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

It was 16:45=4:45 pm when I realized that, having just made my way to the St.John's airport, my flight would be delayed by 30 minutes. Partly stressing because I had with me a Kadare novel that I had almost finished reading and partly because the duty-free shop,aka the magazine store was closed and I couldn't get the new GQ, I resorted to opening my laptop and reading, for the second time, some of the meeting documents I was to read for a mini-meeting of 6-7 fellow activists from across the country.

I had only come to the second page of the first document when a familiar face got my attention: Brett, a dear old friend from St.John's who had similarly found himself in Montreal at the same time as I had, was coming toward me.

I met Brett six years ago when, his uncle, a lawyer, had hired me as an interpreter for some refugee claimants who needed some documents translated. It was Christmas time and I, after meeting one of my first crushes since my arrival in Canada, had fallen for Brett. That day, I didn't ask him anything about his sexuality and neither did he. I wouldn't see him for another year.

I couldn't wait until the next year. I went to his uncle's X-mas party once again and he was there, though slightly inattentive, lacking in excitement, anti-social even. He seemed disinterested, which made me wonder why he was that way, whether I had said something wrong, whether in fact, my gaydar was right in putting this Irish descendant on the list of the double-male sandwiches.

His sister Mariah was kind enough to introduce herself and keep me company for the rest of the evening. As I left, I looked for him so I'd say good night. I went to one of the bedrooms where he and a few of my schoolfriends were chatting away. On my way out of the door, I hear him calling out my name. He ran down the stairs and asked if I was free anytime soon for us to go out for tea or coffee.

We went out, and I found out my guess was right, that indeed, this son of the newfound land was a rainbow hugger.During our date, I found out my newfound friend smoked grass and did some heavy drugs at one point in his life, had made six porn films, hadn't been in a monogamous relationship before but looked up to one in the future, if one did show up on the horizon. None of these points that Brett had so honestly pointed out, made me feel attracted to him. In fact, if anything, they made me feel physically disconnected from the guy I had so long thought I was attracted to.

Various things, mostly clashes in values came in the way of our second date. Brett was offended to hear that I would say no to him. This was the first time anyone had turned him down. I felt sad for weeks, not knowing what to do about the guy I had for so long wanted to date and then turned down on the first date.

I had seen Brett in Montreal, where he got his life together and started Mideast Studies and Arabic...I saw him here and there, on the street or a dance bar, but somehow, I always thought about whether or not he had forgotten this moment in our lives...and whether he got over the fact that I judged him and based my decision not to go out with him on the fact that he kept no secrets from me. Somehow, I still do think about these questions, every time I see him.

Seeing Brett at the airport brought all of the emotions back. Surprising, but at that point of the day, I couldn't have been happier to see him.

He had lost weight, still looked straight at me with his blue eyes and tried to look serious. The only change was how calm he had become. Brett always had anger issues, but seeing him on Friday was proof to me that people can change. He had little luggage and, aside from Courrier International, only carried a small bag and a shoulder man-purse.

He was headed to Middle East, Palestine and Israel, in fact, aside from Lebanon, Jordan and Syria, which he wants to visit simultaneously, all during his six-week break before going back to school in Montreal in the fall. There were many things that had happened in his life since I had last seen him, including a switch from an Israeli boyfriend to a Palestinian one that he had met in Montreal and had now left in St.John's. He looked self-confident, ready to embark on his new adventure, excited that he would finally see a part of the world he was so close to via his boyfriends.

We talked for almost two and a half hours, mostly about world issues and conflicts and also about Kosova, the future of the region, etc. A woman behind us complained, saying we were too noisy. We didn't really get any quieter.

I was moved to see Brett reading Courrier International, an issue on Kosova at that, which he said he picked up, as he wanted to keep in touch with the situation there now.

Somehow, despite my happiness to see him and the fact that I felt like I had been with Brett all my life, I could not see Brett as anything other than a friend. I was honestly glad that he had gone through a transformation I never thought he'd manage to go through. I say this because he didn't feel comfortable being who he had become five years ago, a drug addict forced to resort to any means just so he could get his fix.

We parted ways in Montreal, where he got to his connection to Toronto, the place he was going to stay in for a week and then make his way to the final destination, whichever middle Eastern country that was.

As we said our goodbyes, I hugged him and wished him all the best.

I felt like telling him I was proud of him and the strength he had had to go through a world of changes, including a drug rehab program, but once again, risking being misunderstood, I kept my thoughts to myself.

I didn't want to make our friendship any more awkward than it already had been in the past.

I turned my iPod on at the airport and listened to Adelina Thaqi's S'Mundem Më [Real Media File].

Labels: airport, date, friends, Montreal, 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

I greatly resisted the urge I felt for writing some melancholy on my last days in Montreal. I really did. Now that I've had enough time home to reflect back on the last week [and not the last ummm...year], I thought maybe I could have some emotional diarrhea here...

I've been slightly unfair to Montreal in my previous posts when I criticized it for its coldness, the French-English Quebecer divide, the dirty streets, the snotty store clerks in the Village, etc. I still stand by my thoughts, except that somehow, looking back at it, i think i was so used to it the last few months that i rarely noticed the flaws, or just simply chose to ignore them.

Thursday was a regular day. I got up relatively late, had breakfast with Renee, packed the few things left and put the rest in bags to leave for Miranda and her friend. I cleaned up, broke a cup in the process, made sure no dust was in the counters [i even used a disinfectant and EVEN washed the counters...one would say i have OCD]...During the clean-up, Mika's Relax was on repeat....looking back, it was something I played to reassure myself that everything would be ok ["relax, take it easy, for there is nothing that we can do..."].

I called a couple of friends to say goodbye, got my luggage ready and went downstairs to wait for my ride 30 minutes before it was supposed to be there. I took photos of Montrealers on my way to the airport, which is what you see in this post.

I got to the airport, where I had to pay $40 for overweight luggage. I had a bag of peanuts in my backpack [i forgot to remove them], but the security guards didn't check it. I went through easily. I checked my ticket, only to find out i was sitting in the middle of two seats...great. I called mom from the airport and told her I was getting home the day after, so she wouldn't worry and stay up late. I had two hours to kill, so I wandered around for a bit, watched people pass by, read for a bit...and then, at the moment when I couldn't find anything else to do to prevent thinking about it, the feeling of nostalgia I was starting to get for Montreal snuck in.

I suddenly thought of all the things I'd miss: Gossiping with Miranda, chatting with David and filling out sudoku puzzles at the Village Starbucks, hanging out with Princess Tanita and having her homemade Sunday crepes, walking down the Village alone, knowing that I didn't have to hide my sexuality in any sense [even subconsciously], seeing the fiery Montreal sunrise thanks to my early-morning jobs, riding on the subway - the eye-flirt central and many other things.

One thing I will not miss is the attitude that Montrealers and all residents of major metropoles, the attitude of "I come from Montreal [or major city], therefore I am better than anyone else around me". Miranda had tendencies of this and it slightly bugged me at times, when she'd start with her stories on how things are better somewhere else... David had stories like this, too, talking about Toronto and Texas and how they were better than Montreal...the ego is just too...ack. Speaking of this, my mom, too has tendencies of "my god, their clothes are terrible. This country just doesn't know how to use good, sturdy material for clothes".

I have come across all kinds of stereotypes about Newfoundlanders, including a comment from a prof who felt sad I was going to Newfoundland, a place she thought was the center of boredom.She simply couldn't understand why I was leaving Montreal, the amazing center of culture, music, art, anything imaginable.

I came to St.John's and realized that here, too, people have a pride, but it's a different sort of a pride. They don't care what others think or say. They have pride in their city, but it's individual, and quite modest. That's the difference between Montrealers and the residents of St.John's.

I reassure myself by saying that I will be back, but who knows where life will take me...For now, I take comfort in knowing that although I miss Montreal, I don't miss it enough to say that I feel like I will never see it again...

Labels: Montreal, sad

Wednesday was a rushed day. Renee drove in from Ottawa to visit before I left for Newfoundland. I had initially hoped to go to Ottawa myself, as I wanted to drop off extra luggage [which turned to be much more than I could have ever carried, so it was good she came in], but I remembered hearing something about there being a strike on Via Rail trains,so I decided to stay in Montreal, just in case there were problems with me getting back to catch my flight. It turns out, it was a CN strike and not Via Rail...oops :) ...

We updated each other on our lives at a great sandwich cafe in the Village, called Kilo, where Renee pointed out the incredibly tall waiter was eyeing me. It was flattering, but I didn't really need his eye-flirting. :)An outing with Renee to find an Iranian grocery store in the Anglo part of Montreal turned into a long drive through the super-rich part of the city. It was incredible how perfect everything looked. The dogs were perfectly groomed, their owners jogging in Lululemon athletica sports suits. The streets couldn't be cleaner and the day couldn't be more beautiful to drive through Westmount, Montreal's Fairview.

We got a pound of Turkish tea, which my mom asked me to get for her, and then, we drove back to the residence, only to find out that Ren had missed a conference call. I was sad/happy to know that she had forgotten a call because she had so much fun with me...I tend to give myself a lot of credit these days.

Leonard had said it would be good if we could all go to the new Albanian-Turkish resto, but when I called him on Wednesday night, the instructions were so complicated that I told him to just meet Renee, Miranda B, Baroness Phoenicia and myself at Juliette and Chocolat. He said he'd bring Artan with him.

Ren and I showed up at the coffee shop, where Baroness Phoenicia had already arrived, eagerly looking out for us. I was slightly nervous, as I didn't know how my friends would get along, since they had not met before.

In short, it was a good mix of discussions ranging from French TV comedy to Baroness Phoenicia's likeness to Trinity in the Matrix, to Arabs being stupid. This latter comment is not mine and I would not like to take ownership for it. Rather, as something that Leonard said, I'd like to put it in the context...and the context I don't remember, so I will shortly say that Leonard, who wasn't overly fond of some of the discussions going on about the state of Lebanon after last year's Israel bombing, stopped and said "It happens because you guys are stupid" [or something like that]. Then, realizing he just made an awful realization, he said "but we're stupid too...We're all stupid"...and we all laughed.

I don't know how comfortable everyone was, and had I written this post the night after the coffee shop meetup, I could have been able to describe much better some of the interesting remarks made, but now, four days later, I am slightly lacking in memory.

I said goodbye to Miranda, who called me an hour later to say a proper goodbye because Baroness Phoenicia doesn't like goodbyes and therefore, she wasn't able to say goodbye the way she wanted to.

Ren and I were at a pizza place for a second, then we changed our minds and went for Lebanese.Alas, the place was closed, so we picked up something fast, ate it and within five minutes of lying down, we were fast asleep...

The next morning, we went for breakfast at a nearby cafe that served tea with one tiny cracker [what do i do with one cracker?] ... I loaded the tons of things I had in Ren's car and gave her my movie collection to watch until June, since I will see her in Ottawa then...She doesn't like my taste in music, so she just might not like my taste in movies either...What's up with the world? Few people like my taste in music...

I still made Renee an eclectic mix of the best [or everything I could come up with in 5 minutes, as Renee was getting ready to drive back to Ottawa] dance music I could come up with, so she wouldn't fall asleep.

Well, whatever, I will continue to resist classic and indie rock, which Renee seems to like...ewwww to those both.

Labels: chocolate, coffee shops, friends, Montreal

I've thought much about the topic of my post, weeks and weeks overdue...Perhaps the best way to go about it is by describing my last week in Montreal. I am now in St.John's and feel quite zen being in the part of the country that few people know is so beautiful, calm, rough.This week began on Monday with a trip to Ikea with Miranda B. It is quite obvious that she and I share a passion for all things Zen. Though Ikea furniture assembly is nothing like Zen, and as Adam pointed out, is slightly on the fragile side of things, I still think there is a magic to anything Ikea.

It starts with the simple lines on the furniture, almost retro- European sort of a look. Besides, it is Zen for the money-deprived, and this wins the game. It may take us hours to assemble a piece of furniture, and in the end, we may have to go back to the store to get a missing screw from the package, but the end result is quite satisfactory.

So, Ikea trip it was. Not only did we shop (I got a wooden salad bowl and a revolving wooden plate wheel, the kind you see at some "all-you-can-eat" Asian restaurants), but we also did a slight bit of Ikea tourism, as Miranda called it. We took shots of one another everywhere in the store, including children's bedrooms, closets (I came out of one, while Miranda was quite comfortable in it), couples' bedrooms (I cheated on Renee by taking a shot of Miranda and I in a king-size bed...the passersby who took the picture thought we were a cute couple... if only they knew...) and bathrooms (Miranda sat on a toilet, while I preferred the comforts of a bathtub, overlooking the Ikea parking lot...how beautiful).

We made it a whole pseudo-Swedish experience by having some meatballs at the resto and some Swedish ice-cream, which tasted slightly watery.

It was a rather intense photo day. In all, there were close to 80 pics taken. Miranda was quite tired of it all, and I couldn't wait to get to bed. Alas, I remembered in the last minute that I was to meet Princess Tanita and her Prince Ivan for some pure hot chocolate at Juliette & Chocolat at 6pm, so there was no rest to be had.

I was quite hungry by the time I had to meet the royal family, so I had a spinach and cheese crepe, which didn't fill me at all, aside from leaving me disgusted (the spinach tasted raw...ewww)...I chatted with her highness for about an hour. Before the Princess coupled up, she lived in Newfoundland and I knew her from some language monitoring work we did together. She was not liked very much by our boss, as naturally, like all princesses, this one loved talking...our boss was all about "being professional", which apparently means no talking if she [the boss] is not there. When she was present and she was involved in the conversation, you could chat about anything, including Paris Hilton and Britney Spears.

I said my farewell to the two lovebirds who kept feeding one another while we talked, something I found slightly distracting... Princess Tanita may be going to Gross Morne in the summer, so I told her it would be good if we went together, though I will probably rent a mobile home instead of camping out [i despise camping]. She wasn't quite pleased and I wondered why that was, since well, princesses of Austrian descent are usually snobs.

P.S: The photo of the unhappy artist comes from the website titled Elite Designers Against Ikea. Adam made me think about this. Somehow, it looks kind of like a joke, almost like an Ikea initiative...

Labels: friends, ikea, Montreal, shopping

Canadian Parents for French just e-mailed me to check if I would be interested in working for their national office in Ottawa for the summer, as a communications assistant.

I posted my resume on a job-finding website ten days ago, not expecting any responses....

Why does it have to be so far away? For the second time in two weeks, I say this again:
I wish distance didn't exist.

In other news, my big scholarship interview is this weekend. I don't anticipate a big "congrats! you got it!" at the end of June [when they send out letters letting applicants know], but it will be interesting to see what they will ask me. I can't wait for Sunday!!!

P.S: I'm still on away mode...this is just an "i'm alive" message

P.P.S: I had a blast at Starbucks with David last night. Not only did David get banned from Starbucks for stalking someone he went to school with, I met a fellow Albanian whom I'd chatted with long time ago. I also met his and David's mutual ex, who is hoping to make it big in fashion. They are all slightly eccentric and extremely talkative [a little bit too much for my taste], but funny and fun people nevertheless.... They may join Miranda B. and myself tonight, to an art opening at a boutique in Montreal's artist ghetto.

Labels: friends, funny, job, Montreal

Last night's rain and snow in the middle of April, combined with sleeplesness (I had to write the infamous sociology paper...I am still on page 4 of 15 :P ), would usually have made me cranky, but not today. In all, I slept 2.5 hours last night.

In the school I work in, I am doing a series of classes focussing on homosexuality, to ultimately end the series by coming out to them (many of the students wrote "I've never met a gay person in my life, but I think they're cool". This way, they will have met one). Last week, I came out to the first group (there are six). They took it well.

Today, I had class 1 of 2 on sexuality, with another group. Their comments almost made me get emotional, they were so good and accepting. I will try to post some of their notes on here soon.

Miranda Bradshaw and I had a talk last night, since our coffee outing around the corner didn't take place after all. Before I leave Montreal, we are to do the following, in no particular order:

1- Go out thrift-clothes store hunting.

2- Go dancing.

3- Go to a male strip bar (it will be my second time in a month...someone who didn't know me would think I go every day).

4- Go to the Contemporary Arts Museum.

5- Go to the Fine Arts Museum (there's an exhibition of Botero's works ;))...Maybe I'll invite the MSN flirt to come along, though I have a feeling I will get a "no" as an answer.

Labels: miranda B, Montreal, work

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

[yesterday at the tennis club, two straight men in their mid- to late- forties talk after a game]

Clint Eastwood: Hey, Corleone, I meant to bring you some chocolate yesterday. A friend of mine who lives in the north came up with this amazing recipe... [is interrupted before he finishes]

Don Corleone: huh? Why would you bring me chocolate? I'm not your boyfriend or anything.

Clint Eastwood: [obviously feeling humiliated] Ummm, I just thought, I haven't seen you since Easter. It was just a late Easter greeting.

Don Corleone: Ok, ok, bring it. Chocolate is chocolate

[this morning at the tennis club]

Clint Eastwood: Arbër, could you take this chocolate, chop it up and leave it on the table, please?

[1.5 hours later, the game is over. Corleone and Eastwood come back. Don Corleone looks dumbfounded]

Don Corleone: Oh, so now all the members are your boyfriends?

Labels: chocolate, funny, Montreal, tennis

If anyone's ever had a freaky Friday the 13th, they will know that it starts in the morning. The symptoms are comparable to many situations, namely fear of the unknown and the notion of "what it's true...?".

Labels: AdamX, Friday, men, Montreal, mr.right candidate

A few updates that I've been meaning to make in regards to my Mr.Right candidacy work. None of these updates, aside from the last one in this post, have anything to do directly with Mr.Right candidates.

The MSN flirtie is a date no more. He felt he would miss me too much if we were intimate until I left. He asked if we could date when I'm back next year. Ummmm, no.

This morning, a med. student sitting opposite me in the subway gave me his number after I asked him if he had a lot to study for. The conversation went something around the lines of:

Me-You're in med. school?
He-Yeah...I have lots to study for.
Me-It looks like you've got the whole book highlighted.
He-Ummm, which stop do you get off on?
Me-Angrignon, and you?
He-De l'Eglise. I've never gone past this one in the three years I've been in Montreal.
Me-Oh, where are you from?
He-New Brunswick.
Me-Cool, I'm from Newfoundland.
He-I'm Jean-Marc.
Me-I'm Arbër.
He- Well, I have to get off now, but can I give you my number? I don't usually do this.
Me- Ummm, yea, sure, I guess.
He ** scribbles down his number **
Me **thinks about what just happened**

Should I have told him I wasn't interested? Would that have offended him? I know it would have offended me, so I didn't say anything.

I don't know if I should call him and tell him I am not interested, that he's cute and all, that it's not his problem, but that I am kind of going out with someone now. I was afraid telling him that this morning, while he rushed to write his number down would offend him. And it's not the first time someone has done this either, it's just never happened in the subway.

AdamX said he might visit on Friday before he goes back home from Ottawa. I have a major paper to write for next week, but, as Miranda Bradshaw said, maybe spending time with someone I like will help me do more in less time, so I shouldn't feel guilty about spending time with him.

I agree.

Labels: men, Montreal, subway stories

On Tuesday, I found myself on the subway at noon time, trying to get to an appointment at 1 pm at the "Genius Bar", a bar in the Apple store where "Apple Geniuses" help you resolve issues you have with Apple software and hardware.

A friend had offered to help, but he could only take me there after 5 pm and since I work at that time, I couldn't really go then.

So I decided I should take the long route of going to one of the northernmost points of Montreal just so I could check whether or not these Mac people, to which AdamX was kind and smart enough to refer me to, could recover my ancient iPod, in which I had stored the interview I had done with Khadijah Bennis for my sociology course.

I took the subway and then had to get a cab to Carrefour Laval, a mall in Laval, a Montreal outskirt that will be getting a connecting subway station in two weeks (see metro stops De la Concorde and Montmorency. Sadly, the public transportation right now isn't very good, so if i had wanted to get the bus, I would have had to wait 40 minutes for my bus at the subway station, and then 25 to get to the mall.

After paying $20, I found myself in the middle of one of the largest malls in Quebec and probably Canada. There was a tiny map that probably should be updated because it had no info. on where the Mac store was. I hurried as, at this point, I was 5 minutes short to being late.

I got to the store where my name was shown in funky, clean-cut Apple font, on the fancy LCD screen on the wall. It faded in and out to show I was up next. I looked around and wondered how I could ever take out my Dell Inspiron in a place like this, should I ever have to use it to connect to my iPod.

After being directed by a man who probably got his spring look inspiration from Steve Jobs (round-rimmed sleek glasses, some scruff on the face, an Apple t-shirt), I took a sit on a leather chair and waited around to be assisted by one of the geniuses. At this point, I was extremely excited, as they don't call these people geniuses for nothing. Right?

So, Mike came and he introduced himself as a Mac Genius. "Genius" appeared right on the chest of his black t-shirt, in minuscule writing, making me think once again of the Apple religion. When I explained the problem to him, he asked if I had a USB key or drive where I could transfer my data. I told him that I only had my computer, but that I had the USB connector to transfer the files that way. He asked me whether the computer was Apple and was shocked to find out that I had a Dell.

As he looked around nervously, trying to avoid looking at me, he said that I should understand this is an Apple space and that the geniuses of this store support Apple for obvious reasons. I told him I did understand, but that I could only afford a Dell. I suddenly felt discriminated for my choice of computers. Mike the genius said "boy, you really like to live on the edge, eh? Ancient iPod, Microsoft computer...you should really think about changing your lifestyle". I was ready to burst into laughter, but the idea that he wouldn't take this very well stopped me. This "genius" had the power of recovering my iPod.

He looked around, walked back and forth and came back, only to say that he had nothing for me. He said I should send it to Toronto, to some service where it takes five days for them to take a look at my iPod and decide whether or not it's doable to restore the thing. Disappointed, I headed to the nearest Godiva chocolate store and bought myself a chocolate bar.

As I walked away from the larger-than-life Apple logo, I thought about this man and how seriously he takes his work. The way in which he talked sounded as if he were revering to the ancient god of bitten apple. This is the Apple prayer space and anything non-Apple is sacrilegous to the fruit computer company.

Though my iPod didn't get fixed and I was late to class by an hour, this trip was so worth it. I'm never going to Carrefour Laval again. Not using public transportation, anyway.

Labels: Apple, funny, iPod, Laval, Montreal

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

Aside from Qesar's visit [which I will certainly write about tonight or some other time], this week's highlight has been AdamX's visit in the city.

We met at noon on Monday...After close to 18 hours together, we said bye on a Tuesday morning and for the first time in a while, I felt super-sad that it ended.

I want someone to steal Earl Grey teabags for me and apologize for the slightest thing they did, even if it means they have no control over it.

Someone who knows what the Office de la Langue Française means and is geeky enough to take a photo of it. Someone who knows little about Amnesty International but is willing to learn about it. :)

I want to imagine what it would be like to be with someone who has an infectious smile and who will risk a night of browsing Montreal to help me fix my ancient, broken iPod.

I wish I could spend a longer time with someone whose facial expressions make me laugh and warm inside.

AdamX gave me a taste of it and funny enough, I liked it.

I just wish life wasn't so complicated and distance didn't exist.

Labels: AdamX, men, Montreal

I'm in a state of temporary bliss after a great date I had last night with my MSN flirtie.

For the first time in a while, I had a date that actually looked promising. He's 22, a big fan of litterature, a writer [currently working on his first work of fiction], a sucker for Manet paintings [awww, so classic... :) ] ...

We met at 7ish and by the time I got home, it was almost 1 am.

I thought maybe i'd see him once more before I left, but already today, he was wondering if we could go to the Museum of Fine Arts on the weekend [after I, of course, invited him to come dancing with Julius Ceasar and I. Ceasar is visiting la ville from CT...I just couldn't resist not inviting him]. So, I think I will definitely see him before I leave town....and more than once.

I was late for work this morning, but I didn't really seem too worried about it when I told my supervisor I was sorry to be half an hour late. She waved it off and said, "hmmm, it's fine...your hickey makes up for it" ... that's when i covered up my neck :P

Labels: date, men, Montreal

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

I just booked my ticket to go back to St.John's on May 3rd. It's sort of soon, as I have work until April 30th, but it was the only date I could find that was available free of charge (I used Aeroplan points to get there).

I'll be missing Montreal…In fact, I already do..Though I am a big critic of the street hygiene (dirty streets!) and the people's attitude (slightly cold), I have fallen in love with this town.

Labels: goodbye, Montreal, sad

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 am not writing about either one of those cities, as I know how depressing my writing has been lately.

Instead, I want to write about an excellent Friday and Saturday evening I had last week with Renée, a dear friend visiting from Ottawa. Renée was in town visiting a friend, so we got together at Orienthe and chatted for a while, sharing our own romantic dramas and issues. I, of course, said my most popular sentence ("Read my blog to find out more!" about five times.

Following Orienthe, we went to Renee's friend's house, who was expecting us along with his friend/girlfriend/other (Renee seems to be confused as to the kind of role this person/woman plays in Rihan's life) to go out for dinner.

We went to a restaurant on Prince Arthur street (a wide selection of restos for all tastes, if you're ever looking for a place) that Rihan had chosen. "From Damascus to Baghdad" had lighting that made me think of basements of Iraqi homes at wartime. It was so dim, I had difficulty reading what was on my menu.

Nonetheless, it was clean, busy and the staff were friendly (though I assume, new to the job, as the waitress who served us was pretty clumsy…She mistook an order for something else and just seemed like she was out of it…but she was still friendly).

Before I'd met Rihan, Renee had suggested that he was attractive for a straight guy. I thought about it and the minute I saw him, I knew he had betrayed his own kind. He, my loved ones, was a friend of the Dorothy. Well, if not a best friend of hers, then at least a very close acquaintance.

I don't know how, but we got talking about the topic of sexuality. I mentioned how in some Muslim countries, men resort to having sex with other men because they can't have sex with women until they marry them. So, I thought it was slightly strange that a men would have sex with another man until it was time to marry and then say "ciao ciao" to his male lover.

Rihan didn't see anything wrong in this. In fact, he admitted he didn't believe that humans could be heterosexual. Just like him, every human being has a tendency to be bisexual, said our sexual pariah who devours men and women alike. I looked for an approving look in Renee's face, but she was looking ways away, as if she hadn't been in the room.

The rest of the night was spent discussing politics, which Rihan sounded so passionate about. The part that was passionate was his strong will NOT to vote. When I told him if he doesn't vote, he has no right to complain for the government elected, he pretty much exploded. He was pretty passionate, so I just let it go :P

The girl sitting next to me must be pretty smart, as she's doing a Phd in genetics, but her people skills were slightly on the side. She talked about things I didn't find interesting and just had a super girly way of talking, which was kinda bothersome after a while… So, since I had to get up super early on Saturday, I ran out the door as fast as I could and made a date with Renee to meet the next night to go to Kermit's (one of the professors I work for) post-St.Patrick's Day party.

The night of the party, Renee decided she wouldn't show at my place, so she'd meet me at the party itself. Miranda Bradshaw canceled on me as well, so I was left with none other than Leonard, "the white Arab". I invited him to come to my apartment , but before I did that, I removed any signs of gay existence in the room (I'm not out to Leonard because I want to get to know him a bit better before I come out to him…coming out to fellow Kosovars is slightly more challenging than to other Canadians).

Leonard came in and settled while I changed and prepped myself up. He asked if he could check his e-mail. I said "of course! Go right ahead!"…and then it struck me: I had dozens of gay torrent and gay chat links under the address bar of my browser. Oh, well, I couldn't tell him: "wait, I have to do something for a second". He noticed them and said "wow, you have many gay links on your browser." I just said "umm, yeah, I know" … Three minutes later, we headed to the party as if nothing had happened. We talked about silly things while in the subway. He is a fun guy to talk with, for sure.

We got to the party. Being the non-drinker I am, I had taken a two-liter bottle of Tropicana mixed fruit juice. I thought Leonard could share in. Instead, he decided we should go get booze. So I asked him "So, you drink, eh?" and he replied "ya…I mean, I try to pray and all, but I'm not too good at it. I do have to say, though, that I am the most religious one in my family." I held myself from laughing once again, for the second time in two days.

The party was fun. I discovered Massive Attack, though I had heard one of their songs long time ago in a movie soundtrack. I also saw my Newfoundland compatriot Deborah, who shares in the same passion of social justice as I do, whom Leonard seemed to have fallen in love with, as all night, all they did was talk.

I left at around 3:30 am, only to go home with a girl. Dat's right, Renee came home with me that night and we talked until I fell asleep on her. That was apparently a first for her. Five minutes later, I shouted out "do you need a sleep mask?" and then went back to sleep.

It was kinda cool, though, only my second sleepover ever.

In the morning, I was late to work at 8 am (Renee asked what time I was supposed to be at work at 8:10), so she gave me a ride. When I came home that night, I had the following note from her:

Ah, women… you never CAN please them...

Labels: food, friends, Montreal, party, restaurant