So, Yelp. Yelp is a website where people write reviews about stuff. Now, this idea might seem pretty bland at first but it actually is very powerful. It’s like having multiple friends that have all already gone to every single business/restaurant/gym/salon possible and they’re all dying to give you advice and feedback on them.
Before I got to Berkeley, I had no idea what Yelp was. We just didn’t have that kind of thing in Toronto, at least that I am aware of.

Here in SF/Berkeley/Pali/etc, it’s kind of routine. Before you go somewhere, you check it on Yelp to make sure that it hasn’t had horrible reviews. You get an idea of what it might be like. And if you’re gung ho about it, you write your own review after so you can advise the next people who think of going to that place.

So while I do appreciate the horrible experiences Yelp could save me, I must admit there haven’t been many prevented traumas. And instead, I’m trading up the sense of discovery and adventure I used to have in Toronto, where I’d just waltz into a restaurant/salon/gym/theatre and try it out, not knowing whether it would be good or not.
Kind of like the whole no light without darkness thing, you can’t have fun somewhere if you never have awful experiences to dichotomise them.

Let me share a story. A few years ago when I was still in high school, my friend and I wanted to find a hair salon to become regulars at. If I were doing that now, I’d just yelp it. Boring. Back then, we went to a bunch to try them out. At one, the guy made a horrible mistake of giving me a perm that made me look permanently bedheaded (“sex hair”?!). Needless to say I stopped going after that.

So I’ve made a promise to myself. No more yelping unless it’s to write reviews. Because I am totally not against other people ruining their own fun–I just won’t let myself ruin mine any more! Haha.

Will my experiment turn out awesome or will I die of food poisoning? Only one way to find out: Misplaced Canadian.
Oh, and in case you were wondering: my Yelp reviews. Not that they’re really good or anything…just kidding. They’re awesome.

Election campaigning was in full swing last week here at Berkeley, with people walking around with signs denouncing prop 23, stickers supporting prop 19, and people talking about the new governor candidates. Yes, the time has finally come for the governator to step down.
So the international student that I am, I can’t vote. I have been looking for someone to vote on my behalf that doesn’t care about the issues, but for such an apathetic nation, there are surprisingly a lot of people who are planning on voting and are highly opinionated. Which I find surprising since I also hear all the time how useless it is to vote and how it doesn’t matter if one person doesn’t vote. What a bipolar population. Maybe it’s just California :/

Here are the two big props on the upcoming ballot:
19: legalise marijuana and tax it heavily. A possible way for california to come out of its massive debt.
23: dirty air act; lifting a lot of green regulations temporarily until california’s unemployment rate drops under 5.5%.
There’s a bunch more but these are the two that are stirring the most response from students here at Berkeley. (Hmmm…wonder why…)

I honestly don’t know how provincial elections work in Ontario, but I find it cool that they put possible state bylaws/laws on the same ballot used to elect the governor (premier). Efficiency at its highest. Also means that if you’re passionate enough about an issue, you’ll show up to vote for it and probably get suckered into voting for the other things as well.

I wonder what’ll happen for these elections. Too bad I can’t vote D:

More on weed and air at Misplaced Canadian.

That’s what I discovered about Berkeley! It’s a lot of work!
HAHAHAHA. That said, I will return to my normal posting schedule (every weekend :] ) after this week.

加油 to everyone~

As quoted:

“I want you all to take Physics 101 and learn about THERMODYNAMICS. And then tell me global warming isn’t happening!”

One of the reasons I love Berkeley is all the different things that are going on. I love seeing student tables lining Sproul, each campaigning for their own love: skiing/snowboarding, business, asian, theatre/dance groups, tutoring, protesting/activism. I love imagining that I were them for one second. How would I be different if my ultimate passion were theatre? How would I be if I spent every free hour rehearsing plays? If all my friends were musicians, actors, directors? If I hated math and science?

I always return to my body afterwards, but I love being someone else for a split second. And that’s why I love Berkeley: I get so many more prompts, jumpstarts for my imagination. I love meeting people who only think about business all day; people who think in a different language; people who are heading startups or pulling all nighters to work on projects outside of class; the stoners who just smoke and think about life all day.

I sound super cheesy and corny but at Berkeley I feel like there’s all these people around me holding part of me and I need to go get it from every one of them. Once I imagine myself like them, I get that part of myself: I unlock the secret entrepreneur side of Hilary, the secret stoner, the not-so-secret crazy homeless person I could be. That I am.

And that’s why I love Berkeley. Because I’m everyone’s everywhere in everyone else! It’s a constant game of hide and seek with yourself, only you find yourself everywhere.

Pack on the cheese at Misplaced Canadian.

Allow me to explain. Back in canada (or pretty much anywhere outside of cali) all you saw about cali was about socal. The beaches, the sun, the celebrities…all socal. Hollywood, beverly hills, LA (and LAX), the oc…all places in socal. The beachbums, skaters, parties in mexico…all socal culture. The OC, laguna beach, the hills…all shows in socal. You get it. Norcal does not exist in the media.

Norcal is characterised by artsy san francisco. Hippies and hipsters. Indie art museums, cafes, and music reigns supreme. Intellect abounds in silicon valley. Bikes everywhere and girls dressed scantily in a cool “I don’t care” postmodern way. Effortless cool is the dream. Now where did that all come from?!

They’re pretty much polar opposites. Socal goes for awesome tanning, awesome celebrities, and awesome clothes. Norcal is intellect in the form of tech, art, philosophy, and poetry. Socal is clearly trying. Norcal is too, but they try even harder to show that they really aren’t trying.

Thus they hate each other.
As an outsider, I clearly see sibling rivalry. Norcal is jealous socal gets all the attention. Socal hates that no matter how pretty it looks, norcal will be smarter. They both hate being under the same bankrupt government.

California dreamin’ ;D

Beaches, art, and palm trees all at Misplaced Canadian.

In Toronto the token tree was a maple tree! Which meant a totally different vibe: laidback shady cool breezy summer days or chilly red fall days. Children climbing trees also gave them a super chill, playful feel.

I was wondering, when I was in Stanford, why it just felt so summery and I know the answer now! The palm trees were the main culprit with their sparse shade and beachy atmosphere which was suuuuuuuuuper cool and awesome but I just wish I could climb them like when I was super kiddyy…boohoo [tantrum ensues] haha.

Misplaced Canadian for all your tree needs! [insert cheesy infomercial music here]

This issue is probably actually more because I am in America than California per se. But something I always took for granted in Canada was the bilingualism (at least at the government level). That meant everything came in two languages (kind of like how starbucks drinks come in three sizes @______@). Cereal boxes, road signs, pamphlets, written advertisements were all in both French and English.

I used to love reading the French side of something, seeing how much I understood, and then reading the English side and understanding that what Cheerios was TRYING to tell me in French was that it was good for your heart. It just gave me double of everything to read, and, obviously, since I read way too much, that made me happy :]

As for California, maybe I can learn Spanish or something. But I miss the knowledge that everyone around me studied the same language at least for an ungodly number of years since childhood. I could always say JE NE CARE PAS and someone would be like “no hilary. care is not care in french FAIL”. Here in California, it’s about hit or miss if someone can speak Spanish. And Spanish really isn’t that similar to French.
I mean honestly, burrito has no equivalent in French.

Boo. Vive la revolution francaise!
(At least good food comes with Spanish…read my previous post about guacamole.)

What languages do you speak? Repondez s’il vous plait à Misplaced Canadian.

Back when I was a little kid, I played this game called Red Light Green Light. Some kid stood at the front of the room and said “red light” or “green light” and when the light was green, we were allowed to run forward to try to catch him. And no one ever cheated by running during red light. I guess it was so ingrained in our brains that if we tried to do so, we’d get hit by a bus and die.

As I grew up, it didn’t change. In Toronto, I still looked four ways before cross the street: at the light, left, forward (turning cars!), and right. It was only when all four cleared that I crossed. If the light test didn’t pass, I didn’t bother checking the other directions. What a good, law-abiding citisen I was!

And how law-breaking I am now! After spending two semesters at Berkeley, I returned to Toronto to find the lights changed too slow, there was never traffic anyway, and no one jaywalked. Anywhere. Across a red light, diagonally through a four way stop intersection, brazenly across the middle of a busy road. These habits were now part of my daily repretoire, and restraining myself was awfully difficult.

Granted when I first got to california, I was scared as hell. Everyone would cross the red light when there wasn’t traffic for miles and I’d remain on the curb, unmoving and terrified. But no more. Now it is those timid albeit nice and courteous and polite Canadians that watch in fear as I step onto the street in the face of a red light.

Damn! I feel good!

Read more about nonsensical accomplishments at Misplaced Canadian.

And while I just dissed out all those other travel advice columns, I’m going to attempt to share some things I do to make my inevitable melodrama at the airport less hamlet-like.
1) Do everything you can to make yourself comfortable the night before. I like to shower and clean everything so that I don’t feel gross at the airport. Flying is the one time you don’t want to feel awful. Because the flight will magnify the awfulness by a million times. Basically spoil yourself to death the night before.
2) Don’t check in a luggage. It’s so much more trouble than it’s worth. Pack all your junk in one bag. I’m not saying pack light. If everything doesn’t fit, transfer some to your other carryon until you’ve got everything stuffed into two bags. But make sure your computer is accessible for security.
3) Now that you’ve only got carryons, you can check in online and print your boarding pass at home. When you get to the airport, you can skip the check in line like a rock star.
4) Wear the biggest clothes the day you travel. Like pants and longsleeve shirts instead of shorts and tanks (pack those suckers!). Maybe a few shirts (layering win). That way you don’t need to figure out how to pack said bulky items. Jackets are a prime example. Also doubles because I usually find planes a bit cold.
5) Screw the advice of getting up and walking around every half hour or whatever. That gives me a headache. Stay put in your chair and don’t move. Don’t ask for drinks or food. Don’t talk to anyone either. You won’t be able to hear them well over the plane noises and it’ll just be frustrating. Just be frigid. Hey, flying brings out the worse side of me.
6) I don’t try to sleep or work on planes. Both of these chores are done better once you land. If you get a window seat, then you can try leaning against the plane wall for sleep but otherwise just don’t bother. The quality of plane sleep is so bad that you’ll be tired anyway later. But you’ll be unable to fall asleep because you DID get some on the plane. What kind of cruel torture. Instead, I park my butt in my chair and watch movies for the whole flight.
7) Oh yeah. On that note. Don’t book united. Fuck united. Book air canada. Each seat has its own touchscreen entertainment system. Bring your own earbuds. They go for $3 inflight for crappy ones.
8) It doesn’t matter when you get off the plane. As long as you hustle when you get off of it, you’ll be able to beat half of the plane or more to customs.
9) Imagine you’re an important cia agent on a secret mission and everything becomes a million times better.

Anyway I’m back in Berkeley now so the horror is over…for now. Good luck this academic year and go get em! Read about travel, drugs, and rock and roll stories at misplaced canadian.

Why drive when you can bike? Although it’s true that a lot more people my age drive here than back in Toronto, it’s also true that the bike culture is crazy. Who knew there were different kinds of bike crowds here?

Bikes back in Toronto were novelty items. Or antiques. No one rode a bike because it was just too inconvenient and dangerous (especially in the winter!). Getting run over by a car (cough, read: snowmobile/dogsled) is not a pleasant way to go. But Californian roads (at least around the Bay) are a lot more catered towards cyclists, with bike lanes and (mostly) considerate drivers. Kind of.

In California, bikes are part of your personality like your latte might be in Toronto. Or your coat. If you are wearing an Aritzia coat and carrying a venti nonfat doubleshot vanilla bean Starbucks with cinnamon in your custom Starbucks tumbler, then you are probably a Havergal student. If you are wearing a huge puffy coat from The Bay while carrying a watery timmy hos double double then you are probably a construction worker or something. Much the same way here, if your bike is a blah-coloured five-speed then you are probably just using it to get to work in a cheap/environmentally friendly way. If you have a multicoloured/colourblocked retro-looking fixie/singlespeed bike, then you are probably urban or a hipster, or cool, and your bike is just part of your cool image. (Believe me. I have heard/read a lot of complains/yayness about fixies since learning about Cali’s bike culture.)

People judge you based on your bike! I recently bought into the whole bike culture when I bought a singlespeed communter bike (because I do not understand gears) and as I ride down the road (in sf, palo alto, berkeley, everywhere!), I get people checking me out. Not me, but my bike. You’re not just judged by your bag and your shoes and your cardigan and your sunglasses any more. Your $100-$2000 bike is also on the line for your image.

Minus the whole bike-is-another-thing-to-cave-into-social-pressures-about, I understand the bike thing. I hadn’t ridden a bike in ages and it’s so freeing to be able to go so fast, especially down the wrong way along a smooth stretch of road at night when you’re the only one out and the stars are visible :] I also love going over bumps, as weird as that sounds! The bike is just super convenient and makes everything seem so much closer. I’m so happy I got a bike…maybe I’ll even become one of those bike junkies that hangs out and fixes my bike all day. On second thought, probably not.

Anyway, speaking of hardcore on bikes, check out this bike I spotted outside a super hip cafe (more about those to come!) in Palo Alto:

Odlaw bike! Now to find a red&white one...

Anyway. Bike it up and sound off about fixies at Misplaced Canadian.