"Just me and you to stroll along the boo..." "Boo?!" "...levard de Mont-parn-ass-ee."

[jaala]

And, yet again, my updating has lapsed severely. I wrote 25 email messages today! That's how far behind I am, internet-wise. Because it seems to make a bit more sense and because people will be better able to skip the parts they don't wish to read, I will try to organize this entry by topic:

random culture stuff:

I have developed a bit of a wandering accent. If I'm around people who I already know I'm Canadian, that's the accent I end up doing. But if it's British customers or strangers I encounter in my day-to-day interactions, I find myself drifting into a faintly British (or at least mid-Atlantic) accent in the hope that they'll understand me better. But then, of course, I encounter a sound I still can't wrap my mouth around (usually involving R after a vowel) and it shifts back to Canadian, thoroughly confusing the person listening. One Scudamore's employee asked me if I was Scottish. A taxi driver referred to my accent (quite some time ago) as a "twang"... hmm...

A Kenyan cashier at Sainsbury's was delighted to discover that my MasterCard says "Bank of Montreal". Once I'd cleared up that I wasn't in fact from Montreal, we had a brief but animated conversation about the British Commonwealth and the monarchy. ("You still have... on your money?!")

I have figured out traffic laws in general but am still regularly baffled by bicycle paths--where they begin, where they end, whether a path is pedestrian-and-bicycle or just for pedestrians and whether a bit of pavement is reddish or not (frequently confused by repairs made in different colours).

There was a program on Radio 4 a few weeks ago in which a bunch of commentators and politicians debated whether politicians and broadcasters switch to using Estuary English instead of their native regional accents in order to enhance their upward mobility. I had to wonder if such a debate could possibly take place in Canada. In Newfoundland perhaps, I suppose.

One of my co-workers' total estimation of Canada is based on maple syrup and Bryan Adams... or, rather, was until I pointed out Dan Ackroyd! Mentioning actual important Canadian achievements/contributions is useless, of course.

I was surprised at how happy it made me feel when London won the Olympics and now I'm surprised at how much I care how England does in the Ashes tournament/meet/whatever-it's-called.

special events:

I had a cold-like illness for something like three weeks. I was really sorry to miss so much of dsch visit... but really, the visit was to see tea_cantata, not me.

I went on a BUNAC-organized day trip to Canterbury and Dover Castle. It was all quite fascinating but far too rushed for my tastes, especially since the tour company hadn't realized that Canterbury Cathedral would be closed for nearly all the time we were scheduled to be in the city. Two girls who sat behind me on the bus spent all their time in Canterbury shopping, of all things. They were surrounded by Roman, Norman and Medieval history in possibly the most significant city in the history of English Christianity! Dover Castle was marvellous too, of course, despite my irritation at being elbowed out of the last available tour of the wartime tunnels under the cliffs.

My 23-year-old female cousin from Buffalo (related only by marriage, complicated story) just happened to be in Cambridge while I was away in Canterbury and Dover. We met upon my return to Cambridge and caught up after not seeing each other for something like a decade. She's graduated from a really nifty-sounding university in the Appalachian mountains and become quite the fascinating character, a radical left-wing activist rapper.

At long last, I visited the Cambridge tourist info centre and took the standard walking tour (the cheaper version with St John's instead of King's college). It actually contained quite a lot of information I hadn't previously heard.

Despite the best-laid plans, I made it to only one Cambridge Summer Music Festival concert. It was a doozy though: the Hilliard Ensemble. I even encountered two of the singers en route to the bathroom... and heard one warming up in the room next to me (a truly surreal experience)!

I added another Cambridge theatrical experience to my list: Rosencrantz & Guildenstern Are Dead at the Arts Theatre. Man, I love that play.

Paris:

Vis-a-vis the subject line: Yes, I went to Paris! It was another BUNAC trip, spanning 6th to 8th August, plus an additional night in London for me in order to get to Waterloo station by 7:15. Owing to the weekend crowds, an uncommunicative "tour guide", various odd coincidences and my unwillingness to rush by everything without actually looking at it, I found myself separated from the main group several times; I was completely alone for about seven or eight hours over the weekend and with various small groups for most of the rest of the time. But solitude wasn't all that bad once I got used to it, as it allowed me to see things at my own pace. Towards the end of the trip, as tiny bits of my French education were starting to come back to me, I was starting to think I could really get used to living there.

In roughly chronological order:

St Paul's Cathedral (in London the previous night)

slightly unexpectedly nerve- (or rather emotion-) wracking Tube trips between King's Cross and Russell Square; there were security alerts on both lines I used when returning from Paris

English countryside, the Channel Tunnel (which doesn't look like much of anything, obviously), French countryside

a walk around the Les Halles area, the outside of the [modern art place]

[city hall]

Ile de St-Louis

Ile de la Cite

Notre Dame cathedral

lost all of the rest of the group; tried to trace their path for a brief while, wandered along the Quais a bit in a slight daze as I tried to figure out which boat tour they were going on, then gave in and bought a ticket for a...

Seine boat tour that left from Pont Neuf

ran into other BUNACers upon returning to the hostel

dinner at a restaurant serving "traditional French cuisine"; sampled a piece of my neighbour's frog legs

the Eiffel tower at night; the third floor was closed but I probably couldn't have handled any more vertigo than was brought on by the second floor; a oblivious couple got engaged (in more ways than one) in full view of the queue for the lift

hour-long walk back from the Eiffel tower; do you have any idea how long it takes to walk along the edge of the Louvre?

the estate of Versailles: far too rushed (with a small group) but very impressive

the Louvre, where I saw roughly one-thousandth of the artwork I wanted to see; the Mona Lisa and Venus de Milo are treated like rock stars

Montmartre (with a small group because we missed meeting up with the main group), including the Place du Tertre and the view of the city from the Sacre Coeur basilica; we would have seen a mime show too if the people in front of us had frickin' sat down!

crepe dinner and pistachio(!) ice cream

the outside of the Moulin Rouge, both the original site plaque and the current club; it took us quite some time to realize that one wasn't the other

inside the Arc du Triomphe at night

a leisurely stroll along the Champs-Elysees back to the Metro station once I got irritated at the hyperspeed group I was with (different from the rest of the day) and intentionally lost them in a MacDonald's bathroom

Champs-Elysees again the next morning, this time going to the Place du Concorde to see the square, obelisk, fountains and (from a distance) Assemblee Nationale; more pistachio ice cream

jardin du Luxembourg, a park/garden where the number of Parisians may have actually outnumbered the tourists, to eat my baguette sandwich

frantic rush back to the hostel, where I arrived almost precisely three minutes before the group was to depart for the train station

local happenings:

I've grown attached to both the local Unitarian congregation and the more liberal of the two United Reformed churches. The United Reformed minister quotes Monty Python in his sermons. I get along especially well with the Unitarian minister; he's always up for a conversation and has recommended a number of fascinating books to me. Unfortunately, no one has church choirs running right now.

There were verbally instructed (i.e. no written music) singing classes running for a while earlier in the summer. I attended one and had a pretty good time. Pity I didn't make it more than once... and I chickened out of the performance-ish thing at "Sing and Swim for Water Aid" at Jesus Green pool.

I'm finally seeing a massage therapist (called sports massage here). Apparently, I've got all sorts of intriguing scar tissue in my back.

work:

(a whole bunch of random work-related comments amalgamated)

I have alternating periods of quite liking my job and of hating it. It's a very... testosterone-driven environment. I hate that I look bad next to people I always see taking labour and safety shortcuts. I resent when I'm not allowed to do the things I think I'm good at (i.e. customer service) and sent off into a corner somewhere to clean something while other people (who are not boathands) do the actual boathand work.

And, I'm afraid to say, I've come to really dislike Slovakians because most of the Slovakians I work with won't let me do anything and always leap in to "help" (read: take over) even if I'd made it abundantly clear I want to do the task myself. The only way to throw them off (or rather, the more perceptive and considerate ones) is to say something along the lines of, "It's okay, it's okay, I'm fine, [hissing under my breath now, trying desperately not to be unpleasant in front of the customers] PLEASE LET ME DO IT!"

When I worked on Saturday a couple weeks ago, I discovered that it's much more enjoyable on a busy day because there's a lot more social interaction with visitors. Unfortunately, I wasn't able to use bathroom more than twice, wasn't allowed to eat "lunch" until 5 o'clock and was kept there for 10.5 hours! So that was the end of working Saturdays.

Though I know that my job is necessarily more physical than that of the touts and cashiers, it does sometimes breed resentment when I'm toiling away by myself in the sun/rain while other people stand around and chat and laugh at the top of the stairs. To be fair, people did actually start talking to me occasionally after about a month of work.

And then, of course, there's the back pain. The manager turned down my request to work as a cashier or chauffeur but we decided that I'd work more days per week but for fewer hours each day, in the hopes that it would tire me out less so I wouldn't be in pain or ill (from poor sleep quality exacerbated by back pain) so much of the time. Then, after I called in sick once too often, the manager cut back my days so I have to work longer hours again or else make very little money. And working longer hours will make me sick again. What do I do now?

random entertainment stuff:

Brent Carver, Michael Therriault, Richard McMillan and Carly Street are all going to be in the Lord of the Rings musical! Eee!

It's a big ad.

Last week, I gave in and bought Harry Potter... at Tesco. I've now finished it. It was a good way to pass the time on the Eurostar train.