The best sentences I read this week: vol.4

“It costs approximately $1 million per mile and will bring nothing but humiliation and discomfort to both sides. Like the Berlin Wall, it confirms the moral and institutional bankruptcy of the regime it is intended to protect.”

–Israel: The Alternative by Tony Judt

“The ten-thousand-hour research reminds us that ‘the closer psychologists look at the careers of the gifted, the smaller the role innate talent seems to play and the bigger the role preparation seems to play.’ In cognitively demanding fields, there are no naturals.”

–COMPLEXITY AND THE TEN-THOUSAND-HOUR RULE by MALCOLM GLADWELL

“The reward is that it remains the one kind of time travel that works, where you make a wish and actually become a musketeer in Paris or a used-car salesman in Pennsylvania.”

–Why Teach English? by Adam Gopnik

“We need the humanities not because they will produce shrewder entrepreneurs or kinder C.E.O.s but because, as that first professor said, they help us enjoy life more and endure it better. The reason we need the humanities is because we’re human. That’s enough.”

–Why Teach English? by Adam Gopnik

“The Globe’s readership reportedly dropped 40 per cent after the paywall was put in place.”

–Globe Won’t Deliver Labour Day In Most Ironic Thing Ever

Take a book, leave a book

I came home today with a stack of eight new books, all of which were free. I am quite pleased with my plunder. I have always loved free community libraries and book exchanges. They are a good place to get rid of books you don’t want anymore but an even better place to find new ones.

There is something so lovely about knowing that just a few blocks from my house there is a little box that looks oddly like a bird house filled with books that I can take if I feel so inclined. There is infinite choice and room for many surprises. I wouldn’t have considered or chosen most of the books I grab and often don’t recognize the title or author all together. Novels can be really hit or miss but when they are free and pre-dogeared how can I resist. There is no risk. If I don’t like it I can just pass it along to the next person.

The other benefit is that I don’t look at these books as being mine. I have them but only for a brief while. They belonged to someone else before me and once I am done with them I will pass them along continuing the cycle. Books were meant to be out in the world being read and abused rather than sitting on my shelf looking impressive and lonely.

Not for a second do I see these books as a possession. They are something temporary afloat in a world of book exchanges where once you are done with it or bored with it you put it in another box on another lawn and somebody else restarts the cycle.

642 Things to Write About: Write about an arrival that caught you or your character completely unaware

The flight in was short and uneventful just an hour or so from London. It already seemed likes ages since I’d been back home a mere week ago.

Me and my sister both left for new places on the same day on flights two hours apart. She was bound for Moscow, me for Copenhagen. I sat at Heathrow for the two extra hours more bored than nervous.

Copenhagen’s airport struck me as unimpressive upon arrival. We wandered through dingy corridors through an abandoned terminal, past a 7/11 (I did not yet know how commonplace these were or how much I would miss them when I left). At customs they said nothing to me and didn’t even ask for the visa I’d gone through so much to get.

The luggage carousel had nothing on the shiny glamour of terminal five. It was simple and old. I wandered into the main area lost and looking for a cab. I was not about to brave an unfamiliar transit system with my luggage. I paid handing over unfamiliar bills to receive unfamiliar change. I have no idea how much that cab cost.

It wasn’t until I reached the hotel that it hit me. I had just moved halfway across the world to a strange city with dingy luggage carousels. Everyone here seemed to speak Danish and I did not. The whole foreign language thing did not hit me until then. The letters looked strange. Prices were in numbers that were absurdly large. What was 100DKK worth anyways? Would I ever adjust? Where was I anyways? Where was my housing? How was I going to make friends? What was I doing in this strange and foreign place?

I spent the evening freaking out and facing a reality that was exciting and terrifying. I was an exchange student, the next day I moved into my housing and started at a new university. It all seemed completely overwhelming.

I later experienced the exact same feeling after moving to Washington, DC, that what am I doing here. I imagine I will feel that way for a few days in every new place that I make my home.

We always feel the need to sugar coat travel. We say our trip was good because it is usually too many things to say at once. I later told my sister about this feeling. My sister agreed with me. We were taking the harder route by moving away from the familiar comforts of home and our social networks to a place where we had no idea how to take the bus. It was hard but it was worth it. Over time all of my questions were answered. I figured out the currency. I made friends. I found my way around. That feeling of what am I doing here was replaced by a feeling that there was no other place I was meant to be. 

Luggage tags

It happened suddenly and unexpectedly. One day everybody in our city had started calling it by a new nickname: YYC. Ten years ago nobody knew Calgary’s airport code except frequent flyers. Nobody knew we were YYC unless they happened to look at a luggage tag then Twitter changed everything.

I was sceptical at first. Twitter seemed like it was just a place to post what you were eating/drinking (Irish breakfast tea) and what music you were listening to (Simon & Garfunkel). There wasn’t a whole lot else going on.

Then Twitter grew up. The city got a Twitter famous mayor. When our buses were late or failed to appear we knew who to Tweet at. We got Crackmacs a Twitter account devoted to observations from a downtown apartment overlooking a notorious convenience store.

We also knew what hashtag to use (before we knew hashtags were even a thing): #yyc. That was our city, who we are, who we were to become. It would be fitting if the city were to erect a YYC statue spelling out loud and clear.

We were a community of people all in one place, and we had a new name for ourselves.

642 Things to Write About: Your favourite film

Stranger Than Fiction is one of those excellent films with terrible trailers. The trailer was so bad it made me not want to see it and had a similar effect on most other people. Fortunately, I did see it and have convinced many over the years to do the same.

I can be an excitable person and am known to have a long list of must watch movies that will surely change your life. When convincing people to watch Stranger Than Fiction I have a habit of being more enthusiastic than usual. This has led to a fair amount of disappointment over time as people expected the greatest movie ever and just got a good one.

Now I like to tone it down, leaving them with something that bears a closer resemblance to reasonable expectations. The less you expect the easier it is to like a movie.

Sixteen months

They like to say that there are sixteen months in Copenhagen: January, February, March, April, May, June, July, August, September, October, November, November, November, November, November, and December. The night in question was a prime example of why they say this. It was raining and grey. The northern latitude meant that sunlight was a rare treat, gone far too early most of the time. It was raining a steady but not torrential kind of downpour.

I had been invited for drinks on the other side of the city, effectively a 45 minute bike ride each way. I set off knowing that I would be soaked through almost right away. Riding in the rain can be almost pleasant once you get a rhythm going — unlike riding in a blizzard, which is generally cold and slow. The worst part is being damp and cold once you arrive at your destination.

I peddled along, thankful for my standard issue fenders, rain dripping from my helmet (how deeply unDanish) onto my face. I felt extremely hardcore and almost as Danish as can be this. This was as Danish as eating rye bread while sipping Carlsberg. Some of my friends hadn’t even purchased bicycles and here I was slogging along.

When I finally got there I decided to order a latte to warm myself up instead of a beer. My friends were late as usual so I got a book out to amuse myself. Before I finished the first paragraph someone was asking me how I liked the book, which quickly led to where I was from and what I was doing in Denmark. Two Danish boys and I struck up a conversation and before long they had invited me to join in their board games. The only problem was that the game was entirely in Danish. It was far beyond the eight or so words I had collected. They tried to prod me into participating, missing the futility of such an attempt. Ultimately they seemed to enjoy their private world of Danish and who was I to stop them?

642 Things to Write About: Your favourite film

The first time I watched it we were on a bus and I was not the least bit interested. Events that preceded the film were a little bit distracting.

We boarded the bus in the early morning and I fortuitously draped a blanket over myself. One down and across from me a certain individual whose name will not be divulged sat. There were no signs that she had been out quite late with her brother and had gotten quite drunk.

I was awakened a short time later by a splatter of hot liquid. Stomach acid and presumably alcohol now covered the blanket, which shielded me from worse damage. The individual in question had succumbed to her mounting hangover and I just happened to get caught in the crossfire.

We did our best to clean it up but the smell lingered in the enclosed space. The rest of the trip I felt somewhat quesy as I tried to pretend that I was not angry and to fall back asleep.

The best sentences I read this week: vol. 3

“The hike to get to Rockbound Lake was the first time that my family had hiked together since what my brother and I referred to as ‘forced marches’ we used to take part in on family vacations.”

–My Five Favourite Day Hikes in Banff National Park by Guest Blogger

“If you’re a dad, you can just show up at base camp, have a beer with a Sherpa, and throw a peace sign up at the mountain and society will generally hand you a cookie.”

–On Being a Great Dad vs a Great Mom by Isis the Scientist

“They killed off Marissa at the end of the third season, which is why, a few years later, we all totally accepted the idea that Don Draper could whip through 46 different relationships and three total reinventions of his company in the span of a few hundred cases of brown liquor.”

–Why ‘The O.C.’ was the definitive show about the 2000s economy

“She has her issues—over the course of Grey’s she has almost died in a plane crash and at the hands of a gun man, suffered debilitating PTSD, been stabbed by an icicle, left at the altar, not to mention a litany of other outrageous things that are inevitable for a character who has been on a soap opera for 10 years. But she is not fundamentally damaged.”

–How Cristina Yang Changed Television by Willa Paskin

“Everyone’s favorite lesbian drug dealer who isn’t k.d. lang (WE KNOW WHAT YOU DID).”

–Orange Is The New Black may have a lot less Laura Prepon next season by Sean O’Neal

Note: I have no idea what k.d. lang did.

On packing

I started packing for the camping trip at 1:00 a.m., which is far from ideal. I’ve done this so many times before that it works out okay. I forget to pack my thermal socks, toque and bandana. I make due without them. I run out of time to make bannock (campfire bannock is delicious). For the most part I pack smartly. Some of my friends opt for items like beer or cots that I don’t bring because they take up space or I think they’re unnecessary.

I talk to my sister about this later when we go hiking. We’ve both lived abroad and done more than our fair share of travelling. We were both know the importance of being prepared and how to pack light and smartly. We agree that there is nothing more frustrating than travelling with someone who overpacks or who is ill prepared—or the feeling of being unprepared yourself. When we travel we bring the bare minimum and are fully self-sufficient. Travelling with my sister is easy and almost instinctive.

I also get to thinking that being prepared is a way for me to try to control my environment and the unpredictable. I have a list of gear I want to acquire and spend way too much time on the MEC website thinking about dry bags and backpacks. I make packing lists in my head and think about what I would bring if I were to travel for a month. This is my way of trying to control the uncontrollable; of trying to prevent 1 a.m. packing.

My family is talking about doing the Trans-Siberian. I mention to my father that he will probably need to buy a backpack and what size he should consider. It is clear I’ve thought about this way too much.

The other thing is that every time I forget something while camping (a chair, a hatchet, thermal socks) I make a mental note to ensure to bring it the next time. I also know that I need to make a packing list. I’ve thought about doing an infographic and maybe one day it will grace the pages of this blog. One day. Though I don’t know if the list will ever be quite done.

Don’t be a stranger

I can see her out of the corner of my eye and I know what is going to happen. Her attention is not entirely focused on the task at hand and danger looms. As she plunges the broccoli into the dip her hand goes with it, not noticing until it’s too late. Then things so from bad to worse. She drops the dip covered broccoli after missing her mouth. Ranch covers her shirt and lap.

In this moment I can chose to be a passive observe people watching at arms length. This is what I do on the train, or on an elevator, or at a park. That is what you do in Calgary. You keep to yourself. You don’t talk to strangers. Of course one should go out of their way to avoid talking to strangers who happen to own unmarked vans and offer you sweets. Beyond this we live in a world where we pretend the people around us don’t exist. We get in an elevator and look forward. We do not engage in casual conversation with that person who happens to work two floors down.

Then there is the other option: I have a stack of napkins nicely tucked away in my pocket that I grabbed knowing the potential risks of eating butter chicken (the worst did not occur). I reach into my pocket and hand them to her. She is eternally grateful. After all we are at a music festival with no running water to be found. If not for these napkins she is doomed to be extremely sticky.

The location matters. She is two tarps down from us at the Calgary Folk Music Festival, a place where Calgarians briefly become residents of a small town. Here I talk to strangers, and they become neighbours. She offers us veggies and crackers in exchange for my kindness and we talk. At the end of the night I feel slightly less alone and slightly less isolated. I feel like a member of a vibrant community.

Festivals can make us selfish. The term tarp politics encompasses all of the selfishness and anger that comes with being a tarpie. They can also make us kind and generous. They can bridge the gaps between people. Everyone around you is there for the same reason as you and that’s one thing you have in common. You can talk about what acts you are excited about, what the best food is or you can just talk to kill time or because you are sitting next to one another.

Fringe Fest has done the same thing for me. I have chatted with a volunteer about taking French immersion, I have recommended plays to people and had them recommended to me and I fist pumped a stranger next to me when we miraculously escaped front row audience participation. At a show today I befriended two girls sitting in front of me and ended up getting shown the tattoos one of them just got done and discussing my intense fear of needles. I also ran into somebody I am pretty sure I know but I can’t figure out where.

I love that feeling of discovery and connection. I miss talking to random people and learning about their lives—this was my favourite thing about my neighbourhood in D.C.. We should be more like a small town. We should be less insular and closed off. We should try to keep that festival feel going in our everyday lives.