Switches

Despite living in Canada for some eight or nine months now, I still sometimes get thrown off by the switches. To switch on a light or whatever, you flick the switch upwards. Sounds like a no-brainer, huh? I got the hang of my room after a while and didn’t think twice. Then I moved and had to rediscover how switches are up for “on” and down for “off.” I get confused by the occasional switch that has been installed incorrectly and goes the other way — the wrong way around, I guess.

I was flicking switches on and off so happily in the UK that I realised something was different and had to check. And yes, HK switches are modelled after the UK after all: you flick down if you want to switch something on and up if you want to switch something off. It made me laugh — I wonder how many born-and-bred Canadians are having trouble with the switches right now? I know a lot are having trouble remembering which side of the road to look at first when crossing; it’s actually a little dangerous when people get off the coach and hang around the side of the road they think no one is going to come and then have a coach honk at them. It’s also dangerous when people assume pedestrians have right-of-way. I think the safest thing in the world is to always assume that pedestrians don’t have right-of-way unless told otherwise. One of my friends, when heading back towards the coach/bus to get on, started going towards the wrong side while I kept walking — because in North America, you get on the right-hand side and in the UK, you get on the left-hand side. It’s funny to see how deeply enculturated we all are. I bet I’m going to take a couple of days to get used to Vancouver again when I get back.

In and Out of Rez and Canada

Last Sunday saw my departure from Tec de Monterrey and into my new home off-campus. To my incredulity, my brother’s friend (who kindly came along with my brother to help me move) said that I didn’t have a lot of stuff. I beg to differ: for such a tiny person, you wouldn’t think I’d fill up two cars with suitcases and moving boxes. I didn’t sleep very much on Saturday night since I was busy packing.

When I think about that statement, however — that tiny people shouldn’t have as much stuff — there isn’t really a good reason to think so. Small people wear as many clothes as tall people, though tall people’s shirts and trousers may be longer… Vacuum cleaners, ironing boards and drying racks don’t come in different sizes for different heights: it’s all the same. So the amount of stuff people have has absolutely nothing to do with height. I should stop being heightist against myself. Yet I look at other people my size and wonder why I have so much stuff anyway.

My neighbour is a very nice lady who dropped by to leave a pot of lavender and a card to welcome us to the neighbourhood. We weren’t home at the time and when I went to pay back the visit, she wasn’t home, so I left a thank-you note. It’s so touching to be welcomed into a new place! I’ve put my lavender plant and Celestia (my orange flowers that don’t smell) outside in the garden in their respective plastic pots while I’m away. Hopefully they will not die but the rain is the only watering they’ll get in the next six weeks.

Because I’m here in the UK! Most people have gone off to the pub so I need to run and grab a shower before they come back. I arrived in the early afternoon and it was a two-and-a-half hour bus ride from Heathrow to Herstmonceux, but here I am, and the castle looks just like it does in the pictures, no Photoshop required. I’m not living in it — I live in the residence a few minutes’ walk down the road — but I do take meals in the Great Hall (which does not, unfortunately, look like Harry Potter because the tables are round or short and square instead of long and rectangular wooden ones) and I will have my classes there. Did you know that this was where the original Chronicles of Narnia was filmed? I bet you didn’t. I didn’t.

To top it off, I applied for a single room (with the possibility of having extra charge) but lucked out and now have a double room to myself at no extra cost. How exciting! I’m hoping very much to visit friends and/or be visited, but it’s hard to tell.

Class schedules are from Monday to Thursday. My classes begin at 10 am earliest and finish 10:30 pm latest. Kind of ruins my beautiful plan to sleep at 9:30 pm but I guess I’ll just push back waking time. At least, I hope I can, because my body is obnoxious and insists on waking at 7 am most days. Fridays are free because of planned field trips and so on over the weekends. Whenever I don’t have a trip, I want to be travelling or exploring the surrounding area. Not that there seems to be much — we are pretty much in the middle of nowhere and there are many fat ducks who aren’t scared of us at all, and many many rabbits!

And with all that ramble, I’ll end with two brand-new tags. I should also make a note of the time of writing as I don’t know how to change my settings for timing here just yet: 9:32 PM.

Recommended Reading

Now that school is officially over, I’ve compiled a list of texts I enjoyed reading for my English classes this term. If you feel bored at any point over the summer, I encourage taking one of these up:

  • “Elegy in a Country Churchyard” by Thomas Gray (poem)
  • A Room of One’s Own by Virginia Woolf (essay)
  • “Little Red-Cap” by Carol Ann Duffy (poem)
  • Arcadia by Tom Stoppard (play)
  • A Short History of Indians in Canada by Thomas King (collection of short stories)
  • “Vancouver Lights” by Earle Birney (poem)
  • “El Greco: Espolio” by Earle Birney (poem — based on painting of that same name by El Greco)
  • “To a Sad Daughter” by Michael Ondaatje (poem)
  • “Bearhug” by Michael Ondaatje (poem)
  • A Tree Grows in Brooklyn by Betty Smith (novel)

Summer Fee Increase

A reminder to those of you who are taking summer courses to check your financial account and pay the extra $17.04 fee that has just been approved.

On another note, Akismet has returned and is turning red and angry with a vengeance!

A question I ask myself

Once upon a time, I watched a video of this man who wanted to be a comedian. He wanted it so badly, he hired an agent who told him he was amazing and that his Sean Connery imitation was spot-on (not that any of us watching knew what he was trying to do). He wanted it so badly, he was willing to dress up in a chicken suit every day to pass out fliers to earn money to keep his agent who was sure to bring him success. When asked if he ever thought he might not succeed, he said, “No. No. I’m definitely going to make it.” There was absolutely no doubt in his mind whatsoever.

Ever since then, I’ve always asked myself when someone sounds too sure: What if they’re wrong?

Because if you never, ever see the possibility of being wrong, then you cannot see any potential obstacles that are in your way, and if you can’t see them, how are you supposed to get over them? That wannabe comedian had a bad agent. He wasn’t funny. He’d been trying for so long and had never succeeded. A good agent would’ve told him that he sucked — but he didn’t want to hear that he might be wrong, so he picked an agent who told him he was great and who took his money all the time. Makes them both happy, I guess, but it doesn’t bring the success he’s looking for.

When my anthropology textbook criticised ethnocentrism and said that considering other cultures from their cultural standpoints is the way to go, I asked that question. When politicians, the media, or other people take offence to criticism or say, “You’re either with us or against us,” I ask myself that question.

Because what if you’re wrong? I’m not saying that you definitely are — for example, I’m not really disagreeing with the basic anthropological principles outlined in the book, just with the amount of absolute certainty that is conveyed — but what if you are? Then you never see your mistakes, never fix them and only repeat them.

I dunno. Maybe I’ve got the wrong end of the stick as well. I think everyone should watch that video, though. It really makes you think between all the cringing.