A Lolli Holi-Day

After following a friend's tip and getting an unbelievably good deal (really... If I told you how much we paid for it you might not believe me), my friend Anna and I spent a week in Spain. The best part about teaching in London is the week-long school breaks, which happen much more often than they do in Canada. This is also a little irritating, since there are 9 possible working (and thus paid) days in April for supply teachers. But since we had the time off, we decided to take advantage of it and head to Spain.

I really think the awesomeness of Spain started the moment we touched down. And I mean that literally. As soon as we'd made our safe landing, a bugle call sounded over the intercom. Um...what? Yep, a bugle call. Is that supposed to be some kind of "Hooray! We got here alive!" thing? Or a "You're on vacation! It's time to celebrate!" thing? I don't really know. I just know it was awesome.

From the plane we were ushered into waiting buses that we were told would take us to the airport terminal. I've flown a lot, and this isn't unusual when the plane stops far away from the building, so no worries. After waiting about 5min for everyone to squeeze into the buses, we were off.

And then we were there.

Just like that. We honestly traveled for about 45sec on the bus. MUCH less time than it took for us to load and about the same amount of time it would have taken us to walk. Awesome. The best part about it was that NO ONE else seemed phased by this! Anna and I were in hysterics about how ridiculous it was, but everyone else just filed off like this happens every day!

The area we explored is called the Costa Brava and we stayed in a little resort town called Lloret de Mar. We were in a prime location, just a few blocks up from 2 different beaches and near the main strip.

The primary clientele base for our hotel? Well... They were a little PAST their prime. We're talking purple hair and dancing the two-step. The party's breaking up at 9 because half the audience is ready to take their teeth out and hit the sack.

But that's okay... We got a skookum deal, so we're not complaining about the oldies crampin' our style. And speaking of the deal we got, somebody somewhere down the translation line got mixed up, and they were expecting 4 people to be in our room. Nope, just the two of us. Which means our own beds in our own rooms and extra towels galore. Score!

We settled into our room quite nicely, and also into the Spanish tradition of taking siestas. The first couple of days of our trip were filled with lazy sleep-ins, ambling walks through the city and then mid-afternoon naps. It was lovely :)

One thing we had a harder time adjusting to was the number of times we received a firm NO to our requests. Honestly, it got a little ridiculous! We were at a restaurant on our second night and asked our waiter to take our picture. Without even taking a pause he said "no" and walked away! We thought he must have been kidding, but he didn't turn back around! It wasn't until the next time he came to our table that he (sort of) explained he was waiting for us to have food for the photo. Okay, that's fine and thoughtful...but carried out in a really awkward way! Another night Anna asked for mushrooms on her sausage, and the waiter told her she couldn't. He then explained that mine had mushrooms because they were INSIDE the sausage, not on top of it, but he said NO so emphatically and paused long enough that we were a little taken aback. Machines even said No to us! Our hostel in Barcelona had a drink-ordering machine, and next to a few of the choices were stickers with NO written in capital letters. All right, all right, we get the hint... We'll stop asking for things!! Sheesh!

Hands down, though, the best question of the trip was one not asked of us. As we headed back to our hotel one night, a Spanish dude tried to pick us up, using the absolute BEST pick-up line on the planet. Are you ready for this? Because it's epic:

"Hey sexy ladies... Wanna burn some calories?"

Hahahahahahahahahahahahaha! I wonder if that's ever actually WORKED for him!!

And last but not least: the best random moment of the trip:

We came home one night and found this on our deck. The basic reaction from us: What the hell IS this and what is it doing on our deck? Of course, we immediately grabbed a camera and photo-documented all of the possible uses we could come up with. Unfortunately for you, a small minority of them are appropriate for public viewing... Plus, Anna would kill me if I made her photo ideas public :)

After exploring the options for a few minutes, we heard a little voice calling us from the deck. At this point we started wondering WHO the hell was on our deck! Turned out the kid with the adjoining one was out there, and he was looking for his lost...object. Before handing it back to him, we made him tell us what it was. We then had this conversation (and picture this with a child's English accent):

Me: "What is it?"

Kid:"It's a giant Lolli."

Me: "I don't get it..."

Kid: "Well it's a large container. And it looks like a giant lolli and it's filled with stuff."

Me: "Okay, how did it get on our deck?"
Anna: "Are you hiding it from someone?"

Kid: "Well, I hit someone with it and the top just flew off!"

 ... Can I just point out that this description does NOT account for how the BOTTOM of it ended up on our deck?

Anyway, lollis became a bit of a theme during the trip, as you'll see in the subsequent posts... There will be one for our trip down to Barcelona and another for our rad road trip... Check back in a couple of days to read them!

- - - - - 

And, because I think it's awesome that Anna's Mom reads this blog...and because I know she'll read THIS post because her daughter features so prominently, a little SHOUT OUT to Shelley!!

You won! I what? I WON? Really? AAAHHHHH!!!!

You have 1 new email.

You won! Contiki competition at TNT travel show!

Okay, yes, I did enter a contest when I went to the travel show. But that was long enough ago that I barely remember entering. And I've never won ANYTHING that wasn't merit-based EVER. So clearly, this is some kind of consolation prize. A keychain or water bottle. Something I'm likely not even going to want, so why have they bothered to send me an email announcing it?

Oh well, I'll open it up and just have a look.

Angela Chorney, you have won your choice of any 10 day Contiki tour worldwide for 2 people!

Um, excuse me? I won WHAT? Anywhere in the WORLD?

Reaction: AAAAAHHHHHHHH!!!!!

Okay, breathe. Breathe. Scream a little. Breathe!!

Call someone. Joe.

Me: "Omg, omg, omg! Remember the travel show we went to? (Of course you do). Remember the draw we entered for a free 10-day trip with Contiki? (Of course you do). Well... I WON!!!!"

Joe: "You won?"

Me: "YES!! I WON!!" (There was much screaming and shocking disbelief at this point)

Unbelievable. Un-freakin-believable!! I'm in so much shock at this point that I cannot carry on a conversation. I manage to throw out a few words to Joe to tell him that he is coming on this trip with me, but when he tries to ask me questions about where I want to go, I am so worked up I can barely think, let alone start planning. There is really only one thing I AM capable of right now:

Posting the news on Facebook.

A couple of days later, Joe and I have made our decision. The choice was determined by a few factors:


Contiki's conditions:
- any trip they offer, for up to 10 days
- we just have to pay for our flight to the starting destination, and the optional excursions we choose to add
- everything else (transfers, accommodations, about half of the meals) are covered


Our conditions:
- it MUST be somewhere we wouldn't normally go, somewhere kind of random and beyond the scope of reason
- it must depart during the one remaining half-term break that I have left

And so, after much discussion and research over the past few days, it is decided.

We are going to Vietnam!! (with a little side trip to Bangkok on the way)


To answer your questions:
1. Yes, really.
2. Because... Why NOT?
3. We leave May 27th.

If you're interested in seeing exactly where I'll be and what I'll be doing, you can check out the trip itinerary here: http://contiki.co.uk/tours/217-vietnam-highlights/itinerary

Games That Kids Think Are Fun

I've been teaching a lot of Foundation Stage lately (Nursery and Reception, or the equivalent of Preschool and Kindergarten). There's a LOT of play-based learning at this stage, which means a significant part of my job is to get down-and-dirty and engage with the kids through play.

The following is a selection of sustained (as in, approximately 20-30 minutes) activities that have been ridiculously amusing for my students:

The "I Feel Like I'm on a Date" game: In this "game", one child and I took turns asking each other questions, which we then both had to answer. We learned A LOT about each other, delving into such "what's your favourite....?" topics as colour, toy and place in the room.

The "Put Your Hood on Because It's Cold Out" game: This was actually a repeated request. It was so cold the other day that the kids were all made to zip up their coats and put their hoods up. A few had fallen back as they ran around, so I said "put your hood back on!" while flicking it back onto one kid's hat. Within a few minutes, I had a crowd of about 7 of them surrounding me, each dramatically tossing their hoods off every time I put it back on, just so I'd do it again. I'm sure the squeals of excitement and raucous laughter belied the simplicity of what we were actually doing.

The "Ms.Chorney is Tired So She's Going To Make Up a Game That Forces Her To Stand Still" game: I think this one is my personal favourite. Especially since another teacher later asked me about the game, and wanted me to explain the rules to her because she'd never seen it played before. Well, DUH! I just MADE IT UP! Anyway, I told one kid to go and get me a "magic wand" because we were going to play "Magician" and I got to be the Magician. I waved around shouting "Bibbity, Boppity, [insert animal name here]!" The kids then had to run around acting like that animal, then come back to me so I could "turn them into" something else. The beauty of this one lies in its requirement for child activity AND teacher laziness. Sometimes I really think I am a genius.

The "Jaws Theme Song" game: Here's the premise for this one: I sit down (notice a theme here?) and pull one kid at a time onto my lap. I open and close my hands while doing the 'nah NAH, nah NAH' bit, then tickle them at the climax of the tune. The kid squeals with delight and squirms his or her way off my lap. Immediately, a hoard of other children are pushing their way towards me, shouting "do it to me AGAIN!" Seriously, who BEGS to be tickled over and over again?? Crazy kids...

The rough side of London

I taught in a different area of London the other day, one generally considered to be 'rough', and it was as if I'd stepped into a different world. Some aspects were familiar to me: the streets looked the same, with poorly aged buildings and garbage on the ground. Street signs, as usual, were inconsistently located up high, down low, on the walls of buildings and on separate posts. Trying to find the school among the maze of roads and roundabouts was the usual challenge.

Except this time I didn't feel comfortable taking out my phone to use the GPS. The atmosphere made me uncomfortable, and I didn't want to carry my most expensive possession out in front of me, flashing my out-of-place status like a beacon.

I'm not sure I can accurately convey what it was that made me feel so uncomfortable. But this was a place where the faces of the residents were hardened into unapproachable scowls. The body language of every person I passed very clearly warned of aggression. Everywhere I looked I was receiving a message, loud and clear: I belong here and YOU do not. Just stay clear and melt into the background and I'll leave you alone.

So I did just that. I avoided eye contact, tried not to look at anyone for too long, lest it be construed as staring. I kept my handbag shut and zippered. And when someone spoke to me, I flinched, reflexively clutching it tighter (turned out that was a bit of an overreaction - he was just asking for directions, which I obviously couldn't give him).

Actually, I think, in hindsight, that my reaction to this place was largely unnecessary. I think I let my preconceived notions of what this area WOULD be like dictate how I felt. And when I was given a very few indicators to support the rumours, I generalized and let my imagination run, scaring myself into seeing and assuming things I needn't have. Gangs. Hidden guns. Pickpockets. Aggravated behaviour towards me.

But then again, I kind of look like an easy target. I mean, if I were a bit more "street", I'd probably pick on someone like me. White chick wearing very uncool clothes walking around looking up, down and everywhere like she's CLEARLY not from around here, clutching her purse like it's going to sprout legs and run away from her? Yep, like taking candy from a baby. Or lunch money from a nerd.

So I thought about all these things throughout the day as I taught in a VERY lovely, brand-new school (which, by the way, I ended up finding without incident) that seemed a bit out of place in the low-income surroundings. And I decided to just relax and play it cool and largely ignore everything and everyone around me as I retraced my steps back to the train.

And then I started hearing the growling.

I could tell immediately that it was a couple of dogs, and the sounds were getting louder with every step I took. Quickly, I came upon the two very tough-looking canines just up ahead of me. And it turned out I had cause to feel my initial concern. Both dogs were scowling and growling agressively. The muscles in both of their bodies were tensed for an attack. Both were straining at their leads and their bared teeth were about six inches from each other.

The only thing preventing the dogs from absolutely destroying each other were their owners, holding them back by their leads. But the guys were as relaxed as their dogs were tensed. They stood leaning back on their heels, arms crossed, faces expressionless. They both watched the dogs, but looked a bit bored doing it.

If I could have taken a picture without fearing I'd been beaten up (or worse) I would have. As it was I only dared a few glances. But the whole scene was quite a bizarre thing to behold.

When in Rome... (or England...)

It was time to do something very 'English'. One of those quintessential activities you engage in that make you think "Wow, I REALLY AM in _____". So I went with my housemate Richard to "The Boat Race". This is the annual Oxford-Cambridge rowing dual on the Thames. A little trivia for you: they've been doing it annually since 1856, except during the World Wars. For those of you who read/watched The Social Network, this is the race that the Winklevoss twins trained for, and lost. Hugh Laurie, of House fame, also rowed for Cambridge in the 1980 race.

Anyway...

As everyone does, we picked up a few cans of beer on the way down to the water. Once we reached the park and cracked them open, I noticed the police wandering around. Worried about my open-can-in-a-public-place, I tried to hide it a bit behind me. Not to worry, Rich informed me - while it IS technically illegal to be drinking beer in a park, it's all just kind of ignored until you do something REALLY stupid. Excellent!

Getting closer to race time, Rich and I headed to the waterfront. While he is a 6'7" giant of a man, I am considerably shorter and wanted to be right near the stone wall so I could see. Because I'm me, I started talking to some random people once we got there, and we became fast friends. With the addition of a friend of Rich's, the five of us were feeling the excitement of the crowd and getting anxious for the race to begin!

To pass the time, I started looking around me, doing a little good old-fashioned people-watching. It was impossible not to notice these guys first:

Amidst the crowd, they were dancing up a storm. Bedecked in their hats and prize ribbons, with bells strapped to their shins, they were making quite a ruckus. Apparently young children in England are taught the traditional dances, much like Canadian children learn to square dance and do the Maypole.

Next, as the crowds crushed in around us, I couldn't help but notice this guy:

Seriously? You came to this very busy and public event, stood about three people back from the edge of prime viewing area, and brought a book to read? Ah well, to each his own, I guess!

Some people were really serious about getting the best seat in the house. And apparently they felt said 'best' seat was up in a tree:

After much standing about, craning my neck to watch the preliminary stuff on the massive screen, the race had begun! The tension was palpable. People in London take this seriously, especially if they have personal ties to either school. Having no such ties myself, it didn't really matter to me who won. But, having done a little research before the event, I knew that Cambridge was favoured to win, that they won last year, and that they had won more past races (80, to Oxford's 75). So I decided to root for the underdog.

About 30 seconds after mentally making this decision, and JUST before I had a chance to open my mouth and make it very well known who I was favouring, I began to notice the large crowd of men to my right. Who were very clearly, very LOUDLY expressing their support for Cambridge. Hmmm... better keep my cheering a big more vaguely generic, then!

About 5 minutes after the race began, the boats were in view of our spot along the river. 30 seconds later, they were not. Unfortunately, because of the venue of the race, you can really only see them that long. That's why they have the giant screens set up as well - so you can watch the rest of it!

After the race, we (and every other person who had been watching the race) headed to a pub for a couple more pints. All-in-all, an excellent day! And I feel like a Londoner! Thanks for taking me out, Rich!


Oh... and Oxford won. Hooray!

Overheard by a Canadian: Episode 8

Teaching Nursery (age 4) today:

Child: "Where are you from?"
Me: "I'm from Canada!"
Child: "Which bus do you take to get to Canada?"


Child 1 (to another child): "Look at this tower I just made!"
Child 2: "Oh, that's lovely! I really like that!"
(you have to picture this one with a cute little British accent to appreciate how adorable it was!)


Me: "What does a dog say?"
Child: "Woof, woof!"

Me: "What does a cat say?"
Child: "Miao, miao"

Me: "What does a teacher say?"
Child: "Shush, shush!" (with finger to lips and everything)


Haha... quite the adorable day!

I have a proposition for you...

I had dinner a couple of weeks ago with a friend and her very nice, very proper English parents. We were having a lovely evening in a little local spot, a Lebanese restaurant called Yalla Yalla. It’s in an area called Soho, which is an interesting hybrid of theatre-district, seedy-redlight-district and relatively-new-gay-district. The restaurant itself is frequented primarily by Londoners, as it’s a bit off the beaten-by-tourists-path. It’s loaded with atmosphere, but only about 20 patrons fit into the small space, so it was loud and a bit warm.

After the meal, my friend’s Dad stepped outside to get a bit of air. He came back about five minutes later, looking a little agitated. When he sat down, we had the following conversation:

Dad: ‘Well, that was interesting.’

Daughter: ‘Why? What happened?’

Dad: “I was just propositioned!’

Daughter: ‘You were what?’

Dad: ‘Propositioned! A woman walked up to me and asked me if I wanted a good time tonight. I told her I was with my family.’


I was in absolute hysterics by this time. My friend’s Dad was looking a little pleased at having had this little adventure in the streets, and it was just so perfect seeing this very proper man tell such a story.

Later, when we all left the restaurant, we saw this window illuminated in tell-tale red right above the restaurant. We’re just assuming this is where the aforementioned ‘lady of the night’ would have taken my friend’s Dad.

Only in Soho…

Celebrity sighting: Janice Dickinson

My friend Kathryn has been in town for the weekend, visiting from Canada. We had an absolutely AMAZING four days, and explored pretty much everything we possibly could have fit into the time we had. It was GREAT to have someone here who wanted to see and do it all. I tagged along and had my own little London vacation while she was here.

One of the places we visited was the Tate Modern. It’s a modern art museum, with everything from PIcasso to Salvador Dali. My housemate Joe tagged along on this particular day of exploration, so the three of us were wandering around separately through the gallery rooms.

I had JUST found the Dali paintings I wanted to look at, and was busy analyzing and appreciating his work when Kathryn raced up behind me and physically pulled me away from the artwork. A bit miffed that she chose this particular moment to get excited about something, I reluctantly followed her. Through short spurts of language and a lot of gesturing, she tried to explain to me that someone famous was in the museum. Unfortunately, she couldn’t remember said celebrity’s name, and I’d never seen the TV show she was apparently on. The woman had by this time moved from the spot Kathryn had seen her, so we set off on a chase through the exhibit rooms. My eyes were peeled for familiar faces, but I had no idea who I was looking for, so I just followed Kathryn’s quickened pace until suddenly she stopped short.

There she was.

But still, I didn’t know who SHE was! Looking oh-so-natural, I slowed my pace and meandered through the room so that I could get a look at the woman’s face.

It’s JANICE DICKINSON!!

As soon as I saw her, I knew who it was. But I needed to be SURE. And to do that, I needed to hear her voice. Cool as a cucumber, I sauntered over to the painting she was perusing and stood right next to her, waiting to hear her offer some comment on it. When she spoke to her companion (some guy named “Alex”), it was all over. Yes. One hundred percent. It was her.

Nearly bursting with excitement, I contemplated the face that I had just stood and checked out a piece of modern art WITH Janice Dickenson!

Now, let’s be clear. I don’t actually have any sort of affectionate feelings towards this woman. As you all know, I’m not the sort of person to go celebrity-chasing. I don’t even know who celebrities ARE most of the time. And this particular celebrity isn’t even that famous. We figured since NO ONE else in the gallery was taking any notice of her at all, they probably don’t even know who she is over here.

But she’s famous. And we checked out some art together. And that’s pretty cool.

After a little gawking and probably-not-so-subtle staring, Kathryn decided to try and take a picture of her. Meanwhile, Joe finally caught up with us so I rushed over to tell him what was going on. As soon as Janice noticed the camera, she took off into the next room. Joe followed her in there to confirm who it was for himself and to get a good look. Unfortunately, none of us were able to snap a photo and it didn’t even occur to me to ask for an autograph. Oh well… she was there. I promise. And you’ll just have to take my word for it!

By the way, if you don’t know who Janice Dickinson IS, you can click here to find out. Basically, she declared herself the first supermodel. I only know of her because she was on America’s Next Top Model for a while :)

Canterbury

After a morning of trudging through a battlefield, I was off to explore a more literary town: Canterbury. Of course, this is something that I HAVE been looking forward to since high school, ever since Ms.Robinson introduced us all to the Canterbury Tales and we dressed up like the pilgrims for our Lit Challenge and someone made a sign that said "Canterbury or BUST!"  It was also the scene of one of the closing events in the book I just reread, Pillars of the Earth, Archbishop Thomas Becket's murder. All in all, I was quite excited to visit.

My overall impression of Canterbury is that it's lovely. I immediately fell in love with the atmosphere, lulled into a happy state of just enjoying the moment. The High Street (the main thoroughfare that crosses the city) is technically a traffic street, but pedestrians meander along the cobblestones at will.  I love the ebb and flow of tourists wandering aimlessly in and through High Street, parting gracefully for the vehicles that patiently move with, rather than against, the traffic of pedestrians, then coming together again naturally to fill the vacant space once the cars have moved past. I am wrapped up in the crowd; we are some kind of living, breathing organism, connected by a common purpose and collectively drawn into an alternate way of existing. It's almost as if the town breathes a sense of pilgrimage into all of us, and we are all affected, together. It's serene, it's beautiful in its naturalness.

After finding my guest house and shedding my overnight bag, I set off to explore the city at night. I was jazzed by the fact that I could see the top of the Cathedral from my window, so I headed there first. I felt like I was being a bit sneaky, but I followed some people past the gated entrance and found myself staring up at the beautifully lit architectural masterpiece. I was absolutely stunned. I took a few pictures, wandered around a bit more. I soon discovered that I wasn't being that sneaky - other people were filtering through the same entrance I used and no one was stopping or questioning them either. Turns out there was a choral concert happening in the crypt that night! YES! That is just the kind of random event I would like to go to! I grabbed a quick coffee and muffin, called that dinner, and headed back to the Crypt in time for the concert. It was hauntingly striking to be in the crypt after dark, I can tell you that much. After the concert (okay, just half of it... the choir wasn't very good and I felt I had soaked up all the culture this was offering me) I wandered around the city and found...

The Canterbury Tales Pub! SCORE! I popped in for a pint, expecting tacky touristy crap on the walls, perhaps an audio version of the Tales repeating endlessly. At the very least the barmaids would be dressed as characters from Chaucer's great work? No? Wait, I'm sorry... this is a local spot? 90% of the people in here are just the bartender's friends? And there's two different sets of people on a date here? Seriously? Well, that works for me too. Pour me a pint and I'll sit back and relax. Oh, and this is what I'll listen to through the sound system instead recordings of the Tales:  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7_IKcMl_a9A

The next day I did the tourist stuff. I went back to the Cathedral and took a moment to appreciate the Thomas Becket memorial.  I visited the Canterbury Tales tourist attraction and heard Chaucer's Tales told while watching creepy mannequins being lit and unlit dramatically. Ah, Lit geekiness. How I cherish you.

My own pilgrimage was admittedly less than purely pious, so I shouldn't be one to judge. But I have to say I was a bit disappointed by the Starbucks and Pret locations dotting the High Street. Really? Even the little town of Canterbury isn't safe from touristy influence? Guess not. Oh well. I did need the coffee...

And, of course, it wouldn't be an Angela excursion without finding some kind of protest (akin to the one I've discovered with Monica in Greece and the random New Zealand Days with Anna a few weeks ago). I don't even know what these people were shouting, but it was in unison and it was loud. Good grief. 

Battle

A short summation of the Battle of Hastings (this is also posted on FBook... skip down a couple of paragraphs if you already read it there. Or if you're a history genius and you already know all about the Battle of Hastings):
The year is 1066. King Edward has just died, leaving England without an heir. Two claimants come forward: Harold, and English noble who claims that Edward promised him the throne from his deathbed and William, a Norman (Frenchman) who claims Edward promised HIM the throne. Conundrum!

So Harold convinces everyone to crown him. Meanwhile, William of Normandy gets some support from the Pope and builds up his own army. He crosses the English Channel and meets Harold's troops (who are already exhausted from battling in the North) at Hastings.

King Harold's English army's trick is to stand firm and lock their shields together like a makeshift wall. The Normans really aren't going anywhere fast against such tactics. They suddenly break ranks on the left and appear to flee. Triumphant, Harold's English boys flee after them, hungry for a kill. But, at the crucial moment, the Normans turn back around, surround the English pursuers and kill them all.

William tries this a couple of times, thinning out the English army a little at a time. Finally, he unleashes a storm of arrows upon the English. As the story goes (and this part is a little up for debate), King Harold gets an arrow through the eye, and William (now "the Conqueror") is victorious!

... Really, the point of all this is that the Normans won. And if they hadn't done that, England probably would have remained on the fringes of European society and politics. If England hadn't become so important, which it did as a result of this battle, it wouldn't have been nearly so influential in the years and centuries to come. French probably would have dominated the New World, for instance, and you'd be reading this en Francais.

~~~~~

On the train into Battle, as I was reading my handy Rick Steeves' England guidebook (thanks again to my brilliant sister for giving it to me!) and perusing the lush English countryside, I had a flashback to a certain scene from a certain movie. A Tourist myself, I half expected (okay, maybe just wished longingly) that my longlost lover, dear Johnny himself, would appear and sit in the seat opposite me. We would discuss my book, and I would tell him my name. He would laugh and say it was terrible (my name, not the book). He would whisk me off in his boat to his lovely hotel and take me out for a fabulous dinner and we would be chased by madmen with guns... it would be terribly exciting...

Sorry, I digress.

On the train, as I was rereading Rick's commentary on Battle, I thought back to the 8th Graders I taught for two weeks last year. Oddly enough, they were covering the Battle of Hastings at the time and I was expected to teach them all about it. Remember that part about hating history when I was in high school? Yeah...that hatred made such lessons a bit difficult for me. In any case, I do remember teaching it more so than learning it, so I had some reference point for what I was about to discover. This did, however, reinforce my desire to bring what I learn to my future students. If only I could travel back in time and teach those 8th Graders again... it would be a MUCH better lesson after this!

Wandering around the battlefields, I made a realization about myself. Before I left on this little mini-excursion, there was a large part of me that didn't want to go. To be more specific, I didn't want to go alone. I just feel like it's so much more fun to explore things when you're with someone. Who's going to take silly pictures with me? Who am I going to say "Tour Guide Angela says..." to? Who am I going to people-watch with? It's just not the same on my own. But I really wanted to see these things, and I wasn't willing to stay home for my entire half-term break by myself. So off I went. And you know what? It was all right. I maintain that it would have been better with someone else, but it wasn't as bad as I thought it would be. Even as I'm typing this, I realize it's a crazy thing to feel. I moved halfway around the world by myself, and I don't want to go on a daytrip alone? I know, I'm crazy. But the heart feels what it feels.

Another major self-realization (another one? yep, this trip was all about personal growth...or something) was that I could never, NEVER have survived a soldier's life. Trudging up that hill in my runners (or "trainers" as they're called here), I was more thankful with each step that I wasn't wearing armour. And carrying a sword. And marching towards my inevitable death. When I got home the next day and watched Braveheart with Joe, this feeling was further reinforced. A soldier's life is all about being told what to do and when. And about living a life where each day could be your last. And NOT getting emotional about that. Beyond the physical strength needed to march into battle day in and day out, the mental and emotional strength required to live such a regimented life are just not in me. We live in different times. At least, I feel fortunate that we do.