La Presse and O Canada

It was my Christmas gift, signed by the author, and La Presse journalist! Part of the gift was also to take a tour of the La Presse office in downtown, arranged by my best friend, in person, with Éric Clément the writer of the book who is also a La Presse journalist. It was a super cold, windy and snowy, but sunny, day in Montréal and we stood their waiting for the late bus, me not willing to wear my tuc, because I wanted my hair in place - so my ears were freezing. We did arrive just in time though. When we went there he was of course so happy to receive us and recognized my boyfriend and addressed him by his name - ah to have the PR skills of a journalist! He took us to the main news room, a collection of cubicles, most with those unmistakable half eaten apple's backlit on the back of their computers. It was a Friday, and hence a calm day we were told, and maybe that's why but everyone seemed happy to see us and had we asked, would have shared some tidbits with us. We also went to the old press rooms and the old printing room - these days the printing is outsourced.

It turned out for 20years of his life Éric Clément was a geo-physicist. So if that didn't sparkle my eyes I don't know what did.

Him and the photographer of the book took a personal loan of $20k just so they can print this book, of which special editions are available only at the La Presse office - the book is a bilingual one, in the sense somethings are written in English, some in French - so not everything is written in one of those languages. You truly have to be bilingual to read and understand this. What a great thought, specially for a bilingual country, but more for the really bilingual city of Montréal. But it turns out this is a drawback to the bookstores, no one wants to take this book since they predict it won't sell that much. One of those times when business, science and their models prevent our human race from advancing forward in a moral sense. Anyway I was quite impressed at their passion - when I thought how I would never take a personal loan to do something in physics...

What a great morning? Every day in which I re-kindle one of my dreams, is a great day: this time the journalism one!

Montréal Nord

So we went to Montréal Nord, because it is this poor neighborhood, too see what the big deal is - if it's really that poor and crime ridden. I went with memories of Freddie Villenueve who was gunned down by the Montréal police , which event led to numerous riots and what not (as documented here), hoping to find scary looking people. And what do I find? Nondescript houses... maybe a higher concentration of poor people... I was downright disappointed - maybe we didn't go to the right place in Montréal Nord.

Cold as we were (and also because I am famous for being severely under-dressed), we found shelter in what seemed to be a coffee shop. It actually didn't seem like a coffee shop, what with non-transparent windows and a door that didn't look too welcoming. The interior was complete with an Italian soccer flag and also a picture of Marlon Brando's godfather. The top-hat and coat wearing 4 guys huddled in conversation around the table stood up and walked away after staring us down - did we in-advertently walk into the neighborhood mafia hot spot? If this doesn't look like for-something-else place that is desperately trying to look like a coffee shop, I don't know what is...

San Miguel de Allende, Mexico

San Miguel de Allende - wow wow wow. What a beautiful city… And Mexican cuisine, what can I say…

Inscribed in 2010 on UNESCO's Representative List of the Intangible Cultural Heritage of Humanity

And the non-American style burritos - my biggest surprise. When we went to the burrito joint and my friend's mom ordered herself 5 burritos, I thought "whoa… this little old woman is an eater", but I realized I was wrong when I saw the burritos, they were tiny… I must admit, my Chipotle self felt a little cheated. Leave it to the Americans to super-duper size the burrito…

I stayed with one of my friends from grad school, her below average home in this rich city, reminded me of my own back in Kandy. But San-Miguel, unlike Kandy, gets really cold at night, and now there is some space left between the roof and the walls, to allow for some draft, also something we do in Kandy. And there was no heating, so when they say it is 0C outside, it is 0C inside too. I have never been so miserable sleeping at night… and then you spend a good part of the morning mustering up the courage to get up and face the cold waiting for you outside the blanket. But I enjoyed very much my time absorbing this beautiful city and also the hospitality of my friend and her family : "mi casa es tu casa" Madre would often say. And somehow, back in the Montréal winter, I would have their voices in my head for several days and I missed them.

I spent the eve of Los Reyes Magos (the feast of the three kings) in SMA. And it turns out every Mexican kid gets gifts from the three kings (they also get gifts for Christmas) and my friend, a single mom, barely making ends meet, wanted to buy her son a scooter. I went with her to shop for this scooter and found out they trade for about $400 (yep, that is Canadian dollars).

I immediately grappled with the question of if she should not exercise some prudence, like my parents did when I was little; but does she not have the right to give her son the luxuries of any other kid his age? Back in a fancy French restaurant in Montréal, I posed this question to my friends and they seemed unanimous that my friend is living above her means. Now, to her credit, she works really hard, and she did not at any time suggest that I pay for the scooter - but she is probably getting loans off the bank, loans that she can't pay and the bank eventually writes off as bad debt, thereby having society actually absorb her debt, or pay for her boy's scooter. But on the other hand how come her boy doesn't have the right to a cool scooter, just because his mom is poor? And he doesn't want a scooter when he is 20 and his mom has maybe saved enough, he wants a scooter now, when he is 6.

I am surprised I think this way - because I am a product of this was crazy judeo-christian doctrine that says sow and you shall reap your harvest (and many other stories about the hard workers being rewarded and the slackers thrown into misery andhow that is exactly how it should be) and how you have to suffer and what not. Actually, growing up dirt poor, but going to a rich school (I was able to do this, because my mom was a teacher there) I never looked at my filthy rich friends with disgust - I always said to myself I am going to work hard that one day I will be like them. And this I did - I have everything I want and a better life than most Canadians even I would say. But I can not help but think sometimes, it would have been nice to have somethings that I didn't have when I was a kid - things that my friends had, things that made them cool, things that I never asked my parents because I knew they couldn't afford it.

With this in mind, I posed this question to my mom, thinking that she would maybe identify with her own past as a poor young mom and cut my friend some slack, for 'living above her means'. My mom was just as unforgiving as my friends were - she even referred to a neighboring young family in Sri Lanka, who complain about not having enough money, but send their kids to swimming lessons and ballet lessons and she shook her head in disagreement. "Did we send you to those?" she asked, "No, but wouldn't it have been nice if you did?" I responded. I then reminded her that maybe we weren't sent to ballet lessons, but she still did somethings that were considered above her means, just so we could be 'cool kids'. My dad was a little bit more sympathetic towards my friend. "Well fine", my mom said finally "as long as she doesn't complain".

But to me it is actually ok that they complain - there is a difference between complaining and asking for money. They have a hard life, don't they even have the right to complain?

Months later in Vancouver, looking for an apartment, I will remember these conversations and again, like that poor little girl that I was back in Sri Lanka, I would decide to live within my means - I, who am more able to afford a more expensive apartment than my friend can afford a scooter for her son… I can see that there is a problem with this picture… it's just that I can sort of see her point too.