Monday, March 22, 2010

French

Yes CJ, its story time with Gerry yet again.

“I’m French! Why do you think I have the outrageous accent!!!”
(John Cleese as the French Taunter, “Month Python and the Holy Grail”)

I am a coffee nut. I love my Second Cup. We buy our coffee beans from Second Cup. We have a very fancy coffee maker; water goes in here, new filter in the basket, coffee beans go in there, and when you press the start button, the beans are ground, funneled into the waiting filter basket, and let the brewing begin!

The smell of grinding beans for the coffee enthusiast is ambrosia to the nose. It really does start the experience off right. My wife Nita always says that first cup of coffee is the best, and starting it off with that wonderful bouquet has become a ritual in our kitchen.

Once when I was in Second Cup a few years ago picking up some coffee beans, there was a gentleman in front of me buying some cherry vanilla black tea. Actually, what I saw was “Thé noir au vanilla et cerise”. This being bilingual Canada, I was looking at the French side of the package.

I commented to the dude buying the tea that cherry vanilla black tea was a pretty specific taste. The young guy serving me looked at the package from my point of view and asked me how I knew it cherry vanilla black tea; I told him I was French. The guy buying the tea very deliberately looked me top to bottom, and said; “That’s funny, you don’t look French”.

I was somewhat puzzled; how does one look French? I was not wearing a beret; the last time I wore a beret, I was 12 and was an Army Cadet. At the time, my brother was dabbling in photography, and he’d set up his own darkroom in the basement. He took a few snap shots, and made his own black & white photos.

When my Dad, Bid Al, came home that day, he asked who had found pictures of him before he went overseas for the 2nd World War. My Mom has, among her great wall of memories, a collage of all of us when we graduated from high school, including herself, and one of Big Al when he joined the army in 1939. We were all about 16 in the photos, and you can tell we are all related. Depending on your viewpoint, it’s either eerie or quite cool.

But I digress. I was not wearing a Habs jacket, nor reading Le Journal de Montréal. I was not eating poutine, nor did I have a Mae West & Diet Pepsi. How could I look French? If there was a secret handshake, I would know it. If there was supposed to be a dress code, I would have known it as well. Neither Nita or I could figure it out.

The next day at work, I was regaling people with the story of the guy who said I looked French. There was general amusement all around. On the 3rd retelling, Maria was one of the group being entertained. Maria was a really good kid, but she was young and not quite worldly in her knowledge. Maria was a 1st generation Canadian; she spoke fluent Italian.

Previously, I was discussing with Pauline, who worked for me, her connection with Nita. They were both born in Nairobi, and I was relating to Pauline how Nita’s parents both still spoke Swahili, but Nita only spoke English, French, Hindi, Punjabi, and a little Spanish.

Maria came and asked me afterwards if she’d heard right when I said Nita was born in Nairobi. Once she confirmed that Nairobi is in Kenya and Africa, she asked if Nita spoke African. I asked her if she spoke European. When she looked at me like I was an idiot, I realized she wasn’t kidding. So I did what I always do in these situations; I explained to her, without being condescending, that there are a multitude of languages in Africa, as there are in Europe.

But back once again to the story at hand. When I finished my storytime in the lunchroom, and pondered how one looked French, Maria perked up and told that I did look French. ”What do you mean I look French? What does French look like? It’s not like I walk around with a baguette under my arm!” Wrong joke, because I had to explain what a baguette was to someone else listening in.

Maria then went on to explain to me that Italians are hairy, and since France is beside Italy, Frenchmen are also hairy. So since I was hairy, I could be either an Italian or a Frenchman, but for some reason which I can’t recall, I didn’t look like an Italian, so therefore, I looked like a Frenchman.

I looked around for Alan Funt again.

Salute!

Monday, March 15, 2010

Olympic Spirits

Yes CJ, its story time with Gerry again.

Vancouver has often made me wonder about its low tolerance and non-acceptance of alcohol, specifically in public. The Police are quite proud of their tactics of dealing with dinking in public; they try to convince people to pour out their open liquor or face a fine. In a city whose cultural make-up leads one to assume that it should be more cosmopolitan and less prudish, the opposite seems to be true.

While we hosted the Olympics, we were treated to all kinds of quirky stories. One of my favourite topics was the New Amsterdam Café. The New Amsterdam is a store that sells paraphernalia for pot smokers. They have a lounge in which patrons can partake of their own stash; no weed for sale inside. 3000 plus reporters generate a lot of fluff stories. Converseley, the pot culture seems more palatable to police and public officials.

But back to our topic; there have long been concerns, from the police and the media, about yahoos coming into the big city from the surrounding cities, drinking themselves into a state of stupid, and then behaving badly. The police in downtown Vancouver are concerned about the young adults coming in from Moody, Surrey, Delta and getting into major piss-ups.

It’s a little odd for someone like me to understand. My parents were fairly European in bringing us up. We had wine with Sunday dinner in our teens, and they did not stigmatize drinking. Although Montréal does tolerate drinking in public, they do not have gangs of roving yahoos from the south shore destroying the downtown core every weekend.

We weren’t yahoos, but we also were not angels. There was some drunkenness happening, but taking a page from a previous blog, we did not forget our ethics. I don’t think drunkenness overcomes people’s ethics. After all, the saying is:”In vino, veritas”, not “In vino, stupid ass!”

When someone is tipsy they are liable to become goofy, silly, or even unable to speak without causing laughter all around them. But if they are not quick to overreacting when sober, they should be the same when they’re getting bagged.

What the police, I think, are basing their fear on, is that stupid will win out on the scale of Stanley Cup riots; 1993 in Montréal and 1994 in Vancouver. I believe what the Vancouver Police have attempted to do, in our very best Canadian-navel-gazing, is to prevent a repeat of these events. And it’s not just the VPD; for the Olympics, there is an Integrated Security Unit, with a large contingent of RCMP. Fortunately for the visiting public, the RCMP's mommy took away their Tasers.

Save for the opening weekend, the Police have closed all downtown liquor stores on the Fridays and Saturdays at 7:00 PM, during the Olympics. On closing ceremony day, they closed the liquor stores at 2:00 PM. Someone somewhere has decided that the yahoos only drink from liquor store purchases. Or perhaps the reasoning is that the purchases from the liquor stores, pushes people over the yahoo threshold.

Because there were only 22 arrests for public embarrassment, sorry drunkenness, they believe they were right in stopping liquor sales, in the downtown core. I don’t think so. After all, these are the same people who thought that sending Wayne Gretzky in the back of a pick-me-up-truck would not gather a crowd. Were these the drunken yahoos from Coquitlam, Langley, Burnaby…?

But don’t despair; when you think you have witnessed the epitome of anal retentiveness, along comes the IOC and VANOC. They have sent a letter to Hockey Canada to protest a major transgression. Gold medal women’s hockey champions, Team Canada, after having performed their entire medal and picture taking duties, and retiring to their dressing room to celebrate, were asked to return to the ice for a few more photos.

So back out they come grinning, wearing their Gold Medals, and bringing their champagne and beer. According to the Canadian Press, the “image that raised most eyebrows” was the sight of 18-year-old Marie-Philip Poulin with a beer.

Never mind that they train in Alberta, where the age of majority is 18, or that Marie-Philip is from Québec where the age of majority is never really even discussed; this is Vancouver, governed by King John of Furlong from VANOC, and we will not tolerate this kind of behaviour, even if you do score ALL the goals in the gold medal game.

Perhaps a trip to the New Amsterdam Café might mellow out some of VANOC and VPD/ISU. After all, it’s safe inside; you won’t have to worry about yahoos, with the liquor stores closed, and the 18-year-old women hockey players are getting sauced at Pacific Coliseum.

Maybe you should bring a snack!

Skål!

Saturday, March 6, 2010

Paralympics

Yes CJ its story time with Gerry once more; actually, more of an open letter.

Dear Dr. Rogge,

I would like to open my letter to you congratulating you on the Vancouver 2010 Olympic Winter Games. As I read up on you I have discovered that our Olympic paths have crossed for a second time. I hope you enjoyed the yachting venue in 1976.

Over the years, I have been exposed to many positive things and many negative things about the Olympics. The original design of the Montréal Olympic Stadium, designed by a Parisian architect, was not good.

I am not insinuating that the French are dumb, after all I am part French, but his ignorance of Canada and its climate were to blame. You see, he had originally designed the Big O with only 2 expansion joints.

Expansion joints are the points on any structure there is metal interleaving. When the surrounding air is hot, the structure will expand into the metal interleaving, closing the gap, which is the expansion joint. Conversely, when it is cold, the joint separates, opening up a wider gap.

As described at the time in the newspapers, with only 2 expansion joints in the Big O structure, the gaps would have been almost 3 meters across; enough space to drop a car through. I believe in response to this original design flaw, the stadium sought retribution by dropping pieces of itself on an auto show in 1999. As a result, the 2 went their separate ways.

I believe myself to be a glass-half-full type, so I will move on to the positives. I remember doing “Breakfast with Nagano” every morning with my daughters in 1998, while they ate breakfast and prepared for school. I have discovered in recent months that this is a stronger memory for me than it is for them, but it’s all good!

In researching for this letter, I have discovered that the Special Olympics are completely separate and different from the Paralympics. And even though I would like to address the Paralympics, I think it polite and diplomatic to acknowledge and recognize the fantastic work of Eunice Kennedy Shriver and all those who followed her in promoting these special events for very special people.

I believe one of the primary reasons for the Paralympics is to allow the participating athletes to be able to represent their countries on the world stage, and this is admirable. Unfortunately when the Paralympics are held a few weeks after the Olympics, they are always treated like the lesser sibling.

The Olympic Torch Relay was carried by 12,000 runners over 106 days. The Paralympic Torch Relay will be carried by 600 runners over 10 days. The broadcast rights for both games were bundled together and rightfully so; without the bundling, I don’t believe there would have been many bidders for the Paralympics.

As the lesser sibling, the Paralympics are usually 2 weeks after the closing of the favored sibling. At this point in time, the hoopla is over, most of the crowds and the media have returned home, and only those specifically interested in the Paralympics are tuned in.

I think this does a disservice to the Paralympians. Do you think that they feel part of the rest of us when we segregate their Olympics from ours? Does this tell them that they are as normal as able bodied athletes? Are these not feelings we should be trying to give to the Paralympians?

In order to tell our Paralympians that they are in fact Olympians, and equal to their able-bodied compatriots, I propose that you hold 1 Olympic Games, for all athletes. I do not think we are paying these brave athletes the respect they are due. Having Paralympic events mixed in with the schedule of able-bodied events tells these people that they are in fact equal.

On the economic front, combining the events together would be advantageous to all save the consumers. Using Vancouver as a model, the Paralympics will take place over a 10 day period, and by my estimate will earn about 1.2 truckloads of money a day. The Olympic Games lasted for 17 days and took in about 33.7 truckloads of money a day.

If combined, the games would have lasted about 25 days, taking in about 32 truckloads of money a day. This is 215.1 more truckloads of money; that’s a lot of money.

In closing Count Rogge, as the head of our Olympic movement, with all your strength, please act swiftly to raise the Paralympians to the status of their able brethren by allowing them to compete in the same games, at the same time, in the same venues.

If you had been a Paralympian, you would have wanted it done for you.

Schol!