Settled in Kelowna and semi-assimilated, with the locals complimenting me on my accent (think Chekov from the new Star Trek) well into my mid-teens, when I finally lost the accent (though I’ll read the menu with an accent for you if you want).
Ended up at a snooty Ivy League school, a scholarship kid among Anglo princes whose family fortunes date back to the triangle trade. Here I developed a love of learning, a keen nose for character and a suspicion of men with perfectly parted hair.
After that, a spell travel writing for Let's Go, facing down rioting militia men in West Timor and angry tarantulas in Arizona. After earning an MA in Poli Sci in California, I took a job in Dubai, working with a bunch of ex-CIA types; spending my mornings eating cactus fruit with a Bedouin family in the Arabian desert, my afternoons shopping for armoured cars and entertaining Iraqi sheikhs on weekend junkets to Beirut, my evenings watching prison-tattooed Russian skinheads luxuriate in the spa on top of the world's only seven star hotel, and my nights clubbing with Emirates Airlines cabin crew one too many times.
Herzog's later stuff, Darren Aronofsky's earlier work and anything by Peter Greenaway.