The Man I Love - Well, I didn't think it was possible but I've found a new man.

I know, I know, shocking considering I moved here to be with my female partner and am just about the dykiest dyke you'll ever meet. But, don't worry, my partner loves him too. In fact sometimes, we enjoy him together.

Who is this man, you ask? Who could possibly find himself being enjoyed by two dykes, something which I've discovered is the secret fantasy of just about every straight man on the planet? His name is Tim. Tim Horton to be exact.

Yes, indeed, I'm a convert folks. Now granted, I've never met the actual "Tim Horton." I mean he is dead after all. But, if I did, I'd plant a big, fat, coffee and Tim-bits smelling kiss on him.

For those of you reading this who don't know who or what Tim Horton's is, the simplest way to explain this Canadian phenomena is this:

Tim Horton's coffee is to Canadians as McDonald's French Fries are to Americans.

You know how no matter where you get fries, you always compare them to McDonald's? And you know how you can have a million other plans and places to be, but the smell of McDonald's fries wafting from blocks away makes you at least go through the drive through?

Yeeeeaaaaahh... now imagine that same kind of addictive joy in a cup of hot coffee. Take it from a recent convert, Star-fucks and the rest have got nothing on my Tim!!!

(FYI: I've included a link to the Tim Horton's website on my links list if you're so inclined.)

Homophobia Begins at Home - This weekend my partner and I went to visit my folks in the States. On our way there, at the very first rest stop we hit in the good ol' USofA, something that I haven't had happen since I moved to Canada did: a group of three women in the restroom started making comments about me (you know the usual shit, "You're in the wrong restroom...," "Oh, my isn't this the women's room?").

Now, I'll be the first to admit, I ain't even vaguely girly. But it's amazing to me how for as many public bathrooms that I've used thus far north of the border, no one has yet mistaken me for "a guy" and made rude remarks to me about my gender expression or my sexuality. Yet, in the States, it seems to happen with as much frequency as those freaking Christian radio stations that are more plentiful than a plague of locusts.

This leads me to ask, are Canadians more tolerant? More observant? Less observant? or simply more focused on the task at hand in the restroom?

Lemma tell ya what I think is partly responsible (can we stop her is the better question?). I think that because of the number of equal protections built into the legal system, including marriage, the larger social culture has its "tone set" already. Even if you're homophobic, you know you're going more against the fabric whereas in the States, expressing and acting on your homophobia is practically patriotic.

Now, I'm sure there are places "out west" in Canada that aren't so keen on the queers. But hell, at least they're full of "rural gals" who look just as butch if not more so than me!!!

Look busy, Jesus is coming - Today as my partner and I were browsing in the video rental store, she was approached by a short, dark skinned man with an accent that sounded Indian.

"Excuse me," he said, "Do you know about 'The Last Temptation of Christ'?"

"I'm sorry, we don't work here, sir," my partner politely replied.

"No, I know, but I was looking for someone who would know something about Jesus and this movie," he stated.

"Oh, geez, uh" my spiritual but not religious partner fumbled, "you'd better talk to my partner. Honey... uhhh..."

As I tore myself away from the "D's" in the "New Releases" section, the man approached me and asked again, "Do you know about 'The Last Temptation of Christ'?"

"Uh, yes, it believe you'll find it in the drama section," I answer, assuming he's trying to find a copy of it.

"No, no, I know that, but, what about Jesus? What does this movie say about him?"

"Well," I reply, the light bulb starting to dimly illuminate, "the movie was very controversial because it looks at what would have happened if Jesus he married and had children. Some people protested when it first came out because they thought it was blasphemous."

The man immediately became more animated because I think I'm finally started understanding what he was really trying to ask. "Yes, yes! But, don't they believe that he was single, that he didn't marry?"

"Right," I exclaim, catching onto his energy, "the Christian scriptures and traditions teach that he did not marry and that he died on a cross and was raised from the dead. This movie tries to explore what would have happened if he married and had children. Some people have questioned if he had perhaps married Mary Magdalene."

"But, isn't Mary his mother?" he continued.

"Yes, Mary was his mother and there was another Mary, Mary Magdalene who was in his circle," I answer.

"Ahhhh, I see. They believe he was single and this movie imagines something else," he says definitively.

"Yes, that's it." I reply back.

"Very good, thank you very much."

After we end our brief theological discourse, my partner, who tends to wander off at the first sign of "religion," returns and asks, "What was that all about?"

I pause and think a moment before answering, "Well, he wanted to know about Jesus. I'm not sure, but, I think he assumed that he asked some white folks, we'd be more likely to know something about Christianity."

"Huh, well, I guess of all the people here, he probably got the right person to ask with you."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

One of the most refreshing aspects of moving to Toronto has been it's diversity. More than even the huge range of cuisine, perhaps one of the biggest benefits of this diversity is not having every other radio station being a Christian one like in the U.S. In fact, since I've been here, I've heard more t.v. and radio shows that are Muslim, Sikh and Hindu than anything else. I think one of the reasons it took a bit for the penny to drop for me in talking with this man is a result of the Christo-centrism so prevalent within the U.S. where we assume everyone, even people who aren't Christian, to know all about Jesus. Though, I'd bet ya the farm, this guy still knew more about Jesus and Christianity than I know about what his faith tradition might be.

Lingo Limbo - Recently, I had to ask someone to sign a work related document for me. As I handed them the document, I said, "... and could you please put your John Handcock right there," to which the person responded, "Huh?"

"Uhhhh, sign here," I asked again, realizing that my very American reference was completely lost on this person.

Yeah, I've been having a lot of those kinds of moments recently in which I realize how much of what what we say, how we say it and how we spell it is so culturally bound. The spell checker on my work computer up here loves me and my New York ways!! I've been having to read through paperwork at least twice because half the time I'm using Canadian spellings (which in many cases the differences are about using the more British spellings). But, then as I get rollin' with my writing, I forget and drop back to American spellings.

People ask me things like do I have a touk or a bellaclava in case I go "Up North" in the fall (and I have no idea if I've even spelled those right). Dude, to me, it sounds like Touks are an ethnic group originating from a former Soviet block region now called Bellaclava. And as far as I know, I am "Up North" in comparison.

Hey, but, it's not all bad. At least coming over the border, I went from being a "counselor" to being a "counsellor." I'll take a one letter promotion any day!

Extra Credit Assignment - Banking has never been one of the most exciting "errands" I do. Since moving from the U.S. to Canada, however, it has now moved down close to "getting a root canal" on my list of favorite things to do.

First, I've discovered that U.S. and Canadian banks don't play together, never mind play nicely. Turns out that banks between the two countries, even when owned by the same damn multinational company, refuse to acknowledge each other's existence. The best you can really do to transfer/open accounts is to come with a bank check in hand and hope they don't put a 10 day hold on it like they did mine (don't get me started on how holding a bank check defeats the purpose of using a bank check in the first place).

Second, until I moved here I didn't fully appreciate the low and/or no fee banking I had in the States. It seems in Canada, the banks charge you fees for absolutely everything and then charge you more when you go over the number of "transactions" you are allotted for your particular kind of account. And I should probably explain that "transactions" according to most banks in Canada include withdrawing or depositing money in person, over the phone or at the ATM (even ones owned by the bank), writing checks and sometimes even making electronic payments. I'm amazed they didn't charge me for breathing excessively in line the other day.

Third, and most frustrating to me is the fact that since coming here and getting my brand spanking new social insurance number, I apparently have NO CREDIT HISTORY according to all the Canadian banks. Last week I applied for an in-store credit card at IKEA and got turned down. Despite the fact that I have perfect credit in the U.S. and a credit limit at least 4 times what I need there, I'm not even qualified to borrow a pencil at the bank in Canada.

"Well, we MIGHT be able to give you $500 limit and see how it goes from there," the bank representative across the desk said to me, smiling in the same way that people smile at the McDonald's cashier who has Down's Syndrome.

"What?!" I exclaimed. "You mean to tell me that you're giving me the same kind of credit limit that you would give an 18 year old who is just getting their first card with a part time summer job?"

"Yes. I'm sorry," she replied, though I don't believe for one second she really was sorry.

Weights & Measures - Ok, for the most part I'm sorting things out here north of the border... the best route to get to work, how to find my way to Ikea (which by the way, I now need a 12-Step program Ikea-holics Anonymous), traffic rules which are particular to at least Toronto and so on.

But, one area that keeps throwing me for a loop is the whole measuring thing. It's getting better now, but for the first 2-3 weeks I was here, I would wake up in the morning and have to ask my partner what to wear because at the moment I have no mental framework for the temperature told to me in Celsius. Listening to the weather on the morning news, the temperature feels like an arbitrary number... "and today folks we're gonna have a scorcher with a high of 30 degrees."

Huh? 30 degrees in my lil' brain means break out with your winter coat. Mornings are hard enough without trying to work out some conversion formula that I had to learn in 7th grade science... something about multiply by 5/7th's divide by the square root of the daily currency exchange rate and add the number of Canadian beers left in the fridge?

It's not just the temperature that I'm messed up about, it's distance and weight.
Example A. - Most maps here read in kilometers; my car's odometer only reads miles so when I'm driving I'm trying to convert so I don't miss my next intersection.
Example B. - I jumped on the treadmill on the gym and was asked for my weight in kilograms. Although I do have to admit, saying my weight in kilograms does make me sound skinnier since it's a smaller number!

Friendliness Factor - So far, so good here in Canada. I've manage to sign myself up for a social insurance number and sign up for the government based medical insurance (more on my thoughts and experiences on that later).

There is, however, one very unnerving experience which keeps repeatedly happening: people are friendly.

I know it sounds strange that this would tweak me out but it does. The fact that strangers speak to me... on the street, in the store, at the gym, wherever... for no other reason than to be polite and friendly, is a bit of a mind-bending experience for me. For example, the day I moved here and was unloading my moving van, more than one person stopped as they were walking by and welcomed me to Canada and the neighborhood and said they hoped I liked it here. They were being friendly and sadly my first thought was, "They stopped to talk to me so they can scope my shit out."

I guess living most of my life in NY, I assume that if I don't know you and you start talking to me you are: a) crazy, b) going to mug me, or c) crazy and you're going to mug me. There have been a few times when my partner and I have been out when strangers have initiated some sort of conversation with us and she has actually had to tell me to "relax." You see, when folks do that, I physically and mentally get into a defensive posture and assume the worst.

I'm a little better now but for the most part, I still feel like I'm in some sort of shiny-happy twilight zone episode or a warmer and fuzzy version of a Ray Bradbury story. I suppose I should be grateful to being pushed to stretch and grow in this way... makes me wonder if there's a way to make this kind of attitude contagious?

Happy July 4th! Happy Canada Day! - This past weekend I got to experience my first Canada Day on July 1st, which for those American folks reading this who don't know, is the day Canada officially became a country.

It's been an interesting experience watching the media and observing the preparations for Canada. There is definitely a sense of national pride here in Canada but it feels so different than in the States. I can't quite put into words how, but maybe some examples of differences will help illuminate what I'm struggling to find words for.

One difference I noticed was that in the media Canada Day is was described as "Canada's Birthday," or the day Canada became a country. There was not the same kind of emphasis on "hard fought independence" as in the States. This kind of makes sense given how the States originally came into being versus Canada. Even just reading through both national anthems, you can clearly see differences in that the U.S. anthem speaks of "bombs bursting in air" and Canada's talks of "we stand on guard for thee." (If you haven't even heard Canada's anthem, I'm sure you can Google it).

Second, in the days leading up to Canada day, there was not the kind of advertising blitz I'm used to seeing in the States where every furniture and car dealer sees even the vaguest of holidays as a commercial coattail. In fact, I read that any store bigger than a certain square footage and not in a designated tourist area is required to close on Canada day and other state holidays or face severe fines, sometimes up to $50,000 CND!!

Somethings did feel familiar... lots of flags, fireworks, BBQ's... but there wasn't quite the underlying we're-#1-and-don't-you-forget-it feel that seems to pervade American patriotism, especially these days. Given that the UN recently named Toronto the most multicultural city in the world, the sense of nationalism here feels more complex and frankly, more mature. This past weekend felt to me as if there was room to appreciate Canada without doing it in a way that necessarily meant that other countries and groups therefore had to necessarily be "lower" or "less than."

And so today, on July 4th, I will hang out my newly purchased American flag on my deck and perhaps on my walk to work, I'll hum a "patriot" tune or two to remember the day in a quiet ex-patriot kind of way.

Houston, we have lift off - Well, I'm here, I'm queer, I'm still unpacking.

So for those of you keeping up with my little saga, I have to say, the process getting into Canada with all my worldly possessions was quite anti-climactic. The actual drama occurred the morning of my move and trying to load up the moving van and get the car and hitch attached. I was fortunate that I had some amazing friends who not only had strong backs and a high tolerance for the amount of crap I have but who also had savant-like visual-spacial sensibilities.

I took a different route into Canada than I normally do, which was a bit of shot in the dark but I thought about as well calculated a risk as possible. I went with the unknown route in because I heard it was far less busy than the one I usually take through Buffalo. So, after leaving, I drove North for about an hour and a half with my partner, my cat, this 17' moving van and car in tow (I now have a whooooooole new appreciation for truck drivers) and reached the border with a knot in my stomach. Although I knew my paper work was in order, my life works such that I was convinced that they would tear apart my van which had been packed as tightly as a pimento in an olive.

However, when I reached the border, the woman at the booth stated, she didn't think I'd need to do anything since my permit was only for a year but I'd better stop in the office just in case. After managing to park the monstrosity I was driving, my partner and I went in the office. After about a 4 minute conversation, they determined that I would only need to submit lists of belongings and so on if I was coming in for the first time as a permanent resident or on a work permit longer than 36 months. It actually took longer for them to tell about where the bathrooms were and how to get to the nearest Tim Hortons.

That's it.

No search.

No other questions.

Just, Welcome to Canada!!

So, now I'm hear and up to my eyeballs in the new job, the new place and getting to "be" with my partner without the commute. I'm already having lots of adjustments (some more along the lines of observations and some just mind bending shifts) which I'll write about over the next few weeks.

The final push - Ok, T minus 32 hours and counting until we load up the moving van and make a run for the border.

Took a few days in Cape Cod to relax and have a bit of a vacation. I didn't quite realize how badly I needed to "just be." I actually didn't set the alarm for three mornings in a row!! ... proof that miracles do happen.

And now, my partner and I are in the final throws of packing and sorting. It has not been pretty folks, but, I think it's getting done. As she said earlier today in the midst of the two of us having a "moment," we have different perspectives on what kinds of things to hang on to and why. I do have to say, however, despite our differences (I am waaaaaaaaay more sentimental about "stuff"), we've been respectful of each other's needs or at least tolerated each other's vocalizing of needs.

While on vacation, I caught news of the foiled terrorist plots in Toronto. And in case you were wondering how self centered this whole process has made me, let me tell you my biggest worries about all this terrorism in Canada stuff. Am I worried about the prime minister? No, not at all (besides he's like the Mini-Me version of Bush). Am I worried about major parts of the city being blown to smithereens? Nope. Am I worried about my own personal safety and that of my loved ones there? Nuh-uh. What, you ask, am I really worried about? At this moment, I am most concerned if this now means the border guards are going to make me unload and reload my whole moving van and add hours of labor and time to the day and screw up my carefully organized and precisely timed "load out" at the new casa.

Yep, that's it folks, my biggest concerns about the extremist version of the "B & B" (bomb and behead) is that my move will be made more difficult. Pretty shallow, I know, but it's where "I'm at." Besides after years of "yellow" and "red" alerts, I'm chicken-littled to the point of numbness anyway.

So, at this point, I'll be dismantling my computer for the move and hopefully in a few days time, I'll be back on-line and ready to begin the chronicling of this process from "the other side." Wish me luck!