the aftermath

In many ways, I feel as though I have just started to rise from the ashes.  This blog has been on my mind, but I have not been able to find "quiet" time in which to post. 

Vancouver's three civic strikes are now finally over.  The aftermath continues.  The sexy one, garbage, is still being sorted out, with many of us anxiously awaiting the removal of our mounds of recycling and green stuff.  The inside workers return is more personally resonant for me as it has meant a return to preschool for my kid.  This is something we both needed after the longest summer break ever.  These two unions basically got the same deal as the rest of the GVRD (ahem, Metro Vancouver) cities, but just had to wait longer for it. 

Then, there are the librarians.  I used to be library phobic.  Imagine how I managed to get my Master's degree and being a bibliotheque-phobe.  But there it is.  I've now admitted it publicly.  I think it has something to do with old books and the number of people and stuff that have touched them.  I have never liked the smell of libraries, all old and musty.  However, since the birth of my child, I have really come to value libraries and the people who work in them.  They offer such a wide assortment of programs, resources and support for anyone who needs it.  This is very cool.

I never realized, but was not surprised when I learned that the main issue for library workers was pay equity.  You see, library workers are largely women.  And as per usual, our work is not as valued as that of men.  This is the patriarchal reality.  Nonetheless, these workers decided to take on "the man" as it were and have this issue addressed.  In solidarity with the inside and outside workers, they may have had a chance.  However, when those two unions settled, we knew that it was all but over for the library workers.  They went back to work on Monday.  The only concession they got was a study group into the issue of wage parity.  How very Canadian!

I suspect that nothing will really materialize from this group.  Kind of like Canada's various Royal Commissions, at most, they will be a dog and pony show, without either animal.  I am not certain what galls me more:  the fact that women are still fighting for pay equity; or, that people still don't realize that women are still making less money than men for equal work.  So many seem to believe that "women's rights" have been achieved and that our struggle is over.  Not by a long shot baby!  We are almost a decade into the 21st century and women's work remains devalued.

I admire and congratulate those who tried to fight this battle.  I have tremendous respect for your efforts.  We all need to speak out about this injustice.  We have to do it not only for ourselves, but our daughters.  We should leave them this shameful inheritance.

 

 

Technorati Tags: Vancouver civic strike, Vancouver Public Library (VPL), pay equity, women's rights

September round-up

The seasons have changed quickly.  Last time I posted, all the windows were open and I was wearing shorts.  Now I have donned my pjs, the heater is on and it's blustery outside.  Fall has fallen and hard.

I finished sanding and painting my stairs just before the weather turned -- and we're talking hours here.  Husband and child returned from their vacation to find me injured.  Nope, not from working on the stairs, but rather from guilt-inspired house cleaning.  This is proof positive that neither guilt nor cleaning are healthy activities.  I seemed to have aggravated a previously pinched nerve.  I am on the mend now.

It was a good week to be alone, with my thoughts and then with my friends.  Ate some good food.  My friend the poet and I went to La Rocca on the Drive.  We shared a tomato and bocconcini salad and then I had the veggie cannelloni.  Both were good.  The service and atmosphere (including an opera singing server who serenaded a nearby diner with a birthday tune) were very pleasant.  The washrooms were clean and functional.  Everything was surprisingly affordable.  Moreso, because my friend picked up the tab.

I was treated by my sister the following night to a belated birthday dinner at Gotham.  I was really looking forward to this place.  I had been told that I would see celebrities there.  I dunno if union guy, Ken Georgetti counts, because he was the only "famous" person who caught my eye.  The restaurant is huge and has some crazy ass spiral stairs (vertigo anyone ?) if you wish to visit the facilities. 

The service was good.  I want to say excellent, but a couple of the wait staff seemed to lack experience and knowledge.  We had to request a couple of things more than once.  I had been told by my friend the foodie, that this was the best steak in town.  Starting at around $40, I would hope so.  Indeed, the steak was very good.  The idea is that you order a huge steak, which you can share or take home leftovers, and share various family-sized (their term, not mine) side dishes.  We each opted for a New York striploin.  The steaks were cooked to perfection, but basically bland.  I had read somewhere that they could do anything you like to the steak, but that option was neither offered orally or on the menu.  So salt (and a bit too much of that) and pepper it was.

I enjoyed the experience, but was letdown by the lack of "wow' factor.  I don't know what I was expecting, but it was certainly more than what was there.  My sister and I agreed that she made a better steak -- at least a more flavourful one.   And the washrooms were fine, but nothing memorable -- basic, clean and functional; that is, after you made it down two very, steep spiral staircases. 

The next night, some friends had me over for dinner at Chez Pagorgan.  This was indeed a delicious meal with Ahi tuna, accompanied by a wasabi mayonnaise, orzo and spinach.  A half chocolate cake topped off the meal.  What made the meal was that the company and conversation were great.  And their washrooms were very clean!  This was perhaps the best of my dining out experiences during my week of singledom.

Fast forward a couple of weeks, not much dining out.  The husband and child returned and re-entry has been hard.  The child who was well behaved through the whole trip, decided to punish the Mummy for her pseudo-abandonment.  The Mummy, who got quite used to here solitude, struggled with having to answer so many questions from her two loves.  Equilibrium, or some semblance of it, has finally resurfaced.

 

 We went for red meat and Cajun,

We ended up with poultry and Asian.

I can imagine my friend the poet cringing if she reads these words.  I am certainly not a poet, and don't she know it.  Groan, groan, groan!  My dining buddy and I resumed our once weekly dining out experience this week.  She wanted red meat and I suggested a new Cajun Creole restaurant on Cambie called Da-De-Oh!  They were closed, so I shall refrain from offering anymore information about them.  Who the hell closes their restaurant on a Wednesday night!?!

Wanting to support the suffering Cambie businesses, we went to Sate Satu.  I had attempted to go there once before when it was called Sate Express, but they were closed.  Are you detecting a pattern?  The service was good and friendly.  We were told that one of the owners of the former Express at returned to Indonesia and the remaining owner, along with a new partner, decided to chi chi up the place.  It looked a lot nicer than the previous take-away style decor.  We shared the appetizer platter, which had a sampling of everything on their appetizer menu.  It was all very good. 

We also shared some sate.  The menu noted that there would be six sticks per order, our choice of chicken, beef or pork.  I don't really eat pork, so we decided on chicken and beef.  Alas, we were foiled again as they were out of beef.  My friend suggested to me that they could have just run over to Choices across the street, to purchase beef, but unfortunately, they had not done that.  Anyway, we had all chicken.  It was disappointing.  They used thigh meat.  It was pretty bland and did not seem to be marinated in anything at all.  The peanut sauce was good, but there wasn't that much of it.  Frankly, my sate is much better. 

The wine list is small and reasonably priced.  My red wine tasted off and they offered me something else.  I opted for the white wine, since they had no other by-glass-reds.  It was fine.  The also have a small, but decent selection of reasonably priced bottled beer.  The washroom is clean.

We are off to see Loreena McKennitt tonight.  The civic strike has forced a venue change from the Orpheum to GM Place.  That's quite a change.  October starts tomorrow.  Lots of birthdays.  Things are going to be quite busy.

the pseudo-single life

A new template and new day. Actually, I swapped templates last night, but let's just keep that our little secret.

I have been living la vida loca lately. My husband and kid are out of town for eight days. While I should be sleeping, lolly gagging and partying like it's 1999 (for that is likely the last time I partied), I have been doing the the most heinous of chores. I have been prepping my outdoor stairs for repainting. I know, pretty dang exciting, but work that is much easier to do when one doesn't have to mind a very curious three-year-old. By prepping the stairs, I have mainly been sanding them, and sanding them, and sanding them. I still have about an hour's worth of sanding to do before I can actually start to paint.

It all started about two years ago when we had our old stairs replaced. I was assured by the fancy paint place that the latex/acrylic paint would be durable. The fancy paint store went out of business. My paint had already started to chip by then. And so here I am, sans husband and child, doing some pretty awful work. I have invested in a cheap mask and safety goggles, but my lungs still feel fairly sawdusty. And my muscles are just screaming "WTF" at me over and over again.

Okay, so my life is not entirely dreary. I do have my evenings stacked up with various dining excursions. Last night, my friend and I hit Habit (www.habitlounge.ca). The place had a nice vibe and the service was very good. I was kind of playing with the server and she tolerated me very well. The food, on the other hand, was kind of hit and miss. It is served tapas style, intended for sharing. We ordered the tomato and bocconcini salad, which came with pesto. This was delicious and inspired me for future parties. The other two dishes not so much.

We also shared the Moroccan style chicken wings that came with an orange and pomegranate sauce. Sounds yummy right? Well, they were just okay. The wings were lacking any kind of flavour infusion. The sauce was nice, but heavy on the coriander pods and light on the pomegranate seeds. We also ordered the perogies stuffed with yam, which they claimed to be their most popular offering. Here, the problem for us was texture. We both found the stuffing to be a tad too pureed, much like baby food. A little bit of chunkiness would have certainly improved their mouthfeel. The bathrooms had some pretty cool retro wallpaper and were very clean. I will likely check it out again, but -- and you knew this was coming --won't make a "habit" of it. Groan, groan, groan.

Next up, tonight I am not certain, but I am feeling like some seafood. Tomorrow night, we hit Gotham. In the meantime, my stairs await and my body protests.

the kindness of strangers

I was running some errands this afternoon. A young man with a cardboard sign was sitting on the pavement outside Shopper's Drug Mart. His sign read: Student. Hungry & Embarrassed. A camouflaged bucket hat lay before him for donations. As I passed him again, I noticed another man had stopped to ask if he wanted something to eat. He asked the "student" to pack his stuff and come with him. They walked behind us and the would-be benefactor asked the man about himself and what he did. He went to school and was a dishwasher at Denny's. The man took the student to a Subway restaurant (and I use that term loosely) which is where our paths diverged.

Living in the city, I tend to be cynical about panhandling. I also am very skeptical when matters such as poverty or pregnancy are overtly used as a means to solicit money. As a socially conscious person, this creates much dissonance for me. I understand the structural roots and functions of poverty. I know that many of those living in poverty are also working just to maintain their poverty level. This angers me to no end. We are living in one of the wealthiest nations in the world. No one should be without.

Nonetheless, I also know that many folks who panhandle do so because of substance and other abuse issues and do not want to offer money to feed potentially deadly habits. I also have read recently some explanations of the whole gutter punk culture and find it somewhat problematic. I have been aggressively panhandled and known people who have been physically assaulted when they've denied someone some "spare change". Here, I recognize that mental health issues are often significant factors in forcing folks to live on the street. Yet, I still struggle with the whole matter of giving or not giving.

Although I have given money to panhandlers before, I am generally reluctant to do so. I have occasionally purchased some food or water and passed it along, but really no more than that. However, what this man did for the hungry and embarrassed kid was quite remarkable. It was not so much that he was going to buy him something to eat, but the fact that he afforded this kid some dignity. He took the time to learn about this person who was so publicly and abashedly asking for help. It reminded me of a humanity that I like to believe lurks inside all of us. I was humbled by what he did. He is an example to all of us of how we can be and do better. For that, I honour this unknown man and thank him for reminding me that there some very good people in this world.

Wining and dining -- from Main St. to beyond

While the weather outside has been largely frightful, my dining experiences this summer have been fairly delightful.  I have been sticking reasonably close to my neighbourhood, but have ventured further afield on occasion.  No major new discoveries, I am certain, but experiences worth noting.

A friend and I went to the ever popular The Reef earlier in the summer.  As usual, the place was packed and not really conversation friendly.  The service was fairly good as was the food.  I had the chicken roti which was excellent.  I find overall the food there can be hit and miss, but for taste and value, I would recommend this dish.  The washrooms are clean and useable, which always wins points with me.

I have also been to Crave a few times.  Crave is located at the same site as the former Clews (which I did not visit) and The Big C (as in Chow), where I went for breakfast on a few occasions (good food, lousy coffee).  The service at Crave is excellent.  The food is okay.  The first time, I had the halibut and chips.  The fish was heavily battered and the fries, oversalted. 

The dining room is very small and acoustically, problematic.  However, on my second visit, my friend and I asked to be seated on the patio, which I remembered as being nice from The Big C days.  Indeed, it did not disappoint.  Surrounded by luscious herbs, the patio is a very pleasant place to spend an evening.  The food was somewhat better this time.  My friend and I shared some spicy popcorn shrimp which were generous and tasty.  I had a Caesar salad with a chicken add-on.  The latter was okay, but not spectacular.  There is a decent wine list, with some fairly drinkable and affordable wines available both by the glass and per bottle.  More points,  the washrooms are clean and well maintained.

The Main on Main, a family owned Greek restaurant, has also been a good spot for me this summer.  The first time we went for drinks.  The wine list is decent and very affordable.  The relaxing of BC ancient liquor laws now permits folks to have a drink without having to buy food at restaurants.  Nonetheless, the mid-wine munchies got me and we ordered some calamari.  The dish was not as salty as at many of the local Greek places.  There were way too many raw (bleah!) onions for my liking, but the squid were still very edible.  We drank a very enjoyable Jackson Triggs VQA Sauvignon Blanc.

The next visit was a full meal deal.  I enjoyed the chicken souvlaki and of course, the very chocolaty Yellow Tail Shiraz.  Again, the price points were hard to beat.  The service was friendly on both visits, although the servers could learn a bit more about how to open and serve wine.  Hey, I can admit that I am snobby (about some things).  The washroom is dated, but functional and clean.

That night, we also went to Sweet Revenge Patisserie for coffee and dessert.  It has been some time since I have been.  I ate the Sweet Revenge cake which was good, but a little dry.  They have expanded the menu a lot since they first opened, so I shall have to try something new the next time.  They offer the option of shared carafes of pressed coffee, which is a nice alternative to the more common single cup option. 

A few nights back, we hit the Yaletown Brewing Company after being sticker shocked by most other places in the trendy neighbourhood.  We shared the fiery green beans, which were excellent and had quite the kick.  We also split the Italian sausage pizza, which was good, but lacking zap after having had the beans.  The "big ass" (their name, not mine) beer were indeed large as were their prices.  While I give kudos to their washrooms for having change tables for babies and toddlers, they also get a big thumbs down for not removing ashtrays from the stalls.  Boo!

All the Starbucks in Yaletown close early, so we ended up at Urban Fare (which is open until midnight) for coffee.  My decaf latte was rather enjoyable.  They have a water cooler and paper cups for those wanting water.  We watched a woman fill and old two litre coke bottle for her dog.  The lesson here is two-fold.  First, never underestimate the lack of consideration of the public at-large.  Second, think twice before drinking water from a publicly accessible water cooler.

Tonight, my foodie friend suggested that we go to La Buca, a chi chi poo poo, neighbourhood restaurant located in the Mackenzie Heights area of town (I wonder if it's still called that???).  The clientele was much older than the crowds I have been encountering on Main.  The layout is much like a bistro and not unlike Crave.  However, for the most part, the acoustics were much better. 

The wine list is mainly Italian (not my favorite) and some Spanish.  The prices varied from affordable to not-so cheap.  We had the Di Majo Norante Ramitello (I had to cut and paste that), a very dry red wine from the Molise region.   The food was pretty fine.  I had a taste of my friend's appetizer of stuffed zucchini blossom, delicately filled with a ricotta mixture.  For our entrees, she had the ravioli stuffed with prawns and I had the Tuscan steak.  Both were very tasty and well presented.  I also enjoyed the strong coffee flavors in the tiramisu.  Unfortunately, by the time we ate dessert, they had overfilled the table next to us and I felt as though the man at the end might as well the sat on my lap. 

The service was acceptable, but not top notch as would befit the caliber of restaurant they are trying to present.  Access to the one restroom involves a tricky maneuvering through the incredibly tiny and chaotic kitchen.  This also takes away from the experience and illusion of fine dining.

So apart from the usual visits to The Thai House, White Spot and Kitsilano Sushi with the kid and sometimes other family, these have been my dining out excursions this summer. 

Happy eating!

 

Technorati Tags: Main Street dining, The Main, Crave, The Reef, Sweet Revenge, Yaletown Brewing Company, La Buca, The Thai House, White Spot, Kitsilano Sushi

Shemina

A couple of weeks ago, I met a woman who was a friend of and worked with Shemina Hirji. She told me that she had been at the wedding and knew the couple. I asked her what she thought about the overt public speculation that Paul had killed Shemina. She said that she sincerely hoped not, but she was beginning to think that he might be guilty. There were tears in her eyes and I did not pursue the matter, simply offering her condolences for her loss.

Paul Cheema, widower and likely murderer of Shemina Hirji, committed suicide on Monday, August 27, 2007. His guilt seemed to have gotten the better of him. Now, two families each have a dead child. My initial reaction was why didn't he do it to himself first and that way Shemina would be alive. However, upon clearer thinking, I thought perhaps that had he gotten some sort of help in the first place, neither one would have had to die. What a horribly tragic situation for both families. Their children married about a month and half ago and now, they are both dead.

The police have not confirmed the death a suicide, but his family has. The police also have not verified the rumour that they were about to arrest him after having interviewing him just recently. Paul allegedly had made previous suicide attempts. Apparently, this is a common guilty action undertaken by those who have murdered someone about whom they cared.

I don't know how much of the truth will come out and who really deserves to hear it. A "friend" of the Cheema family said that the details of Shemina's death needed to be revealed for her family's sake. I don't know that this is necessarily the case. I've heard rumours that she was brutally (as if there is any other way) stabbed. I cannot fathom how making this information public will benefit the family in any way. I hope that both the families can find some way to deal with their losses and make some kind of peace with their pain.

In memory of a family friend

Last week, I went to a funeral for a man that I have known since childhood. He was a friend of my Dad's and our travel agent. We were also related through marriage as his brother is married to my dear cousin. Nizar "Nick" Manji died on August 11, 2007. He was one of those adults who was not condescending to kids. He always acknowledged me as a child. This is something children never forget.

When my Dad passed, Nick went out of his way to help us get decently priced tickets back to Ottawa. In those days, there wasn't much competition and a flight to central Canada usually cost around $800. He used some of his personal vouchers so we would not have to pay that much. An unforgettable gesture during a time of horrific grief.

Two years ago, there was a tragic accident on a north shore highway. A logging truck lost its load and a couple of logs went over the median and landed onto a car that was heading in the opposite direction. The driver and passenger, a mother and daughter, were instantly killed. This was Nizar's family. In an instant, they were gone, dying in the most unfathomable way.

Thousands of people came to the funeral. It was a media circus. These deaths shook the Ismaili community and we were out in full force. Understandably, Nick's grief was palpable. However, when I offered him my condolences, he looked at me the same way he did when I was a child. Even in pain, he remembered that kid who used to hang out with her Dad and acknowledged her. That was the last time I saw him alive.

A while back he was diagnosed with cancer. Things happened quickly and now he is gone. His funeral was not the spectacle of his wife and daughter's funeral. It was a simple funeral for a man who lived and then, died.

The Ismaili senator was there. She is friend's with Nick's cousin who seemed to be his primary caregiver. She was minding her grandson. The Senate is on its summer break. She used to be my Mum's lawyer. She has not changed. She looks the same. I had my daughter with me and we talked, mainly about kids. For some reason, she showed me her tattoos. Needless to say, one of them is the maple leaf. It was kind of funny. She seemed uncertain where the lunch would be and asked if she could follow me. Given that I generally don't agree with her politics, I was impressed by her lack of pretense. The tattooed senator was there to support her friend and look after her grandson.

The lunch that followed was an intimate gathering at his apartment complex. We were invited mainly due to our family connection. His brother brought out a couple of albums. One was a scrapbook that Nizar had made to honour his lost daughter. The other was pictures of him with family and friends which seemed to be taken after his diagnosis. These albums, those of us who knew him and were touched by his life are all that remains of his existence. His wife and daughter are gone. An entire family is no more.

I'm not sure what happens after we die. The fantasy is that we reunite with loved ones. While this is a comforting explanation, I just don't know if I can buy it. Mostly, I find comfort in knowing that death means the end of physical and emotional pain and suffering. Nizar no longer has to miss his family and live with the pain of their loss. At long last, I hope that he is at peace.