The Olympics are here, but you can barely notice here. There are a few more people in town, but nothing that justifies the shops staying open 24 hours, which some have done anyway because that’s what they planned for. Vancouver, on the other hand, is exploding. Nick and I went down there on Saturday the 13th for the free Wilco show, and the crowds were of impressive size. Not quite the post-fireworks rush, but close. Nick put it this way: “You know that atmosphere before a hockey game, where every one is every one’s friend and people just randomly cheer in the streets and make noise and it just feels great to be in the city? It’s like that, but all the time for two weeks straight.”

We showed up at David Lam Park at about 2:00. We had called Alissa, our cousin, an hour or so beforehand to find out what the situation was down there. She works for Toursim BC and was stationed inside the Live City location at David Lam. She said the line up was about an hour long already, so we didn’t do much before heading in that direction. I didn’t expect anything to be going on there yet, just some people getting the stage ready and others sitting on grass, waiting. Instead, we got through security to see giant corporate tents with waiting lines to get inside. In order to get inside the Coke tent, we had to get in line for a ticket that would have the time we could come back at to get inside. It was around 2:30. The next available time to get inside was 7:30.

We went to the stage instead. The Hot Moonbeams (Nick and Tim Ubels (with their dad), Dan Edwards and Dave Kandal) were right behind us. After wandering around the other tents for awhile, and losing Dan and Dave, we left the park to find some food. Yaletown was full of people, just like the rest of the city. We looked at a few places, the Raw Canvas included, but they all seemed too yuppish and expensive. We ended up at Earls, ate there, and headed back, only to find an enormous line up curving around the block. We found the end of it and began shuffling behind everyone else. It moved pretty quickly, though. We were inside about a half hour later or so.

The concert began with Default. Who knew they were still doing their thing, eh? Brang me back to grade eight. A pretty comical experience, watching them play. Black t-shirts and muscley, tattooed arms. Spikey hair. Funny. They showed the games between acts, or people winning their medals. Between Default and Califone, they showed the Women’s hockey team destroying the Slovakian team, 16, 17, 18-0.

Califone played great. I enjoyed them, but I’m not sure how many people around me did as well. At that point, the Default fans hadn’t quite exited the park, and there were a lot of “what the hey is this?” looks on people’s faces. One guy decided to voice this opinion by mock-loving them. Some things he said were funny, but mostly it was just rude. It semi-ruined the moment.

Then, after about a half-hour delay, Wilco came on… to the “Price Is Right” theme. They killed it. I had seen them before a couple years ago in Stanley Park, and they were good then, but for some reason there was an extra special something to them this night. They were excited to play. Jeff Tweedy, the lead singer, had this great, humble attitude about being chosen to play for the Olympics. They considered it a privelege, and played accordingly. Nels Cline the Guitarist amazed even the people in the crowd who had no idea who these guys were. His solo during “Side With The Seeds” was just above and beyond. I can’t even describe it to you.

….           …..          …..             …..                …..          …..           …….      …….

It’s been a little over a week since I started writing this. I’ve been back to the city for another concert, Hal Wilner’s Neil Young Project, which was mostly a disappointment but for a few great surprises (eg. Elvis Costello showing up and stealing the show/giving it back to Neil). We’ve gone to Whistler as a group a couple times. It’s great being part of crowds of people having a good time. I’ve been pleasantly surprised at how peaceful this whole Olympics thing has been. Amidst a lot of competition and patriotism, I have seen almost no animosity between people. People are simply allowing each other to celebrate. It’s great to see. Even after the hockey game on Sunday, when Canada lost against the U.S., people let the Americans get excited. No one got angry or lashed out. Made losing a little easier, seeing my countrymates take it so well.

………..         ……..           ………..           ………..          ……….         ………..

It’s been two weeks now since the game above. We’ve won our gold, and almost everyone has gone home. I was weary at first about the Olympics coming here. There was a lot of talk about the poor not being treated well here and it being wrong for our government to spend all this money for games when they had more important things to do. I didn’t know where I stood. But now that it’s all over, I liked it. Seeing the world enjoy something together is a great thing to be part of. It also let Canadians finally feel like a collective. Being loud and friendly together, we finally felt a part of something other than ourselves or our past. We got to show the world what Canadian patriotism looks like, and I think they liked it.

It’s an awkward stage we’re in right now. We technically moved a week ago, but we haven’t actually lived in Squamish until Sunday. We were back on Wednesday for the show at The Reach. Nathan was the Magician, Conrad, Jason, Nick and I were The Gates of Love. It went better than one would expect from one practise beforehand. Went back to Squamish for Thursday, only to be in Langley again on Friday for a Sue/Evelyn joint Birthday baseball game and altogether good time. Happy Official Birthday Evelyn, by the way. Mom and Dad showed up a couple hours after us in Squamish on Saturday with our beds and last things.

We began our worship for The Rock on Sunday. Right now we are having “preview services” at the Adventure Centre just off Highway 99. It’s a small, temporary venue, but it worked out fine. Glenn spoke about Genesis 2 and a chunk of what that entails. Needless to say, the sermon was on the longer side. The story of how we began can bring up a thing or two.

Darrell and Adrienne came up for Sunday and Monday to support. After the service, we all headed to Whistler with Matt, our roomate and Glenn’s middle son. We walked around and laughed, and then met up with Naomi and Sean for dinner. Went to Dubh Linn’s, laughed some more. Apparently Sean and I had never had Guinness before because we wanted a pitcher of it. Afterward Sean and Naomi left and we went to eat chocolate and give each other hiccups. I cannot emphasize it enough. We laughed a lot.

On Monday Darrell, Adrienne, Matt, Nick and I explored our new town. We walked all around the downtown area, we drove up the hill to see Quest. Matt had to work in the evening, so we spent some time in our apartment before visiting him at Boston Pizza. Spent the whole time trying to convince Darrell that they should stay another night, but to no avail. Come on, man! Priorities! They ended up going home from Boston Pizza while Nick and I walked over the the movie theatre to see Tarantino’s “Inglourious Basterds.” Actually a pretty great movie. I would have subtitled it “Jewish Revenge” or something like that. A pretty powerful ending, I would say.

Well that about wraps it up so far. Nick and I are off to rent a movie and grab a coffee at “Zephyr,” a decent cafe that our friend Jill-Marie from church works at. She’s moving in on September first. Should be good.

A PRAYER FOR MONTREAL

Montreal is like the shy girl in school who is suspicious of why you are smiling at her. But how could you not? Every time you look deeper, you find something about her that makes you love her more. She won’t show herself too quickly though. She knows about the rumors. She knows what they say about her. “She’s a tease, with a strip club on every corner. She’s just following the trends.” She’ll only let you in if you gain her trust, and that takes time.

She never let me in fully. but I’m not going home empty-handed. I learned to love her despite rejection. And despite her cold shoulder, I haven’t given up just yet. I still have something to tell her; that I love her, and her father does, too. They were separated at birth, it seems. And she rebelled against the thought of him as a teenager. But he’s found her, and he wants her back. “Come back to me,” he says. We both know why she’s so hesitant. But we also know he’s the best thing for her. If only she’ll trust and see.

Help her to trust, Lord. Help her to see.

HIPSTERS
A subculture report.
By Andrew Koole.

Hot spots?
Hipster hotspots include: New York City, Montreal, Vancouver (new), and Portland.
How did you find them?
I found them by walking through the Plateau Mont Royal and Mile-End, sitting in cafes and watching the streets at night.

How does one become a part of this sub-culture?
It doesn’t take much to become a hipster. You simply have to like certain things, such as: beatnik poetry and writing, vintage or American Apparel clothing, foreign or independent film, cheap or locally brewed, non-mainstream beer, modern art, indie music, expensive, European cigarettes, one-speed bicycles, etc. The problem with making a list such as this though, is that it will quickly change. As soon as something is defined as “hipster,” it is shunned. Hipsters, as they have never wanted to be called, will stop at nothing to avoid being pinned down. As soon as anything catches the ear of mainstream culture, it is avoided.

Key traits?
Well, I’ve mentioned a few already in the answer above, but I guess there’s more to it. One thing I’ve noticed about hipsters is their ability to enjoy life. I never met anyone resembling hipsterdom that was uptight or outwardly angry about things. Again, it’s difficult to list key traits of a group that prides itself on avoiding labels.

Why are they here in Montreal?
Montreal is one of the Meccas of the hipster sub-culture. For the most part, this is because of its art and music “scene.” In order to understand why there are so many of them in Montreal, we really have to understand why artists come to Montreal. The city has become a symbol of everything Western. It is where North America and Europe collide. Hipsters come to Montreal because they can find everything they like here.

What is attractive about and what are some benefits of being a part of this group?
The fact that hipsters are associated with everything alternative means I like most things hipsters like. I’m not a fan of European cigarettes or cheap beer, but almost everything else listed above are things that I enjoy. So naturally, I find this subculture attractive. Their philosophy of not being pinned down, although frustrating at times, is a good one for a group of young people such as them. These people have seen punk, new wave, grunge and all the rest fall into the hands of marketers and advertisers. They have begun to understand how the game works. Unfortunately, the very fact that in the last few years they’ve been given this name, “hipster,” means that their sub-culture has neared its end.

What are some problems that arise because of being a part of this group?
Many hipsters suffer from a major dose of apathy. There are reasons behind many of the choices the hipster subculture has collectively made, but many followers don’t know or care about them. Every subculture like it has dealt with the same issue. With every fashion statement, you will inevitably have posers and trend-followers. Some of the things that are now considered “hipster” are simply trends.

Also, because hipsters tend to be defined based on what they buy, the movement rarely moves past its aesthetic. Many hipsters do move past this in conversation and thought, but it is not what makes them a hipster. What makes them a hipster is what they wear. It’s hard to understand if there’s more to it.

Have they experienced any discrimination because of being attached to this group?
In reality, most people don’t know that hipsters even exist. The only discrimination they receive is from within. There are endless forums and online conversations of hipsters bashing each other (example here). Whereas most groups wear their label with pride, hipsters use theirs to scoff at each other. The worst insult you can give to a hipster is to call him or her a hipster.

How do they view society?
I think the idea is that broader society is a necessary evil and something to be avoided. Hipsters live in major cities, and are generally very accepting of others, but when it comes to interests, fashion, entertainment, etc., it is important not to take part. They participate in normal society, but with “refined taste.”

How do they think society views them?
Hipsters know that broader society barely knows that they exist as a group, and that’s the way they like it. As soon as mass culture is aware of their presence, they are in danger of being marketed.

Main interests.
Liberal arts are very popular with hipsters. I realize that is a very broad term, but hipsters are purposefully broad so that they can quickly evolve when ever mainstream culture gets too close. Music is a big deal for most hipsters. They constantly compete over who knows the most obscure band. Because the music industry has moved to the internet, mainstream culture has edged closer and closer to this aspect of hipsterdom, but music is a very fluid thing, much like the hipster. Once your favorite new band is playing on all the Late Night shows, it’s easy to ditch them for some obscure blues group from the ‘40s that no one has heard of. All things analog and “original” are interesting for hipsters; photography, vinyl, Atari or original Nintendo, etc.

Are they religious or spiritual in their thinking?
No. Again, they are very accepting of other people’s views and beliefs. Some religions are more “hipster” than others. Evangelical Christianity is the most un-hipster thing in the world (which may cause it to be extremely “hipster” within the end of the year, we’ll see). Because of their love for the original, Catholicism and Russian or Greek Orthodoxy are more attractive for the hipster than more current denominations (this may also be because these newer denominations are what their parents are part of), this or the exact opposite, emergent churches, tend to attract Christian hipsters as well (they are trying to go back to the way the early church did things, so I guess it’s even more “original”). Eastern religions have their attraction as well, but for the most part, hipsters stay pretty clear from religion. I’d say the majority of them would probably be agnostic or atheist.

How were you received by this sub-culture? Share your impressions.
Throughout my time here in Montreal, I was generally well received by hipsters. But I knew going in that this would be an impossible group to write a report on. Because I knew about their aversion to being labeled, I felt very uncomfortable confronting them about their sub-culture. Julia and I were talking to Lysanne Picard about our reports, and when she heard what I was doing, she laughed. Her roommate, she said, if you asked her if she was a hipster, “would be able to laugh and say, ‘yes.’” She said she would ask if I could interview her for my report. Lysanne asked her, and she said no. Her response was for me to put an ad on craigslist to try and find somebody. That’s how impossible it is. I researched mostly through observation.

New York City. It’s a great place. We got there on the seventeenth, the first warm, sunny day of the season. Everyone was out outside enjoying it. The streets were alive. They gave us a good first impression. But after a day in a bus, and a long walk trying to find where we were staying, all we wanted to do was sleep.

The next day we walked to the Statin Island Ferry to take a look at the Statue of Liberty. All the way there, people were everywhere. And they were all talking, asking where they should meet, who had a hard week. “Where the heck is he? Did you see that movie? You wouldn’t like it.” I couldn’t keep from listening. It’s the way people talk around there, you can’t help yourself. We walked by a high school orchestra playing Mozart. It felt nostalgic, seeing them awkwardly on the plaza in front of the busy street, so we stayed to hear them play. The problem with high school orchestras is that on person can ruin everything. I think it must have been more than one person, but one violinist definitely stood out. I felt bad for them. I know how that can feel.

The ferry, which we thought would cost us $2.00 each, ended up being free. They just herd everyone on like cattle. We took our numerous pictures of the Statue of Liberty. I felt like a tourist for most of the day, with a camera on my neck and a bag on my back. We only blended in on the ferry ride.

Central Park was next, and it was bursting with people. For a moment it reminded me of every second romantic comedy, but that quickly went away. A family carrying balloons seemed like a photo opportunity, so I pulled out my camera, which I had been hiding to shrug off the tourist look. When I looked up from it, everyone was gone. Of course I was by the carousel, where they could have gone a thousand different directions. I stayed where I was for a little while, and then moved sort of in circles around the direction I thought they went. Finally I caught sight of Thomas and Marie, and we were back on track. We found a spot under a cherry blossom tree to eat lunch. One of the girls sitting in front of us had the kind of sunglasses I’ve been looking everywhere for. Apparently she found them at “Forever 21,” a girlie store according to Lauren. I decided to take a look anyway.

After a long break under the tree, Thomas and Marie went to Coney Island while the rest of us tried to get into the Yankees game. After some struggles with the subway, we got to the stadium only to hear that the cheapest tickets left were $150. Lame-o. Instead, Julia, Beatrice and I explored a little while Bado and the Flanagans went back to start dinner.

More subway struggles brought us to the Bronx when we wanted Greenwich Village. We turned around and ended up in Chinatown, walked up 1st Avenue to get home to the Father’s Heart. All the patios were open on 1st, giving life to the place. People everywhere were talking, to each other and their pocket dogs. We got in, ate dinner, and Julia and I spent the evening talking about everything, rehashing the DTS.

Sunday began with something we as a team have not yet done together. We went to church. But not just any church; no, we went to one of the biggest churches in New York City, the Brooklyn Tabernacle. I expected a monstrous building with stain glass windows, but this place was more like a concert hall, like the Orpheum in Vancouver. We were told to get there an hour early in order to get seats. We showed up just as the service started. Surprisingly, there was space on the balcony, so we took it. We sang some songs, watched the 100+ voice choir sing some with a Grammy-winning guest, and heard a sermon about how great it is that we’re going to heaven. Everything felt like television.

After church we headed off to Times Square; one worship service to another. It is the loudest, most obtrusive place you will ever go. You have to close your eyes to not see someone selling you something. And the money and creativity put into it is astounding. Giant, video billboards specifically shaped to sell Coca-Cola and Budweiser beer. I sat on the red steps, dreaming of a cup of coffee on a comfy, old couch in a log cabin.

After finding some street-vending Mexican food (awesome), we headed to Ground Zero. There isn’t much to look at over there. Just a hole where they’re either still cleaning up or starting to build the new WTC. There is a memorial wall on the one side that really brings you back to that day in a serious way.

When we were done there, we moved on to Wall Street to see what was going down, so to speak. Not much. There was a giant American flag and a statue of George Washington. Photos were taken. We went home for a quiet evening together. Denny and I made some abstract whiteboard art.

Monday we started with Soho. It was supposed to be another cool, artsy neighborhood, but apparently the yuppies have taken over. Nothing sold there is affordable. We had planned to spend most of the day there, hanging out in some quaint cafe, but it was harder to come by than we had anticipated. We did find one called “Cafe Cafe,” but it was more of a breakfast place, and breakfast was over. We only spent an hour or so there before heading in toward the Empire State Building.

On the way there, Lauren and I decided it was time for new shoes. It was raining, and my Vans had holes in the soles. I think Lauren just wanted new shoes. After finding out we would have to sacrifice limbs in order to go up the Empire State Building ($20 each), we headed to Starbucks to use their bathrooms. I waited outside and had a guy try to sell me a bus tour. One of the best salesmen I’ve ever met. He had his not-only-that’s lined up, one after the other. He almost had me.

Denny, Dennis and Lauren went home after that while the rest of us went to the Art Students League to look at some art. It was just a one room exhibit, with the paintings and sculptures organized by teacher. There was some really good stuff in there, though. It looked like a good place for Fiona Moes.

On Tuesday we finally got down to business, visiting communities. We began with an Anglican Church called All Angels. They’ve got a great mix of people in their congregation, from the super-rich to the homeless. They host a pile of services in their building, from a soup kitchen to a free psychiatrist for the poor. It was cool to see normal church done well. Afterward we went to the Metropolitan Museum of Art, North America’s Luvre. Julia, Bado and I went through the Egyptian exhibit together before separating to enjoy other things. Of course, I went to the modern art and photography sections.

After the museum closed we all met up outside and moved on to Bruderhof, our second community. Amy, the woman who helped Denny find all these places, joined us for dinner there. Bruderhof is an international community a lot like the Orthodox Mennonites or the Huderites, except these guys have communities in some big cities, like New York. It was cool to see how they adapted to city life. In some ways, their idea of community actually works better in an urban setting, as was explained to us by Chris, one of the “house parents.” It helps them from becoming closed off from the outside culture, helps them be “in it,” but not “of it.” I had never really talked to anyone from a community like that because, well, most of them are cut off from everyone. It’s amazing how quickly your prejudices scatter once you actually meet with people and talk to them. By the end of the night, it all seemed so normal.

We started early on Wednesday, trying to get to Radical Living by 8:30. It took us a bit to find them, and we ended up being 15 minutes late. Except we were actually eleven hours and 45 minutes early, because we got our AMs and PMs mixed up. But someone came by and showed us around anyway, because these people know what hospitality means. Radical Living is a group of young professionals and volunteers who live together in Harlem. They eat together once a week, have a devotion time once a week, but most of their structure is focused on how to help the community around them. Some of them are in charge of hospitality (they have some extra rooms in their three apartments), and others try to find ways to help out the neighborhood. They all have their own jobs and their own churches, but they live under one roof. It looked like a realistic way of living out what we came to New York to learn about, building community in the city. It looked like something I could do.

We went straight from there to the Bronx Household of Faith, which has been doing its thing for 36 years. Bob, the guy who talked to us, started it with a friend and their wives with just one house. Now they have two houses back to back, a rehab centre for men and another building project, which will be a community centre/church, all on one block. After walking around the block and getting a cello concert from two of the seven children the one family adopted, we had some tea and coffee, and went on our way to the last stop of the day.

New Song Community Corporation started as a bible study in an apartment in Harlem. Now they’re a church, a health centre, a tutoring centre, a public computer lab, an affordable housing project, and soon, a restaurant. All in ten years. It helps to have some wealthy churches from the surrounding area funding them, but impressive nonetheless. One of the head pastors (I think his name is Robye) talked to us about how they started and what the vision was. They purposefully limited their reach to a ten-block radius, a real community church. It sounds like a really cool place. If I ever move to New York, I think I’ll move to Harlem and join them.

Thursday was our last real day in New York. We began with a trip to the Catholic Worker. We got to “The Brother House” or something like that, where we met up with Amy, who brought us to “the Sister House.” It seems that no one knew we were coming, even though Denny spoke to someone on the phone weeks ago who told us to come at 11:00. Things get like that around the Catholic Worker apparently. The lady we spoke with had this peculiar calmness to her. She told us how the Catholic Worker got started (Dorothy Day and Peter Maurin writing a newspaper about social justice for NYC), and what they’re doing now (feeding and housing the poor, dressing up as Guatanamo Bay prisoners in front of Capitol Hill, etc). All this while the cat walked all over the table. Amy said later that people say it’s a miracle the Catholic Worker has lasted so long because of how disorganized it is. So there is hope for me.

After a very memorable meeting with the Catholic Worker, we took the rest of the day to get our fill of the city. Julia and I finally found Greenwich Village. Some of the giants have moved in, but the neighbourhood hasn’t completely lost its flavour. After finding the book I’ve been looking for in Barnes & Noble, we sat in a nice place for some great coffee. We took some more pictures on our way back for dinner and a meeting with Amy. She wanted our input about the places and to know what we had learned. It was a great way to debrief everything. After she left, Julia, Pierre, Denny, Lauren, Thomas, Marie and I all went out to one of the local pubs for a drink and fellowship. The sign said “live jazz.” We got Oasis ’80s covers, but we weren’t complaining. The walls were covered with famous faces. We had a good time.

We woke up early on Friday, and went home on the bus with new ideas and shoes.

]]> http://www.whistlehum.com/2009/05/new-york/feed/ 0 http://www.whistlehum.com/2009/04/silence/ http://www.whistlehum.com/2009/04/silence/#comments Wed, 08 Apr 2009 04:22:57 +0000 admin http://www.whistlehum.com/?p=281 We went to Dunham again last week to learn about spiritual disciplines from a guy named Jeff Pratt. He’s part of “Axiom New Monastic Community” in New Haven, Connecticut. Right now there’s an arts and music themed DTS finishing their lecture phase in Dunham. Some pretty cool folk from all over. Australia to Barbados to Denmark. Impressive. I brought my saxophone and we jammed. I hadn’t played like that in a long time. Just let go. My lips were rubber by the end.

At first, the lectures seemed alright, nothing to special. Jeff knew how to speak, but almost too well, you know? It felt practiced. And I’m not a big fan of sentimental stories. But as the week went on, I noticed there was something behind all that. I haven’t really started any of the spiritual disciplines he spoke about very seriously. I try to read my Bible every morning during and/or after breakfast, but it only happens half the time. And although I do pray, it’s not something I’ve scheduled into my life. I only pray when I feel like it. There’s definitely no discipline to it. And that’s only two out of the ten that Jeff brought up. Fellowship I think I’ve got down alright. I know how to fellowship with people. But things like fasting and meditation, I simply don’t do. It just never comes to my attention. Jeff definitely helped me see the lack of discipline in my life.

After a week of talking about all that, along with some stories from Jeff’s crazy life, we had a silent retreat. Jeff explained what that meant on Friday evening and on Saturday we went at it. From about 10 to 5 in the afternoon, no one spoke. Jeff gave us some questions and ideas to run with, and we all found our own spots on the enormous property YWAMDunham owns. At first I thought of finding some place on a fire escape or the roof, but I didn’t want to be seen by anyone. I didn’t want to be “the guy on the roof,” that was distracting someone. Plus, from those high places, there’s a lot to look at and get distracted from. So I walked around the building. I saw the wood shack (Dunham is heated by a huge wood-burning furnace), and thought it would be funny to sit in there. I haven’t read the book “the Shack,” and don’t really plan on it. I have an immediate aversion to popular books. Except for “Blue Like Jazz” maybe. I liked that one. But popular fiction just doesn’t really interest me. I realize that that is a a gigantic generalization, but I don’t really care. They’re just stories.

But anyway, I sat down in the shack. It was way too distracting in there. For one, the log I sat on tipped constantly. And I could smell and hear the kitchen. And then people started walking by. So I left. Earlier I had a picture in my head of a perfect spot across the road in the forest, so I went to look for it. There were so many people in the forest. I had to cross two creeks and got my shoes all muddy before I finally found a spot where I couldn’t see anyone. I came to a waste-high stone wall and as I stepped onto it, I realized that I’m a fence-sitter. I mean, in a lot of ways, I’m a pretty non-commital person. I have a hard time making decisions. So that was my confession: ‘God, sorry for sitting on fences. Help me commit to truth and goodness and all that is holy.’ That kind of thing. Then I stepped over and kept going.

I came to another stone wall that probably connected to the one I had just climbed over, and thought it would be ironic if after that moment back there I found a spot on the wall, so I sat down. I started to mull over everything that had happened to me and all that I had learned while in Quebec. I started thinking about that week, and what we had been discussing during the lectures. On Thursday or Friday, Jeff asked us to find something in our spiritual lives that was lacking and to pray about it. I had chosen trust. Because of some crap that happened to me in the past couple years, I’ve been having a tough time trusting God. So I was thinking about that. And all of a sudden I got something, an impression. But it was different than most impressions, I get impressions all the time. This one had a closeness to it that I had never felt before. A “Sufjan Stevens” closeness, you know? Bands like Coldplay and Kings of Leon use a lot of reverb to make it sound like they’re in a cave or a church or a stadium or something. Sufjan Stevens sounds like he’s two inches from your ear, like he actually lives in your speakers. This is why Jon denHaan doesn’t like him, makes him feel claustrophobic. This is exactly why I love him. Anyway, this impression. It was super close, it was loud. It said, “I trust you.” Wow. I never thought of it that way. God trusts us. He trusts us with a lot. And being given this realization has helped me put my trust in Him more. So I had a little moment there in the woods with my God. Then I got another impression. It said, “go eat lunch.” So I did.

Not much else happened for the rest of the day. I spent the rest of it doing odds and ends while I thought about Jesus and the woods. We watched “the Breakfast Club” that evening or the next. I don’t really remember. Played some indoor soccer in their wicked awesome gym (remember the pictures?). I played a mean keeper. Nothing got past me. I was lord of my domain. It was a good game. Good week.

To you Dunhamites, I hope to see you all again some day. You are wonderful people. But if we don’t, or if it doesn’t happen for a very long time, you can always come on here and read the story about our awesome week. Except that this was all about me, so you can read about my awesome week, which would not have been half as awesome without you. Peace. Until we meet again.

Most of this story was already written, but wordpress decided it wasn’t worth saving, even though I actually pressed the save button to make sure it was saved. I would be pulling my hair out right now, but I’m using my hands to type. I might skip some stuff, just because I’m running low on patience.

So yeah, I went. I’ll save you the trouble of reading about the bus ride there. Not much happened. I finished my book, “Sophie’s World.” It’s a novel about the history of philosophy. Needless to say, I liked it.

My friendship with Jenna pretty much consists of numerous text messaging and the occasional moment on skype. So we texted ourselves to each other when I got to Toronto, did the whole hug off, and I met her/our friend Jenn. The original plan was to book it back to Hamilton to hang out at the bar Jenna works at, but Jenn wanted us to stay in Toronto, so we did. We had a great time. Went back to Jenn’s amazingly cheap apartment in relation to location, talked music and life a little, and then hit the streets. Jenn’s DJ friend was supposed to be doing something at this place “Campus Club” or something like that, so we headed in that direction. But it didn’t look worth the $5 cover so we left. The event organizer was a sworn enemy of Jenna’s or something like that, plus the bouncers looked more like chaperones. We walked for awhile and then Jenn remembered this place called “the Boat” that sometimes played ’50s music, so we went to go take a look. When we got there they were playing African tribal music, people were flinging their limbs all over the place, and the guy who asked for our ID looked like a back-alley Robert Plant. Also not worth $5. So we just went home to Jenn’s. We had a good time anyway, hey girls? It was great.

In the morning, Jenn fed us bagels and fruit and we headed out the door (but not before I nearly forgot all my bags in her apartment). Jenna and I took the bus to Hamilton and walked to her place, which is in a neighborhood a lot like yours was here, Mom. Maybe it was… (duhn, duhn, DUNNNNNN!!!) Anyway, we hung out there for awhile, overcooked some french fries, watched “Almost Famous,” and generally had a good time. That evening we relaxed in the hot tub until her/our friends Scott and Jesse showed up to go ddddancing. I don’t remember the name of the place we went to, but it wasn’t too bad. As always, the first few moments were awkward. Apparently I missed this in Toronto, but if you go out on the town with Jennalane, chances are you will bump into someone she knows. This was definitely true at the place we went to. Everywhere we turned, she was talking to someone new. I couldn’t keep up, so I didn’t bother. It took a bit for me to warm up, but I ended up legitimately getting my dance on. It helped that Scott and Jesse dance a lot like I do; you know, shaking limbs and having fun. Later on, these two scantily clad women who had these chochy guys around them were dancing near us and joined the fun. It was a little weird, but we rolled with it.

We went to Jenna’s church in the morning. Her CanRef friends Justine and Catherine picked us up and we headed on out. Justine got pulled over on the highway for speeding, but the cop was really nice. Only gave her a small ticket. It helped that we told him where we were going I think. Jenna goes to a Pentacostal Church, so the worship time was pretty great. Her pastor, who she apparently loves, wasn’t there so we had a guest speaker. She was pretty nuts. To wrap it all up nicely, she pretty much said not to listen to all this fear-mongering about the economy and to trust in God. She also prophesied that it would be a good year for the church financially, which was pretty interesting. I’m not really used to that kind approach on a Sunday morning, so it was a little difficult to understand. But I came out unscathed. We had a good chat about speaking in tongues afterward. Overall, a challenging but nurturing way to spend a Sunday. Not too shabby.

We lazed about pretty heavily for the rest of the day. Jenna’s pretty-much-adoptive sister Breanne came by with her boyfriend from Georgia, who doesn’t sound at all like he’s from Georgia by the way. We chatted a bit, and then they drove us to the bus station. She came with me to Toronto, we talked about when we will ever see each other again, and then parted ways as I got on the bus. It wasn’t too bad on the way home. An army guy sat beside me till Kensington, and then I got to stretch out and get some sleep. I didn’t get to Montreal till 3:45 in the morning. The station’s in a pretty shady part of town, but I tried to walk up rue St. Denis anyway to try to catch a night bus. Saw some pretty creepy and/or drunk folk on the way, so after watching a bus drive by, I found a cab. It was warm inside and the driver was nice. My broken French and his broken English got us by. I went home and slept.

The End.

Friday night was equally as exciting and with completely different people. Dave, a new friend from church, was playing the drums for his friend’s band at this fundraiser, so Julia, her man Michael and I went to go see. They were raising money to raise awareness about (primarily native) women who had gone missing in the city. The whole thing was in this loft in the middle of an industrial area. Exactly what you picture when you think ‘artsy loft concert.’ Open room, used furniture, white walls with odd art displayed, paint peeling of the ceiling, make-shift bar in the back by the barred windows; you get the picture. The first girl who performed was actually really good. She played some sweet folk tunes of her own. I think she picked up a new instrument for every song. Pretty great. After her, it got a little weird. Dave had warned me that the band he was drumming for was really dark and strange. They weren’t the only ones. At one point, a women was birthed from a sheet/womb wrapped in red ribbon. Some native women drummed and sang some traditional songs, that was pretty cool. A girl played the keyboard and sang her songs. She kind of reminded me of Rachel Boldt, but not half as good. Then Dave’s band played.

They were all wearing “wigs.” If Mozart’s wig was thrown together in five minutes, it would look like some of these. Someone had written a story about animal creatures rebellion against man or something like that, and it was displayed on a slide or two. The instruments included electro-noise, improvised guitar, Dave banging away, and four girls sing/yelling at the top of their lungs. Dave and the girls sounded surprisingly good. The others could have used some melody. I suggested a bari-sax. Something to fill out the sound a little more. Oh, and then there were the dancers. We had one guy with a cardboard deer strapped to his back and two people with paper mache heads on top of their heads. Pretty creepy. At one point, the deer guy was under a net, and the extra head people were killing it or something. I’m not sure.

Saturday night was Michael’s last night here before heading back to Germany, so Julia, he and I went to the Casa del Popolo to see what was going on there. Nothing was going on there. Well, they had a dj who mixed Steve Miller Band in with his electronica. I sang along. Other than that, we just sat and talked a little. I like that place. I feel pretty comfortable there.

I showed up to church at 12:11 on Sunday. The service starts at 11:11. You get the picture. Pastor Lorenzo was away, so they had filmed him preaching and were showing it up on their screens. Couldn’t they have just gotten a visiting preacher or something? I couldn’t concentrate. Too busy deciding which screen to watch. Afterward I went with Dominique, another church friend, and some other people to a greek restaurant. The conversation never went past other restaurants, the terrible service at the one we were at, and where everyone was from. I spent the last 20 minutes planning my escape.

That pretty much covers everything. This week we have Marc from GBU (the French version of Intervarcity) teaching us about apologetics. It gets better as the week passes. Kind of a hard things to talk about when everyone in the room believes in God, but it’s not too bad.

Oh, I almost forgot. Crappy deal. You remember Jenna, the one that almost died in that bus accident. Well she’s going through the “now or never” part of recovery and wanted me to come visit in Ontario this weekend. She was even willing to fork over the cash for the bus ride and everything. I was really stoked to go, and then I realized the choir was singing this Sunday. Emailed the choir director and explained the situation (friend almost died and wants me to come visit, could I skip out on Sunday), and she said no. Lame. Super lame. I’m going next weekend instead. But this weekend worked out so well otherwise. It sucks. I’ll live. We’ll live Jennalane. See you next weekend. I’ll still talk to Carol, try to convince her. Not making any promises though.

My friend Jenna from Hamilton was on this bus. They told her she might die. Right now she’s in a hotel room with a bruised wrist.

Read the news story here.Â

Sooner or later she’ll write her own story of what happened here.

Man, God is on your side Jenna. There’s no other explination.

I’m going to talk about this morning. Last night was La Nuit Blanche, a city-wide all nighter. There were free or cheap events happening all over the city, and we took part with a few people from Dunham, the other YWAM base we went to in December. We didn’t get home till 4:30 am. I was not planning to go to church.

Then Bado’s love-interest called at 9:30 and woke both of us up. I decided it was divine intervention and got cleaned up. Man, am I happy I did. I guess mostly because I was there alone, I ended up sitting beside Dave, a guy I met there last week, and we ended up talking during the break (we always have a coffee break before the sermon) and afterward. He’s a drummer too, and we have similar taste in music. We’re going to get together some time this week. Pretty exciting.

More importantly, it was announced in front that River’s Edge will be helping fund a café ministry in the city. The woman starting it said it looks like it won’t be opening till June, but I went over afterward and talked to her anyway. She said I could possibly help her get things started and could definitely look at their business plan and learn from what they’re doing. Awesome. Internship, here I come.

Now that I’ve shared, it’s your turn! I am in a predicament. I still need to pay $1500 to YWAM. I currently have just over $200. I need money pretty badly. God has pulled through here so far, and I believe he will bless me further by taking care of this situation. But if I’ve learned anything here in Montreal, it’s that God often blesses people through other people. If your heart says “yes,” be that person. It would make me happy.

Send to: 1204 boul St. Joseph Montreal QC H2J 1L6. Merci mes amis, merci.

Oh right, the list.

1. Strangers, The Kinks (from Lola vs. Powerman and the Moneyground, Part 1).
2. Teen Creeps, No Age (from Nouns).
3. Canadian Girl, The Walkmen (from You & Me).
4. Sesame Street’s Two-Headed Monster shares (from Youtube).
5. The New Pollution, Beck (from Odelay).
6. For Corners, Digable Planets (from Blowout Comb).
7. Yer Blues, The Beatles (from the White Album).
8. Set You Free, The Black Keys (from Thickfreakness).
9. The German (Something Came Up), Richard Swift (from Richard Swift as Onasis).
10. Secret Heart, Feist (from Let It Die).
11. Summertime Clothes, Animal Collective (from Merriweather Post Pavilion).
12. So Jealous, Tegan and Sara (from So Jealous).
13. Soul Love, David Bowie (from the Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars).
14. High Fidelity, Daft Punk (from Homework).
15. Like a Rolling Stone, Bob Dylan (from Highway 61 Revisited).
16. Which Will, Nick Drake (from Pink Moon).
17. Source Tags & Codes, …And You Will Know Us by the Trail of Dead (from Source Tags & Codes).