I consider myself too ignorant to have opinions on most big issues. This makes me feel insecure and inadequate because it seems that everyone around me has complete clarity of thought and has taken sides on those big issues.
You know, it seems to me that complicated stuff is complicated because it is complicated. I just don't think that you can form an coherent opinion on what is happening in Iraq or global warming by reading newspapers or talking to opinionated hipsters in the local pub. I think it is time we all just admitted to each other: I don't have a clue what is going on.
I see that CBC, the Globe and Mail and Google News all have prominent stories about Zina and her 3rd place accomplishment. I am very happy to see that my prediction about little attention in the press was mistaken.
Since this will probably slip through the mainstream media without much fanfare, allow me to congratulate Canada's Zina Kocher for her third place finish, which is her first podium performance in a World Cup for biathlon. This is also, unless I am completely out of the loop, Canada's first World Cup medal since the days of Myriam Bedard in the mid 1990's.
I will be going down to Östersund on Friday to take in the last two days of the World Cup competitions down there. With a bit of luck, I will try to hook up with the Canadian athletes (all of whom, including Zina, were at my condo in Quebec last year at my post-national biathlon championships party, so they owe me one).
My friend Håkon will be driving down with me and he know some folks in Östersund, so we should have a floor to sleep on at least. Östersund is not a big town, and when a World Cup comes around there is an influx of about 15 000 people, so finding beds is a real problem.
I just realized to my shame that although virtually every T-shirt I have here has CANADA written on it, I don't have a single Canada flag to wave at the race. I may have to improvise with a bedsheet and a red marker or something.
I am at the point now in my Swedish where the vocabulary is being held back by the grammar. Nouns are coming along nicely. Finding the names for things is sometimes a struggle, but with a bit of reflection they eventually come (for common daily objects, of course. Don't ask me what a rear differential is in Swedish).
One thing that still trips me up though, is inserting German words into perfectly good Swedish sentences. This happens particularly frequently with numbers: I still catch myself asking for "funf köttbullar, tack" rather than the proper "fem köttbullar, tack" (five meatballs, thanks)
This seems to be terribly confusing to Swedes, who often squint at me to see if I am pulling their leg or something. Apparently, my pronunciation is not too bad, which leads people to think I am better at Swedish than I actually am. So by throwing German stuff into the middle of my sentence, folks seem to think I am trying to be a comedian. I am not, I am just a moron.
An Alert Reader recently indicated her displeasure at the slowdown in the frequency of postings here at Canadian In Sweden.
All I can say is: I prefer quality to quantity. Things here in Umeå have fallen into a bit of a routine, and with routine comes less grist for the blogging mill, so to speak. However, I will do my best to update things a bit more frequently this week.
North American Ladies, you can expect to start seeing the return of super tight jeans and knee high leather boots in the near future if Scandinavian and Italian women are the fashion bellwethers they are supposed to be.
While I am not a big fan of this return to all those things we left behind in the 1980's (they played Wham on the pop radio station this morning), this tight jeans thing I can definitely live with. Knee high (and higher!) leather boots are not so hard to take either.
As many of you know, I have more than a passing interest in all things related to real estate. Whenever I go somewhere new, I try to find things out about the real estate market. I was down in Stockholm yesterday and had the opportunity to talk to several of the locals, who are researchers and scientists down there. The majority of them rent and they had interesting stuff to discuss.
Apparently, in Stockholm there is a 16 year waiting list to get a rental apartment.
You read that correctly. I thought they were joking at first - I had never heard of such a thing outside of the old USSR.
But wait, it gets better. It is tacitly recognized by everyone involved that this is an unworkable situation, so if you know the right people or pay enough money under the table you can get bumped up the list. The outgoing Swedish prime minister was recently accused in the newspapers of doing exactly this. Someone I met in Stockholm yesterday told me they paid 15 000 SEK ( say $2500 CAD) under the table to get pushed up the list.
Once you have reached the top of the list, you have to pay the rental company or landlord a one-time "fee" of up to 90 000 SEK before you can take possession. This appears to be a direct response to the Swedish policy of heavy rent control. Rent downtown is ridiculously cheap: about 3000 SEK per month for a prime 2 bedroom downtown apartment. That is about $500 Can. Without the unofficial (and uncontrolled) "fee", landlords would end up bankrupt.
Ahhh, the law of unintended consequences. The government imposed rent control in order to ensure that the underpriviledged would have access to reasonably priced housing. Since no investors could afford to own apartment buildings under these conditions, they simply started charging astronomical "fees" which don't fall under government control. Now, someone needs to be able to cough up a lump sum of up to 100 000 SEK (bribe and "fee" combined) up front before even taking possession ot their apartment. I wonder how this benefits the underpriviledged. I wonder if it would be more equitable to simply allow market rates and abolish the fees. But hey, that is just me.
Most interesting to me was that all of this nonsense is generally regarded as just being the way things get done. Kind of like cheating on your income tax in Canada: it is regarded as more of a sport than as fraud.
My first peek at the underbelly of socialist policy.
Am I really the only person on the planet who was less than enthralled with the new Borat movie?
A bit of a disclaimer here: I really wanted to like this movie (as previous posts will attest). I love the 5 minute Borat skits that appeared on TV, I think they are incredibly funny and original. I also happen to love the kind of embarrassing, lowest-common-denominator humour of films like Dumb and Dumber and Jackass. So this movie should have been a slam-dunk for me.
It wasn't.
There were funny bits to be sure. I laughed, at times really hard. But overall, I just kind of found it to be rude. Moreso than in any of the skits, the film makers really play on and take advantage of the good will of the unsuspecting people Borat interviews.
The high point and great originality of Borat lies in exposing bigots. If you can expose an asshole for what they truly are - and turn them into a laughingstock at the same time - then the more power to you. Well done, I say. But a lot of this movie had to do with making laughingstocks of people who were harmless and tolerant. People I wouldn't mind getting to know.
I am not talking about the redneck homophobic cowboy and racist frat boys. Those were some of the better bits. But the old Jewish couple? I mean, come on, have a bit of decency. I can only hope that this scene was one of the ones that were staged. As for the climax, involving Pamela Anderson, it didn't do anything for me. It just struck me as mean. Again, rumour has it that this was staged as well. One can hope.
All in all, I feel a bit left out, and wondering if I am a bit over sensitive. The reviewers are universal in their praise. This film looks like it may become the highest grossing comedy of all time. I think it is healthy for a culture to be able to laugh at itself (Mohammed cartoons, anybody?) but I also think there is a fine line between satire and mockery. At times, I think Borat crossed it.
Une des effets d'être un orienteur: je prends toujours la route la plus court entre deux points, malgré le fait que ça sois boiteux, proprièté privé, ou autrement "impassable". C'est un question d'efficacité. Les 5 minutes que tu gagnes chaque fois s'ajoute pour devenir une bonne dodo.
After numerous queries from folks back home, I will talk about my work. I intentionally do not talk about work on this blog because I sincerely doubt that people want to hear about it. When you read a blog it is for entertainment purposes, not information. At least, that is how I see it.
However, it appears that an unintended consequence of this approach is that a lot of people seem to think I am just goofing off over here, skiing and orienteering and sitting on my ass. So this post is hopefully going to put those impressions to rest.
Sweden has passed legislation banning lead from bullets, starting in 2008. Now, there is a good reason that lead is used in bullets: it is soft and very dense. Not a lot of metals have these properties. Two that do are gold and silver. However, the downside to using gold and silver for military ammunition applications relates to the high probability that the country using them will suffer an economic collapse. This is apparently a bit counterproductive to the defence of the nation.
The problem with lead is really a public relations one. Some forms of lead - such as tetra-ethyl lead (anti-knock agent used in gasoline up until the 1970's) - are 1) highly available and 2) easily absorbed (as fine particles or gases). Both of these make it dangerous stuff than can affect the development of children. Likewise lead-based paint was easily available and easily absorbed (when ingested by curious toddlers). Because of the nasty health effects of lead, all lead products have been painted with the same brush. However, this is not really valid. For example, bullets are nicely collected and concentrated in the berm behind shooting ranges. Shooting ranges are not generally in places where children frequently play (despite a little ditty that my friend Rob once came up with, and which has stuck with me for years:
baa baa black sheep have you any bullets?
Yes sir, yes sir, three mags full
one for the master, and one for the dame,
and one for the little boy running on the range...
The RMC biathlon team in the mid '90's was a collection of rather disturbed individuals. Happily, we all seem to have come out of it no worse for the wear.)
Where was I?
Oh, right - the availability of lead from bullets. You see, lead is remarkably resistant to dissolution except in really acidic environments. Such as your stomach. So, as long as you don't go eating any bullets you find, you should be fine. And as long as kids don't eat the bullets, they should be fine too. Dissolved lead also has the nice property of being likely to adsorb onto many kinds of soil, which means that even if a bit of it does dissolve, it does not go very far before being adsorbed and becoming immobile. Translation: lead from shooting ranges will pretty much never reach the water table, so long as your range isn't built in a swamp or something. If it never reaches the water table, people will not end up absorbing it through their drinking water.
Which brings me finally to my project.
I am basically measuring how far dissolved lead from bullets is liable to travel before it becomes immobile. The Swedish forces are understandably annoyed that the best material for ammunition is being made illegal for reasons that have never been demonstrated scientifically: i.e. that lead from bullets causes a threat to human health. (Well, to be fair, the DO create a threat to human health, but only when travelling at 800 meters per second.)
To do this, I have set up lysimeters (columns of unsaturated soil) which are representative of the berms that stop the bullets on a range. Next week I go to the range to blow through 1000 rounds of "5.56 millimeter, Full Metal Jacket." Actually, the Swedes still use 7.62 mm, but I couldn't help throw in a bit of a movie reference there. So then I will take those 1000 rounds (shot into sandbags) and put them on top of the lysimeters, simulate average rainfall for the different ranges in Sweden, and measure the dissolved lead and antimony in the pore water at different depths below the surface.
Collect the data, write an article, and I am done!
So that is what I do in Sweden when I am not skiing. Now you know.
One of the best things about being 6 to 9 time zones ahead of most everyone you know is that when you wake up in the morning, your inbox is full of e-mails. It is like a mini Christmas every morning.
Another thing I like is that when I have stuff I have to take care of back in Canada, I can get back from work, have dinner, go for a ski, and around 7 pm or so start making phone calls (using Skype, of course). I have always been more efficient in the evenings anyhow. I wouldn't doubt that 90% of my daily productivity happens in the last couple of hours I am at work.
I will restrain myself from mentioning yesterday's post about xc ski excuses, but the above headline really begs the comparison. Here is the complete link:
"An ordinary laboratory mouse will run one kilometer on a treadmill before collapsing from exhaustion. But mice given resveratrol, a minor component of red wine and other foods, run twice as far."
The following observations have no connection whatsoever to the study at hand: How is it that I don't get to do treadmill tests with mice? I mean, how cool is that? I would pay money to watch this, I really would. Mouse jocks. Awesome. I bet the little xc skier mice kick every one else's ass and skew the data. I bet the best mice come from scandinavia.
Another money quote:
"Dr. Sinclair dosed his mice daily with 22 milligrams of resveratrol per kilogram of weight, and Dr. Auwerx used up to 400 milligrams. No one can drink enough red wine to obtain such doses."
Oh yeah? Wanna bet? If this stuff does what they say it does, then there is an athlete out there somewhere who is going to guzzle red wine until the whites of his (or her) eyes turns pink. I guarantee it. Dr. Sinclair clearly has not had much experience with elite endurance athletes. If WADA (World Anti-Doping Agency) hasn't banned it, and it can give you an edge, someone will try it.
On the upside, this development ought to make for wildly entertaining World Cup relays and mass starts in the very near future as plastered skiers line up at the start gate.
On it you will find a list of some of the best excuses for having a bad cross country ski race, both real and made-up.
My favourite is the skier who almost missed a race because she found a dead body in a snow drift. Allegedly true. A close second is "I was still drunk".
Anyone who has spent any time at all around xc skiing (and many other endurance sports) will probably recognize several of these...
In which case we accept no responsibility whatsoever. Just because the on-time thing is our company motto doesn't mean you actually expect us to live up to it, does it? Ha ha! Silly, naieve passenger! Of course not! And should we fail to live up to our motto, we will do whatever is necessary to ensure your unscheduled layover is as unpleasant and as expensive as possible. Thank you for enriching our company coffers and we look forward to blackmailing you again the next time you choose our airline.
This is just one part of the Mens Elite category race which I competed in. I can't make the image any larger, so some detail is lost, but it should certainly give you an idea of what navigating though this labyrinth is like. The best sections took us through the popular tourist areas, which meant having to dodge though thick crowds in narrow alleys. I thought this was great fun, and did not hesitate to holler out a hearty Swiss "HOPP!" every now and then to get peoples attention and motivate them to get out of my way. If I ever do this race again, I am bringing an air horn. That would part the crowd like Moses parted the Red Sea. My only self-imposed limits were on baby strollers and old ladies. I would wait for both to pass me before resuming my race. Everyone else was fair game.
On some legs, figuring out the best route was easy and quite obvious. For others, like between points 18-19 shown in the map above, there were literally dozens of possible route choices, and no obvious best route. However, navigating was not as difficult as I expected. It required concentration, but the map was quite easy to read compared to forest maps with "scandinavian" terrain (which means lots of little hills and valleys, which I find difficult to read on maps)
Even though this was low season for tourists, the roads were totally filled by about noon. I cannot imagine what this place must be like in July. I doubt I would enjoy visiting in July. There were easily tens of thousands of tourists out in the streets while I was there, so July must be worse still. Imagine my surprise, then, when between points 24 and 25 I heard someone shout "GO JEFF!". I had run into (not literally, but close) some Canadian students I had met on the vaporetto (Venisian water busses) on Friday night. I don't know what the odds are against this, but they are certainly lower than the odds of running into the same group twice, which is exactly what happened. After I finished my race, I cooled down and changed then went walking and there they were - again. Look at that map a second time and imagine the roads filled with people, and you can see how unlikely this is. So I took them all out for coffee.
I doubt you could find a better way to really see a city than to run an orienteering race through its streets. I was only there for 2 days, but I feel I have really seen Venice. The touristy places as well as the back alleys and back canals where the garbage boats go:
The little white crane hoists garbage bins into the hold to empty them. I thought this was way cooler than the cheesy tourist boats in the photos in the previous posting.
Alright, no more bitching about airlines, here is the story about the race I went down to Venice to participate in.
This race is as unique as the city itself, so first, a bit about the city. It is a little known fact that Venice was constructed prior to the invention of either the right angle or the wheel. "Roads" are 1 m wide and are laid out in a rigid pattern based on chaos theory. The only vehicle that can get through is a wheelbarrow. Venice was also apparently constructed prior to the invention of engineers, who would have told the founding fathers that they were idiots for even considering to build a city in such a ridiculous location.
Venice is lovely though, no question about it. Here are a few pics:
The major routes are all canals, no wheeled vehicles can access the city at all. The side roads are all pedestrian only, for the simple reason that they are so narrow not even bicycles could get through. Here is an example:
This is not an exceptional "road", it is actually quite normal for Venice. The runner is Adrian Zissos, by the way. He and Charlotte McNaughton from Calgary were the only other Canadians in the race. Adrian was at the 2005 race also, you can find his report here http://www.barebones.ca/2005%2011%20Venice%20O%20Meeting.pdf
Adrian likes taking photos of bewildered tourists who are puzzling over their maps of Venice. He has some amusing examples at this link, it is worth checking out.
Well, in the spirit of making lemonade when life hands you lemons, I took a look around Rome while I was stuck there for 24 hours. I was in Rome in July with the military, but didn't see as much as I normally would have because I kind of had to do the spectator thing in Circus Maximus when Italy won the World Cup. Yeah, rough life, I know.
So this time I went to see the Trevi fountain and the Spanish steps. Trevi fountain
is awesome, I spent a couple of hours there eating gelato. Not too many tourists either, since this is low season. My only regret? Not knowing about Trevi before the World Cup win in July, because had I know people would be partying in the fountain, I would have been there guaranteed. Nobody is allowed to go in the fountain normally, there are cops everywhere. I saw one guy try, and the cops were on him immediately.
Hi everyone! Sorry for not mentioning this earlier: I went to Venice to race one of the most original and famous orienteering races in the world: the annual race through the streets of Venice.
I will put up some scans of the race map when I get home (still in Arlanda airport, waiting to get back to Umeå... I am not going to descend into bitterness in this blog), but for now, let me say it was amazing. Almost worth Ryanair's fiendishness. No, it was definitely worth Ryanair's fiendishness. It was awesome.
Venice rocks, let me say that right off the bat. What a cool unique place. I will definitely return, and if I ever get the chance to do the Venice orienteering race again, I will jump at it. I have a ton of photos that I will put up tomorrow.
Incidentally, in the spirit of taking lemons and making lemonade, I did see some great stuff in Rome last night. Trevi fountain is incredible.
know, I know. You get what you pay for. Still, Ryanair has left me breathless with their customer relations today.
Long story short: I am stuck in Rome for the next 12 hours. I should be back in Sweden by now.
The Ryanair flight out of Venice this morning was 4 hours late. Not due to weather or mechanical difficulty, but because "the aircraft was not on schedule", whatever that means. My trip back required 3 legs: Venice-Rome, Rome-Stockholm, then Stockholm-Umea (on SAS). Well, naturally my connections were ruined because of the 4 hour delay in Venice. I arrived in Rome 10 minutes before my next flight left, so the gate was closed by the time I got there.
Now, Ryanair has a policy that if you miss your flight and need to reschedule, they will put you on the next available flight to your destination for 75 euros. Fine, except there is only one flight to Stockholm per day. Obviously, regardless of what happens, I can kiss my SAS flight to Umea goodbye.
So I get into line to try to sort this stuff out. A lot of people are also in line, and there are only 2 client reps at the desk. 2 1/2 hours later, I finally get to the front of the line.
"Sorry", I am told. "The 75 euro thing only applies within 2 hours of the flight leaving."
"Ah, " I patiently reply. "But I arrived within 10 minutes of the Stockholm flight. I have just been waiting in line for 2 1/2 hours. Check my arrival time."
"No, no," the lady answers, shaking her head slowly as if talking to a small child. "Our computers only allow us to rebook within 2 hours. You are 30 minutes too late."
"But that is your fault for only have 2 people working the desk with 200 people in line"
"Sorry."
"OK, how much is a ticket, then?"
"250 euros."
"Book it. I hate you all."
Actually, the conversation was a bit longer than that. However, I did refrain from using colourful language, trying to keep in mind that the lady behind the desk was having as bad a day as I was. I don't envy her her job, that is for sure. I saw a bunch of people just lose it on her. I avoided being a boor.
So tomorrow, after spending an additional 50 euros for a crap hotel room in Rome, I will have to spend another 50-60 euros for a train ticket to Umea, because I am sure as heck not spending another couple hundred bucks for ANOTHER airfare. Plus I get to spend 6 hours on a train. Yay.
Look, I understand the limited liability thing. I really do. Say a flight is late, and because of that a passenger misses a business meeting and because they miss the meeting they lose a million dollar contract. Although it is arguably the airline's fault, they cannot be held responsible, or all airlines would rapidly be put out of business. However. In this case, it just seems to me like Ryanair could have at least offered a discount on the fare. That just seems like smart customer service policy. Since they have inconvenienced me like I have rarely been inconvenienced before and basically hung me out to dry, it will be a cold day in hell before I use their airline again.
When Air Canada looks good by comparison, you really should be worried.
I leave tomorrow morning for Venice, I will be back Monday night around midnight. So probably no blogging until Tuesday, unless I find a cafe somewhere.
I was out at Lotta's Krug - a local pub - with Håkan and some guys from work last night. As I was ordering a beer, two women whom I kind of recognized walked through the door. Turns out they are two players for Umeå IK, the local women's soccer team that is basically the best in the world. I tried to practise my rudementary Swedish (Hej! Jag heter Jeff...) with them, only to be informed in flawless English that Anne http://www.uik.se/annmak.html was from Finland, Lise http://www.uik.se/liskla.html was from Norway, and neither speaks Swedish very well. Oh. Oops. They were both very nice, if a bit distant. Bored would be another word I could use. I imagine having strangers approach them in bars in Umeå is not a new experience for either of them. I gamely tried to maintain a conversation for a couple of minutes before conceding defeat. Both totally lost interest when I was unable to name a single female Canadian football player.
So, is the remix of the 80's anthem "The Rose" by Westlife getting as much airplay overseas as it is here?
I know the 80's are getting trendy again, but do we really have to endure this maudlin, syrupy song twice in one lifetime? I still remember cringing every time I heard it - as a 10 year old. Today it still sets my teeth on edge.
The experience of listening to it is not unlike the feeling you would have if someone scratched their nails on a chalkboard while you were concurrently forced to guzzle pure corn syrup and watch those awful Cottonelle hand tissue commercials featuring painfully adorable white fluffball kittens. Endlessly.
Observation #1: All radio call sign jingles sound the same, everywhere on the planet.
Observation #2: The morning show here involves far less of the braying, aggravating laughter that characterizes morning shows in Canada (CHOM FM in Montreal, I am talking to you)
Observation #3: They never talk about traffic. Ever. In a town of 120 000 where most people bike, rush hour is non existant.
Observation #4: The hosts actually talk to each other and appear to have intelligent conversations lasting several minutes. I confess I only catch maybe 10% of what they are saying.
Observation #5: Radio show hosts here don't make the front page of the newspapers for talking about the relationship between bra cup size and brain size while on the air (J.F. Fillion in Quebec City, I am talking to you).
Vasterbotten is the province of Sweden I am in. Ost means cheese. The local cheese is therefore Vasterbotten ost, and with 33% fat content, it is awfully delish.
Yum. I will be sure to bring some home at Christmas. The smallest size it comes in is half a kilo.
OK, I have no idea what happened with this post - it kind of disappeared all by itself. A self-delete. Blogicide.
What I was saying was that back in the early to mid 1990's, Gerry O'Kane was the pub scene in Kingston. It would not be too much to say that he had a cult following. He was a true Irish balladeer, and singing along to Finnegan's Wake was one of the best things about Friday nights in Kingston. So I went looking for him on the 'Net recently, only to find that I am not the first to do so. Apparently he has moved back to Ireland and nobody has heard from him in about 5 years. So for those who do remember him fondly, this site has some (poor quality) MP3's of Gerry live at the Welly (Wellington Pub, defunct since about 1998) in 1992. If you ever experienced one of his evenings of sing-alongs, this recording will bring back some great memories.
So my neighbour Jane From Australia has been here 2 1/2 months, during which time we have crossed paths maybe 5 times, because she works far too much. However, she is leaving in 2 weeks and has decided she wants the Full Swedish Experience, which naturally means having a go at cross country skiing.
Being somewhat enthusiastic about skiing myself, I was more than happy to help her out. We went out and did a solid 2 1/2 hour ski on the 1.5 km Nydala loop yesterday. I was very impressed. Jane is a cyclist, so she had the fitness, and her technique for a first timer was quite good. Well, it was quite good once we gave up on skating and settled for classic skiing.
Note to self: do not have beginners start with skating technique.
So here are some pics. Notice the awesome snow. Pics of Jane The Aussie to come when the editing committee agrees upon an acceptably flattering shot.
Swedes don't do the wimpy, commercialized halloween thing. Instead, they wait a few days and do a real "commemoration of death", which depending on how you look at it, is even a bit spookier.
All Saints Day, I have learned (thanks, Wikipedia!) dates back to the 4th century, to commemorate the martyring of saints. It was initially to be held on November 1st, but the Swedish Lutheran church decided to hold it on the first Saturday of November instead (no doubt to avoid it interfering with the work week of industrious Swedes). The Lutherans also spun the meaning to assume a role of the general commemoration of the dead.
Today, All Saints Day is still widely observed by Swedes, by placing candles on the headstones of deceased relatives. Obviously, this is rather sombre, and one does not see little kids dressed up as Spiderman and hitting you up for candy.
So me and my neighbour Jane From Australia went out to take a look last night. Here are some photos. It was quite lovely, actually.
As someone whose French is littered with anglicismes, one of the phrases that always trips me up is: "Tu me manques." In English we say "I miss you" and so I always feel like I should say "Je te manque" in French even though I know full well it is incorrect. I'm thinking of this since arriving back from my very short séjour in Québec, because while I'm having an exciting time here in Umeå, I am of course missing many things: family, friends, home.
But when I say "I miss home," it doesn't quite do those feelings justice. It kind of makes me think of some Jane Austen character staring wistfully out the window. Sort of weepy-cheesy.
I kind of prefer the French construction: Canada me manque. It's like that: home is missing from me... It's not that I'm actively missing certain people and places all the time; it's just that those people and places are missing from me and my everyday life.
This town of 120 000 thinks it is not only important, but critical to the general well being of the population that there be a skiable track as early as is humanly possible.
They have been pumping out artificial snow for 3 days and today the 1.5 km, fully lit trail loop opened. It has a 2-3 foot base and is immaculately groomed. Guys have been out there on shift, 24 hours a day getting things ready. Pictures to come tomorrow.
I went for a 2 hour ski on November 3rd. This is earlier than any year I was a "serious" athlete - we normally headed out to Silver Star BC around the middle of November.
As well, the Borat film Cultural learnings of America to make benefit glorious nation of Kazakhstan opened here this evening in its original version. That may count as part VI.
Just thought I would let you all know that by some miracle, I found a flight home on Aeroplan points. I will be arriving on December 17th in Montreal, and I will leave December 29th.
If anyone is going to be in the greater Ottawa/Montreal corridor during this time, drop me a line so we can hook up.
I just changed the tires on my car. The winter tires here have satisfying, aggressive little metal cleats that really mean business.
There is just something about changing the tires on a car that makes me feel awfully male. Same for splitting wood. It gives a guy a deep conviction that if you really had to, you could survive alone in the forest, getting by on nothing but your wits and an innate masculine mastery of bushcraft.
It is a well known fact that getting your hands greasy and filthy satisfies a primitive, crocodilian area of the male brain deep in the cerebellum. I am not making any of this up. This is the same area of the brain that was no doubt aroused in our Homo Erectus ancestors when they got their hands covered with the blood of some hapless prey that would soon become lunch.
All true, I swear.
I think I need to go out and buy an splitting maul.
Every time I hear the accent of one particular CIOR delegate, I think immediately of Borat. This makes it somewhat difficult to concentrate during planning meetings. For more videos, go to Youtube. The one I posted here was the least offensive one I could find...
You know how sometimes you go to the bathroom in a restaurant and when you come back your food is waiting for you? Isn't that just the best?
Well, I kind of had that feeling times on a macro scale when I arrived back here in Umeå, because when I left it was kind of crappy and rainy, and when I arrived, it was WINTER! There is nothing in the forecast above -2 for the next 5 days, so we will be skiing in Nydala for sure.
This is not an exceptional "road", it is actually quite normal for Venice. The runner is Adrian Zissos, by the way. He and Charlotte McNaughton from Calgary were the only other Canadians in the race. Adrian was at the 2005 race also, you can find his report here 
