Well I was not entirely surprised that traffic to my website increased heavily once the election was called—it happens every time—I was surprised, and shocked, and then in complete disbelief when I found out just how much it had increased by. I can only assume that being quoted in the Toronto Star during the Long Form Census bruhaha last summer meant I was squarely on the radar for political watchers and that I must’ve developed a pretty serious fanbase who were out there, in hiding, waiting to see what lucid and poignant things I had to say about our politicians this time.

Unfortunately, more traffic isn’t always a good thing and here’s the e-mail I received late last night from my service provider:

To: “Webmaster” <keith@thecorch.com>
From: XXXXXXXXX <XXXXXX@1and1.com>

Dear Mr. Little,

This automatic notification is to let you know that your account for THECORCH.COM has had unusually high traffic in the last 24-hour period and your account is being put into suspension.

Our records indicate you have used 3889% of your monthly bandwidth quota.

Charges for additional bandwidth are calculated based on the rate indicated on your price package. Your account is presently owing $7,847.33USD.

You can imagine the shock.

As I never intended to become such an important and esteemed blogger, I had never bothered to increase my monthly bandwidth cap limit to accommodate any extra traffic and thus, when tens of thousands of Canadians began flooding to my site, it wasn’t set up to handle that many visitors.

Presently, I have no choice but to take a few steps back from this site. Popular as it is, I cannot afford to keep it running. According to the e-mail (and I abridged most of the technical parts) the site will be put into suspension by 11PM EST but I can’t afford to keep racking up the bills until then! I’ve been trying my provider on the phone since I woke up this morning but their business hours don’t begin until 9AM and no one is at the office yet! You can imagine I’m in a bit of a state.

Either way, it’s been a fun ride… perhaps my next online endeavor will be a blog about spending frugally and climbing back out of bankruptcy. If anybody knows a good lawyer…

Things have been slow around here lately, but they haven’t been slow by any means in the rest of my world.

Last week Maria and I made the big move from our lovely apartment—a former corner store—in Kitchener to a quaint six-plex by the lake in Toronto. With all of the friends and family we could muster up to help, we loaded up the rental truck and then unloaded in the sweltering high heat of the summer. Before that, we’d spent the previous two weeks clearing all the books off of our shelves, packing up our dishes and pots and pans, and putting everything into Rubbermaid bins and cardboard boxes. Amidst all the packing the animals went crazy and, sensing something was up, had to stick their noses into every box we opened up. It was a lot of work, but we made it.

It’s about a week later and we’re starting to seriously settle in the Big Smoke. We’re about half-way unpacked, only one room is left to paint, with a few things remaining to hang up on the walls and some various boxes—mostly my office—patiently waiting for some attention. After some initial figuring out Penny and Lewis have realized that we’re here to stay, and although Penny was a real boundary-pusher when we first got here, I think she’s finally realized that despite the new digs, we’re still in charge.

If you don’t know, we moved down here so that Maria could go to school. It’s her second, B.A., as it turns out, but instead of English this time it’s in Film Production. The program is at Humber College which is just a short walk away, through a beautiful public park space, on the grounds of what used to be the Mimico Lunatic Asylum. So far, we love where we’re living. There loads of green space, we’re right on the lake, and when we walk the dog in the morning and at night we get an incredible view of the cityscape across the Humber Bay.

I’m still teaching, making the daily commute to Kitchener which is about an hour each way. After applying and reapplying to all of the school boards in the G.T.A. I’ve realized that it’s a competitive world out there for teachers. A couple of days ago figures came out saying that 3/4 of all new teachers can’t find regular work their first year after graduating. There are lots of people that I know who still aren’t teaching, three years later. And switching boards seems tough. With no experience in any of the G.T.A. boards and no one to advocate for me I’m just another name on a list. Sure, if you look at my resume or open my application you’ll see I have lots of good experience but it counts for nothing if I don’t get passed that initial phase. But, commuting for two hours a day isn’t so bad when it means having a job. I love the school I’m at and I love my class, so that helps too.

As we continue to get settled in, unpacked, and figure out what life in the big city means updates around here might be a little slow, but they’ll come. With the Toronto International Film Festival kicking off today and the Oscar season beginning to take shape there’s a lot to write about. Nevermind a federal election potentially looming on the horizon and the Toronto mayoral election in high gear. I wouldn’t miss out on writing about this stuff.

For now, thanks for stopping by and come back soon.

This is the second installment of a series about my time in South Africa.

In 2008, while Maria and I were still dating (we’re married now) she lived in South Africa and volunteered at a home for AIDS orphans. She stayed for six months. For six weeks I went to visit her. Now, a couple of years later, I think I can finally begin to process the experience and I figure while the memories are still fresh enough I may as well write them down.

Leaving the airport I was struck by both the familiar and the strange. Familiar was the Toyota Corolla that Maria and I piled into along with Ruth, the woman who owned and operated the home that Maria was working in. From what I’d been filled in on by Maria, I knew a bit about Ruth. She was a single-parent who had a sordid and difficult life in South Africa. She was Afrikaans which, outside of Africa, might mean very little but on the continent, it carried with it a lot of history. She struggled to work and manage the children’s home, she had big dreams but was having a difficult go of it.

To me, South Africa had a very strange and compelling history as far as I understood it. The Dutch settlers, ancestors to the Afrikaans, set up trading posts and colonized the continent in a way that’s pretty unusual as far as colonies went. Strange because they did it pretty early on in the scheme of things, and strange again because they stayed and made South Africa more than just another trading port. The Dutch stayed amongst the Black Africans and developed an identity of their own, the Afrikaans. Their accent, a mix of Dutch and British, sounds a bit like Australian but is absolutely unique in the world, as is their language.

Apartheid, the separation of the Black Africans from the white Europeans (Afrikaans, British, etc.) was largely similar to Segregation in the Southern United States but lasted well into the late 20th century. Today, the Afrikaans and the Black Africans exist, along with Indians (who were brought into South Africa as domestic servants), in a kind of strange tandem. It’s a clear three-tier social system: Afrikaans, Indians, Black Africans with each ethnic group serving very specific purposes.

As a result of its interesting and unique history South Africa has a very particular feel to it: European, yet African. I immediately fell in love with the place.
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This article begins a new series recounting my trip to South Africa in 2008. I travelled there, then, to visit Maria, my wife, as she worked with a small orphanage-type organization in rural Durban. We were dating back then. With the World Cup and all that I thought this would be an excellent time to give a little peek into my, and our, time on the African continent. Enjoy.

Just getting there was a pretty intense experience. Since flights out were about $600 cheaper flying out of the States than out of Canada, I bummed a ride off my parents to the airport in Buffalo, New York. It wasn’t a early morning flight, but I had been up late the night before, scrambling to copy DVDs and CDs to add to a collection I had been creating for Maria, and to do some last minute packing. I didn’t get much sleep, so even an early afternoon flight out, after the long drive from my parent’s house in Newmarket, I was already beat by the time I got to the airport.

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