The Quebec odyssey is beginning. In 13 minutes I get on a ferry which will take me to Seattle. After that it’s a flight to Minneapolis, a flight to Cleveland, and finally a flight to the beautiful castle-wall enclosed city of Quebec. But that’s not all. Upon arriving in Quebec City the next stop is Gare du Palais aka the local bus station, where I will board an Intercar that will (hopefully) take me to Chicoutimi at 6:30pm. At 9:00 Quebecois Standard Time, I will (hopefully) arrive in Chicoutimi, where I will be ferried (figuratively) to my host family’s house. That is, assuming I have a host family. As of now I still haven’t heard whether or not I have a host family, or who it is. I’m not even entirely sure I’m in the program. I paid $200 bucks (Canadian), and all they sent me was an email to the Program’s blog where there’s a video in French of a guy telling you what to wear in case it rains.
Anyway.
The adventure is beginning. French immersion. A part of North America I have never been to before. No cell phone. No computer. Lots and lots of…I have no idea.
T minus nine minutes.
This entry was written by , posted on July 4, 2010 at 12:02 am, filed under Ravenna, Travels, Uncategorized, the boot. Leave a comment or view the discussion at the permalink.
Condoleezza Rice, the linguist. Condoleezza Rice, the seductress. Condoleezza Rice, the purveyor of fine Moroccan goods.
That would be my store: “Mark and Mark’s, purveyors of fine Moroccan goods.” We would sell nothing Moroccan in the shop. We would specialize in Grade B Canadian Maple syrup and sarongs imported from Bangladesh. When people asked who the other Mark was I’d say, I’m the other Mark. I am both Mark’s. Where’s the other ______ ?” (insert name of the person I was talking to. When they asked where the Moroccan goods were I’d chuckle ruefully and sigh. “We’re fresh out.”
I would always keep a fresh box of Moroccan gunpowder green tea next to the counter and I would drink tea loaded with sweet-smelling mint leaves and sugar and when people approached the counter asking if they could buy a box of the tea I’d say, “Sorry, this is my personal stash. We should be getting some in next week, though.”
I would demand diligence of my customers and also an knack for knowing when I would be open. There would no posted hours and I would close without warning. Sometimes I would be open from 2-4 in the afternoon on Sunday and sometimes I would close the shop for weeks on end with only a sign on the door that said, “Out for a bite to eat. Be back in 10” with a clock showing what time I had left. The customers would not complain because complaining would only serve to have them barred from the store. They would learn to be subservient. Subservient in their pursuit of non-existent Moroccan goods.
This entry was written by , posted on May 2, 2010 at 4:32 pm, filed under Ravenna, Uncategorized. Leave a comment or view the discussion at the permalink.
I didn’t see a polar bear. And I didn’t see the northern lights. Actually, that’s not true: on Alaska Airlines flight 52 from Barrow to Fairbanks I saw a thin band of glowing light out the window somewhere around Anaktuvak Pass that I think were the northern lights, albeit in a muted form. I am back in Seattle now. It is warm. I can go outside and pee on things and my wiener will not fall off. Praise Jesus.
Some photos from my last day in Barrow:
Home away from home, sweet home.
View from in front of the Airport Inn facing south.
Air conditioning.
Hypothermia ain’t shit when you got myrrh.
You know when you go to go down the slide and you realize your ass cheeks are literally frozen together? Special feeling.
Chukchi Sea. Miles and miles of desolate wasteland.
A few minutes with the ice scraper and she should be good to drive.
Frozen Chukchi bluffs.
This entry was written by , posted on December 23, 2009 at 8:18 pm, filed under Alaska, Chipotle, Ravenna, alcohol and tagged ak, Alaska, barrow, norther lights. Leave a comment or view the discussion at the permalink.
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It pays to have talented friends. Greg Miller is an extremely talented photographer. He takes pictures of goats licking up pee and warms up his battery using his belly so he can take 30-minute exposures of the stars in the Enchantments near Leavenworth. That’s called dedication. I had never had the honor of getting my portrait taken by Greg until a week ago — the very last night he had his studio in downtown Seattle. The whole thing was so easy. I stood for about two seconds on a piece of white paper while Greg snapped photos for what seemed like 1.5 seconds. A few days later he sent me the results, and I was stoked out of my mind.
Thanks Greg — shit’s sick! Check out more of Greg’s photos at frostlinephotography.com
This entry was written by , posted on October 6, 2009 at 10:19 pm, filed under Ravenna, Travels, Uncategorized, the boot. Leave a comment or view the discussion at the permalink.
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A surprisingly hog-free aisle.
Turkey: Close cousin of the pig.
Airplane bathroom.
Airplane bathroom, part two.
Shit’s big.
Walking to the metro.
Surgical mask times = Good times.
This entry was written by , posted on May 19, 2009 at 9:01 pm, filed under Ravenna, Uncategorized, Writingz and tagged continental airlines, mexico city, swine flu. Leave a comment or view the discussion at the permalink.
Just so everyone knows, Chipotle on the Ave will be closed this Easter Sunday. I repeat: CHIPOTLE ON THE AVE WILL BE CLOSED THIS EASTER SUNDAY. If you’re like me and were planning on leaving your family brunch a little early to squeeze in a quick chick burr before Masters coverage then you’ll just have to postpone those plans till Monday. Hope everyone has a good weekend regardless.
-Wetzler
Some chick after I told her the news.
This entry was written by , posted on April 10, 2009 at 3:26 pm, filed under Ravenna, Uncategorized. Leave a comment or view the discussion at the permalink.