Rain Korean Singer 2010

Everything and nothing

- Met a guy at the gym. He refused to speak to me in French even if I had questions, and later he told me spoke in impeccable French. 'Shit. I do the same thing in English in Montreal (where I begin to have empathy for Anglo-Montrealers j'me shot in head. Seriously. I have some self-analysis to be done).


- The same guy greeted me today and he explained that he is in rehabilitation after his tuberculosis.


... I ask Quebecois just know that TB is hyper-virulent but it is largely isolated from Russian prisons and Africa with AIDS: Quossai qu'vous would you do?! (I could not do anything, but if there was soap Din bathrooms, I would have gone in pwing * *).


- Samia took me to a bakery tonight. I saw multi-grain bread for the first time since my arrival. I had a tear in his eye.


- Yesterday, we ate at a nice restaurant not too far from Algiers home (but, since up to El Mouradia, it's not icky-popular). I ordered the couscous. Sat JUST told me before I took my first bite she does not eat the couscous in a restaurant, because a) it is a common dish we often eat at home and b) it a dish to prepare, requires a lot of manipulation. With hands (Yes the French students, I know it's a redundancy). The same hands that used to wipe your buttocks defecate in bathrooms without soap.


... I managed to swallow all my big dish. 'To believe that I forgot the American ideas of hygiene.


- In front of the restaurant, there was a building with a banner advertising something (I do not remember the three words in Arabic). I asked Sam what it meant in a totally banal.


... three words form the acronym "Hamas", ironically, "Coalition for Peace" Arabic (well, there is a missing word, but basically it). Yes, an Algerian political party is affiliated to the sick-mentally in Gaza who launch rockets from schools and hospitals that perform or pull in the knees of Fatah members after Israeli attacks in January to consolidate power in their little strip of land. AND some ministers belong to the party here (including one where I just spent six weeks).


a revelation for a Canadian.

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The shoe Algerian

Last night I met the parents to Samia for the first time. Sam wanted to stop

to lie when she came home. Her mom has been on the lookout for my life in advance and at the right moment, the father has been notified.

must understand that in Algeria, there are universal forces that lead to situations pretty crazy. The meeting with parents (in more conservative families - usually low-level office) is when you are ready to ask the hand of the girl. Before this event, the girl who makes do with a guy is called a "whore" and will treat uncharitable by men to whom it belongs (not only the male members of her family. The community has a huge role to play then it should not be seen in an embarrassing situation in her neighborhood). In short, the logic underlying the Cartesian view of a Canadian is that we want it to take the first comer, and she presents it.

... of course, that does not happen like that.

I learned shortly after my arrival that the game is the Algerian national creative circumvention of the rules. We impose draconian laws, but agreed that while we are discreet, you can do anything.

remains that, as in many countries (including the "Western" - I would call one that is just south of my land native), female virginity is prized beyond any other characteristic. It has the advantage of enhancing consumer Vaseline girl (and it surprises me deeply that we can not find compatible personal lubricants with condoms in this country, even if condoms are sold everywhere) and expand (set words. Dilation. Genus) the range of possible sexual practices of couples legitimized by the state. It also explains the well-cushioned couches popular with the fairer sex unmarried.

M'entéka.

Samia tried somehow to explain to his dad that I 'm CANADIAN, so there is no engagement or wedding imminent. It has more or less well, but fortunately she has a family (although dad is 72 years old and became a practitioner of the religion of the corner) relatively progressive.

The highlights of the evening:

- I was greeted nicely and was served tea and cakes and they asked me what I did for a living so it sparked a discussion about how the Algerian state which lasted one hour.

- Samia's brother (who served as a shield conversational) left. Pleasant conversation continued throughout.

- When it was getting late (and Samia had to leave for a party organized for her work), the mother said she had questions about my "intentions". I explained my position.

- Dad told me that it is normal for a couple wants to explore the relationship before making a formal commitment (positif!).

- Dad told me that his first concern was that Sam was trying to use me for my citizenship (positive in the sense that his first concern was not that I used her as physical relief doll ).

- Dad told me that Samia is much younger than me. It is my responsibility curb its follies. It took a few minutes before I realized (and I've never really understood before Sam m'eut not confirmed) that he was referring to the ass. I had to impose chastity in marriage, because Sam is too naive (no positive nor negative, but QUITE hilarious). Really, the Algerians are completely strange to me.

- Dad told me I should go see an imam at my return to Montreal. I thought he was referring to the marriage and it took me a few minutes (yes, I am slow in the head) that had changed the subject, that marriage is secondary, but he wanted to convert me. Dear readers, I am the person best atheist on the planet. I had NO idea what to replicate.

Then the dad gave me his Koran Samia and we went to watch the match between Liverpool's Champions League (sponsored by Carlsberg, so good opportunity for a party) and Real Madrid. I stalled four beers and I asked myself what are the consequences for the evening and if I made a good impression.

This morning, after the gym, I went to do my shopping. On leaving the supermarket, I noticed that posed a shoe on my car. I was parked on the wrong side of Street (that's almost three months I go to the supermarket without paying attention to the side street and there were plenty of other cars on my side who have also been tampered with). So I had to go to the post office (yes Canadians. At the Post Office. J'comprends have nothing) to affix stamps worth $ 15 on a ticket and come back and wait until the police make their turn to present the document to remove the obstruction and yellow.

There. There are traps that are laid for all Algerians. You can do anything, so let there be not taken.

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The gym

I searched long my gym. I wanted to go there at 6 o'clock 00, as in Montreal (where the streets and the rooms are empty. I'm an early riser. This is another point that I did not share with my little lioness with new claws that is not capable of assimilating an intellectual concept prior to consumption of its 14 coffees), but the Algerians are not early risers. In addition, schedules for most of the rooms are divided between male and female ranges.

Fortunately, I was able find me a small room barely aromatic Riadh El Feth, a huge complex built by the state (of course) that includes the monument of martyrs. Every evening (arg. I do not train in the evening, but I myself do) I'm 500 meters from my house to the complex and I cross a mall horribly empty (there was a bomb a few years ago and people there are more). I have to climb two floors and, on reaching the third, an oval in the ceiling gives a quite stunning monument illuminated. I was told that I should be proud that it was designed and built by Canadians nice. It's beautiful work. The

reason I mention my gym is that in the comments about cultural differences and that Algiers is first and foremost a Mediterranean city. Seeing the guys in the room, it feels fine.

First, I must say that the room is mixed and that men are (surprisingly) very respectful of the pretty ladies sportswear who attend the classes mixed. Nawel became a member after I told him about it and no man has touched in a way even vaguely macho (to his chagrin, I suppose: P). They participate in aerobics classes (of "fitness." Arg) and seem completely ridiculous dancing and jumping, but it is a good exercise and no one makes fun of them.

By cons, in the weight room, you can see we are located on the Old Sea Basin. Of all the men who play with dumbbells, there is NO ONE who does not charge beyond 30% capacity and will then cry out in a manner scarcely men (as we face the Williams sisters and is thought to demonstrate virility?) wringing his lumbar vertebrae in order to complete the exercises. They are also at a speed whereby the targeted muscles do not receive any benefit (if you release a weight between rehearsals an uncontrolled manner, work may be the force of gravity of our planet, but it does not work any muscle).

When I got to the room six weeks ago, I had just driven past seven months. I do this, however, since the age of 15 years (it's been nearly 21 years. * Sniff * Chu old), so I know my body and vaguely, more importantly, I took courses in anatomy of the year when I played football. I was using small weights at the beginning to awaken my muscles were screaming and asking who was this portly Canadian who can barely lift a load of female class.

... now I lift more weight than almost all the "guys", with good technique. They are surprised. That's because I work my muscles while they are breaking their backs.

I still have fun with them (at least they do not spit on the floor) and I shut the hell up (something that is not easy when you have a guy who resembles a portly accountant 42 years later of course, that puts the full weight of the machine pull-down and screaming like a madman and, subsequently, gives advice to a young man who has just begun. Shut up Eric). The owner is super fun and nice. It does not bother me too much (partly because it is a group friends tight enough and partly because when I train, I have my earphones in your ears, listen to violent music, I'm in my world and it shows), which is a change popular perpetual "okay?" agreed to work.

M'entéka, they remind me of these people of Mediterranean origin in Montreal (they were acknowledged by the inventory of a jewelry they wore while training) doing the same thing in our gyms. There the "normal people" are at least majority and girls do not care about their mouths (they generally apply the nickname "Ginos). 'I guess the Ginos just somewhere. I was in their hive.

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Samia

I go to a strange beast.

Non-practitioner, she works in a company that imports of alcohol and brews beer and has a mind just as corrupt as mine (even more). Here are some points that were raised in less than seven hours together that afternoon

- She listens to a lot of television. She can call me all sorts of Quebec and Canadian television series which I've never heard of. You see, I listen to ANY television (besides my football and the season is now complete). I spent 13,500 dinars (about $ 250) for a satellite map that will only pirated give something to do with Samia when I shower. Vlan.

... unfortunately, she can not sleep without hearing the TV. Well, the few nights we spent together the happiness did not have electronic approval (there was my computer, but I do without mentioning the context), but someday it will need its digital companion. I do not already know how I'd do, know that there are emissions tasteless in my den. I imagine that wearing headphones and I'll read until I sleep.

- Samia I told the family name of my mom: Ouimet. It is a name most banal in Quebec and I've always preferred to mine (without wanting to reveal my name, just say he is aggressive in the ear in his English home - my dad had English Canada - but is perfectly pronounceable in French (even less in Algeria).

... heard the name, she collapsed into laughter. I was afraid she makes pee on the duvet. "Yes but ...», she said.

I watched without really understanding. It must be said that his last name is fun to hear and means foodstuff in Arabic. It would be like if a guy named Hamid was in Quebec and another named Spatula made fun of his mouth.

Hamid: "Hi, my name is Hamid.
Spatula "MOUUUUUUUAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA !!!!!!!!!!!!!!».
... I do not see the comedy. Indeed, one can make a sentence with the mundane name, but since this is common, we do not think my home too. In short, it will be fun for family reunions. My mother comes from a family of twelve children of proven fertility. She goes to meet Ouimet!

- The subject arose because we had a shock Cultural most amazing. In Quebec, it was agreed that women are equal to men in every sense. It is completely strange idea that a woman would become the slave and the property of his rights during the marriage. Quebec women keep their names and thus households are built between equals. There was a fad during the '70s to give names to small compounds, but it did not last very long (because it sounded pretty ridiculous), and use the children keep the father's name , although the state grants the right to name one wants because it is assumed that parents have greater authority over the allocation name their child an official ugly and stinky and sexually frustrated.

Samia was violated. "This is a feminist in the extreme!" She said, verbatim. We must make clear to readers that my Algerian friend is a woman of strong character and is independent and West. To hear him say it categorically RE-FUSE to keep his name was equivalent to my little Quebecois me to see a tiger in the Indonesian jungle jump into a cage and beg that imprisons him in a zoo.

Well, it happens, but I have no way of escaping me. If she joins me in Canada we must marry in Algeria. It will be OFFICIALLY Mrs. Eric and his Canadian papers will reflect that. It will be strange when I have to show it to friends.

- Samia's mother suspects that she is no longer a virgin. It's a bit like the mother of a sumo wrestler suspects that his son is not vegetarian.

- Samia loves naked male torsos. Should not have been that I have my beard trimmer in the bathroom: $. Well, I have to wash the sheets the middle room tomorrow to remove my coat body above them. I look like a wolf who has lost his hair in winter, but it's still cold!

... my Lioness is mééééchante.