A "Chat" With The Prime Minister of Canada



The Prime Minister is in front of the second flag from the left. 
I am two seats to his right.

Interviewing the Prime Minister of Canada, Stephen Harper – leader of the second largest country in the world was new territory. I have interviewed the Prime Minister of New Zealand John Keys and brushed air space with the Dalai Lama. In all three situations, a reporter mandated to question is also concerned how much time and access is given or can snatch, given one has to write a story of at least a decent 400 words size plus a photograph.      

Well it was a rainy cold late November morning on a Saturday in downtown Vancouver. I knew I was in the right building when I saw a phalanx of men in black (uniform trench coats), no women, noticeably all fit with an average 31 inch waist. And of course the odd security men in blue with their dogs.

I was assigned a reporter’s seat closest to the PM seat. While we were waiting for the PM, three Members of Parliament mixed with the press – if this was a rock concert, you would say they were the opening act.

We were supposed to start the well-controlled media Q&A at 10:30 am but Prime Minister Stephen Harper came in around 11: 10 am. Due to time limitation, coupled with the delay, we were only allowed one question each with no follow up.

At 6’2” taller than my 5’8” frame, the prematurely silver-haired 52 year-old Prime Minister shook my hands and went around and did the same with everybody else. The PM is a conservative dresser from a blue print necktie, blue-striped grey suit, and starched white shirt to black oxford shoes. He can easily pass as a Midwestern or Prairie pastor who just had a full heavy breakfast about to give his Sunday sermon. The shoes, well-shined and clean all around the edges of the outsole, had seen some mileage as evidenced from the under sole, which was facing me most of the time.

Since we as reporters were briefed by one of the PM’s aides that we will get a transcript asap and an official photograph, it was both a relief that I didn’t have to record the proceeding and listen forward/rewind to it later, and a disappointment that we have to rely on an official photograph, which as it turned out was not “journalistic”.

I was the last one to ask, and since my planned question had been touched upon by another reporter, I had to think of a different approach and yet still focused on the subject of economy. The PM was looking at me intently and I thought I saw a smile at some point as he answered my question.

Then the photo op with the PM came. I was first and I asked Mr. Harper whether he wanted me on his right or left side, as some personalities have preferences. “It doesn’t matter.” A hand shake and that was that.

A few hours later, back in front of my laptop and with an emailed transcript received and a very small size jpeg photo, 40 KB, coupled with research, I was able to write an exactly even 450 word piece (shorter than this 750 word blog) which got the thumbs up from my editor. I must say that in order to write the story, I had to weave in the PM’s answers to other reporters’ questions on economy.

It took a couple of e-mail ping-pong returns, for the aide to finally send me a good-size 2 MB photo. It turned out the aide was sending the picture initially from her blackberry because she was not in her office. The deduction was that the blackberry was reducing the size of the picture.

The editor cc'd me as he e-mailed the page editor to take one last look and for the graphic artist to lay out the story for printing.

Writing a story is like having a baby; you anxiously wait for its arrival and see how it turns out. Where there typos? Was the structure clear yet interesting? You tried to figure out these in the pre-printing stages but now and then there are slips through the cracks. Fortunately none for this one. I was a happy camper.



NOTE: Due to copyright laws, I cannot publish the article in this blog yet, and the article is in paper print, not online so there is no link to provide. If you e-mail me a request, I can send you the text.

FLASH DANCE

Ever since I saw the movie Flashdance, the idea of auditioning as a dancer has been at the very very back corner of my mind.  I have always wondered what a dance audition would be like.  Will it be like the movie, where there are the ultra-confidents, the renegades, and the worriers?

So when I saw an ad at a local Vancouver city paper,

AUDITIONS Open Call for Strong Male and Female Dancers.

I told myself “Why not?  If not now, when?”  I consider myself strong and I have gotten good reviews before in the past with my dancing, that is disco dancing.  So I penciled in the date, November 3^rd, 2011, 10 am Harbour Dance Centre.

Please dress in close fitting dance attire, technical exercises & contrasting combinations will be taught to you at the audition.

A nippy dry autumn morning, I wore cut tank tops, the tightest jeans I have, and a thick pair of socks.  Clutching the newspaper ad clip, I took the No. 3 Bus on Main Street, and then the Sky Train to downtown Vancouver, walked towards 927 Granville Street, climbed up to the third floor, and entered a dance studio classroom with floor to ceiling mirrors and ballet bars.  Inside were mostly women, around 30 and six men including myself.  Everyone looked under the age of 30, young, fit, svelte and elastic as they did their warm ups.  Resumes were lying on top of most bags lined up against the walls. 

 I was the only one over 30, in fact, I was over 40!  But I was trim and fit (after losing 30 pounds in the past few months, I was confident and gung-ho).

Just like in the film Flashdance there were cliques and I felt like the Jennifer Beals character, out-of-place.  Lovely taut youth were doing stretches, odd movements, some standing, some sitting with their legs stretched on the shiny warm wooden floor.

Likewise, I took my shoes off, and sat legs out on the floor.  A friendly smiling guy extended his hand and introduced himself, “Hi, I’m Collin.” 

“Oh, I’m Jake.”  

A bit of a short talk.  He is from up north, Prince George.

Collin asked, “What’s the plan?”

“I am just dreaming.”

 “Good, go for it.”

Finally 20 minutes late, a British-accented man called the group, bald in his 50s with a tummy, identified himself as in charge of recruitment for Carnival Cruise Line’s 20 plus ships.  Each year he said he has around 45 cast positions to replace.

He showed us a few steps, “One, Two, Three … a flip there, a switch there, front, back, slap your hands, one, two, twirl and then bang.  Your thumb, your fingers … point them straight up!”  The entire dance floor shook several times as we glided, thrusted, gyrated, turned around while lightly fast hopping, now and then checking ourselves at the wall-to-wall mirrors.  I was trying to follow my neighbors as I can’t remember the full sequence.

As a whole, we had to do every short routine around seven times.  Whew!  It felt like an intense super-charged aerobics class but more fun.

Then he asked the ladies to line up by height, and accordingly grouped them to fours and fives.  The six men, halved into threes, comprised the last two sets.

To the beat of Usher’s “More” each group did ala Radio City Hall Rockettes style straight eye-high leg kicks.  This was followed by ballet pirouettes, around five 360s, from one corner diagonally across to the other.  That made me dizzy! 

Again – Fun!  

And again!  I thought I will fall down and quickly held on to the bar.  I heard no one laughed nor saw anyone snickered.  Anyway, I was woozy at that point.

Then in a gentle way, the culling began.  First the ladies’ groups.  After a quick repeat of a dance routine, the man would waive the select up front who would stay for the afternoon semis try outs and the rest walked wordlessly back to pick up their belongings.  Surprisingly it was a very dignified quiet way of sifting.  I was surprised that some girls who I thought were good did not make it and some that were not did.  No one cried or said anything.   Gradually the room became roomier and subdued.

Finally, it was the men’s turn.  Of the six of us, guess who got a Thank You? 

It was 12 noon, I was hungry and tired and actually I was glad.  I did approach the audition director and his local assistants to thank them for what I thought was a great experience.

Collin came around and said “You’ve got guts!”  I said with a gleeful smile, “Yaaaah!”

It was time to celebrate.  Off I walked to New Town, a Chinese restaurant at Pender Street, and had their famous House Special – Chow Mein. 

What a Flash of a day.