Waterloo was wonderful, I don't know where to start. With the limo service chauffering me around since I didn't have a credit card for their car rental? With the ultra-posh hotel with my own balcony, gym and swimming pool that I didn't use since I brought neither running shoes nor bathing suit?
With the Amish woman at the farmer's market that told me she liked my tattoo and the ensuing conversation about how women in her life have certain responsabilities but that doesn't preclude their desire to learn math?
Everyone there is so nice. Saying hello in the street, nobody trying to run anybody over, no litter, recycling projects up the wazoo even in the hotel...
Or maybe I should start with nine straight hours of gruelling interviews and questions and demonstrations ending with a written exam that I had to present to the four individual team managers... That I aced?
I had no idea that I had such a strong grasp on Object Oriented concepts.
I had no idea that companies like them existed anymore, where every inch of their code is reviewed for possible memory leaks or optimization...
Their code runs on six platforms, Windows (NT/2000), Linux, Irix, Solaris, HP-UX and AIX... And it runs well.
Every one of them is a scientist on top of being an imrpessively competent programmer, every one of them is proud of their work, proud of their company.
They have a hockey and soccer and basketball team.
But I don't want to live in Waterloo...
I want to find a company like that, a company willing to turn to me after nine hours of sweat and near-tears and tell me "you're perfect for our team" and I want that company to be in Europe, Montreal, or possibly Nawlin's.
I need to move. I know I need to move. Not because there aren't enough opportunities here, but because...
Because I recognized half the streets as the plane circled and headed for a landing.
I need change. I need people with different sets of values. I'd love a small town... But not one where all the signs are in english and nobody speaks any other tongue.
Tuesday night I collapsed into my rented bed and ordered room service, determined to rest and calm down a little before heading out to explore the town.
The girl that brought up my extra-spicy vegetarian tandoori noodles exclaimed in the sweetest voice "Is your hair naturally so curly?!? You're so lucky" and we started talking...
And she invited me out for beers (she bought me one with my tip and that was weird in itself) at the "Rude Native" and her lesbian friends took my rejection of the suggested tryst with charming smiles and a few less-than innocent backrubs, when the bartender flagged me down and asked "Where's your motorcycle jacket?"
Shoulders squared I announced that just cuz I happen to be wearin' all black don't make me a biker.. But he shook his head and laughed and described the black dragon against the fiery backdrop that he remembered from the back of the motorcycle jacket that I wore on the trip we made to stratford in high school...
This is the guy that I was hiding out with in the appartment above the pool hall when our school chaperone decided she needed to call the cops since it was past 3am and our curfew was eleven...
My first and only suspension and we reminisced some, learning that my baby sister hung out in the cafe he opened when her Stratford trip rolled around.
There are suspicions as to the fact that my sister and I made out with the same guy, but she sure as hell isn't likely to confirm them.
The driver that took me to the market yesterday turned out to be a big SF geek, we talked about Heinlein and Douglas Adanms and Terry Pratchett and all sorts of obscure things, and we sat outside the market for a good forty-five minutes before his pager went off and he had to go pick someone else up.
I rode up front most of the time, limos are cool and all, but it's weird sitting in the back.
I bought how-to-write books for Emily and Olivia at the Children's book shop in the market, and had yet another pms-enhanced moment of "but I can't leave them!" stress before I came across the delightful Amish woman that philosophized under the hot sun with me for a while.
I'm back now, over the upset at the familiar cracks in the roads on the way back from the airport, over the glorious joining with David while his girls slept, settling comfortably into cleaning chores and nasty, nasty cramps.
I can smell my coffee, and my sheets need washing...