Now I am over there

I have had a blog for a short while over here:

http://lmiall.wordpress.com

Initially started for my studies, it increasingly seems the best place to go on blogging.

As for more psychogeography-related stuff, there is another new site that I've been maintaining in collaboration with others over here:

http://montrealrevolt.wordpress.com

Why does this keep happening to me?

You know when you have a few days that are so amazingly good that you almost shake your head with disbelief afterwards? You say to yourself, "I'm going to remember this for months -- maybe years -- to come." Your senses are heightened to the pleasures of simply living, to your connectedness to others, to the seemingly infinite potential of your own life?

I keep having weekends like that. Over and over again. Last weekend was like that. And I am starting to think that this is going to be a pattern. Meet friends, have drinks, explore the city... Equals recipe for life-affirming and transformative experience.

I went to two gargantuan parties on Saturday night. One was a fancy 20's style ball. The other was a large rockabilly loft party. Both were teeming and heaving and shaking with good people and good music. I danced. I drank. I laughed. I should not go on any more because words almost devalue these kinds of experiences. I took the night bus home at 3:30 in the morning -- it was also teeming with people -- winding through the southern and the western environs of central Montreal, flanked by dark brick buildings, and I had a smile on my face. I have a smile on my face often. I've gone from such a miserable wretch to someone almost POSITIVE a lot of the time. Dare I say it? Positive!

The grass is greener on the other side. Sometimes the change you need is not INSIDE you, it is OUTSIDE you.

Although it is still very, very early in my tenure here in Montreal, I feel more and more like I might flourish here. I dare to dream of future happiness. I dare to plan sinking long-term roots here. I love -- above all -- living somewhere that I love.

I love the way people line up in an orderly fashion for the bus, waiting patiently and courteously. I love how -- in stark contrast -- people then become crazy impatient maniacs the second they are behind the wheel of a car. Why? No matter! Another thriller is the completely daredevil nature of pedestrians. They will jaywalk across the road within centimetres of a truck plummeting towards them... like it is a sport.

I love the music in Guy Concordia metro. Every time. Even when it's music I don't really like. I love that the musicians play with such spiritedness.

I love the way the pigeons gather at the statue of Norman Bethune and erupt into the sky when you approach, flying around in a bewildering pattern. And shit on the very same statue of Norman Bethune.

I love the late crowds on the Verdun bus. They look so scary when you get on. And yet everybody is completely calm.

I love how much the staff at the express Altaib hate their customers! They look at you with such hate that it is almost absurdly funny!

I love that you can walk into a wonderfully classy cafe on one side of Sherbrooke and be treated like royalty by French speaking servers, and go into a bar on the other side of Sherbrooke, still be served in French, but be surrounded by neon and Budweiser signs and trashy women and think, Jesus, this could be Argyll Road, Edmonton! AC/DC forever!

I love that people love people -- genuinely seem to want to be with people -- here. They act like people, talk like people, live life to the fullest as people, just as you would expect from rational people. They do not see you as a means to their own end. They are happy that you just be you.

I love that the future of my life in this city fills me with anxiety/excitement/hope instead of anxiety/dread/pessimism.

It's not always good here... but when it's good, by God, it is very, very good. Joie de vivre? Holy shit yes. That is exactly what it is.

Jesus left, are the spires next?

Down the road from where I live is a church called Notre-Dame des Sept Douleurs. Outside the church is a statue of Jesus, arm outstretched with two fingers poised to anoint somebody's forehead. At least I think that is what he is doing. I've not had a chance to further consider his actions for reasons I'm about to reveal.

Just over a week ago, the statue of Jesus disappeared. All that is left is the stone plinth upon which he once stood. Although I rarely give much thought to Jesus these days, I do think about that missing statue. Where has he gone? Will he come back? It's been over three days now!

Over the weekend, I had a dream in which my parents had visited me at my home in Verdun. We were walking out of the metro station and on the verge of beholding the magnificent sight of Notre-Dame des Sept Douleurs. But something terrible had happened. I looked up and saw that the spires were gone. The twin spires -- those beautiful white, gleaming fingers of stone in the sky -- gone.

I was shocked and slightly traumatized.

It must mean a lot to me, that church. I think it has come to symbolize the beauty of Montreal and my love for it. The idea of my own parents not being to see it in the state that I have come to know it -- this, apparently, is horrifying to my dreaming self.

Fortunately, when I woke up and finally stepped out of my front door, I could see that the spires were, in fact, still standing tall. Jesus, however, is AWOL to this very day. Any leads as to his whereabouts would be much appreciated.

Montreal's moment

Was forced to consider why I would not live in London, or Paris for that matter. Not that any actual opportunity exists for me in those cities, but I started to wonder why I so intuitively reject the prospect of living elsewhere.

In Paris this August I was reminded how the town feels like a museum. Then my girlfriend pointed out how crowded with expensive shops the streets were. Then I became overwhelmed by the sameness of the Hausmannian planning. I have been looking through photos of old Paris by Eugene Atget. It is striking how much has changed. How varied and messy were the streets of Vieux Paris. It is striking also to consider how different is Paris' role in the world today compared to back in the nineteenth century. Back then, the City of Light was arguably the most important city in the world. London was not far behind, or maybe a little way in front -- I suppose it would depend if you ask that of the French or the English.

Since then it has been an inexorable decline. For sure, London is once again a financial giant, and the streets are hustling and bustling with an urgency that would be alien in Montreal... this is a much sleepier town. And yet, the urgency in the big European capitals is now intensely about making money. The progress that London makes is in becoming more like America.

Montreal also has suffered a decline. It has gone from being Canada's number one city to being squarely relegated to number two behind Toronto. Relics of the industrial past are everywhere. The factories are fenced off and crumbling. The warehouses have broken windows and weeds growing over the bricks.

Can I pause for a second to say how much I love those parts of town? How much I love to see the corpse of a moment in history right in front of me. We should let some of that crumbling splendour stick around. Industrialization was a remarkable and violent process for much of the world. I, for one, don't think we should forget it.

So there we have Montreal's former moment... and now... now where are we? There has been a justice served, of sorts, in restoring French to its rightful place as the dominant language of the city and indeed the province. Is that enough? Is that struggle over? The Parti Quebecois would say no. They have abandoned separatism for now. The new fight is cultural. But it is a fight that seems to have a dwindling army to fight it.

Personally, I have a quiet optimism that the contribution Montreal might make to the world is in expanding the role of the "public sphere" -- a place of conflict between the corporate elite and the rest of us. I hope Montreal will find a way to make the quality of life the main fight, rather than the quantity of economic output. I hope we will have more bike paths, more galleries, more parks, more meeting places. I hope we will show that millions of people with different languages and different races can live happily on one island. And that they can do so sustainably, on modest means, and that they can be less greedy and competitive than their contemporaries.

And I say "we" now consciously. I thought to myself today as I walked on the outskirts of Hochelaga that no matter what, I will stick it out here. I will stick it out here even if when I finish my diploma the only job on offer is down at the depanneur.

Coup de foudre

Another fine weekend. With surprising frequency, I have experiences in town that fill me with such gladness that I feel my chest will break. Sharing dinner with some good people yesterday -- including new Quebecois friends (well, I hope in time they will become friends) -- and discussing the coup de foudre that is common to newcomers to Montreal, then walking outside into the cold night, looking up the length of la rue Beaudoin in the neighbourhood of St. Henri, and in the distance, St. Joseph's Oratory, shining faintly with mellow green light, nestled into the mountain... it was all so beautiful, so beautiful. London and Paris and Vancouver and many other cities I've never seen -- they're all beautiful -- but I don't know if there is any city more beautiful than Montreal. It is achingly beautiful. There is a robustness yet fragility to the quality of life here, and the quality of the architecture, that makes me want to throw my arms around everything and say, You are wonderful, I love you, let's never be apart. It's exactly the same way I feel about my girlfriend. Fate willing, when we make a happy threesome: me, her, Montreal, life will finally come into focus, I will be able to sink roots here, and finally find the stability and contentment that has so long eluded me.

Two months

Has it only been two months since I arrived in Montreal? That hardly seems possible. When I think back to August 6, the last day I was in Edmonton, and all the traveling in between in France, it is a fast-paced blur.

I still hardly know myself. In fact, I wonder sometimes if I am unknowing myself. Is that even a verb?

It is remarkable the extent to which I feel a new city shaping me. I think Montreal is radicalizing me. One of the first things I did shortly after arriving here was stop eating meat. I just didn't see the point in meat. I had increasingly lost my taste for it; moreover, I couldn't really justify it. Factory farming is one of North America's biggest environmental blemishes.

Then I started to think of psychogeography in a different way. Not merely a stroll around the city and a reflection on its effect on us, but more importantly, maybe, a rejection of the very economic forces that come to shape cities. I want to push my own wanderings to the point where they no longer become an observation: they become a participation. They become an attempt to live differently. Instead of hurrying around our cities like ants, transporting consumer goods hither and yon, we should be moving about them with creative purpose -- seeking our identities and those of others, trying to make new situations that have maybe not existed before. Let there be more spontaneous gatherings in our cities. The tamtams in Montreal is one such gathering. I so much enjoyed celebrating my birthday that way: sitting in the park with the tamstams' rhythm in the background, eating with friends, basking in the sunlight. Last weekend was one of the best of my life.

What an autumn it has been.

Now it has returned to a more typical autumn grey and grizzle, the streets are slick and sinuous, and everywhere you can hear the hiss and rush of wheels on wet cement. But still I love it. It was perfect weather for a short afternoon nap. Now, slightly re-energized, I hope to be able to accomplish something before a fresh round of celebrations begin: Halloween!

Up the mountain

It was time for a break, and the sun came out, so I walked up Mont Royal. From the top, there was a striking view of St. Joseph's Oratory. I took a photo and later doctored it quick-and-dirty in iPhoto. If this particular computer had Photoshop, I would've spent longer on it.



I am soon starting a new project, with friends, whereby we will extensively "blog" on Montreal and include photos and film. It is a psychogeographic tribute to the city. I am really looking forward to it.

Home

One day I would like to conduct some research into how people feel about where they are from. Where is home? What do they like about it? What do they not like? Why do they stay? Why do they leave?

A benefit of my studies at Concordia is meeting people from many different places: Newfoundland, Germany, France, Los Angeles, Pittsburgh, etc. Most people, to varying degrees, have an attachment to their place of origin. Often, you can simply see it in their eyes when they discuss it. The enthusiasm and feeling of pride in describing the place.

Me, I become rather emotionally on edge when I must talk about where I am from. I find myself intermittently becoming angry or defensive. Or just laughing in a way that attempts to make light of past hurt.

For one, I am not even sure how to say where I am from anymore. I can say, Edmonton Alberta, but then people go, yes, but where are you REALLY from? Then I will say England. But what am I supposed to say about England? Its influence on me becomes increasingly irrelevant with time. I do not feel English.

I do not feel Albertan. Never did.

I certainly feel Canadian. I made a conscious choice to obtain my citizenship because I do feel an attachment to the country.

But then, beyond that, what does one say? I am reluctant to speak of England as if I were speaking FOR the English, or to speak of Alberta or Edmonton on behalf of those who live there. It is unfair to do so. If I speak negatively of Edmonton I try to explain that this is only my personal impression. For many people, Edmonton must be THE place to be. Right now.

I suppose I must admit to a bit of jealousy towards those who would willingly "go home" after their time in Montreal. Because for me, that just does not seem like an option. It would feel like defeat. It is not home. It never became home. I already feel more attachment and pride in Montreal than I ever felt in Edmonton.

And I take comfort that I am not alone in this. I have two good friends who are ex-Edmontonians. Talking of Edmonton reduces us to rage or other forms of emotional distress. It is as if the city has scarred us. It is very odd. I don't know of any people so adversely affected by their "home" town. How did this happen?

Montreal is grey and gloomy right now -- has been for days. Still I love it, I love it, I cannot get enough of it. I looked at my circle of new friends yesterday gathered together and thought "I wish this could continue forever. All of us in Montreal until we get old."

I felt sentimental and went home. I missed my girlfriend intensely. If she were here, life would be perfect.

What people do for entertainment

Yesterday I was on Crescent Street for a short while, long enough to realize that this is the arse end of Montreal. I saw the spectacle of young toughs swinging punches and wrestling each other on the ground. Both sides had sought out such an adventure. I saw the episode from its very inception to its very end.

It was about two in the morning. My friend and I were sitting in a quiet cafe. There was a group of very drunk youngsters mere paces away -- girls and boys. We went outside so my friend could smoke. Some minor disturbance happened on the street right in front of us. I think it had something to do with somebody puking and falling over. All I know is that people were standing around making fun of the scene. Tough #1 detached himself from the group in the cafe and stormed out and immediately started verbally sparring with Tough #2. It was something to do with respect.

"Don't you have any respect, you fucking faggot?" he said.

He was obviously not looking to diffuse the situation. Nor was Tough #2. So the fight was on. The battle headed to the pavement fairly quickly, neither combatant being too steady on his feet. They rolled around for quite some time. The apparent girlfriend of Tough #1 stepped in gingerly at one point and tried to kick the head of Tough #2 with her pointy shoe. A friend wisely pulled her away and told her to stay out of it. Then a friend of Tough #2 tried to get involved but found himself thrown against a car by a friend of Tough #1.

When at last the fight was over, Tough #1 had no shirt. This displeased him. "Where's my fucking shirt?" he yelled. Likeminded toughs from across the street were jeering and taunting him but no further fighting ensued. Not that we saw. The spectacle having reached its end, we decided to leave.

What a seedy, sketchy walk it was up Ste Catherine. Nothing shocking to those familiar with Whyte Avenue in Edmonton, but disconcerting all the same.

About fifteen minutes later, I was in a cab headed back to Verdun, chatting with a driver from Chateauroux, France, which is a mere 50 kms from where my brother lives. He talked about going to dances in the countryside when he was young. Then we talked about the English who buy up property all over France because they love the food and the life. He left me at rue Galt, my street, just outside the restaurant, le Belle Province, where a few remaining customers were huddled inside over video lottery machines, placing their final bets.

Wine, Whine

Yesterday I attended a party at the Canadian Centre of Architecture. I met several of my classmates there. All of Montreal's youngest and beautifullest were out in force, enjoying the free wine and music. I found it quite remarakable that a crowd primarily composed of 20-25 year olds were given almost free rein over a cultural gem like the CCA, whilst being plyed with unlimited booze between 8 and 10pm. All in the name of art. Good heavens.

People in Montreal have struck me, to this point, as being extraordinarily polite, civilized, friendly and, well, mature. I can't imagine the aforementioned event being staged in Edmonton. Art shows happen in Edmonton. Sure. Booze is served. Sure. Sometimes for free. But the CCA had ADVERTISED free booze far and wide and literally hundreds of people showed up. And it did not turn into a shit show.

What is incredibly refreshing about Montreal is the relative lack of machismo among the male citizens of the city. I've realized that living in Edmonton has left me with the vestiges of the "fear culture" that holds sway there. Especially in more recent years, Edmontonians have become extraordinarily fearful and hostile towards one another. Encounters with strangers are strained, awkward affairs. People generally avoid casual encounters on the street. Men exude aggression as they swagger down Whyte Avenue on a sunny afternoon.

The vibe here is just so relaxed by comparison. Even homeless people seem integrated into the tolerant and pleasant life of the street. The other day, I saw a rather grimy homeless fellow sitting on a step on la rue Saint Denis. Along came a beautiful young blond woman and sat down next to him and struck up a conversation. As long as I've lived, I've never seen that sort of thing happen in any other city. My friends up on Mont Royal even invited a homeless person in to spend the night with them the other day. People simply don't have the fear of the homeless -- or any other kind of "other" -- in Montreal.

This is terrible to confess, but the more I fall in love with Montreal, the more I fall out of love with Edmonton (was I ever in love? No, I think I decided in the last post that I never was). I had sensed for years that people in big cities didn't have to behave in the fashion that I saw displayed around me. But sometimes I doubted myself. I thought, "I'm looking for a better way that simply doesn't exist."

But it does exist. In fact, I think Edmonton is the exception to the norm. I don't see the kind of routine nastiness that Edmontonians relish on display in towns such as, let's say, Vancouver.

What has happened in Edmonton? I just don't get it. Why have people fallen so in love with trucks, strip malls, ugliness, fighting, being stupid? Surely, in their private hearts, people don't enjoy this kind of life. Surely, the constant fear and the pressure to conform and be aggressive and macho and guarded takes its toll?

This weekend, my best friend leaves Edmonton. The numbers are ever-thinning.

I am fascinated to find out what Edmonton will be like in five to ten years. As much as I dislike the place, it's impossible for me to stop caring.

Another Week in Montreal

There have been several social occasions this weekend that I have avoided. I feel myself instinctively needing a “breather.” Adjusting to a new home is fun, but one is so filled with doubts and dreams and new thoughts that it’s useful to slow down and take stock of them.

One thing is very apparent. I love Montreal. I have realized that a relationship with a city is a bit like a relationship with a life partner. I judged Edmonton too harshly. Why? Because Edmonton was not right for me. It’s a lot like when you know a relationship is going to fail, you start seeing almost all the negative aspects of a person and find it hard to see the good.

So there. I owe Edmonton an apology. It wasn’t you. It was me.

Having said that, the more I realize that Montreal is RIGHT for me, the more I realize how very WRONG Edmonton was for me. When I walk around Montreal, I get this feeling of, “Where have you been all my life?”

One of Edmonton’s – indeed Alberta’s – biggest selling points is the vast, beautiful sky. Yes, it’s awfully impressive. It matches the vastness of the prairie. Two massive straight lines against which the achievements of humans appear rather puny.
There is nothing to match that sky in Montreal. Even on a sunny day, like today, the sky can’t match Alberta’s. Often, the clouds press in, the buildings loom over, and you feel smothered by all the things jostling for your attention.

The fact is, I like that. I do not revel in the open spaces. I like crowded spaces. Spaces with lots of levels. I really enjoy Montreal’s undulations – even the multi-layered freeways. I like the confusion and the great mess of it all. It feels natural and somehow, correct.

I forgive all of Montreal’s flaws, the same way, when you truly love someone, you do so in spite of the flaws. (It would be hypocritical not to. We’re all flawed.) So for example, when Montreal’s metro breaks down (which is surprisingly often), I just shrug my shoulders and say, with only mild annoyance, “C’est la vie.” Whereas in Edmonton, this sort of thing would have infuriated me.

So when I say I love Montreal, I mean that I love her even though there is a lot that is bland, ugly, clumsy, poorly planned and irritating. Because Montreal is also architecturally stunning, effortlessly beautiful, glamorously gritty, delightfully seedy, and, above all, sexy. There is no better word to sum her all up.

Today I walked from my home in Verdun and north-eastwards to Concordia’s downtown campus. I passed through nearly every kind of ugly and beautiful and in between that Montreal has to offer. Verdun is not considered one of Montreal’s prized neighbourhoods. Indeed, among some, it has a pretty bad reputation. But just up the road, on l’avenue de l’eglise, I found a huge church that I’d never seen before.



Then, I walked into the industrial zone, across which the Canal Lachine cuts its way with sparkling charm.



I passed the Atwater Market and into the St. Henri neighbourhood, a lot of it poor, but much of it picturesque.



I finally arrived at the downtown metro station which I pass through almost every day.



When I walk around Montreal, the city lifts my spirits. The continual surprises work on my emotional state and by the time I get to my destination, I feel like I’ve had an experience. There is even a sort of narrative to the walks.

All this, and I haven’t even mentioned how much nicer people are generally in Montreal. That is a post for another day!

The challenge this year is finding a way that I can stay here forever.

Montreal and Montpellier

What do Montreal and Montpellier, France, have in common besides their first four letters ? Well, from my scant acquaintance with each, both have very lively centres and lots of beautiful young people walking around, keeping things vibrant and dynamic. Montpellier is near the Mediterranean and numbers about 200,000 people. Montreal is on the Saint Lawrence and numbers close to 4 million. Both have decent public transit. Montreal’s Metro, current infrastructure problems notwithstanding, efficiently covers a large area of the city and is fast and clean. There are also buses and suburban commuter trains. Montpellier for its part has trams and buses.

When I visited Montpellier this summer, I felt like I was going to have a nervous breakdown because I was foolish enough to drive a car into the town centre. I have since discovered that Montpellier is doing everything possible to deter this. Their plans are working. So much of Montpellier’s centre is made up of pedestrian-only streets, one-way streets, dead ends, and tramway-dedicated streets, that to drive in a car is sheer lunacy. I am not exaggerating when I say that it took over two hours for me to simply find a way to get to the hotel where Monika and I were staying. We circled around it and around it, but the direct path to its door seemed unreachable. Even when we eventually did find the hotel, we found that there was no parking, so we had to retrace our steps to the Place de la Comedie, find underground parking (at a cost of $30 per night) and walk the rest of the way on foot.

The tone of this might sound a bit like a complaint. It isn’t. I am in complete admiration of what Montpellier has done. Indeed, Montreal isn’t even that pedestrian friendly.

For anyone who hasn’t driven in an old European city, It’s hard to describe just how utterly different it is from driving in, say, Edmonton, Alberta. The skill level required just to park and stay alive is vastly higher. If Edmonton drivers tried out half their crazy shit in Montpellier, they would be dead or in jail. Simply put, I think most North American cities have made driving in town too easy. Driving is not supposed to be a relaxing, pleasant experience – unless you’re out in the country, the part of the world where the motorized vehicle truly comes into its own. In cities, driving should be so stressful and difficult that you only do it if absolutely necessary.

Here is Montpellier’s tramway – a modern marvel in the historic town centre.

Back from France

The three weeks holiday in France appears to have performed exactly the calming spell on my spirits that I needed. Since arriving in Montreal on Monday I have been more relaxed than I've ever been in my life. It's unnerving how calm I've been. I almost feel like I could zone out whilst writing this. I could take a doze here in the library and that would be very pleasant, I think. However, it pays to remember that if I drooled on myself, it would be embarrassing.

There is simply not time today for me to catch up with all that's happened, all that I've thought and done in August. What a month! I'm going to try to post some photos from France and sort of catch up in stages during these next few weeks before my studies at Concordia get overwhelming.

For today, I've picked a random picture. Doesn't this look like parts of Alberta? But it is in fact a plain south of Millau, France. I took it simply because of the unexpected resemblance to the south of the province I called home not so long ago!

Farewell Fest

Tonight I am celebrating with friends my final weekend in town. If you've stumbled across this and a) know me! and b) haven't received an invite, check in at Remedy Cafe on 109 street and 87 avenue between the hours of 5pm and 7pm, or at Garneau Pub, also on 109 Street (and about 85 avenue) between the hours of 7pm and closing time.

I really feel no choice but to leave Edmonton at this time in my life, regardless of how well things have gone for me personally of late. There are too many things in this town -- mainly related to politics -- that drive me insane. For example, my girlfriend's rent was just hiked from $460 to $1,100. I find this sort of thing completely unacceptable. I can't live in a place where the government stands by and lets ordinary Albertans get screwed this way.

The other day I read that the majority of city council are AGAINST investing in a major interchange at 23rd avenue and Calgary Trail. These jokers will never get it. Ever. They want a world class city? Well, sitting on 23rd avenue waiting for a freight train to cross does not equate to "world class" city. No major city in the world would allow this.

I think Edmonton could safely claim to offer a high quality of life during the 1990s. But since the boom really took off, that quality of life has been seriously eroded. The city seems to have elected for unchecked profiteering at the expense of everything else. Vast sections of land have been given over to unchecked development. I am only being slightly hyperbolic when I say that to my eyes, South Edmonton Common signals the end of civilization.

Here's another one. The provincial government has given $7 million in grants to golf courses over the years. Now I know $7 million isn't a lot in the grand scheme of things, but the question is, why give a penny? In many respects, golf, friends, is a shameful, shameful sport. Having a course here and there is acceptable, but to deliberately support a sport that so intensively wrecks the environment with its exhaustive use of pesticides and energy sucking lawnmowers... it's just not on.

Also, the government has given $100 million to the horse racing industry. That's mainly down to the fact that our former premier, Ralph Klein, loved horse racing. Why didn't they simply stage a photo-op where they take a bag of taxpayers' money and give it directly to their friends?

That's how Alberta -- including Edmonton -- is run. It's the fiefdom of an ignorant elite who hold the majority of the populace in utter contempt. This Tory government is the same government that hired spies to monitor the activities of landowners who legitimately had concerns about power lines being built on their land. It's the same government that deliberately witheld information about their use of taxpayer-funded government aircraft until AFTER the 2004 provincial election. It's the same government that allowed Direct Energy to start advertising electricity contracts before being approved to enter the Alberta market. I know not all governments are on the up and up, but folks, these guys are the biggest crooks of the lot. And even if they weren't crooked, their sheer incompetence should have turfed them from office years ago. Look at this place. Does it look like one of the richest jurisdictions on the earth? No! Four months after the end of winter, there is still trash blowing around the back streets in the Whyte Avenue area. I passed three brick structures built for flowers this morning -- none of them had flowers, all of them had been smashed. All of them have been smashed for months -- maybe years -- and yet they are never fixed. When somebody visits from an actual "world class" city they must scarcely be able to believe their eyes. They must wonder, what did all these folks do with their money that they allow the streets to resemble the cratered landscape of the moon?

Oh dear. This is now turning into a helluva rent. In any case, I thought long and hard about moving -- I had good reasons to stay. But in the end, all the above reasons -- and more -- were what compelled me to leave. I am leaving Edmonton and Alberta because frankly, I've reached the limits of my patience for the place.

All that said, I have had some terrific opportunities here that I might not have had elsewhere. My over three years with the Liberal Opposition taught me a fantastic amount. Ditto my all-too-short stay at the Alberta Teachers' Association. And I met so many great people here. The contrary-minded in Edmonton are great people. There is a bit of solidarity built, I think, in having opinions seemingly so far off the norm. It's all these people I look forward to enjoying a drink with tonight.

Building a sense of community

Yesterday was the Reality Rally -- a way of getting Edmontonians out of their homes and into a big picnic in the park. This was conceived as an event for Facebook users... a way to get them off Facebook for a while. In the eventual crowd of about 30 that showed up, there were quite a few non-Facebookers.

Given the glorious weather -- maybe too glorious at 30 degrees? -- it was surprising more people didn't show. Radio and TV were covering it, and my own Edmonton Journal article appeared Friday.

Nevertheless, it was a genuinely enjoyable afternoon. Here is the crowd starting to gather -- in this photo, only at half its eventual size.



As the event progressed, it became clear that we had a great mix of people here -- people who genuinely wanted to be sociable and meet others and have fun.

This was really a great way to celebrate my second last weekend in Edmonton. Thanks for organizing this rally, Matt!

In Calgary

Last week, I had some work to do in the mountains. This meant a short stop-over in Calgary. Despite its proximity, I hardly know Calgary. I must say from this short visit that Calgary seems to be doing many things a lot better than Edmonton.

1. LRT. Their system dwarfs that of Edmonton. I saw a sign on the extreme west end of the city that said that the LRT would be arriving in that community by 2008. This amazed me. The kind of timelines we’re used to in Edmonton are in the five to ten year range. The famous can-do attitude of Calgary is certainly reaping benefits when it comes to rapid transit.

2. Downtown. For a start, it is much bigger than Edmonton’s. It surprised me to see the great canyons between the rows of skyscrapers. Their downtown seemed almost as big as, say, Montreal’s. Plus, the preservation of many old buildings was heartening to see. In particular, I enjoyed Stephen Avenue. I have no clue why Edmonton has not developed a pedestrian zone like this. Please, give us somewhere that we can take refuge from the bikers. Not that I’ve got anything against bikers, of course. I just don’t know why they’re allowed to thunder up Whyte Avenue, deafening conversations every few minutes.

Here is Stephen Avenue:



3. Homeless. The issue has been well publicized, but seeing it for real is still disheartening. There were entire sections of the city where I saw nothing but homeless. Calgary has built a lot more shelters for them than Edmonton has, but I’m not sure this is the long-term solution needed.

Another thing I noticed about Calgary is that the “look” for males is more corporate. There did not seem to be as many big, beefy and aggressive-looking males.


I am glad I had a chance for one last trip to the mountains as well as a stay in Calgary before leaving Edmonton. It is now exactly two weeks to departure time.

A party to make Canada proud

This weekend I went to a birthday party for a Hungarian girl I know. It was hosted at the Garneau Pub. The employees had decorated the whole place, including the patio, with balloons and streamers. They had passed the hat and raised money for a camera, a camera case, and memory card. The birthday girl was visibly impressed. She's lived here only a year and must go home in only a few weeks. Everyone wanted her to enjoy her first ever "Canadian birthday" to the utmost.

It was quite the event. Such a warm evening and cold beer flowing liberally. I did not leave until 3 a.m.

Of Gambia and Games of Skill

Anyone who discounts sports as a low-brow waste of time is underestimating the great communal experience of going to a game. Yesterday, at the Commonwealth Stadium, I watched Austria take on Gambia in the FIFA under 20 World Cup. Most of the crowd were "neutrals," so it was fun picking a favourite and cheering them on. There were some teenage boys in front of us having a whale of a time, cheering for Gambia, making wise-cracks, generally entertaining those around them. They struck up a conversation briefly with the two young children behind them, extending the good cheer. They were never crude or threatening. The whole mood was fun. Enjoying sports and the sun.

Austria won 2-1 by the way.

And incidentally, out of completely idle curiousity, I looked up the weather in Gambia for today. As it so happens, the daytime high for Banjul, Gambia is 31. Which is exactly the same as for Edmonton.

Yukko!

A few months ago, the Edmonton Journal did an expose on food safety in city restaurants. The public reaction to the issue forced an opening up of the safety inspections, which are now available for anyone who wants to see them. Since then, occasionally an article appears like the one excerpted below, which is about the China Palace Seafood Restaurant:

Prosecutor Rob O'Neill said the violations found during many inspections included restaurant staff leaving raw meat out in improper temperatures and rinsing vegetables and noodles in dirty sinks where raw meat had been.

As well, inspectors found mouse droppings and fly infestations, dirty kitchen equipment, unsanitary dish rags and raw meat hanging over uncovered vegetable containers.
Inspectors also spotted mouldy sweet and sour sauce, leaking water, dripping oil, grills with encrusted grease and dust and unsanitary staff washrooms.
[Edmonton Sun. July 10, 2007]

All I can say is, Yukko!

Well, actually, that is not all I can say. This food safety issue is one of a host of issues that have been publicized by our local media, which would otherwise have gone unnoticed. Another big profile issue was the government jets zooming all over the province at vast expense -- the official records for which were witheld by government until AFTER the 2004 provincial election. And how about the story the Journal also broke on the government agency, the Energy and Utilities Board, that hired private investigators to spy on Alberta landowners? All coups for the good old print media!

I bring this up because the print media is in trouble. Todd Babiak had a column about this a couple of weeks ago. It was an alarm cry for anyone who cares about journalism's role in promoting a healthy democracy. The fact is, not enough people are paying attention to the news. How many people are subscribed to a newspaper these days? Of all the people I know in this town, I can think of only one subscriber. My father gets the Edmonton Journal. Nobody my own age -- including me! -- is subscribed to any local paper.

But look at why... Look at what I just did. I got an article online from the Sun and stuck some of it on my blog. The last time I subscribed to a paper, 1995, that would not have been possible.

Yes, Internet -- you are a temperamental monster, wreaking havoc on some cherished parts of our culture, yet liberating others.

I don't know where all this is going to lead us, but I do know this. In the same way that those who only travel a city from inside a car don't truly know it, those who never read about a community don't really know its politics.

ADDENDUM:
Sometimes I write something and it appears to wrap up nicely, but then on closer inspection, I realize it doesn't. I had to add something to this post because as initially written, it made an assumption I wasn't happy with. Reading is not the only way to find out what's going on. Of course. Radio and TV -- especially the CBC -- illuminate the issues of the day. It's partly a question of the rigour that the given medium gives to the issue. My point is, everyone should pay attention to a dependable media source on a fairly frequent basis. By dependable, I'm not wanting to get into left or right wing bias. I just mean something that will explore an issue in depth, not in a soundbite.

Where it's at

I’m posting some photos taken by my friend James Birkbeck who has captured Edmonton at its finest. These were taken on Canada Day. They are a timely reminder to me that, current council shenanigans notwithstanding, there are some things that the city has done well. Chiefly, the river valley, and the skyline that presides over it.


Below is an Edmonton oddity that people often make fun of: the High Level Bridge waterfall. I don't know the full story, but I gather that the waterfall was supposed to operate during all of the temperate months, but the engineers somehow messed up, because the system can only use treated water, not water from the river itself. Therefore, it's enormously expensive to operate, and hence is only turned on for very special occasions.


I say bugger the naysayers. I think the waterfall rocks. We need more weirdnesses like this and fewer mockers.

Also in the river valley is the neighbourhood of Rossdale, one of the nicest neighbourhoods in town. Rows of delightful terraced housing, in brick, built to last. I just don't know why Edmonton didn't continue developing in this kind of scale. It all looks so welcoming and liveable. Once you get out to, say, Terwilliger, the sterility of the place is unsettling. The city centre is definitely where it's at.