I was walking through Chinatown today past the TD bank when I stopped dead in front of a poster they were hanging in the window. There, amongst all the familiar logos and stock photography, were little green and black scratches of Chinese writing -- and not a syllable of English (or French) to be seen.

But instead of getting mad and spouting the usual ignorant stuff about this being English-land, a different thought occurred to me: "I should really learn how to read this stuff... it's everywhere".

Now to be clear, I do feel that all signage in Canada should have at least one of our official languages on it. I do however, think that it's pretty arrogant to take up the position that as an English-speaking person, I don't need to learn a second language. Especially in a multicultural city like Vancouver.

So I'm thinking of taking a language course to help me understand people better. The only question left is which one it should be.

Functionally speaking, Mandarain is the logical choice. It's the #2 most widespread language on the planet after all and the Chinese presence in Vancouver is massive to put it mildly. However, (and no offence intended toward the Chinese community) I don't really like the language. It's tonal and not "smooth" at all really. I'd much rather learn Japanese or Korean despite the fact that they are less useful in my current position.

So I'm asking you for input. As a unilingual anglophone, what language would you choose to learn? What do you think would be best for me? Once you understand it, is Mandarain as unpleasant as I feel it is, or would Cantonese be a better choice?

The snow has finally melted. The air is actually warm again, and wearing a tshirt out without 3inches of down between you and the elements is no longer a risky idea. I'm working rather late at my desk, and as 8:30pm rolls by, I hear banging outside in the city streets below. A few more explosions and I hop over to the window:

There are fireworks in Mel Lastman Square

I do a quick check through my brain's limited list of special calendar dates and find nothing. Regardless, the boom-booms stop and I get back to work: only a few more lines before this ini class is finished.

I clear up my desk, make room for the cleaning lady to vacuum beneath me and saunter out the front door of my building at about 9pm to bask in the cool/warm weather the city has granted me... and then, I hear music.

The streets of North York are strangely busy at this time of night. Busier, I might say, than they were at lunch time earlier today. There's music down near the square and people are jay-walking all over the place. Traffic is at a standstill and for a moment, Yonge in North York looks like Bloor in the Annex. I follow the crowd and the music to a giant mob filling up the square and start looking around for a clue as to the occasion.

People are dancing, socialising, and making out, and no where is there a banner or a sign to help an ignorant guy out. The crowd is largely multi-racial, ranging in ages 3 to 93, and so I ask a complete stranger: "So what's the deal here?"

The guy explains that today is the Iranian New Year's eve. As Iran works on the Lunar calendar, this is the last Wednesday before the Spring Solstice -- the start of the year in Iran. He apologises for not having more detail; his memory is foggy having moved to Canada over 30years ago and he doesn't have all the information on hand. I smile and thank him for the info, linger for a little bit but head back so I can be home on time to meet Melanie on time. But as I walk up the steps away from the square, I turn and see something that makes me smile: there, surrounded by thousands of dancing Iranian expats, is a steel big menorah, erected when the square was built years ago.

This is why I love Toronto.