Up Too Late: An Endless Search for Mr.Right & Other Important Things in Life

In the last few weeks, thanks to the wonders of IPTV technology, I've been avidly following the coverage of the parliamentary elections in Kosova. I was disappointed to find out that a year after president Rugova's death, Kosova's political parties have fragmented into a bunch of small parties...

Ibrahim Rugova, the man who used diplomacy as a tool of peaceful resistance and was recognized by the world as a pacifist who wished for a peaceful resolution to the Serb-Albanian divide, is shunned today by those who are tired of promises, those who want immediate action on the region's looming independence, eight years after the war that saw my family and me, among more than a million Kosovars displaced, over twenty thousand mostly Albanian men and women killed.

His party, LDK (Lidhja Demokratike e Kosovës) , the Democratic League of Kosova, continues to use Rugova as an image to promote its values. However, there is something morbid, something sad, almost ironic, in the promotion of a dead man to a people who want resolutions fulfilled, long lists of "to do" promises held.

While alive, Rugova enjoyed a popularity comparable to few in Kosovar history. After Rugova's death, UN officials, diplomats and Kosovar politicians saw his passing away as an opportunity to move on, to move towards the much-wanted independence in a more pro-active, immediate manner. Kosovars saw this as a chance to wake up from the "dream" of independence resulting from diplomatic talks.

A year later, little has changed. Kosovars have become hopeless and desperate, to the extent that they've given the international community a deadline to settle Kosova's political status. The unheard Kosovars, Serbs, continue to reject any notions of independence, and, though I would hate for Kosova to remain part of Serbia, I can understand why they choose to boycott elections
(lack of security, allegiance to Serbia, Kosovar Albanians' anger blame on the community for the 2300 missing persons since 1998).

While watching the news on KTV (alternative and independent TV media station, comparable to B92 in Serbia) yesterday, I heard an interview with a Serbian man from northern Mitrovica, who said he boycotted the elections because he feared that if he did vote, his vote would add to the multiethnic vote count in an independent Kosova, a notion he despises, as, he said, he only believed in Kosova within Serbian territory.

The group Vetevendosja (Self-determination, alb., I wrote them about a couple of months ago here), called for a boycott on Kosovar elections, as well. The group says Kosovar parliamentary elections are simply a forum for rival groups to compete for more empty promises and useless, result-less negotiations with UNMIK (UN Mission in Kosova). Their dream came true. Kosovar Albanians, who, until 2004, saw elections as the only way of showing their discontent with the Serbian regime, are growing more and more disappointed in the electoral process, halfing the turnout at the elections this year (less than 45%), as opposed to the war years (more than 90%).

At this point, I don't know what will happen with Kosova. The preliminary results (graph above, from the Demokracia në Veprim coalition), show Kosovars want to try something new. They want to deviate from diplomacy and want unilateral independence. How productive this will be is left for the world to see. US and France are big supporters of Kosovar independence, but what of China and Russia, which both oppose Kosovar independence?

My Quebecois heartbreaker, in a heated chat we had about the future of Kosova (and Quebec, incidentally!), told me he thinks that Canada, too, plans to oppose Kosovar independence, for fears it might incite a separation of Quebec from the country.

The winning party, PDK (Partia demokratike e Kosovës), the Democratic Party of Kosova has set the deadline for independence for December 10th, a day when they will declare Kosova independent unilaterally, if the West does not do anything to support it.

Coincidentally, December 10th is International Human Rights Day.

Image credit: City of Gjakovë - Flickr-ibslim , Poster - Vetevendosje

Labels: Canada, ibrahim rugova, Kosova, Kosovo, politics, problems, Serbia

I spent my Canada Day working. I was registering new citizens prior to their ceremony, where they pledged their allegiance to our glamorous Head of State.

I got emotional when two little girls who had been adopted from China four years earlier received their citizenship, while their parents tried to document every second of their moment on stage. Equally emotional was the flow of families from Ireland, USA, Sri Lanka, Chile, Ecuador, all proud to be Canadians, to the point that while one of the heads of families from Sri Lanka was on stage getting his citizenship certificate and a bag of Canadian propaganda goodies such as "my Citizenship keepsake book" and various Canada pins, a Canada flag,etc., he shouted out how happy he was to call Canada his home.

I could sympathize with him in many ways. A couple of years earlier, I gave a speech stating how proud I was to finally be Canadian. I still am, though I wonder how much longer will it be before I start hiding my maple leaf when I travel. Under the current government, that time may be very soon. In fact, it may be just now.

We were in the middle of the woods, 2.5 hours away from anything close to a major city, yet somehow, I didn't feel like I had to go home. This is home and once again, on Canada Day, I remember the feeling of realization that my travel documents wouldn't say "stateless" anymore, but rather the citizen of a country that I admire.

I do, however, find the constant "Canada is the best place to live in the world" and "According to the UN, we are the biggest recipient of the world's refugees, when it comes to the developed world" slightly egotistic and not cool at all.

That being said, seeing the red maple leaf on tattoos, paper flags, posters, displays, my name tag, etc. gave me enough Canadianism that I have enough to share for the rest of the year.

Oh, and I got a few pictures of the RCMP guys...Those slacks are just far too funny, but I still love them :). I love that we have a traditional national police force uniform based on semi-cowboy hats and wide polo slacks. Gucci and Armani would probably say no...I can't imagine Italian police wanting to wear our gear. After all, Italian police does wear Armani.

Labels: Canada, Canada Day, St.John's

Thursday afternoon at work was a rather unpleasant surprise for the Roma family that had just been told the day before that no charges would be laid against the father and the mother for uttering deadly threats. The police officer of the night before had canceled the complaint, but the frightened translator [see three entries earlier] decided to approach another officer and ask that a summons be issued to the family for a court appearance on the 6th of July.

This means I can't go to Ottawa on July 6th, as I will be at the court, translating for the harmless, five-foot-tall mother and her even funnier six-foot, twirly-moustache-wearing husband who looks like he just stepped out of the set of a Bollywood movie...or maybe an italian mafia documentary [this latter one is less convincing of his innocence].

On Friday, just before I headed out to Ottawa, I was almost late to the airport, as my coworker just left the organization we work in, so I applied for her job and got it. It's a great upgrade, as I will be earning 1.5 times more than I earned earlier. I didn't get a chance to learn much about the responsibilities of the new upgrade, but it can't be anything too hard to learn. I imagine it will be a transition step.

Two and a half hours of leafing through Air Canada's travel mag and a reading of "Can You Keep A Secret?" later, I found myself in Ottawa, excited that I was finally seeing Adam. The night before coming to town, I had received an e-mail from him asking if I still wanted to meet him, as I had, as he said, not been in touch as much as I perhaps should have been. This was slightly strange for me, as I had thought that he had been avoiding me...I was already pissed off as it was, as I hadn't really heard from him in a while. So I wrote a one-liner and said that yes, I still want to see him.

Coming down the escalator of the Ottawa airport arrivals was strange. I was looking for Adam in the crowd, hoping to see the familiar face somewhere in the crowds of anxious Ottawans waiting for their friends, husbands, fathers, brothers. As I noticed him in the crowd, it was almost as if I had done something wrong, something unmentionable. Adam looked tired, exhausted even, and not in the least happy. I smiled, but as I did, my smile filled me with regret, unexplainable actions peering out of me. I wasn't in the least surprised that he would act this way, but I was hurt somehow.

I asked immediately if everything was ok, only to be met with a strange response that required further explanations. As we waited for my luggage piece, I looked at him and how much I had missed him. His new haircut, new reading glasses, the evident loss of weight made me think of how much he had changed and with time, so did our interactions. We found his green Aztek Pontiac [I was impressed with the choice of colour for the car] in the giant parking lot. As we drove, he gave me a box of things he had collected for me in the last few months, including a Turkish, Anatolian-style pillow that he had bought after he returned from Montreal, where he and I had been shopping for a winter scarf for me. My choice of colours for the scarf had reminded him of me when he came across the pillow.

In the box, a dictaphone, which he had bought after coming back from Montreal the first time we had met, after finding out my dead iPod had stopped working [so I couldn't do any voice recording for an interview, a requirement for my Sociology course], a book he had told me about, a few buttons in different languages saying "I am loved", some toys, meeting distractions, etc. I was surprised, moved by this caring gesture, unable to say much. The truth was, I was moved by the fact that Adam had taken the time to collect all these small pieces of conversations we'd had, artifacts of our friendship.

We had a long discussion on Friday night. It was mainly my objections to Adam's values, his work ethic, the distance between us that triggered his reactions. We went to Dunn's for a later dinner, where I had a burnt steak and fries. Adam had French toast breakfast. Ottawa was warm at 11 pm.

We went back to the B&B I was staying in and, as we entered the door, were met by Brian [the owner]'s dog Chelsea and, immediately after that, Brian himself, who was curious to meet Adam. He concluded Adam and I were boyfriends and I didn't say much, but rather agreed to go with the story. I didn't feel like clarifying. We went up and spent our last night together.

The next morning, after breakfast, I met up with Denis and his friend Mauricio. We soon thereafter headed to the city two hours away. Mauricio was quiet while we drove, giving off the impression of someone who either 1/is hungover or 2/is antisocial, or 3/doesn't know me well, thus keeps quiet. This only lasted for a couple of hours and the shyness disappeared as the day wore off and as we visited three gay strip bars in an attempt to expose M to as much gayness as possible...

We also went on a bus tour of Montreal. We met up with Bee and said hi to la Patronne which was one of the highlights of the day. We had desserts and nachos, updated each other on the last two months, walked around the block and finally headed back to Ottawa at around 11:30 pm, only to get lost on the highway. Finally, M saved the day and we were on our way to la capitale...I fell asleep in the back on Denis's lap. As we approached my bed & breakfast, I dreaded having to say goodbye...

I came into my room, headed for the bed and put the pillow next to me...the rough, thorny fabric softened shortly after i laid my cheek on it...

The rest of the weekend involved pizza dinnfer outing and chat with Renee and her friend Juanita. I was impressed with Renee's apartment. I was amused by the fact that she likes Asian decor, but not necessarily visiting Asia. I shared the stories of my clients and the stories of misunderstanding and plain silliness with her.

Gina, who was slightly distressed about the food we had at an Asian resto, spent all of Monday with me. We did our traditional Chapters book-shopping and book review stories, had cheesecake brownie and coffee cake at a cute coffee shop we usually meet at, and lastly, we shopped at the Giant Tiger on Monday for something I was told is sold there. We said our goodbyes, but on my way to getting a taxi at the office, I thought about our friendship and how close we had become...I don't remember how we met, but even if I tried, I could never forget her...

Tuesday night reminded me that I need to keep away from St.John's...I had to translate for someone who ended up at emergency...I spent 11 pm to 6 am at the hospital, went home for a short nap and got up at 10 for work...wonderful

Labels: AdamX, Canada, flying, friends, Montreal, ottawa

Monday afternoon would have been a regular 9 to 5 day, except that it had to end at 5:30 pm, since I had to be in a webconference for three hours with a volunteer who is participating in a project I am supervising.

He brought timbits and I brought cake, so while we listened to lame "warm-up" jokes, we had something to "snack" on. We kept rolling our eyes while the presenters discovered the Powerpoint hi-liter. They presented materials on the web using Dialogue Conferencing, so the discovery of the hi-liter and the Post it! arrows was a big hit...while we snacked on our chocolate mocha cake and drank mango juice.

At 5:31 pm, I found myself answering the phone at the office, curious why anyone would call so late. It was a call from the director of the organization, asking that I go to the local mental hospital and translate for someone who tried to commit suicide.

I was at the hospital five minutes later, happy that finally, something more exciting than sitting in front of a computer screen and watching oddly matched Powerpoint backgrounds and fonts had happened.

The clients, a Romani family from Kosovo, were a young girl in her late teens and her parents. Next to them was a family friend, a hijab-wearing woman in her thirties.

Seemingly upset, the three jumped on me, happy that someone had finally come to help them. The matter had started much earlier in the day, when the daughter had called the local settlement agency and told them she was depressed because two of her uncles had died in the last month, due to health reasons. She told the interpreter [from Albania] that if she couldn't bring her uncle to Canada, she would kill herself. She added that she had problems with her family.

The interpreter, obviously shaken by what was said, immediately called the social worker and told her what was just said. The social worker decided that they would go to the girl's house and get her, take her to the local mental hospital, to protect her from harming herself.

This they did, except that they didn't have in mind the events that would follow their decision.

The girl's parents showed up at the hospital and, following the traditional Romani passion they are known for, splurted their anger at the interpreter, threatening that they would kill her the next day she would come to work. They accused her of trying to get their daughter declared crazy. The poor woman called for someone else to come translate while the doctor interviews the young girl.

This is where I got in. The girl begged me to do whatever I could to not leave her in the hospital. The parents kept talking at me at the same time, saying how wrong the interpreter was, how in fact, their daughter had no suicide plans and how she had said that she had problems bringing her uncle to Canada and not problems with her family IN Canada.

The doctor came. He decided nothing was wrong, that it was all a matter of misunderstanding due to the differing dialects of Albanian in Kosova and Albania. I mentioned to the mother that she should not put herself in trouble by threatening others. She said she would continue doing it because if she didn't, this same thing would repeat itself.

The family friend who now decided to get involved, asked the father and mother to be more understanding of their daughter. The mother said, "I gave birth to 11 children. I know better than you how to raise children". The poor single woman didn't have anything to add to that, so she turned to the father, who said, as he laughed: "My daughter's twenty already! she's too old to stay home! In our Romani tradition, I will find her a husband and get money for her wedding from her husband's family!" The woman, suddenly realizing how little she knows about the family, looked around to see if she could find the daughter.

The daughter was outside, speaking with one of the patients of the hospital. The woman she spoke with had had a child with a Bulgarian man. This brought the two together. The pseudo-suicidal girl insisted that the woman's son, who, by the way, was four, had been in the same refugee camp in Bosnia as the girl's family. The mother of the child looked at her and said "Well, you know, I AM crazy, but I do know where my son lived in the last four years...Where's Bosnia?"

Labels: Canada, funny, newcomer, St.John's

I am in Kelowna, have been for two days now, and will be here until next Monday.

There's something about a small, green, university town, that has helped me reach peace. In the last few weeks, I'd been slightly stressed out about finding a job and making my monthly VISA payments. Suddenly, I don't think about that anymore. I'm fascinated by Kelowna.

I'm in a town where sailboats are THE thing, where the highway goes in the middle of the downtown area, where the rich have built houses in the hills to overlook the rest of the inhabitants, where a new university campus is the hope for a more lively Kelowna. The hope is that incoming university students will bring noise, so that the continuous sound that the crickets make incessantly, day and night, will stop, or at least, diminish.

I went out on the town yesterday afternoon, after leading a workshop, in which I felt so out of energy, my 39 participants also felt extremely out of it. I had traveled for 13 hours the night before and had gone through two connecting flights, only to get up the next morning at 6:30 am, due to the time difference.

My friend Anita, whom I sometimes think of as one of the closest friends I've ever had and will have, took a day off work as a schoolteacher and rode for 3.5 hours on her motorbike, to come see me. I couldn't be happier when I opened the door to let some participants out for an activity I was doing, and she was there.

See, Anita and I go way back. When my family made it to Newfoundland, Ann's parents helped us around town. They were with us constantly in the first six months, when life for us in one of the coldest provinces of Canada became a stage of undiagnosed depression that took a while to heal. Anita would come during the Christmas holidays and bring her cheery smile and funny jokes, though she herself went through depression at the time, for reasons different than mine.
I remembered her as someone who gave everything she had, her energy, hapiness and smile while she sat down with us in those cold winter days.

I will never forget those year-end holidays, when I looked forward to Anita's visit, her warm presence and the "always-happy" appearance, which, at the time, gave me a push of happiness, at a time when the indicator of my happiness tanks pointed to "empty". Once again, as she visited yesterday, I felt her ever-powerful presence, as we rode on her motorbike [a first for me...what a thrill!] and tanned on the beach, looked at her new photographs [we share a passion for photography] and contemplated the future [we decided we will be a bit more selfish in the future]. Anita drove back to her town in the evening, and though I was slightly sad to see her go, I was re-energized from her visit.

I got back to my room in the new UBC residences, which are great, air-conditioning-equipped, huge-bathroom, living spaces for students who are here September-May. Right now, there are no students here, so all of the conference members are occupying the rooms.

I share the bathroom with Renee, who is also at the conference. She and I talked for a bit about her frustrations with some of the conference participants, and after venting off, we decided we'd order some food in, rather than join others in an outing to Kelowna. We ordered italian from some restaurant that took 45 minutes to deliver chicken cacciatore and Greek pizza that made me wonder why we had ordered there...We also didn't have any cutlery, so I ate pasta using my fingers...great.

After our food got in [Renee had to give directions to the delivery guy], we sat down to watch Garden State, the movie that Renee insisted I should watch. Instead, I fell asleep and it was decided we should go to bed, except that Renee went on to chat on MSN. I was extremely tired and after checking Facebook and sending today's photos to Anita, I turned off the lights and went to bed at 10 pm...

It's 7 am and I got up 20 minutes ago. Another sunny day in Kelowna awaits...

Labels: adventures, Canada, friends, Kelowna

Labels: Canada, Montreal, mr.right candidate, weather

This Tuesday will be the 25th anniversary of the signing of the Canadian Charter of Rights and Freedoms.

The Queen signed the document on April 17th, 1982, after we pleaded with her and her politicians for decades, centuries even, to have our own planefull of rights.
In the presence of Pierre Elliott Trudeau, letter H's favourite Prime Minister and French Quebecers' least liked politician, the Queen signed the Canadian Charter of Rights and Freedoms into the Constitution.

This year, the Conservative minority government, which has never been a fan of the Charter ("Rights?? Who needs'em???!!!"), apparently has no major celebrations planned for the day that marks a symbolic breaking away from the strict and controlling mother Queen two and a half decades ago.

Five years ago, when, at the time, the Liberal government was in power, Canadian Alliance, the co-founding group of today's Conservative Party of Canada, said that the whole Charter thing had been overdone by the Liberal government, underlining that its need was exaggerated in a sense, ignoring some fundamental human rights that would never have been challenged had the Charter not been enshrined in the Canadian Constitution. The Alliance said at the time that the Charter went against the will of many Canadians who thought the rights revolution "had gone too far".

This week, on Monday and Tuesday, the University of Ottawa is holding a two-day conference on the Charter. Apparently, all of the invited guests, except for Stephen Harper and his run-alongs, are coming. Stephane Dion, who first declined the invitation, must have changed his mind when he found out about Harper's decision to unofficially boycott the event.

Jean Chrétien, the former Liberal prime minister who initiated the same-sex marriage vote is apparently talking at a $150-per-plate gala fundraiser in Montreal about the importance of having a Charter.Harper must be staying home and enjoying Bill O'Reilly and Fox News.

His government recently (last fall), canceled funding for the Charter Challenges Program, which helped individuals and groups/organizations challenge federal laws on the grounds of equality. The Program, known as the pillar of federal court challenges, has given out funding in the past to groups demanding a change in the definition of marriage, prisoner's rights to vote and, among other things, the limits of the parents' disciplining of children.

Oddly enough, Canadians seem to be turned on by the idea of going conservative. A prime minister who refuses to acknowledge the importance of one of the most important and fundamental human rights documents is gaining popularity, according to polls.

The pendulum is swinging right once again...wonderful. We are already explicitly supporting Israel's so-called anti-terrorist measures that cause thousands of civilians' deaths, Israeli and Palestinian. Every few days, our "anti-terrorist troops" are attacked in Afghanistan. We are going under in our environment policies. Refugee claimants are being deported every day.

At the tennis club, a member sees me typing my paper on racial profiling in Montreal. He asks me what I'm doing and when I tell him what it's all about, he asks me what I think of the Montreal police. I say that I have no personal opinion on it, but that so far, I've only found negative info. on them. He looks at me and says,

"Our Charter was overdone. It gives every nobody, especially the first generation Canadians a chance to claim the race card when a policeman pushes him or treats him like he should, for beating up someone or for sexually assaulting someone else. Frankly, and a lot of lawyers agree with me, the Charter of Rights was overdone." I ask rhetorically, in a curious tone: "But you can't change it, can you?"...he replies, with a sad face: "It's too hard to change it."... Take that, racist millionaires.

In other news, Quebec's ADQ is considering pressuring the provincial government to sign the Canadian Constitution it never signed in 1982. Quebec is the only Canadian province not to have approved the Constitution. The signing would allow the province to finally propose an amendment to the constitution, in order to, according to the Action Démocratique du Québec, achieve greater autonomy from the rest of Canada.

What surprises me is why Quebecers have to go to the most conservative party in the province to get help to make the province sovereign...or autonomous...or whatever.

Sources:

Justice Canada

"Conservatives skip out on Charter events" - The Gazette, Wednesday, April 11, 2007

Labels: Canada, conservatism, human rights, politics, quebec

Qesar visited last week and I met him for the first time ever. We had talked once at an Albanian Gay Forum and had kept in touch since, chatting on MSN, exchanging e-mails, etc.

It had only been a year ago that we started talking and at the time, I thought I'd never meet him as, of course, I am a big pessimist when it comes to distance. I felt like we had a lot in common, as we both came from a similar family setting. Though I'm out to my family, Qesar isn't, and for me, it felt like I was the big brother in this whole thing, guiding him on the way to someday being comfortable with whatever he decides to do about his sexuality.

Qesar and I also shared the mutual passion for anything Albanian, including men, so it was no wonder we kept in touch for a long time. Mind you, in the last six months, I think he did most of the work of updating me on what he has been up to, as being in Montreal and working away, I haven't been very good at keeping in contact with him, though I've thought often of his e-mails and messages that made me laugh at times.

This was Qesar's first time in Montreal, so we hung out for a long, long time. We went out together on Friday night and I met his zillion friends, the entourage that Qesar brought with him. :) . Miranda Bradshaw, her friend Princess Alya and Alya's friend, Prince D, joined us in going dancing that night.

Qesar's friends are so worth talking about and had I not had only 10 minutes to write (I'm in school... :P), I would have written a page for every single one of them. Instead, I will opt for something shorter about some of them.

Zane: Slightly feminine, super-friendly and bitchy (in that stereotypical gay way), very intelligent and sometimes silly, this young man speaks perfect Urdu and German...what's the likelihood of someone speaking these languages?

the highlight of my encounters with him was the story he told on Saturday night, where he recounted how earlier that day, he had bacon for the first time in his life. Apparently, he didn't know the plate had bacon when he ordered, but when he saw it later, he just shrugged and asked a friend to take a photo of him eating the bacon. "Well, I figured, I'm going to hell anyway, so why not try it? It's not like I don't drink or anything."

Monica: Smart, poetic and friendly, this young woman will someday amaze me with her writing. What she amazed me with this last weekend was the amount of energy she put in trying to convert gay men into being straight by showing them her breasts.

She also tried to get it on with a waiter at a restaurant, but the guy resisted the temptation. She did, however, let a bi stripper at a gay strip bar put his hands in her breasts and play with them. This was not necessarily the way I wanted to remember her, but it's definitely the way I remember her now. Oh, well.

Greg: Greg is made up of 235981456345876 nationalities. His mom belongs to four different ethnicities, as does his dad, so he is a melange parfait. He speaks perfect German and is quite down to earth. I went through his iPod and found out he listened to a lot of the music I listen to, including Freemasons' "I got love on my mind".

I liked Greg for not trying to be something he's not. His sarcasm was also quite funny, at times (though higher doses of it would be dangerous). Greg is the kind of guy you meet and know right away that you can be friends with them.

Out of the whole group, Qesar and Greg are definitely guys I can be good friends with.

Fareed: This Pakistani hottie shook his booty a bit too much in the two nights we went dancing. He also left early on Friday night to go to the gay strip bar with Zane, just so he could get some.
He also liked to play with handcuffs in the hotel room, including cuffing people and playing around with them.

I was touched by his story and wanted to hug him when he told me (and the rest of the group) that he had been molested when he was 10 by his Qur'an teacher in Pakistan. I had tears in my eyes and wondered why anyone had to go through something as horrible as that and was going to say something, but instead continued with my "observer" role and just listened instead to the stories he and others told.

I was attracted to Fareed, but I think it was simply physical. It was slightly odd, as we danced and suddenly, I felt the attraction was mutual...and i got my confirmation, too.

Danny: Danny was wonderful. He loved talking about his mom, whom he is convinced is lesbian. He loves talking about her as soon as he has a sip of a drink, whatever it is. We went out for dinner and he had Bailey's, followed by a cheesecake made of...guess what...Bailey's.

This Asian young man got a private lap dance at the strip bar we went to on Saturday night, courtesy of Fareed, who did this because of Danny's complaints that no one in Montreal liked him and this was no memorable weekend for him (that was my first night at a strip bar, ever, by the way...more on that sometime soon). He came back, serious and solemn, as if nothing had happened. We asked him what had happened.

He said the man pulled down his pants, let him look and approached him, asked Danny if he wanted to touch it. Danny touched it, and that was it. That's where US$20 went.

At a restaurant we went for a dinner to, Danny called up his bank, while the waiter stood in front of him, so he could check whether or not he had enough money in his account to pay for his meal. Out of the whole group, this guy is the winner in the 'funniest guy' category.

Adam: Adam was definitely the shyest of them all. A young Jewish man whose family found out about his sexuality through MySpace, Adam studies computer science.

Throughout the weekend, he had a number of witty comments that went ignored by the group, but I thought he was a nice guy. Overall, he has no sense of style, wearing Monica's white pearl necklace (I made him wear it so I could take a photo of it), but he is very friendly.

I asked him whether he practiced the Shabat and he said he didn't, though he said he practices parts of his religion.

I would have also liked to write about Chelsea, who was Monica's friend. She was also high on hormones and in need of some lay, so she kept fake humping with the guys, which I found extremely funny.

The whole group, though, is so diverse, I couldn't believe they were friends. Blacks, Jews, Muslims, Pakistanis, people from Trinidad and Tobago, Germany, Afghanistan, Macedonia.

It was a wonderful weekend knowing them. I may see them someday again.

i need to write about some things that bugged me that weekend, but more on that later.

Labels: Canada, friends, men, Montreal, Qesar, United States

Monday, March 26, 2007 - Provincial elections in Quebec. I went to vote, but unfortunately, couldn't, reason being, I haven't "officially" moved from NL (filled out a form with my new address). True, I didn't… Still, I wanted to vote for anyone but ADQ, Action Democratique du Quebec, an ultra right-wing party gaining power in Quebec. In fact, they gained so much power, they bumped Parti Quebecois, the province's leftist sovereignist party into the third place, getting in this way the balance of power in the first Quebec minority government in 129 years.

Tuesday, March 27, 2007 - I showed "The Laramie Project", the film about Matthew Sheppard to my high school students, in an effort to create some sensitivity around the issue of gay rights.

For the most part, the students took it well. One student who wasn't answering questions I put out for the class to answer ("What is happening in the movie?" and "how do the characters feel?") said he couldn't answer them because as a Roman Catholic, he thought it went against his religion. I told him writing what he sees does not go against his religion. I think he was just being lazy. At one point, I lost the attention of the class. Everyone was talking, few were listening, and since regular talk doesn't work with these boys and girls, I yelled at the top of my lungs and gave them a lesson on how they should always show compassion to others, no matter who the others are. I was so angry to have lost their attention, I think they (and me, too) were frightened of my facial expression after my fit. I looked at my supervisor after giving this "talk". She looked traumatized.

Wednesday, March 28, 2007 - Hanna, my Albanian student who is going to Kosova in just two months, presented her PhD research proposal at McGill on the state of Kosovar women in post-war Kosova. It was beautifully done. She has a great grasp of Kosovar culture, despite not being from there and despite only spending two weeks in Kosova a couple of years ago. After the proposal, we went to the McGill graduate student bar, where, out of all people, I saw my friend Ed who is usually in St.John's, so seeing him at the bar was super surprising. Hana and one of her friends had whiskey and cookies to celebrate (aside from their meal)…I stuck to water, roast beef sandwich (with horrible honey mustard seeds…ack…) and Oreo cheesecake…yummmm…

Thursday, March 29, 2007 - I went to a public discussion at McGill on racial profiling and police brutality. It was of particular interest to me because Khadijah Bennis, Anas Bennis' sister was there. I am writing a paper on Anas. Anas Bennis was shot twice by Montreal police on December 1, 2005, but no official version of the incident was given by the police, except for a short media release that said it was an act of self-defense because apparently, Anas Bennis, as he came out of the morning prayers from the mosque, made a run for the two officers on the street while he held a kitchen knife on his hand. The investigation, completed and finalized, was never submitted to the public, reason being "national security". A video from a neighbouring Bell Canada building, showing Anas Bennis being shot by the policeman was confiscated by the Montreal police and was never released to the family or shown to them. Khadijah said she doesn't know what that means because Anas was never implicated in any terrorist links.

Friday, March 30, 2007 - I interviewed Khadijah Bennis for my research paper. She is a super strong woman to be able to handle interview after interview after interview. I felt guilty for asking her to do another one, but she was very friendly and helpful. After the interview, I looked out onto St.Catherine street, where hundreds were coming and going everywhere, and I wondered why it had to be him, why we're so evil and mean, why we shun those different from us. It's naïve to ask these questions, but they are things that haunt me on an ongoing basis. I am saddened to see people like Khadijah who have lost a loved one, yet continue to hope for an explanation they so rightly deserve.

I went shopping so I would feel a bit better, though it didn't quite make a difference. I kept thinking about this young man and his death and how he died. He was not much older than me.

In the evening, Miranda Bradshaw, whom I was supposed to go dancing with, decided she is not into dancing and invited me to join her to visit Miss Chatterbox instead. We did, and had a lovely time. Miss Chatterbox is super-funny, witty and smart, and Mr Chatterbox is just as kind. They have a wonderful apartment at quite a good location and apparently, a great landlady.

I met Baroness Phoenicia, who loves dancing and hates photos. I am looking forward to going shaking it with her…

It was a wonderful night that ended at around 4 am (time I went to bed), only to start again two hours later for my weekend tennis club shift…la vita e bella :) ....By the way, these are Miranda Bradshaw's new shoes, not mine :P

Saturday, March 31 - A flirting session sprang from a regular chat with an acquaintance I met in Montreal six months ago. I told him I wanted to see him before we left and then he started saying he liked me, bla bla bla…We're going out for tea on Monday night.

Later on, my neighbour dropped by. A mix of Moroccan and Chinese ancestry, this young man is quite interesting. Two days ago, he knocked on my door and said he liked my music (Mika) and was wondering if he could borrow my CD. Last night, we had dinner together, where he revealed he is into transgendered women, though he doesn't like to call himself bi or gay because he still likes straight women. So I asked him if he was into guys and he added he liked very feminine guys…Hmmm, interesting. I'm glad I'm out of the picture :)

Over chinese noodles and his spices (he brought spices from his studio), we chatted about lots of things. He talked about how his mother is so controlling and how he only told his father, who said it's ok for him to be with men, but with transgendered women, that was pushing it a bit.

Sunday, April 01, 2007 - I started research for a paper due in two days on provincial jurisdiction drawn by the British North America Act of 1867. I may get to finish it up, though something tells me I won't. I've got dinner with Miranda Bradshaw and her buddies…it's her birthday.

The members of the tennis club are still talking about my table accident. Someone suggested today that the damage be reduced from my pay. Four others exclaimed that would be unfair and the person shut up. Oh, well, I suppose no more nice Arbër for him :)…

Today, I found out I won CAD $30 million on lotto 6/49.

$30 million? Ummm, nah, just an April fools' joke :)

Labels: Canada, everyday life, Friday, friends, funny, gay rights, homophobia, human rights, Islamophobia, men, Montreal, racial profiling

Much has been said lately in Montreal about the issue of reasonable accomodation. In fact, mentioning the word around here gets people angry, laughing, sad, passionate and many other things that I can't list here.

Last week's elections showed what Quebecers care about most.

A few weeks ago, Mario Dumont, the ultra-conservative Action Democratique du Quebec leader slammed the 11-year old hijab-wearing girl from Ottawa, saying religious wear had no place in the public sphere. A few days later, when the Director General of Elections Quebec announced women wearing niqab (a head to toe covering) would be allowed to vote, Dumont, along with Jean Charest, the Liberal Party of Quebec leader, said it was unacceptable for the 10-15 niqab-wearing women of Quebec eligible to vote to come to a polling station covered up.

Politicians light fires. Quebecers got up in arms and called for ridiculous protests, wearing Halloween costumes to make Director's decision seem ridiculous and illogical.

Poor Director changed his decision two days later, after feeling the heat from ADQ and Liberal Party of Quebec sympathizers. The man received death threats . He now has two bodyguards following him, to make sure he is not killed because he said women who wear the niqab can vote.

If it's come to the point that provincial officials have to walk around using bodyguards, think how the 10-15 women across Quebec wearing the niqab will feel. The sad truth is, they will not vote because of their fear for security, and Quebecers will be happy.

Just another wave of anti-Muslim sentiment in la belle province…Oh, Canada.

Come back next week for a new wave of Islamophobia.

Labels: Canada, Islam, Islamophobia, Montreal

I never thought this could be true, but I googled it and after reading some super-odd articles, i found out that yes, apparently, sex change operations are permitted in Iran and even subsidized by the government.

This is shockingly liberal for a regime nowadays seen as repressive of women's and gay rights. It's incredible, in fact, to know that the government of Iran pays part of the expenses required for sex-change operations for the Iranian transgender community. In most western societies, the government doesn't pay for gender-changing surgeries.

In the 1960s , Khomeini, who overthrew the Shah, took a stance on Iran's transgender community and said that

"if somebody wants to undergo a sex change because he feels trapped inside someone else's body, he has the right to get rid of this body and transform into the other sex, and he is also entitled to new identification documents, in order to put an end to his plight."

Apparently, changing genders does not go against Islam's norms. The sex change is also justified in cases of healthy gay men and women who, in an effort to escape the persecution they face as gays and lesbians in Iran, opt for a change of gender. Going through the operation means relative freedom to have intimate relations with other men or women, within the limits of the rules on public life in Iran.

The other side of the paradox is that if someone is proven to have had homosexual relations (I don't like the word "homosexual", but here, I am forced to use it) and there are three witnesses who can attest to the fact of seeing the person vis-a-vis engaged in gay sex, that is, while the person is having sex, the statements are taken as evidence in a government court and used against them to ultimately result in sentences that start with 100 lashes on the back and, in extreme cases, a public hanging. This process comes from an old, archaic interpretation of Sharia law, the Islamic code and is used for various matters, including punishing acts of extramarital relations, robbery, etc.

Now, CBC Television aired a documentary on February 18th on gay rights in Iran titled Out of Iran: The Persecution of Homosexuals in the Islamic Republic of Iran, which some You Tube fan uploaded immediately after the documentary was shown on TV. The documentary, filmed and produced by Farid Heerinejad and narrated by the CBC TV's Sunday Night host, Evan Solomon, shows some extraordinary men who stand up for their rights in a country where standing up for your rights could pose a life danger, especially if you are a gay man or woman. We see and hear Iranian activists and founding members of IRQO [Iranian Queer Organization, previously known as] the PGLO, the Persian Gay and Lesbian Organization, founded just a couple of years ago to combat homophobia in Iran and to provide gay Iranians with a virtual meeting space, online and in person.

We hear stories of a man and a MTF (male-to-female) transgendered woman who are tortured, physically and psychologically, by their surroundings. The man talks about being gang-raped by the members of Iran's secret service. The woman speaks out on the anger her family feels towards her sexuality, ordering her to stay in her bedroom and never go out.

Sadly, where Out of Iran seems to lack substance is in the narration of the documentary. In fact, Solomon's way of talking is so sensationalist, at one point, you feel like you're watching some reality TV show where someone is about to win something big time ("…and the BIG winner is….!"). In the same pattern, pejorative vocabulary used to portray Iran as hell for gay men and women is a slight bit far-fetched. Of course, as a conservative regime-ruled country, Iran is a dangerous place to be gay in, but it is equally dangerous to be a moderate woman, to walk around in the public without a head covering, to oppose the government, to speak out for secularism, to defend Jews (though, this one, with close to 30.000 Jews in Tehran, is also arguable).

Solomon proves once again his love for anything anti-Islamic and pro-Jewish, and though this documentary has nothing to do with Jews, it indirectly helps further the reasoning used by Israel to prove that Iran is a threat to the world.

Evan Solomon makes reference to two men who were executed in Iran two years ago for allegedly "homosexual activities" and who have caused international uproar in the human rights community worldwide. Official human rights sources say it's unclear whether or not these two men were executed for being gay or for other reasons, including sexually assaulting a 13-year old boy. This has not been proven partly due to closed-door and hidden-evidence court processes, as Human Rights Watch and Amnesty International have repeatedly stated in the past.

A number of primarily North American publications, including Gay City News ran the story as one of a gay execution, which provoked dozens of protests against the executions. Pet Shop Boys apparently dedicated a song to the two executed men on their new album.

Scott Long of the Human Rights Watch says it's hard to prove whether or not the case was that of a gay execution, due to a - the families' feeling humiliated, b - the court process being closed to the public and c - the general public fearing government reaction if they speak out on specific cases. It is not even a question that Iran would execute men for homosexual acts. In fact, according to the International Gay and Lesbian Human Rights Association, though not proven, it is alleged that 96 men and women have been hanged in 2005 for various reasons that may include sexuality [IGLHRA does not specify]. It's not what I am questioning in this post. What I am wondering about is the sensationalist nature to the media reports that attribute any slight suspicion to a fact and make gossip the truth.

Rather, what CBC TV and Gay City News, among other media outlets, seem to be doing is enforcing the culture of "Iran is bad, we are good". As an Iranian gay activist filmmaker testifies in a video taken at a Human Rights Watch forum in NYC last year, this sort of sensationalist reporting is causing further marginalization of gay rights issues in countries like Iran and Iraq. When Americans urge the US Army, an occupying force, to protect Iraq's gays, they mean well, but what they end up contributing to is an association of Iraq's gays with the occupier, that is, the United States. As a result, Iraqi/Irani gays are seen as products of the American occupation/influence.

Secondly, the reporting clearly aimed at furthering the journalists' careers is another Canadian/American media push for public reactions against Iran's current government. In fact, the documentary is part of the anti-Iran and pro-American republican foreign policy propaganda. Sadly, what is true is hard to distinguish from media bias nowadays, there's that much of it everywhere.

Yes, the government of Iran has many problems and Ahmadinejad is not exactly the smartest person to be in power (whoever denies the Holocaust is missing a few marbles), and no, the mullahs should not have a slight bit of power, but in the end, things are not always so black and white.

We can't continue to impose our way of living on others, but we can support them in doing so and protect them when feel compelled to do it. Iranian/Iraqi/Middle Eastern activists cannot solve the issues on their own, of course they need our help. Perhaps they simply need to know that up until 1970, the Western world thought all gays were literally mad and if it weren't for those who stood up for their own rights, we would still live in a Canada of mental hospitals for curing homosexuality. In fact, we would still live like in parts of the United States, where some of those hospitals still exist. It's inspiring to see young Iranian gay s stand up for their rights, despite the risk involved. Unfortunately, it will take many of those men and women to show Iran that it cannot continue denying the existence of homosexuality within its society.

For that matter, it will take just as many Kosovar gay men and women to prove that being gay is not a western import. Sadly, though free of extrajudicial executions, Kosova is not far from Iran in its treatment of gays and lesbians. To be gay in Kosova means to be branded and peder, the Albanian and Serbian equivalent of faggot, is the worst word you could say to someone. It comes to show the kind of thinking that still exists in today's Kosova.

Sources used:


Biased Reporting - Gay Executions in Iran? - excerpt from a Human Rights Watch panel [YouTube]

Gays feed into Anti-Gay Hysteria - excerpt from a Human Rights Watch panel [YouTube]

Out of Iran - The Persecution of Homosexuals in the Islamic Republic of Iran - CBC Television [You Tube]

Iran - Have a Sex-Change on Us - Report from the "Al-Arabiya" TV network[YouTube]

Reported Executions in Iran
- International Gay and Lesbian Human Rights Commission

Iran Hacks Web Sites to burry anti-gay pogrom - Doug Ireland [reporter for Gay City News]

Transsexuality in Iran - Big Queer Blog

Labels: amnesty international, Canada, gay rights, homophobia, human rights, human rights watch, iran, Kosova, Kosovo

I laughed hard when I saw this as I'm sure you will...

The Israeli Minister of Defence should think about re-training. Or maybe just learning how to use binoculars. On February 21st, an Associated Press photographer took a pic of Amir Peretz as he was looking over Golan Heights, while being told what the troops in the distance were doing by one of his advisors. Apparently, Peretz kept using his binoculars in the directions the advisor would point at numerous times, never actually taking the caps off the lenses. This is the problem Israel needs to solve: It needs to learn how to see the reality.


Change of topic again. FIFA ruled today that Asmahan Mansour, an 11-year old Nepean, ON girl who was refused play on a soccer field in Quebec because she wore a hijab, apparently "dangerous" for the girls safety, has no right to wear a head covering while playing soccer. Oh, yeah? How about hypocrisy? If FIFA itself, on its website, says that you can wear "headgear", and some of its member countries (Iran, as an example) ALWAYS feature the hijab as part of their uniform, then they should probably go over a/their policies b/their press releases. They don't know what they do or don't allow anymore.

Stranger things could NOT have happened...A woman in California gave birth to a 3.18 kg baby without knowing she was pregnant. April Barnum must have gone through quite a shock when the x-rays of her body showed a living baby in her stomach: "ooops,...how could that happen?" *looks around*

Speaking of parently feelings, a mother in England was barely allowed to keep the custody of her son after social services threatened they would take the boy away because she was not doing a good job feeding him (the boy's five times the weight of a boy his age).When asked what his favourite food is, Connor McCreaddie, 8 years old, says: "Bacon. Mmmm… That's my favorite. Um … chicken , steak, sausage,".

Photo credit: Associated Press and My EFx2Blog

Labels: Canada, Islam, Israel, obesity, quebec, soccer, United Kingdom, United States

Accusations make you want to defend yourself, but they also often make you say things you wouldn't otherwise say. Heated discussions lead to comments that are rarely uttered. Words of passion can cause an emotional and not intelligent reaction...

Fearing procrastination [battling against procrastination is one of my "unofficial" new year's resolutions], I went in to work early, so early in fact that I had nothing to do for the 30 minutes that I had to wait for my class to begin [this is my language assistant job]. i checked my e-mail [not much new, since I'd just checked it before coming to school ... e-mail maniac, that's me].

I noticed a Wednesday's copy of "Le Journal de Montréal" and what got me was the cover page. On it, two men, one of whom is smiling... In large font, a title of the size that would otherwise be saved for some world catastrophe or some hockey victory: "Selong les communautés, les Québecois sont accueillants" ("According to the [cultural/ethnic] communities, Quebecers are welcoming"). I had seen the page before but I hadn't paid as much attention to it.

The fact that le Journal de Montréal would take such an ethically low stoop on crisis prevention struck me all of a sudden. I wondered what Quebecers thought of this interesting idea. And checked I did. Still, the messages on online forums seem somehow unreal, somehow plastic. Anyone can say anything on the web nowadays, including me, but hearing people say something to you in person is more valuable. It carries more weight for me, somehow. Call me old-fashioned, if you will [some of my students sort of do...will write about that soon], but it takes guts and real emotion to say something you care about to someone else, while knowing that there is a chance they may disagree.

Seeing as Celine, a teacher who teaches across the hallway from my classroom, was the only one in the teachers' lounge, I approached her and showed her the paper. She was preparing for her class in the afternoon, but she welcomed a distraction. She looked at it once and said "well, yeah, in Montreal, we're welcoming, but go to Blainville [not far from Montreal] or the regions of Quebec and you'll see how friendly we are to them."

I mentioned how my Poli. Sci. prof had talked about the fallacy of the survey. She agreed, but at the same time, said it was prejudice that Quebecers carry most in their everyday lives and not racism. This got me thinking, since prejudice is one of the initial steps towards discrimination and then on a more focused lens, racism. I didn't, however, say anything. Her words were far too interesting to distract and I enjoyed hearing honest words from someone who is a "Québecoise de souche" [a born-and-bred in Quebec Quebecer].

She started mentioning things here and there and suddenly, we got to the question of what the reason behind the Quebec racism was, or should I say, Celine did. She said students in her classes were not racist. I mentioned that yes, children are born innocent. Unfortunately, the adults are the ones teaching them about the negative aspects of life and often, imposing their views onto their children. This is a gist of what she said:

"Well, I had a student in class who, when I mentioned how in Montreal, there is a rise in numbers of people wanting to learn arabic, said that they should all be sent home because they are taking over our culture.

Naturally, I told him that he couldn't say things like that in class, especially because I have three Muslim students in that particular section. I could just imagine his father saying something like that...He probably didn't mean it that way, but said it because he heard his father say it.

I do have reservations when it comes to them [by "them", she implied Arabs]. I mean, they are coming in big numbers and they ARE in some ways, influencing and changing our culture negatively. You know, they want their religious needs answered and they ask us to remove our crucifixes from our schools because they say it goes against their religion. Well, I'm sorry, but we were here before them. This school was a Catholic school! Catholicism [the word she used] was here before Islam.

You know, they wanted to wash their feet at Concordia [referring to the actual McGill Muslim Students' Association complaint to the university, which refused to allow the group to have a prayer space ]. They are the kind of people who always want more and more and more. They bring their opinions here and pressure us to accept them. You know, I'm not racist and I am not being one, but I am telling the truth.

Besides, racism and prejudice are two different things. They are not one and the same. We all pre-judge.

Oh, and they are having SOOO many children. I mean, we used to be that way ["we" is used for "Quebecers"] and tried to have as many children as we could. We were all about the family. And then, after the quiet revolution , nothing was the same anymore. Now, the women are all about advancing their careers. And their women are all about having children and taking care of the family. Very soon, Quebec won't be the same anymore...We will not have the same values that we do now. We will be taken over by them."

This was a teacher talking, someone whose likes will teach my children someday.

Somehow, I couldn't understand why this woman, who knows I am Muslim, was telling me all these derogatory things so openly.

I suppose she didn't see me as one of "them".

The crucifix over her head made me think of how threatened she felt. I could only sympathize with her, but I also felt saddened that even in an accepting and welcoming society as the one of Quebec, I witnessed an opinion based on misinformation, ignorance and simple perception of rivalry. It reeked of the ancient balkanic hatred, here in Montreal, Quebec, Canada, North America, the so-called New World.

Photo source: February 11, 2006, Danish Cartoon Protests, Montreal - David Metraux

Labels: Canada, integration, Islam, journal de montreal, Kosovo, Montreal, Muslim, prejudice, problems, quebec, quiet revolution, racism, TVA

I can't believe that I am writing this much about religion in the last couple of days, but I am finding that so many things seem to happen and they all seem equally important to mention. Funny enough, they mostly seem to be of religious nature.

I got back to Montreal today. I had a wonderful holiday with the family and friends. It helped me fuel up for another semester of French, three jobs and 0 Mr.Right candidates.

I boarded the plane, which, as usual, was late. Every time I'm on a plane, I get stuck sharing the seat with the following:

1-antisocial, geeky girls who bury their heads in the novels they read;
2-seniors who are dead quiet and will not say anything, no matter what I ask them;
3-seniors who can't be quiet no matter how quiet I am;
4-men who think making conversation is flirting.

So, naturally, I was surprised to have a rather attractive, blue-eyed, twenty-something guy sit next to me and start talking. I wasn't really into talking and for the first time, understood what the antisocial, geeky girls I share seats with feel when I try to talk to them.

Noticing that I am becoming someone I don't want to be, I decided to talk to the oddly dressed stranger [khaki pants and a sky-blue shirt that reminded me of Future Shop salespeople]. He told me he was a technician for dialysis machines [fun...]. When I asked him where he was from, he said he was from Montreal, which made my day, especially when he said he was Francophone. I could practice my French! So we started talking in French.

He asked me where my name came from. I explained...He asked what the religion in Kosovo was. Upon hearing it was Islam, he asked if I was Muslim, which I thought was a bit inappropriate, but hey, it was also a good conversation starter...Next, he asked: "So, are you religious?", to which I answered that I was religious. He said he didn't believe in public displays of religion, including women's hijab and burka. I said I agreed with him to an extent, but that people had a right to their religion. He said he disagreed. I asked what he would do about the crucifixes in the classrooms of the school i teach in. Should they remove them? I mean, the nuns gave those schools up more than a decade ago, yet the crucifixes remain there... All this fuss about kirpan, hijab, and there's a crucifix as big as me in the classroom.

We get talking and the guy starts to make completely condescending remarks to the point that he reminds me of the Latter Day Saints guys who say that if I don't embrace their way of thinking, I will not be saved when time comes.

Since I don't want to relive this horror of having a Jehovah's-Witness-alike sit next to me [and you thought having them knock on your door is a nuissance], I won't bother writing about the details this "religious" man shared, including the fact that Jesus will only come to save the good Christians...I asked him: "So will Muslims and Jews not be saved?" He paused and said "Not unless you accept Jesus in your lives". Then he said I should consider converting to Christianity because it existed before Islam, therefore it is righteous.

I was kinda having fun with this guy until he started being completely disrespectful about Islam, calling it a new religion, one that stole from Christianity, whose members have forced and continue to force the faith unto others. This was enough. Guess what I did next. I said: "I am finding this repulsive. I can't believe you call yourself religious. I respect your religion and expect you to respect mine. I have no time for people who in the name of reasoning plant seeds of prejudice." I kinda thought I fetched it a bit far by the last sentence, but he got the point. I took the headphones and untangled them [that took an hour], then tried to play a movie on the touch screen LCD monitor in front of me. It was slow, so i got frustrated, tried it another dozen times and then continued reading Necla Kelek's "The foreign Bride", a book on Turkish life in Germany [in German, too...I'm proud of myself, I'm reading German!].

The rest of the day was ok...I started working as a teacher's assistant in an intermediate English for Business course. It's ok for now. The work doesn't seem too hard and the students look pretty friendly, and most importantly, the prof is kinda friendly. I say kinda because today, in class, I was taken aback by something she said [and then i just laughed...it was too funny not to].

She gave her students an activity whereby they had to decide, in a list of priorities, what was most important for building a chocolate factory. When one of the students pointed out the level of pollution at an area as a factor important to him for building [or not] a factory, she turned to me and said: "Don't you think they come up with the craziest ideas? I mean, who the hell would build a chocolate factory in an area that's polluted? They sometimes don't realize the difference between home and here."

photo: radiopooh

Labels: Canada, Islam, Montreal, prejudice, work