Tag: COVID-19

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News

University students have mixed emotions about the COVID alert app

While some students are happy to use the new app, others have privacy concerns

Earlier this month, the COVID Alert app went live in Quebec. Many Quebecers were eager to have a new tool to slow the spread of the virus. However, some still aren’t willing to download the app.

The COVID alert app works with Bluetooth and random codes. Essentially, the Bluetooth signal detects phones that are near yours. Then the phones send each other random codes. If you contract COVID-19, you will have to enter a code into the app, which will notify all the people you came into close contact with that they may have been exposed to the virus.

“We have to use the application massively for it to work,” said Edith Joly, a family doctor in Montreal. “If not many people use it, it destroys its purpose.”

Despite her concerns about the app not having enough users to function correctly, over four million Canadians have already downloaded it, including university students like Marc-Olivier Gagné, an Engineering student at the Royal Military College of Canada who normally resides in Montreal.

“I think it’s a great tool to help combat COVID.”

Ashlee, a recent University of Ottawa graduate who lives in Gatineau, also believes this app could be beneficial to public health and safety.

“I think this app could help lower the cases if we all use it.”

However, many students aren’t as eager as Ashlee and Gagné to download the app due to privacy concerns such as the government tracking their location, or collecting personal information.

“I don’t know if they’re tracking my phone,” said Isabella Hernandez, a second-year HEC student. “I don’t know if the government is trying to issue tickets with this new app or collect my personal information.”

Contrary to Hernandez’s concerns, a Health Canada product manager asserted the app is “not tracking any of our data … There is no breach of privacy because the app is using Bluetooth and codes.”

The Government of Canada also stated, “The COVID Alert app creates a random code, so that no one will know your name, or your location.”

Some students who have already downloaded the app believe that those who aren’t willing to download it should consider what they are already doing on the internet.

“I don’t know how much of your liberty you’re conceding when you use this app considering your bitmoji appears on the Snapchat map,” said Gagné.

Gagné is referencing the feature on Snapchat that tracks users GPS location and displays it on a map featuring a cartoon version of the user.

Those who use Facebook and not the COVID Alert app are also criticized.

“I find it hypocritical to argue that you don’t want to use the COVID Alert app when you’re on Facebook and other social media,” said Ashlee. “I would rather the government have my information than private companies.”

Facebook has been criticized in the past for sharing user data with third-party companies for advertising purposes.

However, privacy concerns are not the only thing preventing people from wanting to download the app.

Some students believe the app wouldn’t work because people wouldn’t put in the effort to get tested or quarantine upon getting the app’s notification that they were exposed to the virus.

After hearing all the reasons people don’t want to download the app, retired health practitioner Dr. Judy Flecknell doesn’t understand why people won’t download the app if there’s a possibility it may help keep people safe.

“I think people have a responsibility towards others within our population,” stated Dr. Flecknell. “Downloading the app is not an invasion of your privacy, and keeping your loved ones safe is what’s important.”

The ongoing reluctance of so many to want to download the app could indicate that the government needs to find a better way to demonstrate that they aren’t collecting any user information.

Categories
Arts Uncategorized

Le théâtre Québécois is now online

Three weeks ago, I went to see a play. And by “went”, I mean that I went home, walked upstairs … and watched a live performance through my computer screen

In August 2020, the Théâtre du Nouveau Monde (TNM) announced that their fall 2020 program would be available online to a ticketed audience. Initially, it had also planned to welcome spectators at a reduced capacity, in compliance with the government’s health recommendations. However, now that Montreal has re-entered the red zone, going out to the theatre is no longer an option.

Times are extremely hard for the local artistic community. Since the beginning of the COVID-19 outbreak, cultural stakeholders have had no choice but to adapt quickly to this new reality. And that’s when modern technologies came into play – no pun intended.

During the pandemic, digital platforms and online streaming services allowed artists to keep sharing their passion virtually. This year, viewers and consumers of art were gifted with many online film festivals and concerts. The TNM decided to follow this trend by streaming five plays and live performances for the season.

But livestreaming theatre comes with its own unique challenges. It is quite easy for the film industry to transfer everything online: Netflix does it all the time, and movies are made to be watched through a screen. In contrast, plays are made to be seen in person. Some could argue that livestreamed theatre makes the “real” theatre lose its essence. Moreover, it also makes viewing difficult for senior spectators (the TNM’s main audience) who may be less familiar with computers.

Suzanne Lebrun, 90, has been a TNM subscriber since the 1980s. When she tried to log in on the platform for the first play of the season – Zebrina. Une pièce à conviction – everything went smoothly… up until the moment the video started lagging. Before the play had even started.

She had been able to get to the correct webpage thanks to her niece, who stayed on the phone with Lebrun to help her adjust the image and sound settings. They hung up just before the beginning of the performance, and that’s when Lebrun noticed that something was wrong.

“Everything was pitch-black. I could see the stage and a moving shadow, but I had no sound, and there was this circle that kept coming back again and again,” said Lebrun.

The circle she is referring to is the loading icon. At the time, she didn’t know what it was, and had no idea that a connection problem was the cause of these technical difficulties. She tried refreshing the page multiple times and had to navigate through the website by herself to get back to the play. After an hour and a half of failed attempts, she completely gave up.

The worst part of this story? Lebrun wasn’t able to access the page in the days that followed because the link was good for one use only. The performance was live, and just like “in real life,” she couldn’t go back to see the play for a second time for free.

Nevertheless, she doesn’t regret paying for the $65 dollar livestream subscription (for five shows). Even though she is extremely disappointed with her first experience, she believes it is important to encourage the artists any way she can. But she admitted that she still missed going to the TNM: “It’s not the same. My usual seat is right in the front, it’s like I’m part of the play. I can see them [the actors] sweat, cry and spit… Once, there was even a sword that flew all the way to our row, at the bottom of the stage!” she said.

For Marielle Lussier, 65, the experience was enjoyable. She says she was able to watch the play in the comfort of her house for a fairly low price, and that she is happy that she didn’t have to deal with Montreal parking.

“Sure, the visual and sound effects are not as amplified, but in the light of the specific circumstances, I prefer it this way [online] than no way,” said Lussier. Still, she would’ve gone to the theatre if she had had the option.

Theatre regulars and enthusiasts seem to think unanimously that something is missing with online plays. A screen is a wall between the public and the performers: the emotions and the intentions can be lost in translation. And frankly, it is way harder to feel the theatrical spirit when you are vegging out in your pyjamas in front of your 27-inch TV. Despite all of this, this could be a great opportunity for theatre companies to reach a new audience since the easier and cheaper access could appeal to the younger generations.

As J. Kelly Nestruck tweeted: “Rehearsals and digital capture are still permitted during the 28 days [partial lockdown].” The TNM will be moving forward with its online programming.

Do you like orchestral music or classic literature? Whether you are a French speaker or a French learner, you should go check it out!

Categories
Sports

The Stingers win a special edition of the Kelly-Anne Drummond Cup

The Concordia Stingers and Montreal Carabins come together to honour former Stinger

CW: Domestic violence

On Oct. 3, the Concordia Stingers and Montreal Carabins women’s rugby teams came together for the Stingers’ annual Kelly-Anne Drummond Cup, to honour the legacy of the former Concordia student and Stingers rugby player.

The 16th edition of the cup was competed for differently this year because of COVID-19; instead of playing a game of rugby, the Stingers and Carabins competed in a 24-hour walk-run challenge to raise money for Women Aware, a community-based centre providing long-term support to victims of domestic violence.

There were three challenges taking place between the clubs, with each challenge representing a point; the team to win two of them would be declared the winner. The idea to find a way to make the competition happen actually came from the Stingers players, as they still wanted to commemorate Drummond despite COVID-19.

Drummond was a former player who was killed by her boyfriend in 2004. Fifth-year player and captain Kirsten Trafford said the team discussed over video chat to make sure they would still compete for the cup this year despite being unable to hold a rugby game.

“We thought about the possibility of challenging another team in any possible way,” Trafford said. “There were other rugby teams over the summer that were doing challenges to keep everyone active, and we came up with the idea through that. We just sort of [built] the competition that way.”

Using mobile app Strava, the first challenge consisted of walking or running during the day; the team with the most kilometres at the end of the day would win.

The second part of the competition was totaling the distances of the three players with the most kilometres from each team; the team with the most kilometers would win.

Finally, the last challenge, which was mostly proposed by the Carabins and then added to the competition, asked teams to do various physical and artistic activities. Players had to film themselves while doing specific things, and were rewarded points for their performances. The team with the most points at the end of the day would win the challenge.

The Stingers won all challenges, successfully defending their Kelly-Anne Drummond Cup title. Trafford said this year’s cup gave the team a moment of relief, especially without a rugby season to play.

“Since we’ve had nothing else to strive for this year, this was even bigger for us,” Trafford said. “We’ve been practicing for a while, even if it’s on hold now with the red zones. Yet, we didn’t have anything to strive for recently, so that was something really exciting. It gave us a goal. We want to keep the cup home, because Kelly-Anne was a member of the Stingers family, and still is in our hearts.”

Every year, the team aims to raise awareness about domestic violence while raising money for Women Aware. Setting a goal of $1,000, the Stingers surpassed it in less than a day, with the money raised currently sitting at over $6,000.

Head coach Jocelyn Barrieau said she’s not often shocked by things. However, she was blown away by the money the team has raised so far.

“We set the goal of $1,000 because we usually raise around a thousand every year, and we wanted to make sure that we would raise a similar amount,” Barrieau said. “I never thought that we would raise more than $5,000 in one day.”

Barrieau said she hasn’t really processed how great this year’s special edition of the cup was, but it felt great to have some sense of normality again.

“I’m just so impressed, and [feeling] emotional about the whole thing,” Barrieau said. “We were looking forward to the competition, calling it a game day and talking strategies with team meetings and all. It was so nice to feel like we were competing again.”

Trafford said the way the cup was competed for this year, with social distanced activities because of COVID-19, was an incredible initiative from the Stingers and Carabins.

“It’s been an amazing turnout,” Trafford said. “We also raised more money this year than we ever did, which is fantastic. Also, from a team perspective, it’s definitely the most effort I’ve seen from anybody on the team in the five years I’ve been here. We had girls up at 2 a.m. already out running to start the challenges, so it was cool to see.”

 

Graphic by Rose-Marie Dion

Categories
Student Life

Wedding on a diet: getting married during COVID-19

When the pandemic strips milestones to the bone

Oct. 3rd, 2:30 p.m.: Six people are standing in room 2.17 of Quebec’s courthouse. The first is a court clerk, the second and the third stand before the first, the fourth and fifth are witnesses and the last is a member of the audience. The occasion: my wedding.

I have never really been the type of person to spend time with my head in the clouds about what my wedding would look like, but I certainly never pictured it like this.

If anything, I thought the guest count would be beyond one. Even though I haven’t been bathing in wedding fantasies since my childhood, when my partner proposed to me on New Year’s Eve, we knew we had a big party to plan.

Fast-forward to March. It seemed to us like we already had it all: a large expanse of land in Rimouski lent to us for free, a lake, space to camp and nearby accommodation, many talented artist friends to set the mood with music and decorations, family members to serve  as amazing cooks, near limitless access to alcohol, and many, many cherished guests. Set for Aug. 15, 2020, our celebration was going to be a banger.

Then came the big, the bad, the-still-ongoing COVID-19.

April 10: The Legault government announces that all public events are to be cancelled until Aug. 31. On the Facebook event for our wedding, our guests are notified that the celebration is pushed to 2021, or at least until it becomes safe to party again.

We decided that in the meantime, we would still get the legal ceremony done. In response to COVID-19, Quebec’s courthouse allowed for a total of only seven guests in addition to the two mandatory witnesses. This was just enough to accommodate the core of our families, except for my brother and his girlfriend who have been avoiding all human contact since the pandemic hit.

Instead of a proper honeymoon, my partner and I planned for a week of relaxing celebration in Mont-Tremblant with some of the family that had attended the wedding. For the time being, it was the least we could do to underline the milestone.

In late September, as the second wave hit, our nine guests withdrew themselves from the wedding, one by one. Coming from out of town, entering Montreal which was turning into a red zone represented a risk they were not willing to take, even to witness our union before law in-person. Only via Zoom would they join the ceremony.

Sept. 27: Following a difficult phone call with my mother concerning Montreal’s official red zoning, my partner and I decided to forego our stay in Mont-Tremblant for the safety of our family.

Less than a week from our wedding, we were stripped of our guests, our “honeymoon’’ and our witnesses.

Even though we knew a big celebration would eventually come, and that our relationship would survive these relatively soft hardships, a hollow feeling of despair started to creep up on me. Sure, we would find new witnesses fairly easily. Sure we would get married. Sure, we would still have a good time drinking champagne. But, there was a but.

Thursday, Oct. 1: My phone buzzes. Bota Bota, the famous travelling ferry spa in the Old Port of Montreal, is on the line: they are informing me that my reservation for Saturday will be refunded due to their baths needing to be closed, following Legault’s latest announcements. As such, my latest attempt at making a celebration out of my marriage got thrown out the window. Out on a long walk to breathe it out, I took a break to sit on the sidewalk and let my tears flow.

But, at least we have each other. That is what weddings are about, right?

Friday, Oct. 2, 10 p.m.: My partner and I are writing our Goldschläger-induced vows when, all of a sudden, his computer screen lights up. Familiar faces are all over it. Confused but only for a short time, I soon recognize that what I have before me is a surprise bachelor/bachelorette Zoom party — and what will become a nasty hangover on my wedding day.

Saturday, Oct. 3: My husband and I are on the rooftop of the hotel, spending the night drinking prosecco with the witnesses and an extra friend.

Although I could count the number of people present on one hand, I was tremendously grateful for all the little things we had been able to do to celebrate. It was as though the Draconian diet on which our celebration was put on made for every little bit of time spent in good company the most savoury bite of my existence.

I can only imagine the blast of flavours that will bring the big wedding celebration, whenever that may be.

 

Photo by Christine Beaudoin

Categories
Opinions

Mandatory mask laws: Make caring about people normal again

Hot take: Public health has no place in identity politics, and comparing public health measures to the Holocaust won’t prove your point.

Since early March, when the WHO officially declared the novel coronavirus disease a pandemic, public opinion evolved drastically. Most notably, the issue has found its way into identity politics.

Leonard Cohen best said it: “There is a war between the ones who say there is a war, and the ones who say there isn’t.”

At this point in time, we’re somehow in dispute about whether there is a virus, and whether that virus is as dangerous as our government and health officials say it is. To that end, we’re in dispute about the unprecedented measures our government is taking to protect the health of its citizens by balancing the health of the economy and the health of the people.

Here’s a hot take: mandatory mask laws are actually not political, they’re medical. A mandatory mask regulation is not the mark of a political coup. It’s akin to banning smoking indoors or a “No shoes, no service” sign.

Meanwhile, our economic system continues to plunder the lower classes of our society, pushing them to more and more dire living conditions, while the elite few make a casual $8 billion earnings in one day.

It comes as no surprise that, with such a disparity in wealth ever growing, discouraged people experiencing exploitation are at their wits end, and are not about to take one more assault on their liberty. In this cultural landscape, I understand that a mandatory mask is just one more thing you have to do, while you risk your life in order to afford your life. But it’s also a low hanging fruit, and it doesn’t reach the actual issue at hand.

Compounded with a government that’s inconsistently transparent, and cases continuing to climb in Quebec, it really does feel like our democracy is in crisis.

We, like Nelly, have a dilemma, and it’s getting undermined when we centre mask regulations as a human rights violation.

Despite what the old man yelling at the clouds would have you believe, it is incomparable to relate mandatory masks with the forced branding of Jewish people during the Holocaust. It also acts to undermine a very real issue in our society by misplacing the focus of people’s fears.

I first noticed this comparison in June during the internationally covered Palm Beach County commission meeting on a mandatory mask order.

At this meeting, one resident, Theresa Roberts said, “I’m also the daughter of somebody who lived through Germany. I know a lot of stories. And this is sounding very familiar to me. You’re forcing people to wear masks. They were forced to wear a star.”

Another resident and Republican candidate for Congress, Reba Sherrill, said at the meeting, “Discriminating against certain groups of people while exempting others is a violation of our civil rights. Following World War II, we Jews said ‘Never again.’” She continued, “We were forced to wear a gold star. Told to get [in] a box car to be taken to a safe place. In reality, what happened?”

I know there is a lot of fear, especially for people in the Jewish community. Throughout history, Jewish people trying to assimilate to new societies have been met with violence, and I understand that the fear of history repeating itself is very real. We also lose credibility when we make leaps like this.

We have genuine cause for concern about the safety, privacy, and freedom of people in North America. In Quebec, the Legault government passed a law that entitles police officers to obtain search warrants via the telephone, enabling quick legal access to private residences, for the intended purpose of enforcing COVID-19 restrictions on public gatherings.

In my opinion, this law poses greater issues for human rights violations and discriminatory policing than a mandatory mask law. We have to be smart about where we cast our attention and criticism.

“There is a war between the ones who say there is a war, and the ones who say there isn’t.” Lately, I wonder whether there is a war between those of us who say chaos is a conduit of war and those who say a mask is.

 

Feature graphic by Taylor Reddam

Categories
News

Poli Savvy: How did an insect steal part of the spotlight

A fly that landed on Vice President’s Mike Pence’s head during Vice Presidential debates makes headlines

The hurricane of news erupting less than a month ahead of the U.S. presidential elections can leave anyone with a serious case of whiplash.

Some of the news circulating before and after the 2020 United States Vice Presidential debate: President Trump delayed an economic relief bill to help Americans until after the election; new revelations that former Attorney General Jeff Sessions requested that children be taken away from migrant families at the border in 2018; President Trump refused to participate in a virtual town hall to debate Biden; Trump changed his mind and requests an in-person debate…

But even with the incessant stream of must-read news flooding news feeds and timelines everywhere, this is what everyone seems to be talking about: a fly resting on Mike Pence’s head for two minutes during the Vice Presidential debate.

“The fly” was trending on Twitter before the debate had even finished, with hundreds of thousands of mentions and dozens of Twitter accounts created attempting to impersonate the insect. Etsy shops now sell Pence’s fly apparel, and Biden’s campaign issued a quickly sold-out “Truth over flies” fly swatter.

Why all the focus on such a small matter, compared to all the other much more serious matters that are being published?

During the debate, many more important news-worthy moments happened. For example, Pence discussed the Trump administration’s take on several hot topics, including the Rose Garden ceremony for Amy Coney Barrett.

According to Pence, “It was an outdoor event, which all of our scientists regularly routinely advise.”

This comes after Trump and 22 members of his administration tested positive for the virus following the meeting, described as a “super-spreader” White House event. Attendees did not wear masks nor social distance, and pictures show they also gathered indoors.

In the current climate, a situation like this just becomes a needle in a polluted haystack of controversies. There’s too much to keep up with. To focus on the fly isn’t about getting immune to corruption, or about having a short attention span.

It’s more about being fed up. It is a way to showcase the perfect visual for how some feel about the administration without having to air out all the grievances on a list.

Maybe that’s how the fly got so big.

Categories
News

28-day challenge: No friends to break COVID’s second wave

A surge of COVID-19 cases bumps several regions into the red zone

The Quebec Minister of Public Health and Social Services, Christian Dubé, announced during his press conference on Sept. 25 that he is putting all yellow and orange zones up to a 28-day challenge to limit social interactions, while the red-zones of Quebec City, Chaudiere-Appalaches and Montreal are obliged to complete a mandatory 28-day quarantine.

The goal of the challenge is to abstain from all and any social gatherings that are considered non-essential. That includes: parties, weddings, and gatherings alongside family and friends. This includes any unnecessary travels to different regions for the next 28-days.

Dubé expressed optimism in his 28-day challenge by asking all Quebec citizens to join the challenge. He explained that while this is an extra effort alongside all that citizens are already doing, he explains that with the three new regions as classified red-zones, they need to be even more restrictive in their measures. Dubé said on Radio-Canada’s talk show, “what we are going to tell people is going to be: stay home.”

“What we are asking you is to make a special effort to limit our social contacts, and I am saying it, for the next 28 days. If we do it in the time that I specify today, I think it will encourage people to understand that yes this is an extra effort, but there can be an end to this. I repeat, what we are asking you to do is a special effort to limit your contacts, what we call social contacts, for the next 28-days. This is for one month; it is not permanent.”

The implementation of this challenge came as a result of an immense surge of cases over the weekend, with Dubé confirming two cities would escalate from an orange to red alert on Radio-Canada’s talk show. According to the Quebec government’s website, as of the beginning of the red zone on Thursday the total number of confirmed cases is over 3,238 in the past three days. As of October 3, there are a whopping 78,459 total provincial cases since the beginning of the COVID-19 pandemic in March.

Dubé highly encourages all regions to join in the challenge, no matter if they are in a green, yellow or orange zone, deeming it absolutely essential to kick-start our province’s recovery process. He also took time to state that if the 28-day challenge cannot be followed, citizens should rigorously abide by the newly updated public health implementations during any and all forms of social contact.   

Categories
Arts

MURAL Festival became an “Estival” during COVID-19

Even in the midst of a pandemic, art prevails

Montreal’s MURAL Festival was founded in 2012, beginning as “a love letter from Montreal to the world” with a goal to democratize street art. It is known for its celebration of the arts, with renowned artists from all around the world contributing and showcasing their live art, music, and exhibitions.

“We are the meeting place of creative minds and we represent the festive and innovating soul of a booming artistic scene,” its website states.

Whether you’re a tourist or a Montreal native, this annual 11-day event is an excellent way for people to discover great art and artists. During a normal summer, these festivities would consist of huge crowds attending music shows, talks, performance art and more. However, this isn’t a normal summer, and the MURAL Festival adapted accordingly.

Although the usual festival was cancelled, the Estival, derived from the French word for summertime, was created in its place. The MURAL Festival believed that even with this past summer’s conditions, it was important that people still had the freedom to express themselves and for others to take time to relax and appreciate the art. Only this time, safe distances were mandatory.

So, instead of an 11-day festival, the Estival would take place during the three months of summer, without gatherings of any kind. There would still be physical street work going on, but many of the music performances and conferences were streamed online so that citizens could watch their shows safely. Guided tours of the artworks were available as well.

Towards the end of August, I picked up my camera and explored the streets of downtown Montreal in search of large, beautiful murals. As a Video Editor for The Concordian, I decided to check out murals from MURAL Festivals of years’ past to make a video, but I also went to satisfy my own curiosity. I started on St-Laurent Boulevard .

Most of the art I encountered was in great shape; they were huge, bright, and beautiful. Some artworks, like Daniel Joseph Bombardier’s Denial, just off of Prince Arthur Street, had powerful messages embedded in them. Other artworks, likely because of their age, were damaged or covered up with graffiti in some way. Zilon, which was named after the artist, created in 2014 and located at the corner of St-Dominique Street and Marie-Anne Street, was covered in white and black spray paint, leaving only small parts of the image visible.

One thing I realized while documenting all of these pieces of art was the importance of street art. The MURAL Festival itself is a celebration of art in all its forms, but the murals that remained served as a subtle reminder to appreciate the art that we’re surrounded by. Street art is a way for people to enjoy cities and neighbourhoods, whether foreign or local to them, and, especially now, admire artwork safely outside.

Murals fill city streets with colour and life, and as someone who hasn’t lived in Montreal for long, murals help me see the beauty in the ordinary; a normal walk to work can turn into a walk through culture and art. Even amid a pandemic, the MURAL Festival was able to maintain its yearly tradition and add more art to the city. So, even though the Estival is over, and past Festivals are long gone, their stamps on the city remain, and it makes the world a slightly brighter place.

 

Photos by Christine Beaudoin

Categories
Sports

The Rock ‘n’ Roll Montreal Marathon cancelled

The 2020 edition of the event is cancelled due to COVID-19

On July 30, the 2020 Rock ‘n’ Roll Montreal Marathon planned for Sept.19–20 was officially cancelled due to COVID-19. Part of the Rock ‘n’ Roll Marathon Series that organizes road running events operated by the IRONMAN group, the race was the only Canadian event in the global Rock ‘n’ Roll series. This year’s marathon would have marked its 30th edition.

On Aug. 28, organizers of the event announced that the 2021 edition of the race in Montreal would also be cancelled. In the midst of a pandemic, organizers could not find an adequate solution and were subsequently forced to cancel.

The Marathon typically includes four events over the course of the weekend. Athletes can choose between a 5km, 10km, half-marathon or a full marathon race. Over 18,000 people showed up during 2019’s weekend, with 9,500 runners participating in the half-marathon and 3,100 in the full marathon.

“Last year, there were a lot of complications that showed just how hard the marathon is to organize,” said Jay Lopez, a Montrealer who has participated in the annual marathon for the last seven years. “With COVID-19 now on top of all that, it only makes sense to cancel the event.”

The death of a participant who went into cardiac arrest near the end of the half-marathon headlined publications for a number of days following the 2019 edition of the event. In addition, the organizers received criticism for poor management when the marathon’s start times were delayed by 50 minutes, as hundreds of runners were left waiting at the start line.

Consequently, race producer and director Dominique Piché resigned. Lassonde, a major sponsor of the marathon for 17 years, opted out of future events, citing poor management and a significant number of shortcomings with regards to the organization of the race.

With no plans for the series to return north of the border in the foreseeable future, Montreal running enthusiasts will be happy to know there are still ways to stay engaged.

The organization recently launched a virtual running club that enables users to partake in their organized races from the safety of their homes. The Rock ‘n’ Roll Marathon Series app also offers weekly inspirational challenges and virtual races that can be started and finished from anywhere. They also host a VR Running Club that offers informative resources in training, fitness, and nutrition to help athletes reach their running goals.

Lopez said the virtual social hub will be a much needed alternative to a public marathon; however, he added, the energy shared between participants in a live event is impossible to replicate in individual training.

“The anticipation leading up to a big event is the best form of motivation,” Lopez said. “Unfortunately, runners will have to find that motivation from somewhere else now. If 2020 has taught me anything, it’s to keep my head up despite all these hurdles along the journey and be patient in hopes for a brighter future.”

 

Graphic by Taylor Reddam

A very COVID Rosh Hashanah

Jewish holidays are fundamentally communal activities, but with COVID, they’ve become a time to reflect on what traditions are most important to us

As the summer started to wane and the pandemic didn’t seem to be letting up anytime soon, I started to wonder how Jewish people around the world would celebrate the High Holidays.

The High Holidays are the most important weeks of the Jewish calendar. Starting with Rosh Hashanah, the Jewish New Year, and ending with Yom Kippur, the Day of Atonement, it’s a time to welcome a new year by reflecting on the past year’s transgressions and asking for forgiveness from those in your life and then, ultimately, from God.

Growing up, Rosh Hashanah meant taking the day off of school, getting dressed up, and attending synagogue with my parents. The services were long and mostly felt pretty boring at the time, minus the sprinkling of cantorial songs that would make the synagogue swell with harmonizing voices. After three long hours, the congregation would be dismissed and all the families would wish each other a “שָׁנָה טוֹבָה” (shana tova, i.e. happy new year) as they slowly made their way out of the sanctuary.

To me, the High Holidays were a fundamentally communal experience. Growing up in a small southern synagogue, it was the time for the Jewish community to connect through Torah study, Tashlich and Yom Kippur break-fast potlucks that served to, well, break our fasts. But, for obvious reasons, these traditions are more difficult this year. Even if I wasn’t separated from my childhood synagogue by over 1,000 kilometres, Rosh Hashanah would still be a fairly isolated activity — but I knew I wanted to celebrate the new year in some way.

The idea of not being able to celebrate the holidays due to COVID left me feeling helpless. Sure, there would be Zoom services, but watching Torah readings on the holiest days of the year through a laptop screen just felt a tad dystopian. Plus, if there’s one thing I know, it’s that old Jewish people and technology don’t go together well.

So the question became: how can I celebrate Rosh Hashanah in a way that is COVID-safe and fulfills my needs for spirituality and community? I thought about this for a while until one night when I had dinner with my roommate, who was discussing making her mother’s empanadas recipe for Chilean Independence Day. I loved her idea of taking a traditional food in her family and sharing it with us, her Montreal family. That’s when I decided to repay the favour, and make a Rosh Hashanah meal for our friends.

Sharing food is a big deal in Jewish culture. Between the many laws governing food preparation (Kashrut), the commandment to feed the hungry and the several holidays and festivals that rotate around a meal, Jews are very concerned with what and how we eat. Rosh Hashanah is no exception to this rule. While it isn’t as food centric as Passover and Tu BiShvat, there are still specific foods that you’re commanded to eat, such as apples and honey to ring in a “sweet” new year.

All around, I wanted to use Rosh Hashanah as a way to connect not just to my spiritual Judaism, but to my cultural Judaism as well. So, I decided to go all out with the greatest hits of Ashkenazi cuisine. Propelled by what I can only attribute to some sort of generational feminine spirit, in the span of one day I prepared matzo ball soup, potato kugel, tzimmes, a challah and honey cake. Your bubbe could never.

A few wine-toting friends arrived around 7 p.m. Surprisingly, all my dishes turned out even better than planned (which never happens to me). I recited the prayers over the candles and challah, then we sat around my small apartment table and ate, drank and talked for hours. Even though only one of my friends came from a Jewish background, that didn’t matter. To me, ringing in the new year is more about connecting with your Judaism, whatever that may look like, and surrounding yourself with those who can help you be your best self for the upcoming year.

Sharing my culture with those I care about outside of my family like I did this year wasn’t something I would have even thought to do before COVID. Yet, as annoying as so   cial distancing has been, I’m grateful that it forced me to look inward for my Judaism and take my religious practice into my own hands.

Hopefully, next year social distancing won’t factor so heavily into all of our actions, but at this point, there’s no way to know. What I do know now is that it’s okay if my traditions change. Change doesn’t necessarily have to mean a downgrade, just a rethinking of what is most important to me.

 

Photo by Aviva Majerczyk

Small Steps: The joy of a good, long walk

For most of the summer I was alone on a day-to-day basis. My two roommates had fled for the greener pastures of British Columbia by mid-May. So I was stuck in my apartment, occasionally seeing friends around the city, but without the default company of those in my house that I had come to rely on. Without people to share dinnertime and evening drinks with, I began to go a bit stir-crazy. In a simple attempt to vary up my routine, I started taking post-dinner walks.

I’ve always appreciated walking, and even before COVID I was well aware of a good walk’s therapeutic effects. In high school, when experiencing a rocky adjustment to antidepressants, my mom and I would take a walk every afternoon as a way to force myself out of my bed-cave; fresh air and exercise always helped to give me some perspective.

So, it only made sense that I would adopt this routine again in the summer of COVID, when most of us were (or still are) on the brink of mental breakdown. Typically, after dinner I’d grab my CJLO tote bag, put on my headphones, and walk out of my door, with no direction in mind.

I live in the upper Plateau, on the edge of Mile End, so I made a point to walk through all the idyllic alleys of the neighbourhood, covered in quirky graffiti and murals with large trees draping over the road. Taking my evening strolls made me feel more connected to the city. Typically, I’m a fast, aggressive walker, so being able to really take my time and absorb the environment around me without any specific destination gave me a new appreciation for my pretty little borough.

Walking is also the only thing that has been able to rip me away from my various screens. Throughout quarantine, it seemed like the only thing consuming my time was Netflix and falling down rabbit holes of YouTube video essays. So, breaking up the monotony with some physical exercise became a necessity. That’s not to say I didn’t find a way to continue to absorb media through my walks. Podcasts became a necessary staple for my long strolls. A 50 minute WTF with Marc Maron or You’re Wrong About became the soundtrack to most of my Montreal adventures this summer. I had always used my home to school metro transit as my time to wind down from the day and catch up on my favourite podcasts, so I’m glad that habit hasn’t had to go away completely.

I think I’ll continue to go on my walks until the weather forces me to stop. Even now that we are permitted to be a bit more social than earlier in COVID, it’s still important to take time with yourself and your thoughts. For me, it’s a nice long walk, but everyone’s different.

 

Graphic by Taylor Reddam

Categories
Arts

Dear art industry, it’s not me … it’s you

Reflecting on art, post-lockdown

In the past six months, I have not visited a single art show, gallery opening, exhibition, or museum. Perhaps this is the longest amount of time I’ve gone without reading press releases, interviewing artists, or trying to find some sort of sociopolitical angle to approach an exhibition from. Yet, I have to admit… I kind of like it.

After spending the majority of lockdown being out of a job like many others, I have had tons of time to think about the art industry, which I have honestly always been quite hesitant to be a part of. After racking my brain about the place art holds in society, both amidst chaos and mundanity — and participating in both an internship and residency, alongside many other writers and artists, for the better part of the summer months — it is safe to say, I am not the only one who feels this way.

I do not believe this is solely a reflection on my evolving relationship with the art industry as a result of personal values. Rather, it’s a reflection on the circumstances that have caused the relationship itself to change. It has become clear that many others, and myself, are hesitant to make a career out of this. Not because we do not love art, but, well, because the industry doesn’t appear to love us.

The past few months have been eye-opening, to say the least. Among the things that have been on my mind is pay. When artists and writers are going unpaid for work that continues to get published, how can we be expected to stay? The fact that I get paid more (and on time) by student media is a poor reflection on the many institutions that hire writers and artists.

And don’t get me wrong, I’m aware that these were all issues before lockdown began. However, lockdown seems to have brought these issues to the forefront for most non-essential workers, many of whom have been struggling to get by (and many of whom struggle to get by, even pre-lockdown, without the help of a second, more stable job).

How can we not struggle when getting a decent job within the industry requires years of experience and multiple internships under our belts?

If it weren’t for the fact that I’m fortunate enough to still live at home, I wouldn’t have been able to participate in any of my internship experiences, all of which were unpaid. Even still, I had to work other jobs and pull seven-day work weeks to afford transport, cell phone bills, and other necessities.

Upon returning to work in July as a copywriter for an international online luxury retail platform, I was told by a coworker ten years my senior that I had made a great decision in opting to drop my second major in Art History. They added that even after ten years in the industry, they still hadn’t been awarded a raise or promotion and noted that I’d still be able to work in the arts because “it’s all about networking anyway,” and I’d “already made [my] contacts.” It is a sad reality, but a reality nonetheless. Years of studying and dedication won’t guarantee you a position unless you meet the right people. I guess that’s business, baby, as they say.

But even when you do land a position, where does this place you amidst today’s uncertainty and ever-evolving technological landscape?

With museums and galleries being closed for the greater portion of the summer, and exhibitions moving online, the role of museums was inevitably brought into question. What purpose do they serve when one can now access the entirety of most major collections from anywhere in the world for free? The value of these “prestigious” institutions seem … almost, dare I say … questionable.

Despite it all, art remains one of my favorite sociocultural forms of expression, and art writing one of my favorite types of journalism. I guess you could say it’s a love-hate relationship. While switching majors has proven to be a more viable option for me, based on my personal career goals, art journalism is still a long-term goal of mine. Until then, leaders of the art industry, you have some work to do.

 

Graphic by Rose-Marie Dion

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