The blessings of scarcity

The shelves in the grocery stores around town are suspiciously low on things like food. Oh sure, you can still get a bazillion variants of the potato chip, including the Canadian-specific Roast Chicken and All Dressed types, but at last check, there was no spinach, no lettuce, and only the saddest, floppiest species of broccoli.

Like many things about isolated places, this scarcity can be a blessing. In Korea, the quest for cheese took me to small back roads of Pusan and Seoul, paying mint for a block of non-processed cheddar. These adventures loom large in my imagination, informing my view of the hermit kingdom.

Corner Brook is another hermit kingdom. In this corner of the corner of Canada, the narrowing of options makes decisions simple. The single movie theater shows only two films at a time, one invariably a rom com starring Hugh Grant. Without the benefit of choice, evenings of board games have taken over my social schedule.

Speaking of changing options, I have begun my hockey era. On Friday night, I headed to the small hockey rink that resembled the indoor soccer fields of my Corvallis days. I followed my colleague Mario down the little hallway, carrying giant, distended shopping bags full of assorted padding. He headed into a small dressing room full of men, and I hung back until he popped his head back out and said "you're in here too." I headed in, greeting players that I recognized. People were lacing and taping and adjusting their assorted pads; there was one other woman, Crystal, a librarian that I've played lots of boardgames with. One other woman eventually showed up, the Vice President of Grenfell.

The assorted professors and staff walked onto the ice. Some were clearly great hockey players and they warmed up confidently, sprinting across the ice and stopping with a flourish of shaved ice crystals. I walked like a stiff-limbed marionette, until Marc, a friendly English professor, told me that hockey players skate with their legs bent. I hunched over and bent my legs and skated like he told me, my legs shooting to the sides. Then I tried stopping - and just spun in circles, my arms flailing around. This will be a challenge.

In the actual game, I did alright. I'm fast when I get going, but stopping or turning suddenly or using the stick in a more purposeful manner will require some practice. My stick was useful for holding me up as I skated fast, my back bent over, but it was less useful for hitting the puck.

Then yesterday, I went snowshoeing at the ski hill and then ate soup at the Tim Horton's in the little gas station at the bottom of the hill.

Turning shades of Canadian.