April 10, 2003

Odd Ends

Around me, life passes in odd-sized portions.

I walk a half a mile--not eight hundred meters--to the bus stop every morning. The girl at the deli counter slices off a pound--not half a kilo--of black forest ham to fill my sandwiches. Mr. Celsius has nothing on the local temperature: Mr. Fahrenheit got its number.

Driving is the only activity where distances don't confuse. I learned how to drive while in college, in lessons patiently given by my wife. Since then, miles have always made more sense than kilometers when stacked against the hour. Now a hand pushing three digits on a metric speedometer throws me off. Aren't we, um, gonna die? What do you mean "we're barely crawling"?

It's time, though,--the passage of weeks, the rotation of the seasons--that plays the strangest tricks. How often have I argued that the seasons begin on the first of March, June, September and December? All I got back were polite smiles and vague talk of equinoxes. I am still not sure when the spring starts in America. I think it's sometime in April. And the weeks, instead of the reasonable Monday, begin on Sunday, the last day in Creation you want to begin anything.

Posted by Alex at April 10, 2003 04:41 PM
Comments

Although I sort of grew up with the metric system (it was introduced when I was in grade school), I'll always maintain that it's totally lacking in poetry.

Can you imagine the song, "I can see for kilometres and kilometres…"

Posted by: Gail at April 11, 2003 07:34 AM

once, when i was about 10 years old, my nan sent me down to the shops with a list to get some fruit and veg. one of the items was for 1lb of potatoes. so, i asked for an "lb" of potatoes. needless to say, the shopkeeper had a good laugh, and so did my nan when i got home and told her what i'd done.

Posted by: Kristen at April 11, 2003 09:42 AM

Fahrenheit was born right in this city, in the house at 94 Ogarna Street, but even here it's 2°C these days, and not 36°F.

I was never a good judge of miles or yards, so it makes no difference to me that now I can't judge kilometers and meters.

And time? We've all been on Babylonian Saving Time for centuries, with 24 hours and 60 minutes and so on. Why the hell didn't they switch to metric time when they switched to metric weights and measures? Why are there not 10 hours in a day and 100 minutes in an hour and so on? Or 100 hours in a day...

Posted by: Eeksy-Peeksy at April 11, 2003 11:32 AM

Gail, I think it depends on the language and the history. In Russian poetry the use of "kilometer" can carry a connotation of modernity or, in writings from a certain period, revolution (out with the old, in with the new!). But I agree that in English, "kilometer" sounds graceless and pedestrian (for whatever a non-native speaker's agreement is worth).

Posted by: Alex at April 11, 2003 04:58 PM

In New Zealand we're torn between both. At least my family is.

My father still talks in miles to the gallon, and my mother measures in inches. Butter still comes as close to the pound as possible and milk is still in the same sized bottles that my mother has a special name for. My mother cooks with ounces, and I feel like a translator working through her recipe books.

I'm not at home with either, unsteady with both.

Posted by: Waspish at April 12, 2003 08:30 AM

There's a town in BC (the Canadian province) called Gray Creek. Well, maybe "town" is overstating the case, but it's at least enough of a village to boast a sign and a gas station. The sign proudly proclaims it a "metric free zone".

The gas station sells gas by the litre.

Posted by: arto at April 16, 2003 09:35 AM