Carpe Diem

As a rice eater all my life, relying on pasta has been a feat for me.

I started with beef and pasta. I cooked two rolls of linguini pasta and mixed it with pesto sauce and added some beef sirloin steak slices which I marinated in onion gravy. It was heavenly, and since then, I’ve been into introducing pasta in my diet.

The second attempt was still beef and pasta, but this time I tried to make some beef stroganoff, which turned out okay except that it lacked the needed herbs and some spices.

Third attempt was about mixing steamed broccoli florets with pasta. I knew it should have been carbonara, but again, my kitchen is incomplete of the needed ingredients. I pursued by using broccoli soup base. After shoving two twirls of pasta into my mouth, I’ve never insulted my prepared meals until this one. And the taste? You don’t wanna know.

Fourth attempt was with the help of my aunt. I told her about the pasta con broccoli disaster so she demonstrated to me one night in her kitchen how to make a rue. This was basically an unflavoured white sauce made out of melting butter over low heat, adding sifted flour (about 3 parts for every 1 part of butter), and milk (5 parts for every 1 part of butter). The rue was angelic but yesterday, it turned out to be another devil served on the dish. I added some ham cold cuts, added salt and pepper to taste and added parmesan cheese–but it was beyond salvation.

So tonight, I cooked myself my favourite pork adobo, and I’m still enjoying its taste in my mouth right now.

Sigh. So what’s next on the menu? 

Rain showers, breezy and I can still see my breath when i speak. Coat dripping, face and hands cold. After collecting my PR card, I phoned up my uncle to inform about my coming to Guildford Town Centre. Today is Sunday, so I thought why not visit them for dinner. I called up my cousin to arrange for my pick-up. Moments later, I received a voice message. It was my uncle, calling in sick. His body was sore, perhaps due to his golf tourney yesterday. I got off at Guildford Town Centre mall, only to find it closed, and it was only 6:15pm. There was one other who was there, and like me, she was unaware of the mall’s closing time. A young guy, prolly in his late teens was swaggering towards the mall’s entrance and sticking out a cig from his pocket. He was with me in the bus; we boarded the bus together at Gateway station and he was kicking anything that he fancies from time to time. Two teenage girls were chasing him, asking if he had some sticks.

I phoned my uncle to thank, only to be received by my cousin. In the middle of our conversation, a teenage girl approached me and butted in. She was twirling the cig with her fingers and asking if I had some light. I shook my head. Wow, that was weird. Then I stood there for a while, figuring out where to get a bus that will take me to Surrey Central station. A woman about my age was clutching her black sorry umbrella–I could see her knuckles with blisters–and offered to show me where Bay 2 is. Just before I could say thank you, she was asking for loose change to which I said, ”Sorry, got none except for my fare saver pass” Walking away from the mall, I said to myself “What the f*ck is wrong with these people?”

To shake off what just happened, I got my earphones and listened to some music. During the 50-minute travel time from Surrey to my place, I thought, these creeps are better off at home.  

Marcus was scurrying to the bus stop when his phone suddenly rang.

“Hello, Marcus speaking.”

“Oh hi, how is it going? Can you do me a favour? I bought a new printer through the ‘Net at Best Buy last night —the one close to your place. It’s already been paid for.  I’m wondering if you could pick it up for me tonight?”

“Sure Tim, but I’m tied up with my work and won’t be off ‘til 7:30 tonight.”

“That’s really fine, I’m not in a hurry to use it tonight, but how about tomorrow afternoon?”

“I’m sorry Tim, really can’t. How about this weekend?”

“It would really be easier for me though to pick it up from your place,” even before he could finish, Marcus dropped the call.

Last night was embarrassing. Hands up. Yeah, it was my fault. I caused someone to feel guilty because I insisted in collecting my mail that night. Didn’t notify about my coming except for a single phone call a couple of days ago. Surely, that must have slipped her mind. I was so complacent that everything would be fine: ring her apartment, see how she was, mention about the mail, thank her then leave…no need to hang around. It didn’t happen. I guess none of those were meant to happen.

I’ll be collecting my Permanent Residency card later today. If not for my friend who visited me here yesterday at my place, I wouldn’t be prompted to phone the person whose address I nominated for the card delivery. Didn’t really expect it to arrive so soon, and it has somehow fast-tracked everything that I wish to do while I’m here in Vancouver.

I’m also celebrating my month-sary today. Just can’t imagine how I tried to make sense of what was happening within me and around me. Nothing special about how I managed living for a month. In fact, it’s really pathetic how I would stay in my room and only come out when it’s time for me to cook, eat, wash dishes, and laundry. I have the Internet, my Roger’s connection (Globe Int’l Roaming service partner), my Fido ($10 prepaid unlimited phone calls between 6:30pm and 8 a.m.) to connect with the outside world though, and I must say it isn’t enough.

Today is celebration of a month of broken routine. Friday spells easy back in Manila. Weekends too. Now, I can only wonder why Friday lost it’s appeal to me.

My coming here to Vancouver has displaced me in some way, and to a certain extent has impacted on how I live my life at the moment. It’s this process of accepting new lifestyle is one thing that I have to yet to come into terms with.

No, there’s no culture shock for me. It is mind conditioning that I did during my first few months living alone in Manila, so shall be my strategy here. In Manila, there were moments when I was overcome by deep loneliness and sometimes gripped by despair. Candid realisations stream in my mind, unchallenged by reasoning—foreshadowing what is yet to come. I dissuaded these sad feelings and confronted it as a feeling that I could possibly encounter once severed from my family in the Philippines. From there, I decided how to deal with it and somehow learned the ropes of immediate processing my emotions and thoughts. You see–it’s a form of self-preservation that vested me with self-confidence and self-respect. In my daily brush with reality, I keep my feet planted on what I think is best for me, despite the odds.

Having a PR card would mean a lot to me. It will buy me mobility, opportunity, freedom, potentiality. I need to head off now, see you in a bit.

I find it really amusing to find two Filipinos–who looked seafarers to me–trying to pose by the steam clock that night. We passed by them and they smiled back, even greeting me “Good evening, sir.” who surprisingly sought a middle-age, short-haired Canadian lady of tattered beige sweater and muddy shoes to take a picture of them. They had two shots taken then sincerely thanked the lady and walked away, who was muttering after having done that. She doesnt appear to be pleased with the two Filipino gentlemen. I brushed the whole scene aside, surely the guys took her for a commoner. Even I would admit, there was nothing wrong with it. We went inside a food joint which was frequented by many a Filipino to grab some food. We decided to stay there for a bit of chat. We were all facing the glass window, giving me a perfect view of the passersby. There was a couple who was pushing a big trolley cum house who tried to buy some food while gesturing their son wait outside with the dog. There also was a young pizza guy who had the pizza box on top of his car while checking out a map. And there was a middle-aged lady asking for pennies who kept cursing if she wasn’t given any. She wasn’t extra special, except that she was wearing a tattered beige sweater and muddy shoes.

Metro police wasn’t very visible in metro Vancouver. I just wonder how they intend to sweep the streets of plastic-bag ladies and a bunchful of reality-detached men. Like in Manila, do they stop working beyond 7 pm too?

I went to Richmond Centre a couple of days ago to meet a batchmate of the 4th Canadian Immigration Integration Program (CIIP). As always, I would consult Google Earth to give me a good visual of the place I’m heading to before checking out my map. The best option would have been checking out Translink (http://www.translink.bc.ca/). The site contains good information content on transit services, which I think is superior in content organisation and interface design in comparison to Metlink http://www.metlinkmelbourne.com.au/. Vancouver would only have buses where Melbourne would have elegant trams within the central business district to get you from point to point. Although taxi fare tariff doesn’t stray too far amongst each other (50 cents for every 200 metres), I was surprised to pay less than 50 bucks from Vancouver International Airport to New Westminster. This was almost the same taxi fare I had from Melbourne’s Tullamarine Airport to the South Gate, South Melbourne. 

I did more walking in Vancouver than in Melbourne, perhaps because there were very few cabs in here in Vancouver. Does it account for the population density of the metropolitan area?

With Vancouver’s metro area of 1,111.4 sq mi and a metro population of 2.6M (2006 est.), it approximately has 2,340 people per square mile. Whilst Melbourne has 8,831 sq mi with 1M more (3.6M) than Vancouver, it comfortably holds approximately 408 people per square mile. Laidback Melbourne could perhaps step aside for Sydney to beat lex talionis scenic Vancouver.

Getting around Vancouver gives a feeling of strolling along a cleaner Sydney. They do have the city clutters: unfinished roads, mis-aligned road islands, bottleneck highways and no bigger than 4 lane roads.

Having found my best route, I took the skytrain and got off at Granville station, the hub of all buses. I got the 98-B Line to take me to Richmond Centre. It was basically a 40-minute bus ride along Granville Street where bus stops are annoyingly just 2 blocks apart. It did give me a glance of the Richmond Aiport once more though, but the travel time consumed half of my 2-hour 2-zone ticket.

Not bad for adventure however, for who would complain, I was out from 2 pm through to half past 7 in the evening with spending only $3.25. Some people are just generous, while some are just lucky. Have to prepare for dinner. Later folks!