Getting Around

It’s night and music is pumping from student hangouts all along Burnette St. (the main strip in Hatfield). The dated pop music reminds me of high school days, not that it stops drunk head pumpers from the University. Cars are crammed tightly up to the curb: BMWs, Beetles, 4x4, an odd SmartCar and Mini Austins. My own ride?: sturdy legs bent L-shaped from being at a 9-5 desk job.

They told me that public transit is impossible in this city and I’m starting to agree. Double-decker buses run only till 6pm when it starts getting dark. Otherwise, you’ve got Kombi taxis- minivans that honk incessantly to pedestrians and other cars alike to attain passengers. You need to give the secret hand signal: a slight bend of the hand towards the direction you want to go. If you don’t know the routes, watch out!

I never knew we had it so good with the Canadian public transportation that runs till 2 in the morning. As a female, it’s not recommended that you walk alone after dark. So if you want to get around after 6(!), you’ve gotta get a list of metered taxi drivers in your little black book. If you use them a lot, you might be able to bargain for better deals.

The Rough Embassy Life

Being new arrivals, Tanya and I are trying to find a network of friends, so we’ve been hot on the trail of ex-pats in our vicinity. We’ve crashed the monthly Canadian pub night at the Embassy. The first time we visited them, we discovered that they are not very welcoming peeps. (They have an operating budget that only allows them to hold one event a month. But wait! They actually have a Canadian newspaper in their waiting area! A dog-eared Ottawa Citizen dated June 2003. . .hmmm.)

The participants that night were mostly middle-aged government workers absorbed in their “work” conversations. We tried our own hand at networking/schmoozing and managed to meet the chairman of South Africa’s branch of Daimler-Chrysler who went to Mandela’s birthday party. Other attending guests included the Clintons, Naomi Campbell and current/past Miss Africas. Fidel also made an appearance via video.

We went to the Australian Embassy’s WEEKLY pub night and bumped into a couple we met at the Canadian pub (he’s from California and she’s Swiss working at her embassy). They also showed up at the TWICE-WEEKLY pub nite at the Brit Embassy. (And no, contrary to most people’s popular belief, I did not attempt to pretend I was from Cambridge). I’ve decided that this whole Embassy Circuit is more like a Carni’s life than one of an intern. Luckily we met a group of interns who were playing “football” at the British Embassy. But they are all German (I promise I’ll try to mail one to Korea) except for one Swiss. Their internships only last for two months.

The embassies and High Commissions are all in the Hatfield area and remind me of the fancy Ambassador houses in Sandy Hills by the park in Ottawa. The American Embassy is huge and is right by the Australian and British ones.

Ironless Chef

Still kitchenless, I’m living like a backpacker who eats her dinners by can opener and unsliced bread. I’m beginning to understand the logic of the beans and bread/toast mentally that Brits have. Thank goodness for couscous and raw veggies. Hopefully, this arrangement is temporary because I’m planning to move to a place with a kitchen (and eat worse imitation Chinese food???)

My other option is to eat out. This option is fat-inducing and unkind to my wallet (although I must say it’s relatively cheaper than eating out in Vancity). Disappointingly, there is no Indian, Japanese or Greek food in Hatfield. There are a couple Chinese restaurants. I went to one and it was passable- extremely greasy. But I guess that makes it the more authentic Chinese experience (like the ones in Beijing).

Shopping for a more vegetarian alternative is difficult too. No soy ingredients at the local supermarket means no tofu. I found out recently that the Chinese restaurant I went to sell it by the block. When you go out to eat and want to choose vegetarian, the only options are either tomato & cheese or spinach & feta. And yes, initially I thought spinach and feta go wonderfully together but now I’m not sure if I’ll ever order that when I get home.

For further updates on the food chronicles South Africa, stay tuned. . .