nun."
"Napalm."
Nina used every variant of "Erdbeer-" ("strawberry"), like Erdbeerjogurt, or Erdbeermilch, Erdbeereis, Erdbeertorte, etc. until I finally called bullshit and did the same thing with "Erbsen -" ("pea"). Neither of us thought of "Espresso" until our last Starbucks visit (#8, Belltown).

I was very set on eating Indian food that night, so after we could stand again, we found a place on 2nd Avenue. The food was mediocre and the service was awful, although I liked the dessert, kheer. Anyway - stuffed and still exhausted, we decided to drag our butts to the bar from the night before and get a beer - a proper one, this time.
I ordered a Stella for myself and a Corona for Nina. The bartender asked for our IDs. I held my breath as he checked.
"Oh, you're new to this." All smiles, walks away. Comes back with my beer.
I've just checked the laws now, because we debated this for a while afterward, and I am very definitely 19 and very definitely underage in the State of Washington, or any American state for that matter. Weird. Not complaining.
After fending off two guys, I produced a deck of cards that turned into an impromptu game of Euchre between our table and a guy and a girl, both Canadian, at the adjacent table. It was an absolute blast, mixed with German swearing, some cocky competition, and the addition of an Australian traveler to our table. Stewart ("Stew-itt")  had some awesome stories and had us in stitches with, well, him for the rest of the night. It was a really great spontaneous night, highlighted by comments from Stewart as we made him fill in for Nina while she went for a smoke: "Haven't hadta think fer three weeks, fack... 'Ang on..."
He also conceded that "Kiwis" are better rugby players than the Australian team.

Sunday night was far emptier at the hostel (regular work day for Americans on Victoria Day), so I got my own bed in the same room as the previous night. We closed the window this time and, sleeping with a proper pillow for the first time in a month, collapsed into sweet sleep.

Seattle, part 2

So the general observable trend is that I can't write short posts. Anyway.

DAY 2

I awoke to seagulls. Someone had left the window fully open for the night, which we missed when we came in last night. I used to have beef with squirrels. Now it's seagulls. I came out of my sleep with the notion to cross to the other roof and turn every seagull's head by the beak until I heard a crack. Nina didn't sleep well either. Police sirens. And apparently I tried to spread out in my sleep.

Breakfast was provided by the hostel - City Hostel, very nice place, awesome reviews, great people - after which, we immediately set out for a full day of shopping and sightseeing.

This is for Philip: I saw the original Starbucks. You know, the one that existed before it became mainstream? Back when it was just a coffee place no one had heard of. So much better before they sold out...

Anyway, Seattle is truly a coffee culture. Inside the tourist/business downtown area, we saw no less than 8 unique Starbucks. There were four on Pine Street, alone. Shrek 2 wasn't kidding.

My absolute favourite part of the day was visiting the Seattle Art Museum, specifically the Nick Cave exhibit, "Meet Me at the Center of the Earth". The feature of this exhibit are the "Soundsuits", fully wearable costumes that are made of every fabric imaginable. They're made to be worn, it seems, because their movement is fascinating and acoustic. In addition to the suits themselves - made from anything and everything over a span of 20 years - a video screen showed an incredible montage of dance and music composed by Nick Cave himself. I highly recommend that whoever reads this follows up on this amazing artistic exploration. 

SAM also had cars hanging from the ceiling speared with light rods, as well as a replica of a Japanese tea house, where I set off the motion detector inside the model by poking my head inside the door. Figures. 

If you're in the area, go. It's that simple. 

After a quick lunch, the shopping bonanza - Nina's main purpose for the trip - began. Let me dispel a few myths and set some ground rules....

1) Things are not cheaper in the States.

2) The tourist map of Seattle makes everything look much farther apart than it really is.

3) If you are rich woman, you are set. You are more than set. You will never leave.

4) If you are a rich man, you have several stylish options.

5) If you're a student wearing leggings and sneakers, with a Nine Inch Nails patch sewn onto your jacket, be prepared to hit a lot of dead ends. Like, 8 hours worth.

6) There are two music stores in all of downtown Seattle. 1 in 10 salespeople know where they are. Be persistent.

So the first few hours were a total waste. If there are three figures on the price tag, I don't care how good it looks. I have not reached the Cashmere stage of my life yet. If I never see another designer blouse again, it will be too soon. I think the most expensive item I saw was a jacket upwards of $2000. 

However, I did get a very nice eyeliner, a Lykke Li album (20 minutes trek out of the city to find the store), and a bottle of perfume. 

Also - 7) sneakers are uncomfortable for walking and they wear through fast.

Seattle, part 1

I'm writing this in retrospect at the end of our trip, and as such will try to include some sort of roundedness to the story. At the very least, I will make a sincere attempt. But I am very tired and stuffed from a wonderful dinner at my supervisor's, and frankly, the whole weekend's a bit of a blur...

DAY 1

It started two weeks ago when our other German student in the lab, Nina, asked me to join her on a trip to Seattle. She'd never made the trip and didn't want to go alone. The States and I have been mutually indifferent to each other for a couple years now, but hey, why not? As long as we can get over the border...
...This is probably being monitored on some level or another, so here is an open comment addressed to the Department of Tourism or Whatever of the United States: Please make a single set of requirements for the Visa Waiver Program to be published on all your sites. Remove invalid or outdated information and do not assume that your Judicial terms are understandable to an ordinary citizen who does not cough up pages of the Constitution between meals on a daily basis.
Turns out we didn't have to do squat except fill out a questionnaire assuring them we hadn't kidnapped any children, participated in any terrorist activities or invoked diplomatic immunity at any point in the past (Nina: "Who the hell is going to check 'yes'? And why was he carrying a stack of only German cards with him?"). Anyway, by the time we had our tickets, the 11:30 am ferry was full. The next one was at 7:00 pm.
Eight hours to kill. Puh.

We walked all over downtown playing the game where each person has to pick a word from a category, and the subsequent word has to begin with the ending letter of the previous word. It started off with bands. Then famous people. Then foods. Two days later the game ended when we went back to our respective homes.
I'm gonna speed through the next through hours: Walk. Coffee. Walk. Talk. Bus. Nina's house. Lounge. Reservations. Or not. Shit. Okay, one reservation. Walk. DELICIOUS hot chocolate, second only to Fine Grind back in St. Kitts. Bus. Customs. 3 hour ferry.
SEATTLE!
More customs. Aaaaand...
Ten o'clock at night on Seattle streets.
Now, because of Victoria Day weekend, every single hostel and hotel in the city was completely booked. But we had one reservation (1 bed, 1 person, 1 night) at the City Hostel. We had to get the manager and convince him - not without effort - that he absolutely had to let Nina and I share a bed for the night, as I had no desire to sleep on the street. Finally, he caved. I would pay half the price of a regular bed on top of what Nina was paying for the bed. Fine by me.
I tried to pay with debit. Their system crashed and went offline. Credit didn't work either. I tried to pay with cash, only to be reminded that Canadian money is not accepted in the States (duh). I had to run next door to a pub and withdraw cash to finally pay. When Nina went to pay with her credit card right after me, the system let her through on the first try.

After that, we figured we deserved a beverage of some sort. The bouncer asked us for IDs (remember: me, 19. Drinking age in the states, 21), checked them over carefully, and looked up with a smile.
"Welcome, ladies, the table at the back is free."
What?
Not wanting to push my luck, I just had a ginger ale, laughed hysterically about the day's events with Nina, went back to the hostel and crawled into bed, exhausted.

On the upside...

My dear friend Szálka gave me some poignant wisdom about my last post.

"I seem to remember having this discussion with you about a year ago, the whole this-is-the-rest-of-my-life-aaaaaaaaaaahhh... I think the problem is a vertigo of sorts. You're looking too far into the future and it's making you dizzy. Focus on something closer, or just close your eyes, or else you're going to fall. At any rate, you can do this."

<3

Today wasn't so bad. :)

"How much do you hate science?"

Ground-breaking discovery: chemicals have souls and they don't like me very much. Or maybe I'm an undergraduate student trying to analyse and describe things I'm still learning about. Either way, these last two days, Science as a job has not been kind. 

Yesterday, I found out that my compound, depending on how long it's been sitting on a lab bench, gives a different absorption spectra. My data that day became potentially moot.

Today, I tried to fit my data on three separate programs, and only managed to get a reasonable result by changing initial values to make it seem like 80% of my sample had vanished into nothingness. The majority of the time, the program was determined to fit an exponential decay curve with a straight line. (Don't ask me, it's professional software. Even has 3.0 in its title).

Did you know that a compound can change its E/Z configuration around a double bond simply by subjecting it to light? (Like in absorption spectra and fluorescence measurements I've been running all week?) A literature search reveals this has been known since the 1950s - I found this out today. Also, one of my compounds is exhibiting a benzene peak it shouldn't.

A discussion with my increasingly awesome research group reveals that life as an active researcher or continuing academic is founded on a love-hate relationship with science. Asking around the lab, "hate" seems to be winning out recently with the following results: 93%, 92.9%, 80% and 50% (Tony remains semi-optimistic).

We got to talking about how much it cost to get a Ph.D., measured in dollars, years, youth... Between myself, a fourth year co-op student, and a post-doc, we'd just about confirmed that it was a fool's quest to try and distinguish yourself in a profession dominated by tenured professors, focusing on a narrow topic of one field in a single scientific discipline. Until...

"It's about the passion, though. You've got to find something that you really love. Something you could spend your life doing. You do that, it's worth it."

Sounds like a fairytale to me. My attention is so scattered, my Prince Charming, scientifically speaking, would have to follow me for months before I clued in. And even then... spending my 20s and 30s and all my money on something that may be a dead end? 

Gosh, I'm cynical today. 

But then again, it's just been a long week with every promise of getting longer. I've hit my first scientific brick wall and I'm tired of pounding my head in. In the immortal words of inventors everywhere... "I swear it worked ten minutes ago."

Whatever. Tea, Pink Floyd and sleeeeep...

A Weekend in Three Acts

[X] do groceries w/o going to a major grocery store
There're so many little markets and bakeries around here; it's not really that much of a challenge and it's always delicious.

I was gonna do a quirky post, but damnit, I'm so damn tired that my body's on autopilot and my cuss filter is flickering in and out. And this armchair is comfy.
So, Friday:
I googled "Writer club victoria" or some variant and found a group that meets up and has all these great supportive writing discussions. So in my socially responsible manner, I decided to show up randomly at the bakery they were meeting. I didn't actually find them, but I found two other first-timers who also didn't know how to find the others. Suffice to say we've got our own group now. ;)
Then I went hunting for a pub, cause I had this idea of me sitting at a bar with a notepad and a beer, scribbling down alcohol-fueled brilliance.
This is how I found Big Bad John's bar: I've never seen a bear hunter leave a hole in the wall before. There was a sign saying "Sorry, we're open". I walked in and immediately got jostled aside - place was packed and was probably as narrow as Fan Tan Alley. People were sitting on sawed off logs. The only lighting was Christmas lights. Ancient monetary bills were signed in sharpie and plastered everywhere. Signed bras were hanging from the ceiling. Hijacked road signs were haphazardly fastened. And it was very fucking loud.
I didn't end up getting a beer there (due to fear of being sat on), and had to ask a club bouncer where a decent pub was -- for a decidedly British city, Victoria needs to get more classic pubs on the main streets and less clubs and Asian fusion restaurants...
Finally found a place. Had the beer. Wrote something. Haven't looked at it yet. Probably rubbish.

Saturday:
Got up. Ran. Played at the beach. Dozed off. Walked home. Ate. Slept for four hours. Got up. Movie. Skype. Movie. Crash.

Sunday:
This is for Boy Swagger back home: I trained today. In the rain, no less, because the powers that be have decreed that it will rain every time I train with people. It was pouring. I met up with another traceur downtown, the only other practitioner I have met in the flesh since I got here. VicPk needs to wake up. Still, we had a blast. There's some awesome spots at the Inner Harbour.
The downside: the rain was fucking brutal. I have never wiped out so much doing rail work. The rails were so wet that the paint was flaking off in my hands. At one point I took a running start and slid 7ft across the pavement on sheer lack of friction.
After two hours, my shirt was covered in moss, mud and bloody finger swipes. I was also soaked to the skin through two layers of clothes. I had to buy an emergency outfit at Bluenotes or seriously risk hypothermia. I will never undervalue being dry and warm again.

The only important thing is that I have new training shoes. They're pretty. Once I can feel my hamstrings again, Imma go for a run.

Broken Crabs and Red Lanterns

[X] tell a stranger the truth
[X] take a walk off the beaten path (literally)

An aside:

I love Chinatown. It's like a mini-city within a city. And sometimes the transition is extreme enough that you wonder if you were drugged and brought to Asia at some point when you turned the corner. Now Victoria boasts one of the oldest Chinatowns in North America, and while there's not much left of it today, it was still fun to explore. At the entrance is a huge monument spanning the street called the Gate of Harmonious Interest. It's flashy and impressive, with two hand-carved stone lions flanking the pillars. Behind it, blossoming cherry trees line the street while red lanterns are strung between buildings with rickety fire escapes.

What this Chinatown does have is the smallest commercial street in the world. THE WHOLE WORLD. Including all those little places in Austria and Italy, not to mention China itself... Fan Tan Alley starts off with a 4ft (1.2m) bottleneck that widens to 6ft (1.8m) in the middle before closing up again. It used to be the site for opium dens, gambling parlours and brothels. Now there're a few knick knack stores and a really awesome records store that I checked out. Pictures are up and I recommend you take a look!

So today, I made the grevious mistake of forgetting my camera when I went for a 2 hour run/hike along the nearby beach. The main strip of beach, covered in rocks and driftwood, extends into a jagged rocky coastline with a few boat dropping sites. I was making my way over the rocks when a guy out on the water waved at me.
"If you keep going around the bump you'll see an otter eating a halibut corpse!"

"...Really?!"

He pointed a little ways ahead of me and I scrambled to get there over seaweed-encrusted boulders. And no shit -

"Right there by the seagulls - yeah, just below you!"
I was standing less than 7ft above an otter who was munching on a fish almost as long as him, and much wider. Holy shit, is that how big a halibut is? It was the coolest thing to watch. This little scruffy looking otter was tugging at the bones of a fish that looked like it'd been professionally filleted. A couple seagulls were sticking close by, pointedly staring at the otter as if to say "Leave... c'mon just walk away..."  He was having none of it though and kept working on that fish with some serious chomping and tearing.

So my off the beaten track story: 

Pretty much the entire hike was off the beaten track. Most of the time, I was just climbing rock and there wasn't really a path to be found. At the start of the island outrcropping (that I was on), though, the beaten track was this little dirt footpath that separated the hill from the rocks leading to the water. The rocks are pretty severe and make for some great walking. I doubled back on the path at one point to grab my jacket, when some buzzing made me look up. The intense buzzing proved to be a wasps nest that was part of the hill and spanned probably 4sq. ft of the path. Little holes puckered the ground and the surrounding area while little dark blips whizzed back and forth menacingly.

I'm not afraid of wasps, but I'm not about to walk through a herd of them.

So - rocks it is. I know what you're thinking: Oh, I bet Franzi "parkoured that shit". For the record - parkour is about speed and efficiency. I was very damn careful (= slow) when I decided to jump from rock to sea encrusted rock to get past that wasps nest. Didn't fall - didn't slip - and made it out of there without getting chased. Check, double check, aw yeah. 

My truth to a stranger story is staying with me for now :) Maybe I'll tell you guys sometime.

Tomatoes and yogurt are the least of it...

Feeling a little under the weather after a dance-filled night - my first foray into Victoria's night-life. The dance floor didn't really pick up until 11:30 - at which point it really picked up - but the setup was really neat. Lots of light sweeps, light panels and even a massive smoke machine. I usually wear ear plugs when I go out clubbing - invisible to everyone else when my hair's down - which was validated again last night when I was the only one left capable of hearing speech at a conversational level.
"Hey, so how are you guys getting home?"
"WHAT?"
"... HOME. HOW?"
"HOME?"
"Yeah, are you getting a taxi?"
"WHAT?"
"Er...TAXI?!"
I rest my case.

That wasn't really what I wanted to talk about though. What I wanted to talk about is my inevitable decline into American-Tourist-Speak.
With a German background, I am fully aware of the typical German mistakes that come from too literally translating, however slight.
For example, "I am not so hungry" instead of "I am not that hungry". The German so is an intensifier, in the same way that is used in English. If you ever hear this, you may not be entirely aware of the mistranslation - it's still pretty understandable that she doesn't want lunch with you. I generally pick up on it because I was exposed to a lot of language and English as a kid.
Aside: one of my favourite linguistic experiences was sitting next to a pool table in Cuba where a few kids from Quebec were arguing over the placement of one of the balls in French, listening to a Spanish TV program, talking to my brother in German and hearing him respond in English.
This summer, though, is really testing my limits. My supervisor is German and raised in Brazil - her accent is distinctly German with Portugese inflection on chemical names. Her husband is Brazilian and has a wonderful timbre in his voice. In the lab, we've got two more Brazilians, a Chilean, a German, and two Chinese (...Chinamen?). There is only one local student working there.
This makes for pretty interesting lab talk, but I have the unfortunate ability of adjusting my accent and speaking style to that of my surroundings (you try switching back and forth between London, England and Ontario). And I spend 6 - 7 hours a day with these people.
Quite frankly, my English is going down the toilet.
And "accent" has to be the worst word to try and include in a discussion about spoken language with this crowd. Five minutes in and I'm doubting the pronunciation of my own damn name, let alone how the vowels in that horrible word get twisted.
Ah-ksent. Äck-sint. Awksant. Aeh-sient. Ack-sent.
I've been getting creative with avoiding it though:
"It's probably due to your dialect."
"Well, yeah, but I've got a different way of pronouncing it."
"I would think most regions have different speech styles."
And my personal homage to Linguistic Psychology -
"You use more phonemes than a typical English-Canadian does."

My defence mechanism so far is to listen to music and write. Lots. My own voice, while completely unrecognizable to me if I hear it played back, knows what it wants to sound like.
On the other hand, if I come back with a split tongue, with dropped prepositions from sentence and bad grammar, you know why.

Stream of Consciousness

First Morning of Work

Blargh, alarm. 8:10. Button? 8:10. I know - button?! 8:1- "Dismiss", thank god, back to slee...

Wzft? What time is - 8:44. Oh. 8:44. 8:44. 844arghshitgetupgetupgetup -
Clothes? Clothes, phone, laptop, rainjacket fuckfuckfuck it's raining I have to walk - wtf? Oh yeah, I barricaded the door with the mattress, ow fingernails - grab bagels get shoes and go go go.

Where the fuck do I go?
Oh, right, up this street, then left then waaaay up that street "right to where we were yesterday" okay.

If I can attempt to jog up Mount Tolmie, walking this far in - check watch - argh, already ten to nine, gonna be late for the meeting - shouldn't be a problem. This bagel would be better if it were toasted. And not eaten while powerwalking.

God, this place is GREEN. And wet. Oh look, already at the intersection, I'll just run across this pedestrian walk here - ... What? Oh come on, you couldn't have just put crosswalks on each road... walk back, wait, walk across..., won't make that mistake tomorrow...

Walk... walk... waaaaaaalk... Turn right!

And walk... Ah, so busses do go down this street. And look, they're heading for UVic. At least I'm going the right way.
Hey, a duck.
...Why is there a duck? Seems a bit... residential for a duck. I am so glad there is no wind with this rain today.
Yes! The end of the street! I'm almost there!
Dammit! S-curve!
Hey, there are a lot of busses that go down this road... Man, it's still worth waiting an extra week if I can save $50 bucks on that buspass... just get up on time, maybe, hm Franzi?
Hey! Look! More green! Like, campus green! A sign! Thank god, I'm here with - check - 10 minutes to find the meeting room.

...I've never seen a university with this much peripheral land...

...where am I? Are there ANY buildings around here? Oh good! Sequoias! I know where I am now! No point in going into the basement first, across, then up to the third floor... just go in from the ground floor...

...
...
...?

...! Up two - ah, no three - flights, turn left -
"Franzi, you're here. We sent Sonja to find you. Because I said someone would meet you downstairs, right?"

Right. Er. Enter group meeting - know you, know you - who are you?? -
"You can sit here."
Flop. 9:35.

Let's Do the Safety Dance!

So a couple observations I've made:
Travelling without family is an adventure and much less stressful (but I love my family very much).
It's possible to have a complicated travel plan involving two plane flights, two coach rides and a ferry go off without a hitch.
Korean beef bulgogi is a godsend.

Sitting on a plane next to a Geography major while flying over five provinces gave me a whole new appreciation for the diversity of land in Canada. No, I'm serious. I saw the prairies for the first time yesterday - a huge expanse of flat farmland that looked like an infinite checkers board at 30000 ft. There were white oblong patches that I'm assuming were frozen lakes - in April! Landing in Edmonton, everything was still brown and overcast, but in a weird sense, kinda serene.
Flying over the Rockies was everything but. Apparently there're 10 mountain ranges in Canada, all unidentifiable to me, and the jagged mountainscapes were incredibly intimidating. My ~ 12 years of flying experience meant nothing as my palms started sweating. In the middle of a godless snow-covered mountain range is not where I'd want to crash.
Now Victoria is gorgeous. It's filled with hills and exposed rock and flowers I haven't seen in the 10 years I've spent in Ontario. Everything looks and feels slightly European. It's partly the winding roads that follow the land and not a grid system, and the daisies and cherry blossoms, and blackberry bushes. It's also the buildings - some really neat architecture - and that everything feels really laid back. With winds coming in from the Pacific and, literally, Alaska, you can get (as my host memorably said) "four seasons in an hour and a half". Step out of the wind, however, and you're soon warming up in a simple sweater. It really is a beautiful city - with an unparalleled view.
We walked to the University today, taking a route that went to the top of a hill that overlooks the entire city - mountains in Seattle were clearly visible with their snowy peaks, as were other islands off the coast. A white blip on a nearby hill is the University observatory - turns out UVic's physics department is divided into Astrophysics and CERN (the same way our home University is Med School Applicants and Writers). The two don't talk much.
On the way down the hill* (* the only reason I'm not using the word "mountain" is because the Cascade Mountains are right there. I consider myself fit, but man, that was a hike) we saw a dog that had the look and gait of a small bear mated with a lion. In fact, I'm not convinced it was a dog. I've seen thinner fur on alpacas in Peru. I'm fairly sure the owner was Scottish, figures.

I was going to write more, but I've barely seen all there is to see. I'm absolutely drained from today (and it's only quarter to five). Pictures and videos to come, now that my charming new phone connects to my PC.

Today's title comes from the entertaining and friendly air stewardesses from the flight from Edmonton to Vancouver. We were also introduced to Captain Jacob and First Lieutenant Kevin.
:)

Coloured Glass and Unpacked Bags

My last day in my parents' house has lured me outside with beautiful 30ºC weather and streaming sunshine. Well played, Ontario. Well played.

In accordance with the kick off to warmer days, I've rediscovered my summer jams from last summer and am enjoying the greatest hits of 311. Beautiful Disaster makes me happy. (What do you mean you've never heard of 311? They've been around for ages...)

The biggest splurge of the day - and quite literally the year - has been my new Blackberry (unchristened as of yet). I've got email, long distance and messaging all for the price of a small organ on the black market. I figured I'm going to be a semi-professional researcher come, oh god, Monday, so I should at least have some technology to be able to deal with it. If not, at least I've got Sudoku on the go. 

I'm currently in the haze of staring at my suitcase and the pile of to-be-packed crap that's surrounding it. I think I need more sort of assertive direction when it comes to packing. Usually I end up drifting listlessly around my room and grabbing things at random... And my carry on bags are generally pretty notorious in terms of useless knick knacks...

But the best part so far: I have a place to live. 

You know, nothing quite beats the feeling of being on the move. I'm moving across the country under 12 hours and the idea is carbonating. One of my favourite feelings in the world. 

!!! I'll be flying over the Rocky Mountains! That's it, I'm picking up a disposable camera along the way. 

Yeah, you heard me. A disposable camera. 

Because I'm old school like that.

Oh, shoo. 

You weren't planning on LIVING somewhere, were you?

Happy Easter everyone!

So I received an email from the gorgeous house I've been courting for the last few weeks... The room's been rented. I have four days to find another house. I give myself two before I throw myself at the mercy of my supervisor.

(20 minutes later...)

Three emails sent to three potential houses, still scouring craigslist....

Act On An Opinion

Word for word transcription of the bucket list:

April 19, 2011
Franzi,
the undefinable, limitless, unharnessable powerful force 
- go downtown and make tea in the middle of the street
- do groceries w/o going to a major grocery store
- join an activist group
- act on an opinion
- live out your third chance
- knowingly make a mistake
- tell a stranger the truth
- hook up with a Victorian lover
- draw a portrait of one of your housemates
- go kayaking
- take a walk off the beaten path (literally)
- perform a song to someone
- write a manifesto of Franzi's musings
- allow yourself to feel intense, constructive emotion in the rain
- skydiving
- skinny dip in the ocean


X
Witnesses:

Whoo, boy.

Don't Say Goodbye

I never say goodbye. Among the tearful farewells I usually deliver a tight hug and a "We'll see each other again" or "'Til next time, yeah?", peppered with "Stay safe" and "I'll miss you too".
I've left a lot of people in a lot of places. It's part of travelling so much and being quick to make friends, not to mention the entirety of a family tree firmly rooted in the Vaterland. But despite the tearful farewells, even the rib-splintering pain of moving to another country at the age of nine and leaving behind all you know and love, the connection, though faded, was never lost. The idea that stuck in my childhood was that, even if you wanted to lose track of someone, in this day and age, it simply wasn't possible.
To this day, there is only person I haven't been able to rediscover.

Having said that, I watched another one of my nearest and dearest leave my house today, realizing that'd be the last I see of them for the next four months. And it sucked.

For the last eight months, my life has been centred in a community of 20 very hard-working individuals, each one a bright entity unto themselves, spinning bizarre circles, trying to keep up with the demands of a crazy workload in a crazier program. At the same time, I've been running counter-laps with people in various friend circles, all distinct in purpose and familiarity, all of which has left me feeling like the epicentre of a particularly deranged Venn diagram. In five dimensions. It's been an exhilarating ride, one that begs a couple weeks off for recovery and barbequeing with said friends.

Any friend worth their salt knows this is not how Franzi Does Summer.

In nine days, I leave everything behind and take a four month trip across the country. I'm going to be a professional lab slave in a field of chemistry I have never heard described or mentioned in any textbook. I will be making money (*_*), which I will immediately spend on food and rent, while living in what seems to be the COOLEST HOUSE IN VICTORIA. (more deets to follow). I plan on having the time of my life and will probably take up hang-gliding in my spare time.

Jesus, this is a long post.

Anyway, two of my nearest and dearest were over for evening tea and crackers. We made bucket lists for each other to complete in the summer. I predict hilarity, which I will record with due diligence.

Now that this blog is up I have a pseudo-physical reminder to keep posting. I have achieved my goal for the night - back to cookies and sleep, studying to follow...