Research shows that chronically alone people have long-term health problems. But one advantage of my 3-month sublet was only occasionally talking to people. Because whenever I do, people usually opine unsavoury opinions. It could be that I am of the "intolerant left" as declared by those of a rightward bent. I am not a true leftist though because I don't care to fix society or make people see the light; apres moi and all that.
For example, during a company meet-and-greet in March, I found out that a co-worker held punitive and carceral views when it comes to unhoused folks and drug users. As they also lead annual missionary trips to "3rd-world countries", it didn't surprise me. There's no hate like Christian love, as the kids say. My annoyance surfaced over my typical politeness until we moved to less fraught topics.
It happened twice in one week since my return to Ottawa. On Easter Sunday last week, my sibling hosted a lunch with a big East-meets-West spread. Lately, our lunches have been smaller due to sick or unavailable relatives. When our chat turned to the current state of the world, my judgmental aunt and the "labourer" wife of my uncle both saw through the buffoonery of the Orange-In-Chief. But my mom kept repeating like an wind-up robot: "I am pro-Orange". This was her first time she had spoken out-loud what I have been suspecting for some time. How did someone, proud of her education and cosmopolitanism, with no access to right-wing media got this way? Sadly, she watches endless videos of people of her generation who have nostalgic memories of our European colonizers, exaggerated views of the accomplishments of the ancien regime, and abiding hatred of those "evil Reds". This means that these elders also align themselves with those here whose worldview also hearkened to an imaginary golden past and nothing but grievances for the present. The irony, of course, was that the supremacists' ideal society would not include her cohort even if they had carried water for them.
Meanwhile, my sibling was worried about their next-door neighbour. First, the house was foreclosed. Then the owners were seen back in the house. Were they illegal squatters? This led them and my cousins to recount anecdotes and hearsay from "a friend of a friend" that showed that landlords were the real victims in real estate. I was so tired of it all I went and sat by myself for a while. So on Friday, I decided to finally reply to a post on Craigslist about a sublet. It was the same apartment I stayed at back in 2022. Next month, I will once again have several weeks of quiet solo living.
On Saturday, I met up with a friend for lunch at Decca Delight. We both had vague memories that this place used to be another restaurant. I then recalled that I had wandered in here looking for Korean corn dogs at Seoul Dog until I saw the bar. Asian street food in an English-style pub seemed out of place. Decca offered mostly Indian dishes but also a handful of Hakka (Indian-Chinese) dishes. Our lunch consisted of Gobi Manchurian ($15.99), Malai Kofta ($15.99), Vijayawada Byriani ($17.99) and naan ($3.49). The portions were large, tasty, but a bit on the salty side.
The same could be said of our conversation. We touched on raising teenagers, work travails, and relaxation (I went to Toronto, they vacationed in Mexico and Spain). I talked about mutual friends who were considering retirement. I felt that they were unjustified in their worries because their government pension outclassed most Canadians' modest fixed income. They declared "not my problem" with the average Joe's precarity. Then came statements about the obsolescence of unions and lazy workers. We bid goodbye until the next time.
