Things I’ve Gotten Used to Since Moving to #Vancouver

Things I’ve gotten used to: being a minority, eating at places where I can’t read the menu, “gong show” & ending sentences with “eh.”

— Gwynne Monahan(@econwriter5) June 3, 2012

Moving to a foreign country (yes Canada is a foreign country, and not the “state between Montana and Alaska), there’s an expectation that a number of things will be different. Some are obvious, like currency, language. Some you know ahead of time but are still jarring when experienced, like a different iTunes and Netflix. And some you only realize after being in the country for an extended period of time.

Such was the thinking behind that tweet, and some realizations I, well, didn’t realize.

Being a Minority

I often said this in jest, but it is a reality. While being female often puts me in a “minority” category anyway, being white in Vancouver knocks me down a few rungs as well. The city has a considerable Asian population. And while being out and about this is obvious, it takes sitting in a restaurant or hair salon and being painfully, obviously non-Asian, for it to sink in. I caught myself feeling very self conscious yesterday while getting a haircut. Not only was I the only non-Asian customer, I was the only non-Asian present!

Granted, that wasn’t the first time, but it was the first time I felt self-conscious.

I went to a dim sum dinner with a work mate the weekend he helped me move my five boxes of possessions. We met a couple of his friends. One was Asian, the other was African-American. And then there was me. In a restaurant full of other Asians. I was too consumed by the move, and my first experience eating dim sum, to pay it much attention. A month or two later, I went to dinner with another work mate, at an Asian restaurant she frequented, and noticed that I was the only non-Asian present. And again last night, my first experience of real Ramen Noodles, I was the only non-Asian. That changed, though, as the evening progressed. More non-Asians arrived, the din of chatter consisted of some English instead of Cantonese or Mandarin.

I’m not one to draw attention to myself. In fact, I prefer to blend and observe. I can’t do anything about my genetic makeup, but I can damn well learn how to use chopsticks.

Eating at Places Where I Can’t Read the Menu

I should note that there is English on menus at Asian restaurants. It just happens to be in small font, tucked beneath a maze of Asian characters. I have not yet been able to distinguish between Chinese and Japanese characters, so I collectively call them “Asian characters.” And the English doesn’t always make sense to me as I am not always familiar with the food names. “Pork butt” does not sound appetizing, and after reading a number of menus with such colorful (and true, it turns out) descriptions, I can see why American super markets don’t get so particular in labeling. We’re quick to judge books by covers, as it were.

So I’ve learned to guess based on descriptions that make the most sense, relative to the others. And I’ve been pretty pleased with the results. I’ve also learned, when experiencing something for the first time, to go with the “traditional” instead of something more “exotic” just so I have a solid baseline of comparison. There are many Asian restaurants in Vancouver, but they are not equal. So it’s helpful to have a baseline comparison.

And Asian restaurants serve food traditionally eaten with chopsticks. Even though I play drums, chopsticks are a challenge for me, and serve to highlight my non-Asianness. I’m learning, though. Slowly but surely, I’m learning. I’ve about mastered how to eat sushi with chopsticks, and was feeling pretty good with dim sum. Noodles, though, are a completely different story. I learned this the hard way last night, during my first experience with Ramen Noodles.

Actual, real Ramen Noodles, not the microwave version.

There is an art to eating Ramen Noodles with chopsticks, and short of killing food myself, I don’t think I’ve ever worked so hard for a meal.

Gong Show

This seems to be a distinctly Canadian phrase used in place of “chaos.” Anything that doesn’t run or operate smoothly, or involves hordes of people, is a “gong show.”

I have no idea of the origin of that phrase, but it gets tossed around on a regular basis in Vancouver. At the office. At a concert. At the bar. On the bus. Everywhere. Why two words instead of one to describe the same thing, I don’t know. But they seem to like using it, and rarely pass up an opportunity.

Myself, I have yet to incorporate this word into my vocabulary. That is not true for all, though.

Ending Sentences with “Eh”

Some Canadians will claim they do not do this, until you call them on it and they smile sheepishly and keep talking. It is rare, however, to have a conversation, or overhear one, with a Canadian and not hear a sentence end in “eh.” It’s usually spoken with a rise in pitch as if asking a question.

I have caught myself doing this now and then, and I’m convinced I must do it now and then without realizing it, eh?

The use of “eh” doesn’t annoy me as much as it did. Sort of like hearing “Missourah” instead of “Missouri,” I’ve gotten used to it. I am more conscious of when I use “eh” myself, but hearing it is a reminder that I have stepped outside my comfort zone, if not completely vacated it for a new one.