Tag Archives: cold

my name is not alexander…

… but I had a Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day.

It’s “cold” here this week, meaning it’s gone all the way down to -3C. But today was the day I was heading over to Quadra, and when I do that, I take my car. The car was covered in frost because I hadn’t driven it for a couple of weeks so I had to scrape the windshield and everything, like it was winter. I had the car running while I did that. Once it was scraped I went back to my apartment to grab my books, music and coffee and headed to work.

The plan was to stop at the library, grab a few boxes of books and then get on the ferry. But when I got down the steep hill of our parking lot I had to wait to turn left onto the road. And then my car stalled. And then I tried to start it. And then it wouldn’t. So there I was, blocking our complex’s entrance with a car that wouldn’t move. It had worked well enough to get me down the hill but now I was on my own.

It’s a standard and not a very big car so I figured I’d just put it in neutral and roll it out of the driveway (pushing it back up the hill to my parking spot was obviously not going to happen). But a car is still much more than I can push while trying to steer it. I got it a couple of inches before hitting a bump the car was perfectly happy to rest against. At that point a guy who was coming into the parking lot helped me by pushing the car while I steered it to the side of the road.

Then I ran to work. I was there late by this point and our other librarian was busy with a question and our manager’s office was closed so I had nowhere to actually be except other people’s workstations. From one of those I looked up the number for BCAA roadside assistance and called.

My complete inability to know anything about a car or the things you need to know about cars then overwhelmed me. I didn’t know my BCAA number because I haven’t received my card in the mail yet and apparently you have to sign up for online access to your account separately, because that internet thing is just a passing fad, so I couldn’t find it in my email. The operator asked if I needed a boost or a tow. I didn’t know. The car ran and then it stopped. I don’t know what that requires.

They sent a tow truck to boost and then tow if necessary. They’d call five minutes before it got there. The tow truck called and asked where I’d need to be towed to. I had no fucking clue. It’s not like I know any mechanics here. I hoped it just needed a boost.

The tow truck arrived and my (factory) car alarm went off. I could not shut it down (it stopped by itself after 30 seconds). I could not find the hood release. I did not know where the battery was in a VW (it has a plastic cover – the tow truck guy found it). I did not know what my role was in being the boostee. If I tried starting too soon would I wreck something? Should I wait for some signal? The signal to try starting it turned out to be the tow truck guy getting exasperated with the moron he was helping.

The car started and he told me to make sure to let it run for 20 minutes. I agreed that was a good idea and sat in the car as he drove away. Two minutes later it died again. So I went back to work.

The other librarian went to Quadra even though it was two ferries later and made it so she couldn’t really get anything done there or here. I could have gone as a walk-on, but then I couldn’t have brought any boxes of books with me. Which is why I “need a car” for this job. I don’t “need a car” to get to work, just to haul work’s shit around for it.

Later I went and tried starting the car again, without a boost. It started but then died after 4 minutes of idling. That time I was paying attention to the dashboard and saw which lights went on just before it died. So I guess tomorrow I need to get it towed to Courtenay where the dealership will know what to do with it.

All of that was frustrating as fuck and has done nothing to make me happier about owning this stupid vehicle. It’s not as terrible a thing as the condo was (which I have to remind myself about – I am not as unhappy now as I was when I was trying to get out from under that awful decision) but I hate it. When something breaks on a bicycle I can see what the problem is, find a YouTube tutorial and (maybe) fix it. When something breaks on a car I can be fucking helpless.

Now, all of this would be frustrating but tolerable if I was somewhere I knew people. Where I could call a buddy up to give me a boost and a bit of advice. Where tomorrow I could go for breakfast with people and gripe a bit but then get on with things. Go play train games on Sunday afternoon or something. Instead I’ll do all this shit by myself and pay too much because that’s what knowing shit-all about this stupid machine costs.

I like seeing water and mountains from my apartment. I love that a cold snap here is -3C. I like my job well enough. But today I’d trade all those for people to play games with and who’d pick me up when it’s too cold to ride my bike.

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when you’re out of fuel, i’m still afloat, puking and shivering

Sunday I learned that I like songs about surfing much more than the actual act. There’s something about swallowing all that seawater and relying on my spindly arms for propulsion and being so terribly cold that isn’t really conveyed in the melodies of the Beach Boys.

The members of our house got a deal on surfing lessons and so we took them. At the time Holly said “Really?” when I said I’d try too. And yes, surfing probably was never going to really be for me, but I’m here in Australia and it seemed like something I should do when I’m here. I mean, I haven’t had the chance to manhandle koalas or introduce an invasive species or anything. But surfing I could at least try. Maybe I would really like it.

I didn’t.

It might have been better if I’d had a wetsuit that actually fit me. Supposedly they’re supposed to let a little water in but it gets stuck in there and your body warms it up and you’re all insulated. When you’re skinny and wearing a rented wetsuit that’s flopping around and isn’t close to being tight, the water just flows through and it’s like you’re just splashing around in the cold cold ocean. Which I don’t really do for enjoyment.

I ended up bailing out after being flung around by the sea enough to know that the fleeting moment of being pushed along by the sea trying to touch the moon wasn’t worth the pain and pukiness.

The instructors were good about coming to check on me sitting on the beach and shivering, to make sure I was all right. But the one guy said I would have really enjoyed myself if I’d gone back in. I know myself well enough to be able to call him on that lie, but he was just a twenty-year-old trying to talk about the stuff he loved to do, so I just told him not to worry. I did not explain how little my body and I have in common, and how little trust there is between us, and how that trust was easily shattered and wasn’t going to be repaired by heading out into the ocean again to get even colder.

So yes, I have tried surfing. I don’t live everything completely secondhand. Which was kind of the point of that endeavour.

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out in the country

On Wednesday Holly and I got up far too early to go out to a school in the nearby town of Lijia for an extremely well-documented bout of “helping the poor children” (ugh). This wasn’t our idea.

There’s a group of outdoorsy type people who started this organization “Twinkling Stars” to raise some money and do some work for kids after the Sichuan earthquake of 2008. They went to the village they were helping and did some good work I guess. Wednesday was their second trip, and first that wasn’t disaster provoked. They’re customers at the bakery and asked Holly to join them.

The idea was that they went to this poor school, brought a bunch of clothes and stuff to give them and then shared their skills. There were maybe fifteen to twenty volunteers. A lot of them were photographers and some of them were taking good pictures of the kids in a class and then would give prints to their parents. There was some sort of gongfu training I think? Holly was brought along to teach English classes to grade four students.

Of course, this being China, any work could only be done after a multi-hour ceremony outside in the cold with speeches and songs and seven year old girls dancing wearing nothing but gauze. It was maybe 6 degrees out. I wept for them.

Twinkling Stars and the school both knew how to stage these things. We got off the bus that brought us a hundred metres away and walked up to the school with the bags of clothes, all the volunteers wearing orange or yellow jackets. Maybe twenty metres from the school gate the road was lined with kids waving tinsel covered hula-hoops and drumming and chanting “Warm Welcome!” A couple of handfuls of cops kept an eye on things.

As the Twinkling Stars headed up to their seats of honour I peeled off of the group. Because Holly is great, she explained away my disappearance nicely. So through the speeches and performances I didn’t have to sit in the cold, but wandered around the fringes with the parents and other villagers. I was accosted by a few people asking me questions I couldn’t answer (my 中文 classes helped very little for this trip) and got mobbed for a photo once.

When Holly got into the classroom she did a lesson on Christmas vocabulary and played games with the kids. I helped with classes two and three after lunch, as I’m a much better classroom assistant than lead teacher. She’s much better at dealing with a classroom than I am.

For lunch we ate from the cafeteria and then had a session of talking about what we’d experienced that morning. It felt like everyone came up and shared sort of prepackaged moments of the touching things they’d learned (of course, I wasn’t actually paying attention and don’t know the language so I’m probably way off). My favourite part of that was when the girl who (I’m told) is a really cool journalist expressed that she’d had some difficulties with her class. People then appeared (to me, not knowing the language) to be berating her and giving her “encouragement” on how to not suck so much. (Again, just my impression.) She looked like she was going to cry. I just appreciated the idea that someone telling the truth about her experience got jumped on like meat in a tiger pit for not having a warm fuzzy moment.

In the gaps between lunch and classes and between classes and waiting for our bus to leave, there were piles of kids wanting autographs from all these volunteers (not just Holly and me). It was ridiculous and stupid. For a while we signed some things, Holly and I sending messages to each other on the pages we signed for each kid, but it was endless. And I hated the dynamic of that so much. This faux-rock star thing. Just like the banners and the honourific speeches (which you might remember I dealt with on a trip to the country back in the day). The supplication and demanding something that wouldn’t actually be at all useful for them. “There’s no reason for this!” I wanted to grab kids and yell.

Holly and I agreed to stop signing stuff but still had mobs. Holly could laugh it off when one boy tried to get an autograph out of her by saying “We’re so poor though!” but I didn’t even have the language to tell them what the problem was. I hated the not signing things too. Just all over I detest that power dynamic.

On the ride back to Nanchong Holly and I read chapters of Matilda to each other. That doesn’t have anything to do with anything, but it was my favourite part of the day.

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trappings of winter

It’s gotten cold around here. Last night it snowed in Chengdu. The internet says we’re somewhere around 4 degrees outside right now. Which isn’t bad if you have well-insulated buildings and heating, but is mighty shitty if things are otherwise.

Holly has an air conditioner in her apartment which is also a heater, but we can’t run it at night because it’s kind of noisy and it keeps her neighbours up. They left a note on the door about “their bedroom shaking” after the one night we did turn it on. So it’s all about the multiple blankets, which gets inconvenient if you ever want to leave the bed. For food, say.

Although today we did make some good soup/stew/vegetables. We bought the vegetables to make this soup yesterday because of the soup stock Sam’s mom brought us, but when lunchtime rolled around the water to the apartment had been cut off for some reason. It’s hard to make soup without any water. (Also, pooping into a hole you can’t flush brings cholera epidemics to my mind, so it was kind of an uncomfortable day.) The water was restored at like 10pm but before that we bought soup from a nearby restaurant that Holly is rapidly losing faith in. Today we cooked our soup in the rice cooker for hours until really there wasn’t much soupiness to it at all, but it was tasty.

I’ve been getting some writing done but nothing’s going as smoothly as I would like. The story I was working on turned out to be crappy. No, just uninteresting. So I’m repurposing the good details that I had into something else which is interesting. Moreso. I hope.

We went for hotpot the other day and it was some special style of hotpot using a copper pot with a chimney and coals instead of a gas flame. I love mushrooms in hotpot but for some reason, though we had a tray full of them, mushrooms were the last things to get dumped into the cauldron. I had to brave so many unpleasant mouthfuls of bony fish before we got to the stuff I enjoyed.

It’s also really nice having a girlfriend at hotpot who likes stuff like duck intestines so I can pass them off to her when our hosts were placing the choicest entrails in my bowl. Thank you Holly. I don’t know why duck intestines are so cringe-inducing in me, when I can eat those shredded stomachy bits with impunity. Probably because I ate those stomachs for so long before realizing they weren’t a kind of chewy mushroom.

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movie review: into the wild

This afternoon I watched Into the Wild (2007) and thought long and hard about my lack of balls. Now, I’d never be able to do what the main character of the movie does in the end, heading up into Alaska to live off the land. Nope. You’ve seen me complain about living in a heated insulated place over a winter. And the movie bothered me with all the beautiful blue skies he had up there. Granted it was an Alaskan summer not winter, but still. That there was only one day of horrible weather shown put the lie to the whole enterprise.

But the rest of the travelling he does, well, I probably wouldn’t be able to do any of that either. Sad really. When so much of what I think of myself and try to project has to do with that wanderfooted image. Gah. This was a movie I shouldn’t have watched right now. Stirs up too much guilt and hope. I blame Aileen.

What day was it today? Tuesday I guess. Must be. In two days I’ll be getting ready to hit the road in my own meagre way. Paying for the wheels conveying me. Like a wannabe chump.

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better carve it on your forehead or tattoo it on your ass

This kind of weather with the ground all melted and refrozen doesn’t feel like March to me. I step outside on my way home from work and it’s November. I’m sliding my way down the sidewalk scanning for the bare patches of ground that allow me to step mit feelink and I know it’s just going to get colder and colder until I die.

Of course it isn’t actually November and the winter didn’t kill me. In fact, i never has killed me. And this walk home is different because my muscles are ready for this kind of treacherous traversal of ground. All the tensions they need to anticipate wrong movements are primed and ready from the last five fucking months. There’s no ache when I arrive home. And it ruins the lies I’m trying to believe so I’ll be surprised some day when it gets warm and stays there. For a while.

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book review: a game of thrones

I’m trying a new thing for me. Re-reading books I already own. First on the list was George R.R. Martin’s A Game of Thrones. It’s an epic fantasy series without a lot of magic and with a lot of swearing and politics (in one of those internet things people do to make more descriptive titles for books it became “Knights Who Say Fuck”). Wow though. It’s been maybe ten years since I read it and I’d forgotten how good this thing was. He does horrible things to his characters but he’s got the skill to make you feel like all of it is inevitable, instead of like the author is pulling strings to make what he wants to have happen happen (which is my biggest problem with Alastair Reynolds’ books).

You know how good this book is? The main family is from the north and the cold and their motto is “Winter is coming,” and I find myself wishing I was there in the cold with them. I have no desire to be anywhere warm in that world, even as my toes fall off here.

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paucity of posting

My internet here today has been really intermittent. Not time-wise, but site-wise. Some sites I can get to; some remind me of China. I blame the cold. The cold is also hampering the rest of my productivity, hence the lack of interesting posting going on. I do encourage you to read my vagabondscrawl site (or its feed), which has links to things I’m reading at least. My numb little fingers don’t need to work as hard to share stuff as they do to type intelligibly.

But I learned that two of my friends are going back to Nanchong this month. Holly I knew about, but Phil too! This extra incentive means sometime this year I’ll probably end up out there for a visit. Especially since Sean and I didn’t manage to see Phil on our trip to Amerrica this fall. Maybe I’d be able to take the train up to Tibet this time around…

Had a good chat with Holly today. She’s off visiting people in various non-Virginian states, and she said something I understood so much I’m reproducing it here without her consent: “I could feel myself snap into pay-attention mode as soon as we got on the road out of Harrisonburg.” I do so love that feeling, how it happens and you stop foggy living and go into the real stuff.

On a good day I can hit that without going somewhere new. I wrote a story at 3am the other day moments after snapping out of a dream, and I had that feeling. There’s a wall I used to bike past in September and October that at a certain time of day reflected so much warmth at me it always felt like a new thing. Last night walking home from work in the cold a dog got mad at me walking and barked and barked all mad from its confined backyard and I got all those primal goosebumps of fear. There are those moments, but man pay-attention mode is a lot easier to do when you’re somewhere else. And all your calories aren’t going directly into staying warm.

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windchill warnings in effect

Kate called from Los Angeles this morning. She was wearing sandals. I think I managed to stifle my squicky groan as I used that bit of knowledge how the “winter” outside Winnipeg can be to stab myself in the brain. The eye is part of the brain, right?

I hate the cold so very much. At work today Ivy said it sounded like the walking to work in the cold was making me bitter, but she missed the main point which is that winter itself, not whether I am walking to work or not, is what makes me hate. I really wonder what it would be like if I had grown up in a place where half the year wasn’t a constant war with the goddamned motherfucking elements. Where I wasn’t aware of the need to double up the fabric between mitts and sleeves so your wrists don’t die. What would my personality be like without this infusion of pain and misery every year?

I went to Quinzmas tonight only to be told that it was sold out. It was a 45 minute trip across the city (not the whole city) in the -39 degrees, directly after a 45 minute trip home from work in the -39 (but the wind then was at my back so I didn’t die as much as I will tomorrow on the way to work when it’s scheduled to be -47), only to have to walk out the fucking door and run to catch a bus that passed me. I did and so didn’t have to stand around waiting for a bus home until trying to get a connection. Still took another 45 fucking minutes though.

Needless to say these trips are glasses-less so my scarf can mummy me up and I expose as little skin as possible (and don’t have metal next to my flesh; just handling my keys to open my apartment direct from outside hurts), but that means I can’t see shit for finding buses. And Winnipeg’s cornucopia of different bus models doesn’t make it easy to memorize the smeary light patterns they make on my retinas.

I hate so fucking much.

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the happiest man at folk fest

I’m back from the 35th annual Winnipeg Folk Festival, and thankfully I’m sunburnt. It felt like it was actually summer out there today. As opposed to yesterday which was rain and windy the whole live long day.

Even on Friday night before it started raining and was just cold I was getting to the miserable side. I felt some need to “make the most of it” which means staying up until it gets light outside, but it was cold out so I was pretty much tethered to our campfire trying to ignore how cold I was. Yeah I could have just gone to bed and wrapped up in a sleeping bag but then what was the point of being out there (I asked myself)? This was about the time John Forbes gave me the award mentioned in the title of this post.

Since I’d already missed a night and a day of the festival by the time I got out there on Friday I felt the need to pack in as much as I could on Saturday instead of huddling in my tent where it was dry. This plan was fatally flawed because it neglected how fucking cold I would get when soaked to the skin in mid-teens temperature. I was shivering and chattering through Danny Michel’s concert out at the Little Stage on the Prairie and decided that going home, drying out and getting my core body temperature back above 34 degrees was more important than seeing Calexico.

The performers kept on commending the people who toughed it out. “If this was back in Ontario everyone would have gone home by now,” Danny Michel said. “But through that whole song there are two guys playing frisbee! The wind’s like a million kilometres an hour. You haven’t caught one, guys! You’re allowed to give it up!”

But today was sunny and breezy and I enjoyed myself. I think my favourite part of this year’s festival was the fact that since the weather was so shitty I didn’t have to deal with the thought of so many people saying “Best Folk Fest ever!” which is always at odds with my own experience of the weekend. You understand what my problem there is? It’s the idea of being surrounded by thousands of people who’re purporting to have just had the best time of their lives. Which is never something I come home from Folk Fest feeling. And this year I think I have company. Geez. I’m a bit of a dick.

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