Life in Calgary II

Me not knowing anyone in Calgary I spent my late Saturday evening riding around town and looking at places and people a bit. At some point when I was sitting on my bike while leaning on a lamp post, I was approached by an Aborigine asking me whether I'd have 67 cents I was not emotionally attached to. Apart from that being a pretty decent line of course I have been intrigued by the Aborigines (or Indians, Native Americans or whatever you might call them) living in Calgary ever since I got here. The few Natives you see running around here are a rather sad sight, quite clearly drunks, quite evidently without any kind of decent home. The impression of Canada as a better (because socially and environmentally more responsible) USA fades away when you see these figures tumbling along the street in downtown Calgary while the new (white) rulers of the place pass them in their massive trucks and SUVs.

So, to get back to my story, I gave the guy a two-dollar piece which prompted him to call me a good person. I replied that I wasn't as sure of that as him and we struck up a conversation as he took for a lack of confidence my sense of realism and felt he should help me with that. I sat on a bench for maybe 30 minutes with him, while he sipped from a bottle of mouthwash (the cheapest alcohol to be had apparently). The guy obviously was completely fucked up. He kept on telling me that he works for the Aboriginal Secret Service and that these guys were better and bigger than the CIA. He insisted that Russia was going to invade Iran and wanted to know whether Germany was going to help them. He sincerely asked me whether I would kill a Jew if given the chance.

All of that really seems besides the point though, since he is such a prime example of how society destroys those that do not fit into its mold. His alcoholic father and mother abandoned him (or the government took him away from them, not quite sure which). He was raised with 'your folks' as he put it, meaning white people, but spent part of his youth with the Blackfeet as well. He hates Natives because they believe him white, he hates whites because he is a no-good drunk Indian with them. No, he doesn't hate either one of them, he just hates how both make him feel. He drinks with abandon, going for mouthwash not only because it's cheap but also because you can get it at eight in the morning, liquor stores only open at ten.

Yet, he also is a warm-hearted, genuinely nice human being (or he was towards me in any case). He is not dumb (loads of more 'successful' people believe in conspiracy theories) and has a broad knowledge of (pop)-culture. Human tragedy. Of course. But is it more than that? Does the post-national Canada I praised in my previous post even exist? Maybe it does, but only exists for well-educated people of high social standing. I have yet to see one Native American in any of the numerous downtown luncheons I've frequented this past week. The only thing I've read in the paper about them ever since I got here, was that they are labeled as a threat to national security because of a couple of pipeline bombings in the north of Alberta.

Is something rotten in the state of Denmark?

Life in Calgary

The funny thing about Calgary (in this particular case, read: Canada) is that it is very much like the United States. Except that it's not. Yeah, I know that makes a lot of sense. I've been here about a week now, I've been very busy with work, so I haven't managed to get around and explore a lot, but I just bought a used bike off some hobo for $10 yesterday and will be discovering the city on that in the weeks to come, especially as work becomes more of a routine job and I'll have more time on the side.

I had already spent some time in Calgary when I was about 14 and came here with my parents (and sister), but most of what I remember from that time is related to trips we undertook outside of Calgary (Banff, the Big Horn River) and the suburban life style that I had had never experienced before. This time around what struck me the most so far has been the niceness of people. In the States people are super friendly, but one is never sure how much of that is put on (if not say hypocrisy). Here I constantly get the impression that people are genuinely nice. The woman in the store where I got a sandwich yesterday was positively charmed by the fact that I was from Europe (placing me in England upfront) and it didn't seem fake at all. Maybe Canadians just act better than most Americans, I've been falling for it in any case.

Calgary is very much dominated by the oil and gas industry which in turn is very, very male-dominated. If you go for lunch downtown during the week most places are filled almost exclusively by (white) men in suits being served by scantily clad (hot pants or really short mini skirts while they bring me lunch? really?), tall and rather attractive women. Disgusting, if you ask me.

Apart from that the town is sprinkled with little parks and very much accessible by bike, if a little too spread out to walk. Especially when you live downtown. Also Canada, even more so than the USA maybe, represents a post-racial society. I played ball on an outside court yesterday, with two little Asian guys, two French-speaking African-Canadian teenagers, some tall white dude and a Latino-looking guy. And everyone got along really well. At the same time all of these guys were pretty bad ballers and there seems to be a clear negative correlation between people's niceness and their ball-playing skills. Me being only semi-nice on the court, I am also semi-good, which let's me dominate a court like the one yesterday, but is not sufficient for really tough ones.

A word on that tough court too. I found a gym where I believe the best game in town is run. I (as usual, talk about being a skinny, white guy with longish hair and not enough of a cocky bastard) have a hard time getting on the court there, but I do manage and it's been good. I definitely will enjoy getting intro proper playing shape again. Anyway, from a sociological point of view this court is really interesting because it is dominated by Sudanese guys (some of which are really good ballers, tall, skinny, fast, aggressive). When I was in Boston last year I kept on running into guys from Cap Verde there, here it's the Sudanese. In both cases they must be living on the continent for a while (their English is impeccable), but still talk in their mother tongue amongst each other. How these immigration patterns come about is fascinating even if I cannot offer any kind of explanation for them.