Anglo Adventure

Travel with a sense of humor


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In answer to the rest of my life question

 

quebec city lost, us economy, great britain riots

Where do I go from here?

I am frustrated today.

Frustrated with the falling US economy because I am not sure now what it means for my future.

Frustrated that there are half a million kids in Somalia who may die because they don’t have enough food and all we can talk about is pensions and 401Ks and elections.

I am also frustrated with the rioters in Great Britain. I get that people are angry, I really get it, but channel your rage into positive action. Hold a sign. Don’t burn down someone’s business.

Also, banning social networking because of this is a fine example of dumbassery. People still use telephones. They will find a way to get in touch with other rioters. Sure, maybe it’s not “meet me at Trafalgar square” for some riot action but I am positive that the riot wasn’t caused by social networking. Continue reading →


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Living,growing, and still not a snob

Quebec City, Expat, Chateau Frontenac

C'est moi

Listening to study abroad stories is like hearing about someone else’s weird dream: it’s a snooze fest. It also incites extreme jealous in the poor bastards confined to life in the states.

I firmly decided that I would never become one of those people.

“In (insert country here), the bakeries are just so much better.” 

“They have (insert random food item here) in (insert country here)…”

“The government is soooo much better in (insert country here).” 

And yeah, please don’t tell me because I live in Canada and not somewhere in Europe that I’m not “abroad.” I will remind you, while I snarl that the US and Canada aren’t the same and that Quebec is unlike everywhere else in the country.

Before taking the leap, I felt worn out and old. Eight months in and the creases beneath my eyes have disappeared, I lost about 10 pounds, and I can now get by in French conversation. I feel better somehow – maybe it’s because I’ve fallen off the corporate wheel and started getting a regular dose of exercise and brain activity.

What’s changed the most? I stopped caring. I stopped feeling competitive and started writing, for realz. My new friends span all ages and all countries, from a 70-something-woman Falconer to a 17-year-old Venezuelan. They inspire me to get up and get movin’


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Throwing up on Prince William and Kate

All_smiles_Wedding_of_Prince_William_of_Wales_and_Kate_Middleton.jpg (1569×1179)

If anyone pukes on Their Royal Heighnesses during the 2011 Royal Tour, it’s going to be me. Not purposely of course.

They’re coming to Quebec City in two days and I have a media pass to cover the tour. It just hit me today that I’m going to be mere steps away from the future King of England and his new bride. I’m now envisioning getting trampled in a media stampede or being so nervous that I throw up on the Duchess.

Weeks ago, I convinced myself that they’re just people. They get food stuck in their teeth, they get gas, they have to clip their toenails just like everyone else. And today, I realized I was knee-deep in denial. They probably pay someone to file their toenails and it’s likely someone’s JOB to tell Kate if she has a huge clump of spinach in her teeth. Every move they make is scrutinized and mull-over by Monarchy worshippers around the world. Continue reading →


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Expating ain’t easy

 

Isolation. Not just for the young anymore.

 

Canadians and Americans share a lot of things – a continent, a border, a similar culture. So my assimilation into Quebec is about as easy as it can be. For others who come from completely different countries and continents, who don’t speak one of the two languages in Canada, it’s … indescribably painful. To pick up and move and resettle with no friends or family nearby. To adapt to an entirely new, fast-paced, and incredibly superficial world.

It’s more isolating that you can imagine: Setting up Skype dates just to talk to your family. Not being able to talk to your neighbors because you don’t speak the language. Missing movies, theatre events, and all those other things you enjoy regularly. Continue reading →


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What it means to be a writer

I finally understand the term media circus.

The only other important thing to be said about Fear & Loathing at this time is that it was fun to write, and that’s rare — for me, at least, because I’ve always considered writing the most hateful kind of work. I suspect it’s a bit like fucking — which is fun only for amateurs. Old whores don’t do much giggling. – Hunter S. Thompson

I’ve managed to wiggle into a newspaper here: one of those tiny, seemingly insignificant publications on the verge of dying out. The anglo community is small and incestuous and I’m on the fringes. The new girl. The strange one. I love my work because I believe it’s meaningful in some sense. It’s a chance to speak the truth. I love talking to people, asking questions, figuring out stories. Continue reading →


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There’s No Place Like Home – A Revelation

 

expat, expat to Canada, Quebec City

Where I live - Quebec City

 

With the passage of time, a move, even a Big One becomes easier. I am starting to pick up French words on television and in restaurants. Some day, I’ll clip them out of the air and make them into collages.

Milestones: I took the bus and didn’t get lost. I wandered into a French bookstore and spotted the book “Snow White”. I successfully completed three transactions in French. One day, I won’t be able to count them.

Nothing scares me anymore. Continue reading →


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What to do When the Honeymoon is Over

I found out recently that like grief, there are expatriate stages. They are: honeymoon, culture shock, adjustment, and enthusiasm.

winter carnival quebec city winter carnaval snow sculpture

Waking up to realize: oh wait, I live here. (Winter Carnival, Quebec)

 

“Within a month or so of arrival, the honeymoon phase ends and expatriates quickly begin to comprehend the magnitude of the barriers they face to doing their jobs. They discover that methods used successfully over their entire careers are either worthless or even destructive in another cultural environment. The result is expatriates who are severely emotionally distressed and ineffective at their jobs.”

I don’t know what happened yesterday but I think my honeymoon with Quebec ended quite swiftly and even shockingly. Sure, it’s not a developing nation and it’s not even THAT far from my hometown of Chicago. But it’s a completely different country with a different language and a winter that lasts forever. Continue reading →


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Lucky Socks

At the quickly ripening age of 30,I still believe in lucky socks. Mine are plum with a knitted texture right up the side. I wore them and the most amazing thing happened: I got two jobs in the same week.

irish luck st pattys day quebec

Thank you lucky socks.

Two really fun jobs.

I am a writer. I talk about sentence structure and word choice the way some people gush about their kids. It’s been my passion since I was very young -at eight, I tried to write a textbook about aquatic animals. At 16 I filled notebook upon notebook with my horrific handwriting and poems about boys I “loved.” At the age of 22, I went on nearly 20 job interviews, trying to find any company that would pay for me to write. And I finally did.

I’ve since matured. Through trial and a lot of errors, I managed to make a living by doing the thing I love the most. Every day, I thank the entity I believe in at the moment (fate? the universe? the power of positive thinking?) that I’m on the winding road of the wordsmith.

I don’t want to say too much because I’m superstitious. So I’ll keep it short. Wear your lucky socks and believe in yourself. Your career, your love life, your personal life will be as good as you make it. Keep going to bat and eventually, you’ll hit the ball. It’s a simple equation.

Before you leave the country, be sure to pack a suitcase full of positivity. You’ll need it.


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Turning Lemons Into Orange Juice

The year's best accessory: A fresh outlook.

“My name is Amanda and I’m an adventureholic.”

I didn’t realize how painful the immigrant process was. If I did, I would have probably stayed soaked in Seattle. Everything is slow. Mounds of paperwork are piling up all over the house. Every day reveals a new stress: getting a bank account, buying a phone, paying a parking ticket. You think your city’s parking signs are hard to read? Try ones in French. Continue reading →