The evolution of dreams…why my first NHL training camp may very well be my last

When you're young, the world is extremely black and white.

Young or old, rich or poor, kebab or falafel…no middle ground.

I used to have the world divided in a similar fashion…people either achieved their dreams, or they didn't.

It really isn't all that simple though.

Growing up in Edmonton, all I wanted to do was work in sports, specifically hockey. I loved it, and at for a long time genuinely felt that Edmonton was the best place on Earth to live. It had hockey, and people who were passionate about hockey. What else do ya need, eh?

And then, like even the most passionate of lovers, I fell out of love with the city. Like Ross and Rachel once took a much needed break, Edmonton and I needed one also. I saw other cities, Edmonton saw other Salims. We were both moving on.

The biggest difference between Edmonton and Montréal/Paris is where the emotion is concentrated…in Edmonton, hockey is the only place where emotion really lives in the city. There really isn't much else in the city that people are passionate about. Edmonton is almost a small, Texas oil town, but with around a million people.

Montreal and Paris both have strong cultural identities, are both very historic places, young people are engaged in society to a much greater degree, you can meet someone from every continent on a single metro ride…it's just more dynamic.

I've had some fun being involved behind the scenes. I've had off the record chats with NHL players, coaches, general managers. I've overheard trades being discussed and been on the ice for a championship. It's pretty amazing, and I'm grateful for every moment. It's very possible, perhaps even likely, that the NHL fire will be relit within me before too long. 

My last year in Edmonton, I was frustrated over everything…the city, my school, my program…I needed some major changes. It led me to Montreal, then Paris, then back to Edmonton for a brief window this summer (where I strongly considered returning to the same school and program), before heading out East again.


I love Concordia, and the biggest reason is that it has rekindled my love for journalism. Not sports journalism or hockey reporting, but JOURNALISM.

One of the reasons I love journalism is because it has a humanizing effect. Journalists take complex issues like parliamentary debates and war crimes and human lives and turn them into readable, watchable, enjoyable, appreciated work that has ENORMOUS potential. 

Right now, NHL doesn't really factor into that equation. It's not a profession that humanizes people. A lot of what a general manager does is, perhaps, the opposite: informing players that they've been cut, or that they have to uproot their young family.

A few general managers have pointed out to me that the biggest challenge is to treat players like they're human…you have to look at them like moveable parts. You can't get attached to them, no matter how great a guy they are. They are assets that will, at one point, be turned into greater assets.

Humanizing effect: nonexistent.

I remember one conversation I had with my uncle, when I was 16. My marks were garbage, I wasn't motivated, and he was trying to figure out what made me tick. I said that I wanted to wear a suit and tie, be in boardrooms negotiating, shaking hands, and having celebratory drinks afterwards.

Fast forward a few years. I'm 22 now. I've lived in Paris and Montreal. I've gotten robbed at 4 am in downtown Paris, rushed to the hospital in Lyon, and had hallucinations in Barcelona. That's experience the 16 year old, Ari Gold-wannabe Salim couldn't dare to dream of.

Now I want to be the Salim wearing a European overcoat, beret, scarf, an inviting half-smile, and just enough time for a pint. 

Again, does the NHL fit into that equation? Probably not.


I'm not closing the door entirely on working in the NHL…quite the opposite, in fact. I'm just no longer the guy that dedicated everything he had to that goal.

At the end of the day, you can do a lot worse than work for the New York Rangers.

Right now I want to be a journalist. I'm the guy who wants to live in France again. The guy who wants to travel and explore. The guy who wants to be out there, interviewing people in the front-lines. The guy who has his own national TV show ("Salim Valji Tonight" has a nice ring to it, eh) whose first guest is Taylor Swift.

Life has an odd way of working. Without my experiences in Montreal and Paris, I wouldn't have had many of the NHL-related opportunities I now have. But through those adventures, I discovered that there's an awful lot of fun that can happen outside the hockey rink too.

The timing of this article is neat too. Tomorrow, a press release will come out that has my name a few paragraphs below an NHL general manager's name.  There's also a decent chance that I'll be interviewing an NHL head coach tomorrow evening.

Ross and Rachel eventually declared their love for each other after several breakups.  Whether I do the same with that desire to work in the NHL remains to be seen.

Cher Paris…Dear Paris

Dear Paris,

This is Salim. Remember me? Think back to one year ago, September 22, 2013. You see that petrified, pale guy in the Calgary International Airport about to soil his Hockey Night in Canada boxers? Believe it or not, my skin actually used to be brown, but turned white due to the stress of moving to an entirely different continent. You caused me an awful lot of stress and worry in the weeks leading up to that fateful Sunday.

We had a pretty amazing time together, you and I. It started off rough, as things of that nature tend to do…no phone or internet meant that I couldn't talk to my family for a whole nine days. New language and city, no friends…it all was very confusing at the beginning.



The next day I arrived and was shepherded from l'aêroport Charles de Gaulle to Conflans Sainte Honorine, the small Parisien town I would call home. I made my way up the five flights of stairs to my apartment at Lycée Jules Ferry, dropped off my valises, and headed back downstairs to the house of a colleague, whose wife had graciously cooked me a traditional French meal, complete with fromage, baguettes, vin, and--of course--great conversation.

Nine days later, I was an English assistant at a high school in France…it still did not seem real. A day later, I got lost on the train tracks, only to have a stranger drive me a half hour to the next station. I had a lot of those moments, seeing the unexpected greatness of humanity in a city known to be cold and unwelcoming of others.

Not long after that, I met mes amis…the amazing friends I'd have for the next few months, passing countless hours having pints, taking strolls, and soaking in your beautiful scent.

We met on Nuit Blanche, and the first time we ever encountered each other, we hung out from 4pm to 6am, non-stop. We strolled through those famous Parisien landmarks in the middle of the night, unaware and uncaring of any dangers posed to us. We hopscotched vomit-laden metro stations, exhausted but fulfilled as we boarded the first trains to take us back to our Parisien outskirt towns.

The months went by and things changed, as they often do. I found an excellent journalism internship, made some more great friends, and got to see a different side of you: the side of a beret-clad journalist navigating la métro four times a week, sipping on café au laits and reading Le Parisien in the morning, and downing Kronenburgs and camels during evening Happy Hours at Leonards.

You taught me a thousand and one lessons, one of them being the strength of human relationships. Never have I had as strong relationships as I did during my time in Paris, be they with friends, coworkers, or students.  

I recall with great fondness the alcohol-induced sprints from The Great Canadian Pub to Chatalet metro station, running as fast as I could to catch that last 12:40am train from Gare St Lazare and not having to take the night bus.

The memories that preceded those enjoyable runs were pretty amazing too.

It's funny thinking about it all. I lived in Edmonton for 19 years, and not once did I get a free beer or shot from a bartender. In Paris, that happened all the time.

I got to call you my own. You were mine, Paris, and I was yours. It really was a great marriage.

For 225 days, my life was governed by one question: do I feel like licking the Eiffel Tower today? 

Conflans Sainte Honorine was an absolute joy to live in. Within my apartment (conveniently located at the high school where I taught), I could find the banks of the River Seine and an array of brasseries, markets, and bakeries to buy a quick treat, and take a romantic stroll. I miss running into my students in the town. 

Getting a chance to see my dad for a few days and showing him around chez moi was another amazing chapter in the book.

Because you were so close to so many other places, I got to visit your neighbours. That three night escapade in Barcelone will forever go down as the craziest trip of my life. I have never consumed as much Vodka as I did one night in Rome. London with my dad was real special, as was a quick trip to Amsterdam three weeks after I arrived in France. There was also horseback riding through the Icelandic mountains.

Those nights in Versailles, crashing on a friend's couch after overdosing on four Euro wine and magnificent fromage.



Sometimes, you weren't so kind to me. Remember when you robbed me at 4 a.m., or the time I was rushed to the hospital? What about those bouts of home-longingness that usually came on Sunday afternoons?

One of my favourite memories was the first time I saw my friends, 10 days after I had gotten robbed of my wallet and cellphone.

You had a way of imparting those harsh lessons, right when they were least expected and most needed. 

Like Sinatra once sang, "But now, as tears subside, I cannot help but find it all so amusing."

As I stood in that line in Roissy, I had no idea what to think. All I was driven by was the regret that

would encompass the rest of my life should I deny Paris the chance to have me. Fear and uncertainty were really the only emotions I knew that day.

I think that, if I could go back, I'd tell that version of Sali
m not to believe the hype. Don't buy into the school of thought that this is a once in a lifetime opportunity. Go out there, have fun, take the city for granted, and leave it all out there.

Take a moment every now and then, step back, breathe deeply, exhale, and thank the powers that be that you are a Parisien.

That version of Salim was of the belief that he'd finish his time in Paris, and return to the same, culture-devoid city of Edmonton, and continue his studies at the same university as if no time had passed. He really didn't think that, on the one year anniversary of the biggest leap of faith of his life, he'd be back in his home of Montréal, attending a great university and staring at his first opportunity working directly with an NHL organisation.


I won't take a stab at predicting what will happen in the future, but I do know that I was desperate to return to Montreal, and was able to make that happen. I'm reaching that same level of intent with returning to Paris. I really want to lick the Eiffel Tower again.

Le Maurais, Montmartre, Champs Ellyés, Chatalet, Notre Dame, Le Petit Point, The Great Canadian Pub, Louvre, Convival, Le Bouqet, Creamhouse, Gare St Lazare, La Défense, rue Beaubourg, Versailles.

Living abroad comes with enormous challenges, the biggest of which is returning home. Paris and Montreal are now as much my home as Edmonton is.

It's amazing looking back on that time. I think I'm a completely different person, and have you to thank for it. I have you to thank for giving me the chance to return to Montreal. I have you to thank for helping orchestrate the greatest chapter in my life. I have you to thank for the countless amazing interactions with métro passengers, bartenders, baristas, musicians, and other Parisiens. And I have you to thank for an amazing cast of close friends, fellow teachers, students, journalist coworkers, and townspeople in Conflans Sainte Honorine.



My favourite view in Paris was in Montmartre. From a certain point, there is a perfect view of the
Eiffel Tower and Montparnasse. The contrast is incredible, looking at it from the hill. One considered the world's foremost architectural structure, the other widely viewed as Paris' ugliest building and a sore thumb in an otherwise perfectly sculpted city.

Je reviens chez moi bientôt. Toujours un Parisien,

Salim's roommate horror story

It's not even October yet, and already there are horror stories being bantered about. This one's from Salim, the guy who moves around a lot.

Heading back to Montreal for Phase Deux, I was certain that living with someone was something I wanted to experience. Both Montreal Phase Une and Paris Phase Une had been spent by myself, in decent apartments, but without the company of colocs (roommates).

It was great, being the Ruler of the Kingdom and not answering to anyone, but it did get lonesome at times. That and the romantic in me thinking that my new coloc(s) would be Joey, Ross, Chandler, Monica, Rachel, and Phoebe, and we'd all live happily ever after while drinking coffee.

I asked my Facebook friends about having roommates, and their responses were fairly similar…it is real fun to be around people your own age at home. 

It did not work out that way.

Living on the other side of the country during the summer meant that I had no choice but to use Craigslist and Kijiji to find a place. I was armed with my criteria (max $700/month rent, near a metro station, in Le Plateau neighborhood, coloc around my age), and found a place that, as the cliché goes, was too good to be true. An apartment in Le Plateau, a five minute walk from Mont-Royal metro, with a 23 year old Concordia student, for $450/month. 

Sign me up, eh!

I arrived to the apartment on August 27th. My roommate was still in Toronto, where he lives. Great, for the first couple of days, I get to see the place for myself and form my own opinion.

My first instinct was that it just wasn't a nice place at all. For starters, the design of the apartment was very odd…it was long and thin, with very little open space. The bedroom was terribly painted had loose floor panels (both were common throughout the apartment). The living room was tiny and right in front of the bathroom. The bathroom itself was very small, didn't have a mirror, and the pipes were leaking in the shower. I remember thinking that it was only a matter of times before Bed Bugs invaded us.

The kitchen was fairly open, but full of fruit flies, empty liquor bottles, and chairs that were assembled wrong. 

Still I wasn't fully convinced I had to move.

And then I saw the bong (for those unaware, a bong is an apparatus used to effectively and efficiently inhale marijuana).

That was enough for me to send some Facebook messages to friends back home. No one wants to live with a druggie and, while most of us have smoked pot at one point or another, having a bong in the living room implies that it's a very habitual activity.

I began looking for places, thinking that I may just be able to leave the apartment before even meeting the guy.

Meanwhile, I was sleeping on the couch, as my Ikea furniture had not arrived. In total, it was a full week that I went without sleeping on a mattress. Adventuring through Europe was a Taylor-Swift type lifestyle compared to this.

He came three days later, and I thought we were going to get to know each other and establish some house rules/guidelines, etc. Unfortunately for me, he came with four friends back home who were going to crash with us for the Labour Day weekend. Not the greatest first impression.

They were all alright guys, including him. We talked, went out one night on Boulevard Saint Laurent, and got along well enough. But him and his friends smoked (both pot and cigarettes) CONSTANTLY during that weekend. I mean, several times per hour they would do it. The house wreaked. But because his friends were there that weekend, I wasn't comfortable talking about it. It seemed like the relationship started off on a horrible foundation.

His friends eventually left after a couple of days, but not before they dirtied up the apartment with cigarette butts and smoke, and just bringing junk in.

The roommate and I talked about the smoking and he said he'd limit it to the outdoors (which, to his credit, he did). 

At that point, I had cancelled my Ikea delivery, thinking it was only a matter of time before I moved. But I still hadn't found a place I wanted to live in, so instead I found a company that rented furniture.

I was still sleeping on wood floors, and the roommate and I got to know each other over a few days. While he was a nice enough guy, I knew I probably wouldn't be friends with him if I met him in the streets. His body was fairly tattooed up (not that it's a problem with me), he smoked weed CONSTANTLY (several times an hour), and he swore every other word ("I have to shop for some f#$% groceries"). We hung out a few times and watched some movies, but those habits, combined with his awful first impression, meant that the relationship wasn't starting off on the right foot.  

Still, I wasn't very vigorous in my search for a new place. My parents were constantly phoning me, begging me to move out.

The kicker for me was two-fold…firstly, when his drug dealer entered the house to deliver the weed, and secondly, when my coloc told me stories of him doing cocaine, ecstasy, and MDMA (all sold to him by the same bulky, tattooed Lebanese fellow who had entered our house).

At that point, I knew I had to get out, and fast. Still, I was stalling. Moving all your stuff from one place to another is a pain in the ass. No other way of putting it. And a part of me figured that I could make it work in a fruit-fly laden, smoke-filled, horribly painted apartment. We all have that Garbage Apartment during university, I figured that the place could be my Garbage Apartment that I looked back on with fond memories.


Then I got a phone call from my parents, with them basically threatening to fly across the country unless I moved out within a couple of days (they called on Sunday, so I had until Tuesday to move). Yikes.

I aggressively looked, and found a couple of studios and a furnished three bedroom apartment in a student-exclusive building. I decided on living with other students. It was the right call. I had paid rent at the other place, which meant I could gradually move my stuff out.

I then told the coloc that I was leaving. He was baked when I mentioned it, which was lucky for me.

I learned a lot from that whole episode, and have my parents to thank for much of it, even though they were a few thousand miles away. Parents can do many things: teach us how to shoot a hockey puck, buy us school supplies, and kick us in the butt. I needed a swift kick in the rear, and am now in a much nicer, cleaner, more comfortable living situation. Thank you, mom and dad!

I also learned that money is just money when it comes to comfort, safety, and living properly. If the police went into that apartment, they could easily come away with hundreds of dollars worth of illegal drugs. My roommate was an alright guy, but nothing would have stopped him from throwing it all into my room and blaming me, should that situation have arisen.

Money's hard not to think about, but it's just that: paper and plastic.

My new place was a bit more in rent, but very much in the heart of downtown, and just a 10 minute metro ride from Le Plateau, my favourite part of Montréal. I'm right beside McGill University, have a gym and games room in my building, and am in a very nice apartment.

I came out here to go to a university I am proud of, and now have an home I am proud of. And yes, there is a couch waiting if any friends want to come by!

À bientôt (et avec plus des histoires),

Homesick to Hopeful…a Sunday column!

In my hometown of Edmonton, Canada lies a stretch of road, probably no more than four km long.

It takes about an hour to bike on this path, which stretches from my house (92nd ave, 146a street) to 87 ave, in the university area. I call this stretch Family Way, since during that hour-long journey, there are five houses that I can pop into unannounced to see family, put my feet up, and be coaxed into having a nice, home-cooked meal.

In those five houses are two aunts, two uncles, two grandparents, seven cousins, my best friend (who I've known since I was born, so basically a brother), and my dad.

How lucky am I to have that many people within such a short distance?

I can't say how awesome it was to just be able to stroll in and see family whenever I felt like it.

Family Way is probably the biggest thing I miss about Edmonton.

Maybe one day my house will be the focal point of a Family Way.

Maybe in Edmonton, that address will be 342 Ormsby Road East. Maybe in Montreal, it will be 4467 ave Laval. Maybe in Paris, it will be 7 rue Buoysell.


On Montreal…

It's definitely the same city I remember it to be, both in positive and not-so-positive ways. There certainly is much more money to be had out west. But the people and quality of culture here is second to none. Last summer, I lived in the McGill Ghetto, around the prestigious university. It was a great area, but didn't have much of the French culture. This time around, I'm in The Plateau, a neighborhood with downtown Paris on one side, and a quaint French town on the other. It's probably my favourite part of the city. I'm excited to get reacquainted with the city. In Paris, I had some of the strongest relationships with people I've ever experienced (which made returning to Edmonton a truly challenging ordeal); I hope to find that again in Montreal.

That being said, the first two weeks of any move are challenging. Last summer, my friends here were all from Alberta. I didn't have a ton of Quebecois pals. Right now, I'm finding out that social interaction can be at a premium when you don't know too many people in a city (a similar lesson I learned in Paris).


On Concordia…

My professors follow me on Twitter, so I'll start with the positive! I'm relieved I came here. The

school is completely different than my previous university. Much higher standards for everything (admissions, deadlines, attendance policy), lots of infrastructure (own journalism building, TV and radio studios, media labs), and professors with diverse backgrounds (covering Parliament for the Canadian Press, hosting a radio show on TSN). The entire campus has a different feeling…there's a football stadium, hockey arena, lots of green space, a quad. It's a big league school in every single way. I have classmates from Portugal, New Orleans, Strasbourg, Montreal, Vancouver…really fun to be in that environment.

Compared to the other university, Concordia just does different things…the department head addressing all first year students on the first day of classes, every journalism student being issued a press pass to cover events around Montreal…things that established programs do. For the first time since high school, I'm proud of the school that I go to, and can't wait to tell people about it. It's gonna be a great three years here.


Quelques Autres Trucs…

Living here again has reaffirmed to me that having a family in Alberta is probably the way to go. I've learned a few things from moving around so much…you can never really rush "getting settled in", since that process has its own timeline. Spending money to make a place feel more homey is never a bad investment. There really is no price for true comfort. I don't think I've ever worked as hard for something as I did for getting into Concordia…getting rushed to the hospital the night before my English exam in Lyon, mailing documents from another continent, dealing with administration…it was a real challenge.

I've had a lot of firsts in Montreal and, as of this morning, can add another to that list: first time being stood up by a lady.

On that note, in lieu of a Rolling Stones song that normally follows my beautiful prose, I recommend watching the alternate ending to How I Met Your Mother. It really does Ted Moseby and his epic story some justice, and invokes "the feels."

À bientôt!

22 Goals for 22 Years…

Thank you to everyone for the birthday wishes. Year 21 was the craziest chapter of my life story, the majority of it taking place in France. I loved reading the messages and texts from people I've known from Edmonton and those I got to know in other cities and countries. 

Celebrating the big day at home for the first time since I was 20 years old, I created a list of goals. Some of them are for this year, others will take time. I can't wait for this crazy roller coaster to continue, and hope you all are a part of the journey! Without further adieu, here are the goals: 

 

1.     Develop a new passion or hobby. Maybe take up learning another language or painting or something different (and fun) to invest time into.

2.     Try making as many new friends as possible without initially asking the questions, “Where do you go to school,” and, “Where do you work.” I feel like sometimes the focus is a bit too much on what a person is as opposed to who a person is.

3.     Interview Taylor Swift. At a café. Without sweating profusely. It going well. And for for her to call the next day wanting to interview me.  

4.     $2,500 in scholarships and a 4.0 this year at school. Simple enough, no?

5.     Back in December I wrote a very critical and aggressive article on MacEwan University. I learned a ton from both the writing of the post and the subsequent fallout, including that it was actually discussed in class by some of my former journalism professors as part of journalism lessons, something I consider an enormous complement, even though I’m certain they weren’t raving over my prose (though apparently I was compared to Ray Romano. Attractive wife, daughter, twin boys, and writing about sports for a living? I’ll take it!).

The goal: write something else just as impactful, with as much punch and power, that gets talked about and circulated just as much if not more than that article on MacEwan University. Hit another homerun. It’d be pretty cool to hear that another article of mine was being discussed in an academic setting and to stir that type of reaction, debate, and emotion again. Having already been through a minor media firestorm, I would definitely be more prepared and embrace the situation more.

6.     Be in a position both financially and professionally where a return to Europe is a VERY real, legitimate possibility for summer 2015.

7.     $10 000 saved up by the time I graduate from Concordia University in Montreal (three years from now).

8.     Join a rec or intramurals team at Concordia University. Any sport, be it dodgeball or soccer or hockey, as long as it is active and with a team.

9.     Leave Edmonton looking like a professional journalist; come back to Edmonton looking like a professional hockey player. Eat healthy, get fit.

10.  Never be completely clean shaven in my entire life ever again.

11. Volunteer somewhere once a week. I’m thinking a place like Big Brothers and Big Sisters. It’d be great to make a new friend and have a direct impact in someone’s life. I’ve always wanted an older brother for myself; if I can’t find one, the least I can do is be one for someone else.

12. Continue my streak of not working for free. So far I’ve been able to earn consistent money for all media jobs I have had. Obviously there are certain opportunities that I would jump at (CBC’s six week internship in London, England being a prime example), but it would really take a lot for me to work for free in North America. I feel like clippings are overvalued compared to other skills/tools, and the thirst for portfolio material often leads to unnecessary contributions to websites or news sources that ultimately lead to nowhere tangible. 

13. Eventually find a nice lady and settle in one city and have a family of my own. It seems impossible that at one point, I won’t value travel and adventure and living in different places, but that time will come.

14. Earn five concrete employment offers, each with a starting salary of at least $50 000, upon graduating from university.

15. Start a charitable or benevolent endeavor using my skills and education. Change the world in a positive way, using the power of communications and journalism.

16. Habiter, travailler, jouer, découvrir, et profiter les villes de London et New York City. Translation: Continue taking risks and living aggressively.

17. See the Rolling Stones play live. 

18. Have my Maddy Bowen moment. Report from Gaza or Syria/Sierra Leone/Afghanistan/Abu Dhabi on a human rights issue (and live to tell the tale!).

19. Have a pint with George Clooney.

20. Become a better logical thinker. Learn to solve Sudoku puzzles and Rubics cubes. That’s definitely something I can improve on. 

21. Lots of people helped me get to Montreal and Paris, and I would love the chance to do the same for someone else. If anyone needs someone to talk to or bounce ideas off, I'm game. It'd be pretty cool to help someone out in getting what they want out of life.

22. The cliches! Have some more fun, smile more, laugh more, stress less, and continue leaving it all out there. 

My first NHL job interview: (Finally) competing in the Big Leagues

25th time is the charm, and it finally has rung.

This week I will have a phone interview with an NHL team regarding employment opportunities within their front office and communications team. The organisation is one of the league's most prestigious, in a very international city, and has competed in the Stanley Cup Finals in the past nine years. It also has a very strong Edmonton connection.

Should the phone conversation go well, there probably will be a follow up interview, perhaps by Skype, or maybe in person. Should that go well and an offer is extended, it will be a feeling unlike no other. The team has raised the Stanley Cup in the past; if I receive the opportunity to work with them, it may be my version of lifting the famed trophy over my head, giving it a kiss in the process.

It took an awful lot of grammar corrections and rewritten cover letters and technical challenges to get to this point, but here we are. 

I began writing cover letters and resumes for NHL teams when I was 18 years old. My first ones still included such titles as "Model at Hollister" and "Junior Waitperson at the Old Spaghetti Factory" for positions that asked for great written communicators and people who had good interviewing skills…wait, you're saying that, "What size would you like me to find," and, "Are you finished with that," don't constitute good interview skills?

In the back of my mind, I knew that, at age 18 and with no concrete work experience under my belt, I had no shot at those positions. I figured it would be a good way to practice writing resumes and cover letters, gain familiarity with the process, and be on the radar of hiring and human resources personnel. I also wanted to get into the habit of applying for "out there" positions.

As experience in other organisations was gained (covering hockey for various websites, attending the 2011 NHL Entry Draft, working in university athletics), I continued applying with vigour, but to no avail (I was averaging four to five applications per year). Competing with hundreds of others with the same goals and motivation levels means you're often scratching your head, thinking, "I thought my experience and credentials were good enough!" You're left sometimes questioning everything about your credentials, and recharting your path on the fly.

I'm not sure what forced a team's hand into giving me a shot, but it has  happened. I applied for this position about three weeks after I arrived back in Canada, submitting the application and not really thinking about it afterwards.

I think it was the combination of sports media work, non-sports experience (Paris and Montreal positions that were in professional communications and journalism, but not related to sports), and a radically altered cover letter and resume compared to ones I had previously sent out.

With the help of a cousin who hires 14 people for every 500 resumes he receives, I learned how to make my credentials stand out and eliminate any superfluous, unnecessary junk that dilutes the value of one's accomplishments. I was advised that resumes and cover letters aren't the places where humility sells. I reworked the phrasing and changed my cover letter to be more direct and progressive.

Fact/grammar checking resumes and cover letters isn't my forte by a long shot. In my mind, I've passed the hardest part; my strengths in the hiring process lie in how I present myself and respond to questions and sell who I am. I also now have a template with which how to successfully apply for future positions, with both NHL/sports media organisations and other entities. ESPN, the NFL, Vice, Time Inc, and others suddenly are within shooting distance.

If an NHL team found my credentials appealing, other enterprises should too.

I know it will be an uphill battle. This is my first time interviewing with a pro sports team, a Big Four team nonetheless.  I'm a rookie trying to crack the major league squad. 

That being said, receiving a phone interview is like making the playoffs…all bets are now off. In that way, it's great to be forced to rise to the occasion, something that's happened a few times over the past 18 months. I am quite grateful for those opportunities.

Anything can happen. I'll prepare and research and create a strategy on how I will sell Salim to an organisation that routinely interviews young professionals with similar backgrounds, goals, skills, and motivation levels as me.

I'm looking forward to competing with these young men and women in the future, and have a great deal of respect and admiration for them. I hope to become friends and teammates with them. We'll only make each other better as professionals and as people.

The past 18 months, my mandate has been simple: compete with the best, in the biggest cities, for the most sought after positions.

This process began three years ago, when I was 18 and lacking in life experience and direction. It's taken a huge step forward this year at age 21, with some adventures, hard lessons learned, and lifelong memories created.

I can guarantee you that without Montreal and Paris, I wouldn't be in this position.  

Thank you to everyone who helped get me to this point. An interview with an NHL team is something I will cherish forever, regardless of what happens in the future. An awful lot of awesome people helped in making that happen. 

It's great to finally compete in the NHL.

Thursday Thoughts, Premier Edition

Journalists have Sunday columns, Mondays are generally the busiest days in newsrooms, but Thursday generally gets left out.

I have an odd superstition with the number five, and Thursday happens to be the fifth day of the week. Also, Thursday and Thoughts both start in Th, making it fun to say.

This weekly compilation is just meant to be some random thoughts about life…the topics really will vary from point to point. Some may recount an exciting tale from Paris, while others will deal with society at large. Culture, journalism, living abroad, travel, being a single 21 year old male…these are all things that are, well, Salim. Without further adieu, here they are. Comments and conversation, as always, are encouraged!

• I'm starting to find my groove in Edmonton again, though it took some time. I'm interacting with people, cracking a self-deprecating joke here or there, and am starting to have some fun here. It's like a quarterback learning a new offense…you're adjusting to new language, expectations, and coaching. It all takes time.   

• I had an awful lot of kebabs while in Paris. There is nothing like a good kebab, aside from a great kebab. That's much better than a good kebab. 

• I'm starting to realize that there is nothing wrong with looking back on life and thinking, "Man the summer when I was 31/21/25 years old was ROUGH." For me, I fall into the line of thinking that every minute or every season of my 20's has to be legendary. Not necessarily.  

• I underestimated how hard it would be to adjust back to the Edmonton life. When you're gone for eight months, you get emotionally attached to your new home and life. My friends and students and coworkers and bosses and kebab salespersons were much more than that, they became my family. Imagine waking up and being told that you can't see your brothers or cousins or uncles anymore. That's how I felt with leaving France. I still feel that way, though it is improving. Plus, Facebook makes it easier to stay in touch.  

• Ideally, I would not live in Edmonton until I am 30 years old. I think it's a great city to have a family and career in, but for someone in their 20's, there are many other alternatives. The earning potential in this city is quite high, and there are plenty of facilities. There's not much in terms of culture or richness of life though.   

• Everyone should live abroad for a few months, be it Europe or Asia or Australia or somewhere else. There's very few excuses not to take the leap, especially in your 20s, when programs are designed for that age group. The memories you create are amazing, and the skills you learn will pay off in many ways.

• Statistic I would love to see: percentage of company CEO's and Presidents who were the oldest sibling in their families.

• Is there an appetite for a French weekly or monthly print publication in Edmonton? I hear much more French being spoken in the city than I remember. Something worth investigating.

• Montreal is a very cheap city to rent, my goodness. Last summer, I lived in the McGhill Ghetto, right in front of the prestigious university. Everything (furnished studio, heat, electricity, water, internet) came to $550/month. I may pay that much, or slightly more, if I move back for school. Try finding a room for under $700 in downtown Edmonton. C'est impossible. 

•  Living in cities like Paris and Montreal and New York and London is akin to spending time in the NHL. You're living in the big leagues, international cities that draw people from every walk of life, and can meet folks from 10 different countries on any given train ride. Like anyone who's had a cup of coffee in the NHL will say, when you go back to the minors, your sole objective is to return to that glory.

• The thing I am most proud of about my time in France: my teaching. I came there as a teacher, and left as a teacher. I worked hard, planning lessons and getting to know students. The rewards were more than I ever thought possible. 

• After teaching, I can understand why parents think their children are capable of anything and are the smartest people to have walked the Earth. To a degree, I felt the same way about my students. They're intelligent, well spoken, kind, and I can't wait to see and hear what they accomplish in the future. Keep in touch, mes étudiants! 

• In Canada, people are outgoing and friendly in the streets, but inside cafes and bars, will not really exit their friend-zones. In France, les gens are quiet in the streets and won't acknowledge you really, but inside cafes and bars, they are quite open and outgoing. 

• Journalist, sports marketer, high school teacher…I'm not certain what I fancy myself to be. All I know is that my objective is to get my CV to a point where I will compete, interview for, and earn opportunities in Paris, London, and New York. I believe that I can, at this point. The goal is to build on that. If my goal is to remain in Edmonton and build a CV for this city, it's pretty much impossible for me to then seriously consider living in those cities. By going about it the opposite way, I'll be able to compete in Edmonton, should I fancy living here again. 

• Bob Dylan is an amazing songwriter. "Like a Rolling Stone" is such a beautifully written song. I enjoy the Rolling Stones cover of it much better, but the story in the lyrics is something to behold. "When you've got nothing, you've got nothing to lose. You're invisible now, you got no secrets to conceal."

 

• I feel like in Edmonton, the goal of any Friday/Saturday night out is to either get to a certain point of inebriation, or to go home with someone. I was on Whyte Avenue on Saturday night, and just amazed with the antics people were showing to hook up. Guys, akin to credit card salesmen, propositioning literally every female that walked by. For those wondering, none of their attempts were successful. I ended up talking to some of those lucky ladies afterwards, just curious about how they felt.  

• In France and most of Europe, museums are free to anyone under 26 years old. Something for Canada to consider.

• Entourage is my favourite television series. I love the relationships between the characters, that "larger than life" celebrity style, and seeing the ups and downs of Vinny Chase.

• One of my favourite scenes is when Ari Gold tells Vince he may not be his agent anymore after accepting another position. Vince's response: "I think I'd like us to finish what we started together....but I also think you gotta do what you gotta do."

• Another great scene is a few seasons later, Ari saying that he was proud of E.

• Ari Gold and Jerry MacGuire are my favourite fictional characters, but the world has far too many of them. The power of money is amazing. A sports agent once told me that everyone can be bought and sold. "Show me the money" is more prevalent in North America than in Europe, it seems. It reminds me of Catcher in the Rye and Holden Caufield, saying his brother DB "prostituted himself by going to Hollywood." Mr. Deck, a great English teacher I had at Jasper Place High School in Edmonton, had us read the book in English 30.

• Speaking of money, unpaid internships...what's the deal with that? Students, many of whom already have student loan debt, working for free. Not to mention that they often pay a fee to their university for the right to partake in these internships. Europe regulates their internships; France has government mandated policies where if an internship exceeds six weeks, there must be some sort of compensation (it's not an hourly rate, just a set dollar amount of 450 Euro per month for a full time intern). And that applies to foreign students too, not just French interns. Canadian politicians, let's start regulating this practice please. Global Television, Rogers and Bell Media are corporations that generate significant profit. $500 for every intern working in excess of six weeks seems like a reasonable figure.

• The Federal Work Experience Program is a great opportunity for students. Submit your resume to the Canadian government around October, and it'll be available for federal agencies throughout the country. They access your resume, and get in touch to discuss further opportunities. 

• Currently on my mind: roommates or live alone? I'm leaning towards the roommates, since living by myself became lonesome at times in France. Anyone have suggestions or roommate horror/dream stories?       

•  It's interesting to think of What If's…What if I hadn't decided to move to Montreal and Paris, or had just done Montreal? I would be entering my fifth year at MacEwan University, and probably just coming into that, "I gotta get outta here" phase. In a lot of ways, life would be much less complicated if I hadn't pursued those ventures. At the same time, there was loads of frustration that would likely have resulted in less friends, maybe lower grades, and a less enriching and fun experience. 

• The opportunity cost for me, should I decide to move to Montreal for school would be ~$75 000. A lot of money, until you consider that the average person earns ~$2 million in their lifetime. $75k of that is less than 0.05%. If that means increased opportunities and more overall happiness, it's more than worth it.

•  It's amazing to think about living your whole life and growing up in Europe. The whole "Europe is more expensive" narrative is overblown. Edmonton is more pricey to rent in than Paris. Meanwhile, my friends overseas could choose from thirty countries to visit on any given weekend, all the while not breaking the bank. Flying from Edmonton to Vancouver is $500 (350 Euro). You could travel to several countries, flights and accommodation included, with that. 

• Talking to many ladies (friends, coworkers, baristas, barwomen, bankers)…it's fair to say that most females do NOT like beards?

• If I were asked where I think I'll be at age 45, I'd respond with, "Probably a stable, 9-5 job in one city, something that 21 year old Salim would cringe at." I have a strange feeling that I'll be teaching high school or university at that point. Maybe a wife. Maybe a kid. Maybe two kids. Maybe a dog. Maybe a house in Nantucket.

• The picture on the right is one of my favourites. It was the last one of my Paris family all together, on the night before I hopped on a plane to Iceland. Look at those smiles. 

• It'll be interesting how these next two-three years unfold. I'm thinking that creating something on my own (some sort of youth career and education advisory service or a sports communications consulting firm) could be a possibility.

C'est tout, mes amis. I'm thinking my next article will be about universities and insight into how I decided where to complete my studies.

Leave it all out there, and à bientôt!

An ode to a great wingman; why Edmonton's nightlife lacks the diversity of a Montreal or Paris

In Paris, I had a mate named Tyler. He was American, 27 years old.

There was nothing really special about him. Well, actually there was an awful lot that was special. While he knew nothing about hockey (somehow, despite that admission, our friendship soldiered on), one thing he could do was start conversations with anyone. And by anyone, I mean literally anyone. In baseball, there are lefty-specialist pitchers, and in life there are conversation-starting specialist people, and Tyler was is one of them. And you have to remember that we were both in a country (France) where the spoken language was not our native tongue. And yet, almost everywhere we went, Tyler had this magical ability to turn strangers into acquaintances and acquaintances into friends. They could be buskers or barmen or retail clerks or the descendents of King Louis XIV…it really didn't matter.

In Amsterdam, we talked with a Dutchman who was about our fathers' age. We met the man at a café near the Anne Frank House, in front of a beautiful canal (at this point, mine and Tyler's friendship was a ripe two weeks old). He spent most of our conversation talking about the environment and what we, being the 'next generation', could do to improve it. I learned a lot from that three hour interaction. The guy I could thank for striking up the conversation: Tyler.

He played a huge role in my Parisien experience. He was one of my best friends, and an outstanding wingman.

While I'm a fairly social guy myself, with Tyler, those qualities just became that much more intense whenever I was with him. He made me Ultra-Salim, the optimistic, enthusiastic, outgoing guy who I'm trying to recreate as I transition back to Edmonton.


I first learned the art of "Walking into a bar, knowing not a soul, and coming out with some new
friends and a great story" last summer while living in Montreal. The city is so conducive to that, it's scary. It's the second biggest Canadian city, second biggest French city in the world, a mere two hours from the US border (and a five hour drive from New York City), a mere three hours from the Ontario border (and a five hour drive from Toronto, Canada's biggest city), and Quebec City is just a three hour hitch hike away.


There are two major international universities in the city (McGill and Concordia), and two francophone universities there as well. 

Not to mention the countless international companies whose headquarters or large offices are in the city.

What does that mean? That means that, whether you are in the mood for a quiet café or a couple of pints, you will run into people that are from a far away place, have a funny accent, and are up for meeting new people. It attracts plenty of tourists, many people who move from France to Quebec, English Canadian businessmen, and HORDES of students/young people.

It really was easy to just go somewhere, grab a water or beer or coffee, start a conversation, and have an amazing afternoon or night with new people. Amongst my group of friends in Montreal last summer, they'd probably say that I was their 'Tyler.' I love being a Tyler (being a Salim is alright too, I suppose).

Paris and Montreal are quite similar in many ways, namely the fact that young people are drawn there to both live and visit. Tourists roam the streets with reckless abandon, ready to discover the city and meet new people. People on working holiday visas, or in the city for a conference, or foreign students, all in one place, often at tables mere feet from each other. You hear so many different accents, see so many different outfits, see so many different techniques to attract the opposite (or same) gender, it's incredible. That diversity was so fun to be a part of.

I can't tell you how many times Tyler and I would be chatting, in either English or French, in Paris and someone would stop by, intrigued by our accents, and we'd begin that beautiful friendship process. 

It's fair to say that Edmonton, well, just doesn't have those qualities. On Friday night, I was roaming the downtown area by myself, somewhat in the mood to recreate memories past and make some new friends. That, well didn't happen. Was it my own shyness/nerves? Maybe…or it could just be that a city like Edmonton is less conducive to those random encounters.

In Edmonton, you generally go to a café or bar with your friends…one, two, five, you have your group, and other patrons at the bar have theirs. You all spend your evening together, have your pints, some great laughs, and call it a night. 99% of the time, the people you came in with will be the people you leave with. 

You may meet someone from Red Deer or Calgary or perhaps even Vancouver or Saskatoon, but that is often as far as it goes.

Because the vast majority of people in Edmonton were either born in the city or province of Alberta (or have lived there for a few years), there isn't as much diversity as in other, more international or touristy cities. People tend to dress fairly similar, talk the same, and behave the same. Everyone goes out with their group of friends; there are very few people who go out by themselves. 

It's funny…in France, the folks tended to be less outgoing in the streets, but very pleasant and friendly in the confines of a café or bar. In Edmonton, from what I've seen since I returned, it's the opposite: people are great in the street or walking their dog, but when they step foot into a bar or Starbucks, they tend to stick with the people they came in with.

While as a younger boy, I craved the crazy late nights, empty shot glasses strewn about…as a (dare I say) now life-experience-filled 21 year old man, I crave the crazy late conversations, empty voices strewn about from all the talking and laughing.

In Edmonton, that ambiance and energy doesn't exist. Spontaneity and meeting new people just isn't the same.

Where's Tyler when you need him?

First reflection of France; another complicated life decision

I've said it before…returning back to Edmonton has been 1000x harder than initially moving to France.

It's been a rollercoaster of emotions, saying goodbye to the great European adventure. No more pints in Chatalet. No more English lessons. No train rides to Arts et Metiers. I can't lick the Eiffel Tower anymore (something I made a habit of doing. Yes, I am weird), only a picture of it.

A month into my new Edmontonian life, and I greatly miss Europe still. 

I miss Conflans Sainte Honorine, the town next to Paris that I lived in. I miss living at Lycée Jules Ferry, and spending my Saturday mornings in the staff room of the school, sipping on coffee and chatting with the English teachers. Living in such a small town was nice because you had so many personal yet not-so-personal relationships. I had a kebab guy, a clementine guy, a baguette lady, a couple of grocery ladies, a haircutting lady, a coffee guy (who, coincidentally, has a sister who once worked in Edmonton), a beer guy, and a croissant lady. I couldn't tell you their names, and they couldn't tell you mine, but they knew…

"Je viens de Canada. Edmonton, c'est trois heures nord du Calgary"

"J'étudie journalisme."

"Maintenant en Conflans je suis l'assistant de l'anglais au lycée Jules Ferry, et aussi j'ai une stage de journalisme en Paris sur rue Beaubourg."

"Canada c'est froid, mais le pay c'est comme un grand pub ou tous les gens sont amis. La culture est trés ouvert, et les gens parlent beaucoup avec les étrangers."

I miss that small talk that comes with a small town. Almost always whenever I stepped out of my apartment I'd run into a student. I miss that too. I loved teaching there, and my students were awesome in every single way.

Before I initially left Canada, I knew that when I came back, I'd have a family to go to and have dinner with and tease about their junior high dances and the sweaty palms that come with that. What I didn't anticipate was that I'd have a family in the Paris region that I would leave behind. We all met by chance, but boy were those moments special. 

The night the six of us met for the first time, we hung out for 12 hours, meeting at around 3pm at les Jardins Luxembourg on a Saturday night, through a Facebook event for English assistants in the Paris area. That night saw us venture to the Louvre, Place de la Concorde, and the Bastille area. We grabbed pints along the way, including our first one at The Cork and Cavern, a nice Irish pub along the Canal St Martin, an area and pub we would soon frequent.




We fell asleep in a Paris metro station in the wee hours of the morning. By the time we all caught our first trains around 5:30am, the seeds that grow great families had firmly been planted. Make no mistake, we were far more than just friends. That was Saturday, October 5, 2013, 12 days after I first arrived in Paris. 




It's one of a thousand amazing stories I can tell you about those lovely souls. We were joined by a handful of other adventurous, lovely souls along the way. The moments we had were priceless. They will always hold special places in my heart. 


The nice part about living abroad (and in Montreal last summer, for that matter) was that you never really knew how your day was going to unfold. You just got up, showered, ate breakfast, dressed sharply, and hopped on the train. There was always some sort of magic in store. 

Along the way, I found an amazing journalism internship in the heart of Paris. For five months, I was a journalist in Paris, working on the same street as city hall, with an outstanding set of teammates and mentors. 

To all those people who have uttered the words, "Boy Salim you've changed from your time overseas," you can distinctly thank everyone above. They made me a much more complete, kind, grounded human being. 

The difference now is that, for the first time in a year (and potentially the last time ever), I am living

in Edmonton, a city that I know fairly well. There isn't much spontaneity or energy because I know the book on the city. I'm not as curious or excited to meet new people. It's an interesting and bizarre adjustment. I honestly don't know if I fit in here. My heart and mind and soul are still very much navigating the streets of Paris, probably with a cigarette in one hand, a pint in the other, a good friend across the table, a pretty femme out of the corner of my eye, and a great exchange of ideas filling the air.

To those on the fence, I cannot emphasize it enough: move, and move quickly and with confidence, to another part of the world. Bruce Springsteen said it best, "Baby we were born to run."

Right now, my mind is occupied with other things…I must decide where to go to university. If I return to Montreal and Concordia University (which I was accepted into), I would be looking at an extra year of school, plus significant student debt. It would mean I'd graduate at age 25; a Masters degree or law school or another year in Paris would be much more challenging to obtain that way. However if I stay in Edmonton, though the opportunity may be less, I'd be able to save money and be debt free, as well as have that extra year for school or another extended work experience.

Unfortunately, dollars and yen and euro tend to rule the world to a certain extent.

I sometimes regret the gusto with which I approach life, given it often leads to complicated decisions. At the same time, as I sit here at home in Edmonton, I have begun to wonder if I truly did Leave It All Out There while in Europe. Those types of thoughts are inevitable after such an amazing experience.

While I am not certain with my career choice for the future, I know that I enjoy studying journalism the most of all disciplines. I also know that I want a CV that will compete, challenge, and win positions in London, New York, and, yes, Paris. At this moment, I ache for another few months in Île de France.

It's been the most challenging month of my life in many ways. I've been a different brand of Salim; one who is sometimes thinking about the amazing times overseas when he should be focusing in the now. What I would give for my tongue to touch the Eiffel Tower one more time. 


It is truly mind boggling how quickly that time went by.

I suppose that the above was just a long winded way of saying…pint at the Great Canadian Pub, 21:00 ce soir, mes amis??

À bientôt,