Dad's Scarf

I don’t normally show my knitting in progress to the intended recipient until it is all done, but I wasn’t sure my father would actually wear a scarf I knit for him, so I showed him the yarn before I even started and asked him a few questions. I then knit most of the scarf while we were on vacation together this summer in Hokkaido. The first time I ran out of yarn I confused the wife of our ryokan owner by asking her if there was a local yarn store. I figured that given all the delicious lamb we had been eating there should be wool available SOMEWHERE, but apparently not. I ended up having to drag dad to the nearest department store so he could help me pick out a simple contrasting yarn.

When I realized I was going to run out of yarn again, I put the project aside until I’d have enough time to go to the specialty store in western Tokyo to buy some more of the beautifully coloured brown yarn, and moved on to other projects. With the holidays approaching and the cold weather starting to hit my father’s corner of the world, I realized I’d have to get cracking on his scarf if I hoped to give it to him while I was in Canada for the holidays. Finish it I did, and in perfect timing to use my brand new blocking wires too! (While I didn’t really need blocking wires for this type of a bulky project I was THRILLED to use my Christmas present and loved loved LOVED just how easy it made the whole process!)

As for the scarf, it is a reversible cable pattern, and despite what a number of people have said about how intricate it looks, it was a mind-numbingly easy knit – 23 rows of simple 1 x 1 rib and then one row with a big and somewhat awkward cable, then 23 more rows of 1 x 1 rib… Simple and very easy to do on the move.





Dad seems happy with the finished project – he’s contemplating buying a new jacket to match and has already started muttering about wanting a toque too…

Sutaba vs the S-buck

In Japan it's Sutaba, but apparently in Prince George it is "the S-buck." Or at least that is what one teenage girl called it - although given the number of times she had to repeat it, I'm guessing that the person on the other end of her cell phone hadn't heard the new name either. But you could excuse the poor confused individual on the phone, for it is hard to keep up with the changes this town has undergone in the 15 years since my father moved here. Every single time I come back for a visit I notice a new commercial chain that has moved in. Not all last - a branch of Vancouver's best-loved bagel store lasted only a few years, and both Eddie Bauer and Thriftys have both closed their doors - but on the whole the town is expanding and commercializing at a dizzying rate. I think what surprised me the most, however, was the smart car I saw yesterday, for this has always been the land of the pick-up truck. What once was a Tim Horton's town now has three S-bucks with drive-through windows, and people are swapping their double-doubles for soy chai lattes and non-fat extra hot mint mochas.

So there I sat, drinking my toffee-nut latte and trying to work on an analysis paper for my art history class, and becoming increasingly distracted by the chatter of the staff. I listened as they talked about how tired they were, how crazy busy they had been earlier, how they had botched up drink orders (mine included), how they didn't know how to properly dispose of old coffee and might clog the sink... And I got to thinking about professionalism. It surprised me a little that the staff had no problems having these types of conversations in front of customers and at a volume level that ensured that all the customers in the store could hear them. I don't think you would be likely to overhear the same sort of thing in a Sutaba. The Japanese staff would be much less likely to have private conversations at loud levels while they were working. The level of politeness towards the customer and the level of professionalism of the employee are different.\

Of course, that means that you the customer are less likely to joke around with the barista making your drink, chat with the cashier at the grocery store, be patted on the head by your waitress at the pub, or hugged by the manager of the liquor store. Some how an overly perky "IRASHAIMASE!" just doesn't compare...

Memory Lane

I'm back in Canada at my dad's (don't even ask about the trip back - I'm not ready to talk about that yet! garrrgh!)

Anyways.

The house my father now lives in is one he moved into only a few years ago, long after I had moved away. The house itself may not have a long history for me, but it certainly holds one. From my maternal grandmother's gorgeous wardrobe in my bedroom, to the boxes of books I read as a child, and all the other bits and pieces that my family of packrats have kept over the years.

One of my favourite things to do when I am here is to go through old photo albums. Sometimes I look through my parents' wedding photos, or my baby albums. Other times I look through the albums I made of my summers spent working in the Canadian Rockies or of my exchange to Japan.

With the number of times I've moved, you'd think I'd be good at moving on and starting afresh. But I've always hated goodbyes, and when I start looking at old photographs the first thing that I think about is the people that are no longer in my life. The family members who are not here to share the holidays, the friends I've lost touch with, or those with whom staying in touch was just too painful or awkward or difficult for one reason or another.

It is this last group of people in particular that I've been thinking about recently. I worry (I inherited my paternal grandmother's highly developed worry gene) about them and wonder how they are, hoping that wherever they are they are happy (and that maybe, just maybe, they occasionally think about me?). Today I got a holiday email greeting from one of them - an old friend that I worried I had carelessly scared off. His message was only two lines, but just getting it at all was what mattered. It made my day.

Happy Holidays! Whatever you celebrate, why don't you pass the greetings along, you never know who's day you might make.

"Home" for the Holidays

I'm flying to Canada tomorrow. My suitcase is just about packed and I'm trying to overcome the feeling that I'm forgetting something drastically important. I'm also madly praying to whatever deities might be able to bless my trip. I don't have very good luck with the whole going back to Canada over the holidays thing. I really don't have good luck with the whole going back to Canada over the holidays thing! For example, last year my bags didn't make it to my destination with me either going or returning and a combination of a Christmas tree crash, delayed and soaking baggage, and general lack of sleep pretty much ruined the actual day of Christmas. Add to that the fact that I had a health issue and had to undergo a minor procedure only days before leaving Japan... Not the greatest holidays. The year before I got really sick almost as soon as I arrived in Canada, and spent most of my holidays asleep on the couch.

So you can see why I'm a little nervous this time, right?

My co-workers at the museum, upon hearing I was heading to Canada for the holidays, got very worried. Very worried. I mean, I could probably have told them I was planning to swim in shark-infested with a life jacket made of raw steak, or trekking across the Arctic wearing only my bathing suit, and they wouldn't have looked more worried.

I learnt my lesson last year. I refuse to have connections through the US if I can help it. This year I'm flying on only one airline, two flights I booked at the same time and that are on the same ticket. I have a direct flight to Vancouver, and nearly 8 hours to make my connecting flight (which is not even the last flight of the day). I haven't been able to reduce the stress and lack of sleep leading up to leaving that is the likely cause for my annual health crash, but I have been taking vitamins and my favourite "Chinese green pills."

Now I just have to hope that Snowmaggedon stays in the east...

Serves Me Right

Karma.

Sigh.

I really should have known better.

Sigh.

I'm taking a library services course with two other guys in my department. A number of weeks back the professor asked one of the guys to write a piece for the annual report of our university's librarian certificate program. The student in question has a background working with individuals with disabilities and spent part of the summer assisting a man with severe cerebral palsy who enrolled in the intensive summer librarian certificate program. The student was asked to write a report on his experiences over the summer and his push to start a disability services office at our university. The teacher also made some mention about asking the other student to write a piece, but nothing further was said. A week or so later, at a department party, the other student was complaining about not knowing whether he was to write something, but not wanting to ask in case he then had to and he was hoping he didn't have to.

I teased him.

I pretended to comiserate with him and then said that the only thing that was clear was that the prof hadn't asked me to write anything.

Yeah.

I really should have known better.

The following week in class the professor asked me to write up my presentations - on specific terminology used in definitions in Japanese law concerning museums and libraries.

Karma.

I, of course, am completely unable to say no and love a challenge.

My classmate was kind enough not to laugh at me.

A Scarf for a Gentleman

I've been struggling with this scarf for a while. It started out life as two balls of left overs that I paired with a new ball of multi-coloured wool. I cast on lengthwise but I didn't get too far before I realized it was too short. I didn't want to rip out the stitches however, so I put it aside and decided to simply ignore it while I worked on something else. Finishing the other project I came back to this scarf, and decided I could pick up stitches on the two ends and add some length. I knit on for a while, but then I realized that it was just not right for the intended recipient. Again the scarf got put aside for something else as I couldn't remain motivated to work on something without a recipient. I am surprised how long it took me to realize what now seems obvious, but finally I picked it up again, deciding it was right for a good friend and one of the nicest guys I know.











I was finally able to give it to him today - and it matched both his shirt and jacket!


We first met in Vancouver a few years back, at the language exams and interviews for the Japanese government scholarship. It wasn't until a half a year after we arrived in Japan, however, that I actually got to know him. We both attended the Tokyo Canadian Club's annual Thanksgiving Dinner at the Pink Cow in Shibuya, where we discovered a shared love of hockey and the Vancouver Canucks.

In the year since, I've gotten to know him better and realized that just how genuinely nice he is. He's super patient, very generous, and a great listener (even when I stress obsessively over things). He's kind and considerate, a real gentleman. He's crazy intelligent and its incredible how much his Japanese has improved in such a short time (he took level one of the Japanese proficiency exam a few weeks back!). Most of all, he's good fun and has a great sense of humour. Oh, and he rides a motorcycle!

Now that I've embarrassed him totally I might as well add that he is single - so ladies, if you're interested just let me know and I'll see if I can set you up!