Life and Times of AlieMalie

Thanks to Brianne for the tag, sorry it took so long to get to it, Vancouver and Seattle were calling … more on that later. But here we are, with a political twist.

1) In a perfect world, we would never have to hear another word from George W Bush.

2) In a perfect world, Bill Clinton would be president and the entire Republican party would have never discovered politics.

3) In a perfect world, acquiring an independent or Canadian island, moving there and then having friends visit would be free.

4) In a perfect world, Stars would give free concerts every night and Wes & Christielli would be their roadies.

5) In a perfect world, the highest paid job would be the job of Supreme Ruler of the Universe (which is already mine), and benefits would include said independent island and travel for friends – oh, and free health care, which I lack now apparently; lovely, AM has no health insurance, thank you oh gods of the healthcare lobby, ye Pfizer and BlueCross and and and …

6) In a perfect world, I’d be able to take measures regarding certain world events into my own hands with no guilt or fear.

7) In a perfect world, speeding wouldn’t be a crime but impersonating the Supreme Ruler of the Universe – hello, Bushie - would have a much harsher sentence – see #6, coughcough.

8) In a perfect world, there wouldn’t be George W Bush as president because everyone would be too busy caring about other people instead of being lured in by propaganda and paranoia.

9) In a perfect world, The Amazing Race would air a new episode every night with me in it.

10) A perfect world would require virtually the entire populace of the US to be sent to another planet.

And you know what? I’m totally going to go here: I tag John. Yea, I went there. Give us a post, buddy.

It’s time for another round of random bullets of nothingness.

Last Thursday as I stood waiting to grab a cup of coffee, I noticed a woman off to the side starting to shake – possibly seize? – and managed to catch her before her head hit the ground – a nice, hard concrete floor. I never thought I’d do the classic, “CALL 911!” and then yell, “Is there a doctor here?! A nurse?!” as I slowly lowered her to the floor. My inclination towards the evils of buying mass market coffee from the devil was negated for the day, you’ll agree.

I never thought I’d meet a random guy in a bar who proudly goes by the nickname Nipples. Who in their right mind goes by Nipples in public?

It’s been a long time since I sat on a front porch ’til 5AM just talking. In the past few months, I’ve missed having friends here in town whom I feel like I can have deep, interesting conversations with ranging from – surprise! – politics to religion to life experiences to girly shoe talk, but somehow I managed to end up in one last night. Was very nice.

Speaking of girly shoe talk, a friend of mine knows a tester for an ultra cool shoe company and she’s always getting samples from their next line of footwear. Unfortunately for her, the shoes her friend sends her are two sizes too big. Her loss is my gain as they’re all my size. I’ve managed to double my shoe collection overnight for free. SWEET!

And last, but definitely not least: I’ve managed to score myself a scholarship to the best art school in town for a photography class. I was intending to just outright pay for the class, but the instructor told me to submit a couple of photos on the off chance I’d win et voila!

With that, I’m off to pack for Vancouver. Cheerio!

You know, one of my favourite dishes has to be rare republican. Yes, you read that right. Rare republican. On Tuesday evening I managed to bait one into a political discussion ranging from welfare to universal health care to European economics and integration.

I loved some of his responses to my volleys in his direction, classic idiot republican. People should “budget better, it would solve all their financial problems” or “it’s not my problem that people can’t afford health care, the market demands high costs.” I’ve gotta say, one of my favourite baits in one of these conversations is to ask if the person shops at WalMart since they’re so concerned about being financially conscious. I usually get the affirmative since “WalMart always has the lowest price” and then I proceed to ask if they know how many people there qualify for health care, how many employees are actually living above the poverty line and then ask if they reaslise that they are, as a tax payer, subsidising those “low prices” in a round about way by having to pay for the welfare checks, the medicare and medicaid, and CHIP programs since people then have to request assistance from the state instead of their employer because they don’t make enough or aren’t allowed to work enough hours to qualify for their company to provide mandatory insurance. In the end, those prices aren’t so low after all, are they?

Long story short, I ended up having him paint himself into a corner where all he had to say was that people should make different choices. Yea, people can, and in some cases really should, make different choices, but sometimes society doesn’t allow a different choice or your choice is dependent on what the market allows.

And European politics, the EU and the EMF? Get the facts straight before opening your big fat mouth – you only look like more of an idiot when I tear your “facts” apart one by one and replace them with real statistics or the actual laws and regulations regarding things like the euro, the White Paper or the Schengen agreement.

While it’s infuriating to listen to someone spout out the classic republican lines and then have to listen to them tell me I must respect the president – fuck no, I’ll respect the office of the president, not Bush himself – otherwise I’m being “unpatriotic,” it’s great fun to watch them writhe and fidget as I shred each one of their arguments methodically one after the other.

I know, I know, I know … I’m way late in writing this next, and final, episode out. Never fear that it is the end of the adventures, my lovelies, I’m leaving again in two weeks for Vancouver so I’m sure there’ll be some sort of travel story from that. Hopefully, I mean, I don’t want a dull trip. Hmm, I really need to knock on some wood now.

I flew back to London from Marrakech and managed to not have my happy little self be deported, though it was definitely stressful standing in line at Gatwick seeing this group of people from my flight who’d been herded off into a corner and sequestered as they called them into a private office one at a time to question them. I was sure I was going to be the next one dragged off never to be heard from again, but amazingly no, I managed to breeze through immigration with a smile. I kept to myself that evening in London ’cause I wanted to make sure I got enough rest so that I wouldn’t sleep through my flight to Calgary. I’m a little bummed I stayed in that evening now that I think of it, as it turned out, that was the summer solstice and the sunset out over the skyline was absolutely gorgeous. Oh well, next time, eh? There will be a next time.

I made my flight to Calgary and immediately struck it up with the girl next to me. Now, some of you might find it amazing that I can continue a conversation for 10 straight hours from the time of boarding ’til the time we split in the baggage area of the Calgary airport, but never fear, I can. No doubt about that. I can talk forever. So I failed the test of keeping to myself while out in public – apparently a crucial rule to abide by if wanting to become a Canadian – and not only did I fail, but I failed miserably (and again and again as I prove later). But, dude, it wasn’t like she was a weirdo or anything, she was a really interesting girl, her family moved to London from Somalia to flee the civil war and she was off to visit family in Saskatoon. Geez, what DID we talk about?! Everything, I guess. Politics, Canada, travel, war, more politics, Gordon Brown, anything and everything.

As she went off in search of her connecting flight to Saskatoon, I went out in search of my personal chauffeur for the weekend who was supposed to be waiting in the arrivals lounge for me. No dice. A couple of minutes later he appeared out on the curb bearing a sign that said Miss [Malie]. Hmph. No “Cyber Brain,” eh? I’m still bummed about that. I dared you, dude. By this time, I was exhausted and almost talked out so I managed to keep my trap shut for the majority of the ride out of Calgary, so the weekend in Alberta commenced by bombing down the highway to Banff and listening to really bad country music from the iPod pumped into the car.

So John and I arrived in Banff and proceeded to check-in at the hotel. When we were presented with the dilemma of the room reserved only having one bed, I immediately butted in. Um, hello? Two beds, duh! Like, now! I didn’t really say that, but the sidelong look from John intimated that I might as well have said something similar to the clerk. Anyway, you know that really annoying kid at the front of every single class who would always shoot their hand up before the questions were even finished being asked? Yea? Me. Old habits die hard. Moving on. Our first stop after getting settled in the room and checking to see if the tv did, in fact, work – it did – was the convenience store down the block for chips and beer, then a quick jaunt into the liquor store for vodka. I’d be damned if I wasn’t going to get smashed at least one night in Canada. I had competition in my league, yo! After as many drunk dials and texts as I’m guilty of … well, whatever. There’s no point to that sentence. Let’s just say that I wanted to let loose and was given a challenge. Too bad I was dead tired that evening and after yelling at the tv once and then struggling to restrain myself from engaging in an all out rant about politics, I fell asleep.

Now, did I mention that I was exhausted? I was. I’d stayed up almost all night previously in London and then had the morning to do my thang, catch my flight, and then stayed awake watching Greenland pass by, then being befuddled by just how large the Arctic Ocean really is. It takes forever to fly over. Anyway, then there was the drive to Banff and staying up a couple of hours more to chat and watch Anderson Cooper on tv. Delicious. So you get the idea that I was dead tired, not to mention this was at the end of the whole traveling-with-the-Texans debacle. I was totally looking forward to a nice comfortable hotel bed on which I could collapse into a luxurious 10 hour deep sleep.

Right.

Have you ever tried sleeping in a room with a full grown sea lion sleeping in the next bed over? I mean, that sounds like a total whack job of describing exactly the sound that was emanating from my roommate, but dude, you know you’ve watched the Discovery channel and seen the sea lions out on the beach honking. Do not deny this. Yea. Well, at 2AM that sound was filling the room. To make a long story short, one does not sleep while sea lions snore. Not a wink. Never fear, I had some stores of adrenaline saved up for being really! damn! excited! for Canada so I drew on those to get me through the following day.

We started by having breakfast at Tom’s – or was it Phil’s? – pancake house. I wasn’t quite awake yet, but I did manage to ask why they didn’t specify whether or not the bacon was normal bacon or Canadian bacon on the menu. Well, duh, Alie, ’cause we’re in Canada and the bacon is probably Canadian. I took a waffle with a side of foot-in-mouth. So, what do y’all say when you ask for bacon on your pizzas – which is totally gross, by the way – do you just say “bacon” or do you actually ask for “Canadian bacon?” I’m still confused on this point. Please clarify.

So off we went to explore Banff. Well, to be completely honest, I was in it to explore Banff and see more of the best country on Earth, but John? John was just out to find some Asian cuties who apparently flood into Calgary and Banff. We were both in luck. As we cruised down to Bow Falls just below the Banff Springs Hotel, I got some in some awesome scenery while, well, John did too. Just as we were reaching the top of the falls, a couple of buses pulled in. Lucky John, starting the day off right. From there, we debated what to do. Should we go to Lake Louise and then come back into town to ride the gondola up to the top of Sulphur Mountain? Or should we take the two hour drive out to Jasper to walk on the Athabasca Glacier?

Take a wild guess. What are glaciers made of? Snow that becomes ice, right? What, after Canada, is the one thing I am absolutely obsessed with? Right. Easy decision. Off to Jasper it was. So, long story short, we ended up on one of the super awesome glacier-mobiles that would take us up to the middle of the glacier. We had an awesome guide who told all sorts of corny jokes to remind us not to get caught underneath the huge tires of the bus, like, What did the mama tomato tell the baby to get him to hurry up? Of course, I, who cannot resist letting someone else answer any question, shouted out Ketchup! It was in this moment that I earned myself another sidelong glance from John that included a mega eyeroll. What?! I was just answering the question, geez. And then it hit me, as much as I’d like to deny it, I am quintessentially American: I’m loud and can’t keep my mouth shut. Still need to work on that.

We hopped off the bus at the top of the glacier and were given about 20 minutes to cruise around, drink some of the water and take a bunch of photos. Exciting! I got to see SNOW! in the middle of June! Not only that, we were standing on the only tricontinental divide in the world. How cool is that? Good news for John, too: there was a whole gaggle of cuties who’d gotten off another bus shortly after we arrived so he got to take in more beauty than just the mountains. Dude, you totally lucked out. After the hard work of ogling beautiful women, John was partched and needed a drink: good thing that the melt water of the glacier is pure enough to drink straight from the little stream that circles the area that we were allowed to walk on. Talk about being ice cold. Yum.

In what felt like no time at all, we were herded back onto our bus and schlepped back off the ice. On the way back, our guide regaled us with tales of really stupid people who approach wild animals in the parks, which, by the way, is a big no no. They’re WILD, duh! We were told of a recent – probably American – moron who managed to get so close to an elk that he was able to put his toddler on the back of the elk and step away to take a picture. You probably can see where this is leading, eh? Idiots, I tell you. As we reached the place where we’d change modes of transportation from the ice crawler to a normal bus to take us back completely off the glacier, we were given the opportunity to see the original auto that was made for cruising the glacier: the Shake & Bake; so named because there was no ventilation, lots of sealed windows and absolutely no suspension so when the first tourists would motor on up to the glacier they would … wait for it … shake and bake. Mhmm. I’m not the only one with really stupid, corny jokes, people! Case in point.

From there, it was time to head back to Banff so as not to miss out on going to the top of Sulphur Mountain via the gondola. So, cue up two hours of singing along to the Dixie Chicks. One of the things that I thought was so awesome about the highway we were on while in the national parks was that they’ve fenced off the entire road from the forests but built bear crossing bridges so that the bears and other wildlife don’t have to cross the highway and fear being hit by passing cars. That is so cool. Speaking of bears. And wildlife, as we were driving back to town, we saw a couple of cars pulled off to the side of the road, I asked John to slow down to see what all the commotion was about and then spotted a baby bear off near the woods. Ooh, yay! I leaped out of the car, camera in hand, and ran over to get a photo. Yes, yes I did, even after the lecture about not approaching wild animals and knowing that mama bears are some of the most ferocious beasts out there – especially when you approach their offspring. But I am a professional (idiot) so do not try this at home.

We made it back into town and promptly went up to the top of Sulphur Mountain on the gondola. I hate heights and gondolas and ski lifts are some of the worst modes of transportation for me because I am convinced that the car is going to break free of the cable as you’re going over one of the tall supports and then we’ll all go crashing down the side of the mountain. In other news, I can hold my breath for the entire eight minutes it takes to make the trek up to the top. Amazing. While at the peak of the mountain, we could see that there was a storm system blowing in, which was great – it was cold and it looked like there were some clouds full of snow coming my way. I was ecstatic! Not only had I seen more snow than I’ve seen in years earlier that day at the glacier, but here I was about to be snowed ON! Yay! To cap it off, as the clouds blew through, the sun came back out and we were treated to a rainbow, or so I thought, I was quickly corrected that it was actually a snowbow. Awesome.

Back to town to hit up some of the nightlife, and since we were nearing someone’s birthday, it was time to really live it up. Or at least try. We started off at one of the pubs on the main drag and then meandered over to a club. I tried my hardest to at least work a buzz, but I had absolutely no luck. Either the elevation was screwing with me or I’d massively raised my tolerance while in Munich with the Texans. John, on the other hand, was flying high. So high that when we got back to our hotel, instead of telling me he was out of cash with which to pay the cabbie, he jumped out of the car and told me to, and I quote, “Pay the man, [Alie]!” Nice. And then he stood, arms crossed with his head tossed back just a bit, waiting for me to open the door to the lobby for him. My, my, my, someone gets a little bossy when they’ve been out drinking. And then he did the same thing at the door to the room. I, on the other hand, was stone cold sober. Why? I have no clue, but I was not pleased. The only thing I got out of a night of drinking in Banff was a massive headache the following morning.

So that was about it for the weekend in Alberta, aside from the short shopping trip Sunday morning to find a shirt for me. I wasn’t having any luck finding one that suited my tastes ’til we were walking back to the car and someone pointed out the Canada, EH?! shirt that is now one of my prized posessions. Never dare me to buy something like that ’cause I will, and I’ll wear it with pride. And with that, it was time to fly back to Texas – however, given my utter distaste for the US, it was hardly a week before I had tickets to leave this place again. Living here is much more bearable when I have an actual date set as to when I get to leave again.