I remember reading that the Kaiser had something like 350 different uniforms and tenues d'apparats with medals and ribbons to wear on any given day, the challenge for his staff was to select the correct uniform and medals to wear for the different functions of the day. Un-doing all the wardrobes and different boxes today reminded me of that, my own Wilhelm would have nothing to envy the Kaiser. I too have been, during my time in Italy, guilty of over shopping for clothes and shoes and shirts and ties and scarves and the list goes on and on. Italy is a country where people dress as an image of who they are and what message they wish to convey. In Canada it's the opposite, there is no message or image, old jeans and T-shirt suffice in any social situation at home or in public, this explains the lack of closet space in most Canadian homes.
This morning I was up at the crack of dawn, a feat for me, so that I could bring my car to that great institution, Canadian Tire, who to this day in politically correct Canada, has the effigy of a miserly Scot as its corporate logo. This is were the emission and safety check for the car took place at 07:30 am. at a cost of $140 dollars, for this sum a certified mechanic, kicks the tires, looks at your car and gives you a piece of paper which enables you to get your permanent licence plates. But that is not all, before you get your sticker for the plates you must pay again $74 dollars and again prove who you are by presenting photo ID, did that yesterday, proof of insurance for said car, did that too yesterday and proof of ownership, again did that yesterday. It seems that the computer data bank of the Ontario Ministry of Transport expires every 24 hours. Its official I can now drive my 11 year old car in Canada.
Said car was purchased in Ottawa, but having such an old car is an oddity for most Canadians, on average people change car every 4 years, so I am the odd man out, much raised eyebrow at such a phenomena.
We have really been pushing ourselves this week with un-doing all the boxes and the next 3 days are just as heavily booked with activities. I also try to do any driving around town before 3 pm because of the terrible traffic and grid lock in late afternoon all over town. Ottawa has become sadly famous for its terrible grid lock and I am told that in courses on Urban planning, Ottawa is shown as the urban model to avoid.
I was at the supermarket today, I was struck by the abundance of what is on offer food wise, the selection is endless, the new trend is all organic and biological, this type of variety borders on the obscene, almost pornographic, is there really a need for 100 different types of breads, or 40 different makes of ice cream, all too sweet and full of chemical ingredients you cannot pronounce. I was looking for a pesto sauce, they only had 2 makes, one had 19 different ingredients on the label, since when is potato starch and corn syrup part of making a pesto sauce. I picked the other brand, because it only listed 6 ingredients all of whom can reasonably be part of a good pesto sauce.
In the cheese section, I note that most cheeses on offer are from Northern Europe, mostly Germany, Holland and France, Italy only had 3 cheeses, the obvious three. Canada produces a lot of excellent cheeses but in a supermarket you usually get only cheddar, mild or strong with that funny orange colouring.
I also learned how to shop at the By Ward Market in old Ottawa, this market has farmers and others, if you wish to buy only local fresh farm produce look for the F1 tag on the licence of the vendor. An F2 or F3 notes a re-seller trying to pass himself or herself off as a farmer, in such cases their produce come directly from a grocer.
The dogs are behaving very strangely, Nora has bloomed into a full hunting hound and howls madly at squirrels, we have lots of black squirrels in Ottawa. It is very difficult to walk her. Starting to think that she would be more happy on a farm. Nicky sniffs everything in the park along the Rideau Canal but is generally surprised at all he sees. He often does not want to walk, looks afraid and has to be coaxed gently with much re-assurance and a biscuit or two. Probably after Rome, Ottawa is just a tad too foreign for them.
This morning I was up at the crack of dawn, a feat for me, so that I could bring my car to that great institution, Canadian Tire, who to this day in politically correct Canada, has the effigy of a miserly Scot as its corporate logo. This is were the emission and safety check for the car took place at 07:30 am. at a cost of $140 dollars, for this sum a certified mechanic, kicks the tires, looks at your car and gives you a piece of paper which enables you to get your permanent licence plates. But that is not all, before you get your sticker for the plates you must pay again $74 dollars and again prove who you are by presenting photo ID, did that yesterday, proof of insurance for said car, did that too yesterday and proof of ownership, again did that yesterday. It seems that the computer data bank of the Ontario Ministry of Transport expires every 24 hours. Its official I can now drive my 11 year old car in Canada.
Said car was purchased in Ottawa, but having such an old car is an oddity for most Canadians, on average people change car every 4 years, so I am the odd man out, much raised eyebrow at such a phenomena.
We have really been pushing ourselves this week with un-doing all the boxes and the next 3 days are just as heavily booked with activities. I also try to do any driving around town before 3 pm because of the terrible traffic and grid lock in late afternoon all over town. Ottawa has become sadly famous for its terrible grid lock and I am told that in courses on Urban planning, Ottawa is shown as the urban model to avoid.
I was at the supermarket today, I was struck by the abundance of what is on offer food wise, the selection is endless, the new trend is all organic and biological, this type of variety borders on the obscene, almost pornographic, is there really a need for 100 different types of breads, or 40 different makes of ice cream, all too sweet and full of chemical ingredients you cannot pronounce. I was looking for a pesto sauce, they only had 2 makes, one had 19 different ingredients on the label, since when is potato starch and corn syrup part of making a pesto sauce. I picked the other brand, because it only listed 6 ingredients all of whom can reasonably be part of a good pesto sauce.
In the cheese section, I note that most cheeses on offer are from Northern Europe, mostly Germany, Holland and France, Italy only had 3 cheeses, the obvious three. Canada produces a lot of excellent cheeses but in a supermarket you usually get only cheddar, mild or strong with that funny orange colouring.
I also learned how to shop at the By Ward Market in old Ottawa, this market has farmers and others, if you wish to buy only local fresh farm produce look for the F1 tag on the licence of the vendor. An F2 or F3 notes a re-seller trying to pass himself or herself off as a farmer, in such cases their produce come directly from a grocer.
The dogs are behaving very strangely, Nora has bloomed into a full hunting hound and howls madly at squirrels, we have lots of black squirrels in Ottawa. It is very difficult to walk her. Starting to think that she would be more happy on a farm. Nicky sniffs everything in the park along the Rideau Canal but is generally surprised at all he sees. He often does not want to walk, looks afraid and has to be coaxed gently with much re-assurance and a biscuit or two. Probably after Rome, Ottawa is just a tad too foreign for them.
