Sunbird

Week 23, 2026: Halfsies of culture

Gua sha face massage while coffee grows to a boil on the cezve. Cezve. I have no idea how to pronounce that word. We call it a kanaka and the Greeks call it a briki. Both of those words are much cuter but the whole point of language is communication and you’ll probably recognize cezve before kanaka or briki. I don’t know if that’s true. It feels true. What I do know is that it takes four minutes for the coffee to boil in my new kitchen and I only need a minute and a half to massage my face with my gua sha.

I’ve met more Persians in three weeks in Toronto than I did in nearly two decades in the Gulf. My Persian friend, who I met through an app back in London, sees no point in my learning Farsi but I think it could be cute or funny. I met some of those Toronto-based Persians in an ESL meet-up. I was there because my Italian flatmate invited me. He knew everybody in the church, dabbing up and shaking hands and pointing at me like this is my new roommate, she’s great. Perfect, he went as far as to call me at some point, and I smiled and swallowed. I said yes to joining him to be warm and agreeable but, now that I was seated in front of a paper listing idioms, I wondered if I had to pretend not to know what "blood is thicker than water" meant and that made me feel a little cold.

Our host said we were going to answer card prompts and that turned out to be a good time because it was just us conversing in English. I was grouped with a Persian and a French-Tunisian. We were mostly earnest and that was nice because I’m used to men just shooting the shit in group settings and I enjoyed listening to two men I just met sincerely answer the question: What do you wish was different about the way you were raised?

When Siri asked what’s that English word they use when someone says they’ll be there at a certain time but they’re not?, I replied a liar I think and they laughed and it was times like that I felt warmer and warmer. Flaky, I said when I felt his eyes lingering on me. Later, outside the church, I watched him try to get a Japanese guy to pronounce his name right for what felt like a good five minutes. It was the length of a stand-up set and it certainly felt that way at times. Siri, like Alexa, he said, and the Japanese guy said Silly? Nice to meet you, Silly. No, Siri. Yes, Silly. No. Yes. This is a thing I heard about the Japanese, said Siri, they’re not so good with Rs. The Japanese guy nodded vigorously, then asked him to repeat what he just said.

While watching this interaction, a girl who had been introduced to me as Tornado, ran up to us and slung an arm around me. Let’s party, she grinned, and I immediately said I can’t. I told her I have to call my mother. She leaned close to my face until hers was an inch away, and whispered you have problems with your mama?, which is admittedly a very funny thing to say in response to someone bailing on a night-out.

I had an early start the next morning. I wore my nicest formal outfit and took the lift to the 27th floor of a corporate building to sit across from two people I had only met virtually to shake their hands and make my contractual wants clear. I was honest and they said they’ll think about what I said and I left hoping that honesty is a good thing as I like to believe.

After trying to walk off the adrenaline and satiate it with a food stall hotdog, I texted A asking if she wanted to see me. We sat on the grass of a park and talked about job interviews and things we were going to spend money on once security felt tangible. Things like chain diners and a train to Niagara Falls. I can’t remember whose idea this was or why we didn’t acknowledge the humour behind an Ikea visit on a second date but that’s where we found ourselves. Strolling, chit-chatting, wondering if there was any ice-cream to be had.

It wasn’t easy finding the mattress toppers so I asked a couple employees if they had any and, shaking their heads like it was going to devastate me, they responded we do but only for a twin bed. That’s exactly what I’m looking for, I said, my voice quiet, like it might devastate them too. I took a picture of the price tag. She bought black hangers and elderflower syrup.

Stuff I want to eventually buy for my room:

I got my affairs in order in the next few days. The shop for groceries. The bank because the shared basement laundry room only takes coins. The local library for a card. My inbox for a contract that was awaiting my signature. Zoe came to my ends towards the end of the week and we sat in the back patio of an extremely cool bar that I need to visit again, where I got to thoroughly enjoy her knack for story-telling while sipping on a 0.5% IPA. I told her all about my new — friendships, flatmate, job. We moved to the corner table of a pizzeria where an ice hockey match was playing on the television and I was about to burn the roof of my mouth on a slice of my 14" honey drizzle pizza.

Friday was Toronto Island, a day that was planned weeks ahead for beaching with A and her new friends and many strangers who were also there for Lez Beach. The forecast said it would be cloudy but we were hopeful. We took the ferry together, just us two, and met up with her friends a few hours into the event. She lent me a book she just finished and I helped her put on sunscreen. It was easy when it was just us two, talking about our childhoods and sharing lemonade. I must’ve exchanged a total of twenty words with the other girls. I knew this was going to happen from the first ten minutes but I spent five hours trying to prevent it from happening. It doesn’t matter, though, because it did. A cloudy day, after all.

The weekend was hot. I wrapped up a book and a TV show, trying to take up as much space on the couch and stretch my way to coolness. I have this big white fluffy rug in my bedroom that I decided can double as both a writing nook and a place for introspective phone calls where I can lean my legs up on the bed or the wall while I say things like well my take on the situation is that you should –

I only left the flat for a date and a run. Coffee pick-up from a cafe that features in a film she likes, blanket in the park, two-halves of a ginger molasses cookie that she picked for us because I got overwhelmed at the till. We talked about Chile and Palestine, mothers and self-help, lifeguarding and stand-up. We’re both halfsies of different countries. And isn’t that the way it always is with the people I am drawn to befriending and romancing? Even when it’s not the typical halfsies, it’s a complex story tying geography back to lineage. A halfsies of culture.

Is that true? It feels true. It's the title of this entry, so it must be true.

I was slow on the run, one of the slowest in fact, even though I was full of creatine and caffeine. When I got to the finish line, I received a bunch of high-fives because that’s what people in run clubs do. I met many Persians that day and we took a big smiling picture for Instagram. They all went to get coffee and I left to check out my local farmer’s market. The best farmer’s market is the one closest to you. Mango pop, knees to my chin on the grass, watching a guy play rock and roll covers on the piano. He drew me in with Elton John and ended his set with an original called Radio Bingo, inspired by his time listening to radio bingo while growing up in Nova Scotia. I wanted to let him know how wonderfully he played but I didn’t have any tipping money and he was off the stage before I could decide on whether a compliment would measure up to a tip in his eyes.

#weeknotes