Strange Things Canadians like # 1

I was inspired to do this by the following :

a) this hilarious website
b) seeing Canadians do stuff that is strange to a faux-Canuck like myself

Hopefully, it will educate the foreigners and give a giggle to the natives. So here's the first installment of my journey through the bizarre rituals of the inhabitants of Canadialand...

# 1 : Grilled Cheese Sandwiches



Hang on, what's so strange about grilled cheese sandwiches? Bread = good. Cheese = good. Bread + cheese = mega good. Well, yes. Except these "grilled cheese sandwiches" are not grilled, they're fried.

That's right, fried. They make a cheese sandwich, then throw it in a pan.

So why not call them "fried cheese sandwiches"?

Well, therein lies the conundrum. To make this even more complex, consider that a grill in Canada isn't even called a grill, it's called a broiler. So if they really were grilled cheese sandwiches, the Canadian mouth would call them "broiled cheese sandwiches". A grill to these people is like a BBQ.

Yet these BBQ-loving peoples would never put one of these culinary delights (because don't get me wrong, they taste delightful) on a barbie. It would get cheese all over the coals for a start.

No, this type of munchie is more likely to be made post-piss-up, or as a hangover snack the next day. I've even come across this most North American of foods in miniature as a canape, and it was fairly excellent.

Still, no Canadian can seem to explain to the bewildered onlooker how this name came about, or why they don't 'broil' them. Describe the general way of making (which, in our Manchester flat, at least, was to mash cheese up with some mustard and tabasco sause, put it in a sandwich and shove it in the top of the oven) and they look either confused or upset.

Strange stuff.

Things I have in common with Louis Theroux...

1. Nationality
2. Rambling style of story-telling
3. Wierd weekends.

This past weekend was another excellent instance of the latter.

On Friday I headed up to Aidan parents' cottage on Lake Chemong (which up until yesterday I thought was Lake Simcoe) to join Michelle, Lucie, Aidan and Ben, and got straight into a bottle of Jack and the never-ending stash of nuts on the kitchen counter as soon as we arrived. After sundown Aidan proposed a booze cruise on his wicked little five-seater boat, which in turn caused these things:

a) me driving a boat for the first time, with a JD and coke in my hand
b) shouting random comments (that, admittedly, sounded perfectly alright at the time) at midnight fishermen
c) Aidan pushing me into the lake following my own drunken and misguided belief that he wouldn't push me into the lake

On Saturday we watched a million baseball movies and I pottered around a grocery store barefoot using Aidan's crutches (which I'd become slightly obsessed with) while waiting for the rain to subside so we could actually get on with the activity we'd planned: wakeboarding. Eventually, at about 5pm, I donned my boardies and rash vest, along with the fetching but somewhat large safety tank-top thing, and found myself shivering in the water on my back with my feet strapped to a board. Seconds later I found myself face-planted in the water trying not to drown. This occured three times then the wind forced us back to the cottage.

Wakeboarding is quite hard.

More Jack and nuts later, I managed to win the poker and claw back some dignity, although it's hard to look dignified when you're playing with Monopoly money and your shoes smell like lake water.

Can't wait for the next one....

A week of pain and champagne

The Yonge Street 10k run finally rolled around on Sunday.

I'd been sick for the two weeks before it, so hadn't really trained and wasn't at all confident. Having to get up at 6am, with my infamously bad morning temperament, made me even less comfortable with the whole situation. The burning pain in my thighs and chest as I staggered to my umpteenth 'break' of the run just shy of the 9k mark massacred the final shreds of hope I had about beating my last year's time of 65 minutes.

Yet as I panted around the corner to the finish line, spurred on by shouts of encouragement from Lou (who hadn't been able to run due to a badly-timed and insanely frustrating foot injury) and Tom (who had run like the wind and finished before me) I saw the clock at 66 minutes and it all felt worthwhile, as I knew I'd passed the start line a few minutes after the start of the race.

It felt even more worthwhile when I read my chip time (the actual start-to-finish time) of 58 minutes over a glass of champagne - 7 minutes off last year's personal best! Lightning Legs Tom chalked up an incredible time of 48 minutes, having passed an IT exam two days before - well done that man! Big big thanks to Lou too for being massively supportive despite the frustration of not being able to run...here's to the next one!

I'm getting somewhat accustomed to the fizzy goodness of champagne. On Thursday, Exclaim!, a monthly music paper I write for, had their 17th birthday bash at the Phoenix. Being very important, I was invited to the VIP (read: free drinks and canapes) bit before the actual show, and went a bit mad on the whole gratis beverages front. 6 glasses of champagne and Red Bull, a glass of red wine and a Bud later, I was dancing like a wanker to Thunderheist and making stupid posts like the one below. It was a good night all round.



Earlier in the week I'd gone to see the Sounds (who were, as ever, wicked) and been ridden around the city on a road bike, which made me realise the brilliance of having wheeled transportation in a place like Toronto. Since then I've scooted downtown on a BMX (moving embarrassingly slowly, as the crazy owner of said bike has removed the brakes) and sampled my first skateboard action since 3 of us sat on mine in my youth and the wheels fell off. My opinion of all three is this: I like them.

I also shaved my first head this week. It's strange, like undressing someone's brain.

Saturday was unusual. It's not that often that I have weekends off with my flatmates, so after breakfast we played basketball at a court near our place, then Lou and myself headed off to day two of wedding dress shopping. I haven't yet managed to try on a dress (disappointing) but Lou may have just found the perfect frock..result!

On the way uptown we managed to catch a bit of Toronto Freedom Festival, the main event of which is the annual 'Legalise Marajuna' march. We missed the march (as did most of the potential attendees, presumably) but walking through the park and enjoying an ice cream with music blasting out from several stages and people just openly smoking everywhere was pretty funny. Canada seems to be more liberal about weed than the UK anyway, so I'm sure they'll decriminalise it soon enough.

I'm currently looking for a job pretty hard, as I'm starting to hate the stupid arbitrary rules imposed at the smoothie place, but writing for a mag, a webiste, and starting my own site too is eating into all the job hunting time.

Probably shouldn't have written this blog, then....

Ruminations on poo

Why won't people go in a public toilet if there's already poo in it?

Why does excrement need fresh porcelain?

Who invented this idea of arrogant faeces?