Showing posts with label Canada. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Canada. Show all posts

Wednesday, May 20, 2009

Thirteen Hours is Far Too Long to be on a Bus

Maeghan asked me to write her a story.

This was the result.

Your Mom, the Undertaker

Once upon a time there was a princess named Maeghan. She had hair as bright as Prometheus' flame and a serious commitment to Sparkle Motion. She could scale large mountains in a single bound in her seven-league boots, and whole galaxies without them. Chuck Norris sent her flowers on her birthday.

In a faraway land lived a prince. His name was Starts with B Ends with Rennan. Because he was a prince, she was a princess, and this is a story, they necessarily fell in love. "I shall go visit my love," Maeghan thought, and put on her seven-league boots to go see him. She only knocked over two windmills and a pony on the way, and she was very proud of herself. Previously she had uprooted the Himalayas.

"I love you!" she said to Starts with B Ends with Rennan when she arrived.

"Cool," he said. "Want to see my collection of exit signs?"

"Okay," she said, and then they had French fries and ice cream at a Canadian fast food chain none of the rest of us have ever heard of.

"You should bring me a tulip," he said.

"A who in the what now?"

"A tulip. And when you bring it, we shall be married, provided my Grand Viziers don't object and have you murdered instead."

"Is this some sort of elaborate metaphor?" Maeghan asked.

"No."

"Okay," she said, and began to prepare for her journey. Because she was Canadian, she packed all her MEC equipment. Because she needed something to occupy her time, she brought a bag of Doritos. Because she was a princess, she brought a tiara. And with that, she began her journey.

Seven leagues is a big distance, but the world was bigger, and so her journey took a long time. In every kingdom, town, or hamlet she passed through, she stopped to eat ice cream and ask for directions. Although she showed elaborate diagrams of tulips to all she met, she had no luck at all until she happened across a city run by an oligarchy of goats.

"There is a land not far from here," a goat told her as a gondilier carried them through the canals of his city. "We are told that the flower you seek grows in abundance there. But you should not venture there! It is a land of lava flows and stinking sulfur! They say that none who venture there return alive."

"Then I'll be the first," Maeghan said bravely, but by then the goat had begun to eat one of the straps of her MEC backpack, so she took her leave, reflecting as she did on the short attention span of goats.

On her road to the land of the volcanoes, she met a grotesque, cloaked figure dragging what looked like a charred and oversized garden gnome. "I sense you are strong in the Force," the cloaked figure said. "Together we will rule the galaxy."

"I can't rule the galaxy," Maeghan said. "I have to find a tulip for my true love."

"Oh," said the cloak, "are you sure?"

"I am," said Maeghan, "but thanks for the offer."

"Well, you can't win them all," the cloaked figure said gamely. "Come along, Anakin," he said to the smoldering thing next to him, and departed into a soaring John Williams score.

Maeghan thought, "That was weird," and continued determinedly towards her destiny.

The volcanoes and pyroplastic fumes made for a hellish atmosphere, but the flowers were pretty! Maeghan quickly located the tulips, and searched on her hands and knees until she found a perfect speciman the color of flame and pleasantly scented. But how could she ever take it to Starts with B Ends with Rennan before it wilted?

"Well, poop," Maeghan said, and sat down to think.

By pure coincidence, at that moment she saw a tall and hauntingly beautiful figure walking down the road towards her.

"Hello!" she called.

As the figure came closer, she could see that it was a person. It was tall, with marble skin and topaz eyes. As she watched, it tripped magnificently on an upturned stone and flailed majestically before righting itself.

"My name is Maeghan," Maeghan said by way of introduction, "and I'm a princess."

"Pleased to make your acquaintance, Maeghan," the figure said. It looked neither male nor female but somewhere in between. "My name is Bedward."

"Beg pardon?"

Bedward sighed. "I'm a fictional construction embodying the most ridiculous aspects of two characters in popular fiction."

"I'm sorry," Maeghan sympathized.

"Thank you," Bedward sighed again. "I thirst for blood, but the smell makes me sick."

Maeghan wasn't sure what to say to that, so she changed the subject. "I have to get this tulip to Starts with B Ends with Rennan's kingdom before it wilts," she said. "Any ideas?"

"Certainly," Bedward said in musical tones, "I can run impossibly fast."

"And I have seven-league boots," Maeghan said. "Can you wear them?"

"Of course," Bedward said, "I'm fabulous."

Maeghan took off her boots and handed them to Bedward. He put them on.

"Now, climb on my back," Bedward lilted. Maeghan did, and gasped in surprise.

"Your skin is freezing!" she exclaimed.

"I know," Bedward said glumly. "Ludicrous, isn't it?" and then they were off.

The landscape flashed by at dizzying speed. "You aren't afraid that you might - you know, hit something?" Maeghan asked.

"I'm never afraid, even when it would make for a more emotionally investing narrative," Bedward responded, and Maeghan nodded in perfect understanding.

Soon they had reached the borders of Starts with B Ends with Rennan's kingdom.

"Thank you very much," Maeghan said, climbing down from Bedward's back. "I do hope your life begins to pick up," she added.

"It won't," Bedward said. "Wait until you see what my daughter will be named," and then he was gone in a flash.

"My love!" Maeghan called, entering the castle, "I have brought your tulip!" She paused. "Is your Grand Vizier going to kill me now?"

"Oh, you mean Rozencrantz and Guildenstern?" Starts with B Ends with Rennan asked. "They're dead."

"Hurray!" Maeghan said, and handed Starts with B Ends with Rennan the tulip.

"Cool," he said, and ate it.


Aren't you glad you asked, Maeghan?

Anyway, as I get photos edited and uploaded, there'll be a blow-by-blow account of the trip. Hope this tides yall over in the meantime.

Sunday, May 10, 2009

Mid-trip Update!

So! We're on the trip! Day two! And there are lots of exciting pictures and stories, but as I'm pressed for time an don't know how long this connection is going to last...here's a sample.

  1. Calling my mother to wish her Happy Mother's Day from a 1500 year-old ruin. While I was surrounded by goats.
  2. Myself, Maeghan the Canadian, Blase from Michigan, and Garet from Chicago chasing a beleaguered sparrow fledgling around our hotel balcony with a hand towel and a drinking glass, and then stacking chairs and pillows so we could reach the nest to shove the dang thing back in.
  3. Maeghan the Canadian flopping onto the hotel bed tonight and announcing, "Holy Lumpy Pillows, Batman!"
  4. The aforementioned trio in Point 2 surrounding my computer while I'm typing this to argue about the definition of "beleagured."
  5. Garet: "Hey! I just flexed my butt cheeks!"
I think I'd better stop there.

Thursday, May 7, 2009

This morning.

This was the strangest morning ever.

I woke up slightly before my alarm, rolled over, went back to sleep, woke up with the alarm, shut off the alarm, and dozed for two more minutes before hauling my carcass out of bed. I wandered into the bathroom, brushed my teeth, washed my face, put in my contacts, and got dressed (bloody uniform). I ate breakfast (cheese omelet, tomatoes, sausage), found my shoes without incident, grabbed my bag, and walked out the door just as the bus was pulling up (7:43).

It was exactly the way a morning routine is supposed to work.

That's never the way my morning routine works. I didn't oversleep, I didn't have to wait fifteen minutes for Ege or Efe to primp. I didn't spill tea all down my uniform. I didn't put my elbow in the Nutella. Everything worked.

Something just feels wrong.

Wednesday, May 6, 2009

Waitwaitwaitwaitwait. Wait.

Maarten J. Troost - the author of the side-splitting memoir The Sex Lives of Cannibals* - has written other books? And nobody told me?!

Mrs. G, consider yourself on probation.

-

For those of you whom I imagine are looking mildly alarmed right now, The Sex Lives of Cannibals is about neither sex nor cannibals. Well, except for one paragraph, but that's all sociological. The book is a memoir of the author's time living in Kiribati. You will laugh so much you will feel like you're dying, and you'll keep reading anyway.

Monday, May 4, 2009

Hi, İstanbul? Can we talk?

I am not - not - down with this cold-blustery-rainy schtick you've got going on right now.

This is winter weather. I tolerated that winter weather for four cold, damp months, but it is May 3rd as of today, sweetie, and frankly I expect better of you than this. Rain just isn't a good look for you. Some cities do rain really, really well. Seattle, for instance: she rocks that damp and drizzly look. The architecture, the people, the baristas on every street corner - it all comes together really well. It's a shabby chic kind of thing, but İstanbul, you are upwards of five thousand years old, and maybe it's time you started taking a little better care of yourself.

We've been friends for a long time, dear, so I think I owe you a little honesty. You know how some authors describe the way rain washes a city clean? Leaves everything clean and shiny and glistening for a new day? Yeah...that ain't you. You get muddy when it rains. Muddy and slippery and treacherous, and waiting for a bus in freezing drizzle kind of sucks. I know what I'm talking about. I waited for buses in freezing drizzle from November to March, and I am so done with that. My shoes haven't been dry since that week before Christmas- you know, the one where I gave up and didn't go outside at all? You need sun, honey. Lots and lots of baking sun to roast the grime back to a managaeable level.

I could see my breath waiting for the bus this morning. This is May. Uh-uh. Not cool.

Consider this an intervention. Grow up, İstanbul. Get with the program.

Love,

Me

PS - Speaking of taking better care of yourself, maybe you should consider laying off the smoking? You are never going to land a man at this rate. He won't be able to see you through the smog. Have you considered what all those airborne chemicals are doing to your priceless monuments? Have you really? (Speaking of which, you could consider laying off the earthquakes, too.)

Friday, April 10, 2009

Snorgle...

So I was chatting with some teachers at my school. Erinn the Canadian accidentally dropped a bad word, and (noting that I was present) began apologizing profusely."Don't worry about it," I chirped, "I'm legal in Saskatchewan."

Her jaw dropped. "You're nineteen?!"

...oh, and I read Twilight today. Creeepers. Good lord, girl, grow some agency.

Ignore the little grinning chipmunk-person-thing behind the curtain, if you would...

Yeah, so apparently Maeghan thought she'd be clever. Clearly, she did not quite succeed. Feel free to head over here and tell her so. Loudly.

Ahem. Anyway.

On Tuesday...Fernanda and I had an Expedition to apply for student akbils - basically, super-duper bus passes with nice discounts (which we should have gotten much, much earlier from, say, Rotary - but oh well). We started in Kadıköy and wound up walking almost to Acıbadem (just...trust me. That's a ways), navigating by a highly effective accost-a-stranger method and recieving directions along the lines of "turn left at the cow statue and go past the mosque. No, the other mosque." But we got there. Eventually. And now we need to go pick up our akbils next week!

Thursday, Maeghan the Canadian (doesn't that just roll trippingly off the tongue?) and I had an Expedition to pay for the upcoming trip (WOOOO!!). Which meant Taksim. Which meant going from ATM to ATM in Taksim trying to find one that dispensed US dollars, because that was how the travel agency preferred to be paid (Turkish liras were accepted, too, but with a definite "well, if we must" air). Last time I had to pay for a trip, I managed to withdraw the whole amount in one go. This time, the bank was apparently feeling a little persnickity, because it cut me off at something like $500 USD + change. Relatedly, someone remind me that I owe Maeghan $200 USD and a box of Cheerios (interest).

Although if she keeps hacking my blog...hmmm.

And from their we tripped to the post office in Taksim so she could mail home a package (sorry, friends. I don't love you enough to mail stuff home. Seriously, I could eat for three months on what it would cost. This should be considered further proof that Maeghan the Canadian is a vastly nicer person than I am. Except when she hacks my blog). And at the post office, we had the usual "Where are you from?"/"I'm Canadian, she's American" schtick, followed by the usual "Obama good! Bush bad!" routine and a few clerks trying to describe their opinions on the current bailout plans. Dude. I am not my country. I am not my president. I didn't vote for either of the aforementioned heads of state* and I haven't watched FOX News in ten months. I am not a walking foreign policy suggestions box. Everytime Maeghan complains that no one knows about Canada, I point out that she's never had a take-out guy refuse to hand over her food before she'd heard his opinions regarding the Bloc Québécois. Or, say, Gitmo.

...Right. So. Maeghan mailed a package, and we took a rickety tram down İstiklal Caddesi, walked past Galata Tower, and took another tram to Eminonü to hit a bazaar in the underground pass-through connecting the tram and subway so Maeghan could buy a pair of shoes and settle a bet with her host family. Something about being able to buy a replacement pair of go-everywhere shoes for $15 TL or less. Mission was a success, and now Maeghan can consign to the dumpster her prior pair, which were no longer so much "shoes" as "husks."

Stinky husks.

And from there, we rendevouzed back to Maeghan's host family's flat, armed with cookies and juice boxes from the market outside (yes, we are seven years old) and settled down to watch The Daily Show.

Good day.

And if any of you see Maeghan, kindly inform her that she is getting her camera back never.

-

* I tried to vote by absentee ballot, but it turns out that there's a three-day window wherein you can't change your overseas address to do so - and I was moved to my second family during that window.

Thursday, April 9, 2009

I Am Not Carly

I don't know how it happened (actually, I do..) but I (Maeghan) went to sign into my blog and it signed into Carly's. So, since Carly doesn't blog enough anyway...

HELLO WORLD! Today Carly stole my camera. She should give it back so I can upload photos to share with both you (Carly's readers) and my readers.
I'm sure Carly is happy right now, as long as she didn't get attacked by a werewolf on her way home. It is a full moon, after all. These things do happen.

Love from me, the one and only-
Canadia.