So I've been a little preoccupied since my last post--you know, packing, resigning from my position, accompanying the cats on their flight out to their new home, training someone to take over at work, living in a nearly-empty apartment (the carpet cleaning guy asked me if we were minimalists), finally getting here myself a month later, unpacking, job-hunting, and of course, purchasing essential "new home" items such as curtains.
A number of people have asked how I feel about being back in Ottawa. In some respects, it's as though we never left; that is, James works with a group of the same people he worked with previously, we hang out with many of the same folks, we live in the same area as before. Mind you, the development we're in now was a great big empty field when we last lived here. We might be convinced that our four years back in Winnipeg might have been a dream, except that we have our diploma to show for it. (I say "our" because I'm taking partial credit for that degree.)
Admittedly, returning does have its challenges. For instance, one of my biggest pet peeves is that the only place I know of that sells milk in 4L jugs is the local Quickie-mart (the proper name of the chain is Quickie Convenience Stores, but we've always referred to it fondly as our very own Kwik-E-Mart). Now 2L cartons of milk abound in the neighborhood grocery stores--they currently cost $4.09 at Loeb!--but for greater quantities of milk, most stores sell milk in bags. I'm sorry, but this is the equivalent of an unpardonable sin in my estimation. I remember bags of milk growing up: there was a risk of cutting off the corner too small or too large--either one would incur the wrath of Mom--and the chances were great that somewhere in transit from the dairy to the store, the bag(s) had sprung a leak. I think Manitoba introduced cartons and jugs in the mid-1970s; do Ontarioans not realize that milk in bags signifies a serious regression, a devolution, in human development?! I actually felt betrayed when I found out that James had bought a milk pitcher and those detested bags during my absence; needless to say, I do the grocery shopping now...
At least this time I knew better what to expect from an interprovincial move. For example, I knew that one can't transfer Manitoba prescriptions to Ontario, although the inverse poses no problems. I also knew that Ottawans are acquainted with neither farmer sausage nor New Bothwell cheese; fortunately, my parents obligingly bring some of each with them when they visit. Oh, and strike Winnipeg rye bread off the list of foods you can find in Ottawa. Loeb has been known to pass off an inferior imitation labelled "Winnepeg rye bread" (note spelling), but heed my advice: buy the marble or the dark rye, steer clear of the other ryes (unless you can appreciate a chewy-cardboard texture). As for iced tea mix, I can find Nestea, Lipton, and just about every other generic (Equality, Our Compliments) brand here, but not Good Host; my solution was to lug two 2.35 kg containers with me in the move. Those should get me through this summer. By that time maybe someone else from out West will come for a visit and I can put in my order. (You've been forewarned!) To be perfectly fair, I did--once--find Good Host iced tea mix in Ottawa: it was in the summer of 2000, at the Lincoln Fields Wal-Mart. Yet never since then has my quest for it in the Nation's Capital met with success.
However, despite these (some would argue petty) challenges, there are many things to appreciate about my new-old home, not the least of which is that mosquitoes are virtually non-existent here, and the air is rife with the scent of pine trees and other greenspace growth. More on this another time, because it's getting late...
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