Deep Scottish Love

Ahhh... Scotland. Land of haggis and fantastic accents (sidenote: my favourite word for the Scots to say is "ridiculous" - it just sounds ridiculously sexy to me!)

The very next day after Anna and I returned from Spain, I was off on a 3-day guided bus tour of the Scottish Highlands with Joe. After an EPIC game of Squares and sleeping (or trying to) on an overnight bus, we arrived in Edinburgh in the wee hours of the morning. As we wandered from the bus station towards the tour group's office, I started to recognize the sights. I traveled to Edinburgh with Monica and Ernie on my first trip to Europe. And after 9 years, my mental map of the city was surprisingly accurate! After noticing just 2 landmarks (the Walter Scott Monument and the river), I was able to point in the general direction of several others. Well done, brain!!

After meeting our tour guide, Leo (favourite quote: "people will believe anything - you'd be surprised!"), and his guide-in-training, Steve, along with the other 25ish people in our group, we were off!

First stop: the William Wallace (of Mel Gibson and Braveheart fame) Monument. Actually, there was a bit of a running theme all weekend to inform all of us about how grossly inaccurate that film was (for example, the Braveheart nickname was in reality attributed to someone else. They didn't even get the TITLE right!). In any case, the monument is impressively large, and is actually the largest one built for a non-religious figure in the world. So, well done, William.

Back on the bus, we passed through the town of Callander. Probably my favourite random story of the trip was of the gay couple who purchased a hotel in this sleepy little town of traditional and grumpy Scottish folk. They painted it pink and pointedly built the entrance at the rear; needless to say, the locals were NOT impressed. But I sure was!! Callander also boasts a hardware store named "Screw It", which I also find fabulous!

While groovin' to the tunes by "Folkin' Hell" on the bus, Leo took us through a few little historical and/or interesting locations. Like the valley in Glen Lyon where Pontius Pilate was supposedly born. And the property formerly owned by Ian Fleming (the James Bond creator) who ended up selling it to none-other-than Sean Connery! And then there's Loch Garry (the very same name as the only Scottish person I know), which is shaped a bit like the country itself.

We also saw a few cairns, which really just look like a bunch of rocks heaped on top of each other. But they're actually much more interesting than that. Historically, when soldiers went off to battle, each one would pick up a stone and place it in the pile. When they came back from the war, they'd take one off and toss it away. This served as a handy way to count the casualties of the war, while simultaneously creating a little memorial to those who lost their lives.

Finally, we reached Loch Ness. This was actually the realization of a dream for both Joe and I. He'd been to Scotland twice before and hadn't made it to see Nessie, and I came with Monica, but... well let's just say we didn't really see it. Our whole group went out on a boat cruise of the Loch, which was quite fun. Very much a "we made it!!" moment for Joe and I. About halfway through the cruise, we were invited downstairs so the boat's owner and captain could give us a little more information about the Monster. This guy was born and has lived on Loch Ness his whole life. He goes out kayaking searching for the Monster on a regular basis. And he's got crazy sonar scanning equipment on the boat so he can take readings of her. This guy is intense. I have to say, some of the evidence is compelling. And he's got photos of sonar readings that do seem to show SOMETHING pretty massive and fast. But let's be honest, he's also a bit of a nutter. In any case, it was fascinating to hear him speak with such passion about the existence of something so contested. Oh, and he also claims to have a photo that he's been offered $1million for... Right.

The next day of the tour was spent on the Isle of Skye. I'd never been there before, nor had I ever really had any particular intention to visit it, but it was actually quite nice. Rolling hills, gorgeous scenery, and a little fairy magic.

We also stopped beside a stream that is rumoured to make anyone who dips their face in it for 7 seconds wildly beautiful with unfading good looks. Don't believe me? Just check out the magic it did on Joe:

The last day of our trek took us to the Culloden battlefield. While this was admittedly quite sobering, it falls under the category of "interesting history" (which I define as learning about something right where it actually happened). Here, the Jacobites fought not only for their freedom, but also for the preservation of their way of life. Led by the bonny Prince Charlie, these Highlanders went up against George I of England. George intended to completely wipe them out, and pretty much succeeded. Prince Charlie, who had been in exile for quite some time, was unfamiiar with the Jacobite war tactics; as a result, they were unorganized on the battlefield. They were also ridiculously outnumbered. The Highlanders were decimated in about 45min. Custom at the time allowed the wounded to be collected and tended to by the tribe's women; however, George was serious about stamping these people out. He closed the battlefield and the entire Jacobean army perished. There are stones embedded in the wall of the centre on-site to commemorate all the dead; 40 are for the government soldiers and 1600 are for the Highlanders.

This battle is actually quite significant in terms of history. Of course, the failure of the Highlanders at Culloden completely changed their way of life. The rebellion was stamped out and they were forced to adhere to George I and his laws. But also, George and his successors were power-hungry and conscious of the lands they possessed. He advanced England dramatically in terms of its empire and presence in Europe. Prince Charlie, on the other hand, was much less focused on building an empire. Had he been successful at Culloden and overtaken George I, England would very likely have been a much weaker force in Europe. In fact, you'd probably even be reading this in French!

All in all, it was a pretty great way to spend Easter weekend. Having said that, I didn't like not being able to attend a church service on Easter Sunday and I don't think I'd plan to be away on that weekend again. But the guided tour part (and the traveling with Joe part) were a bit of a test for the upcoming trip to Vietnam. And both items definitely passed the test! In fact, the bar has now been set pretty high!

Crossing the Street

Something I've noticed...

Here in London, but also in larger cities like Vancouver and Victoria (and even Barcelona), there's a certain way groups of people move across crosswalks. It's consistent, with little variation (albeit some). I'm talking about a large-ish group of people standing at the side of the road, at a light-controlled crosswalk which is red. How people get across that street (and when) depends on various factors, but primarily it comes down to familiarity with the city; it's a matter of not being comfortable knowing which direction the cars are coming from. For some, though, I think there's a sense of doing what you're told, when you're told to do it (these are people who wait for the little green man to tell them they can walk, regardless of how long they stand at an empty and quiet street corner).

Generally, there are four waves:

Wave 1: The Locals
    I would also include experienced travelers in this group, as they tend to absorb "localisms" quicker than your random vacationer. Locals are on the move, and efficient about it. They look both ways (or just the correct direction) six or seven steps before they even reach the crosswalk, so they can adjust their pace to skip through the oncoming traffic. They don't wait any longer than they absolutely have to.

Wave 2: The People Who Watch The Locals
   These are the folks who are paying attention to everyone around them. They see the locals go for it, and wonder what the heck they are still doing standing there! These ones will take a quick look both ways, making sure it's STILL safe, then jet across just behind Wave 1.

Wave 3: The Partners
   These ones pay MUCH less attention. They only go when they realize their companion(s) are already across the street. There's a startled look on their faces as they realize they've been left behind, then slight irritation passes over until they too run across the street. By this time, the light has changed anyway, and they look silly twice-over, because now they're running like it's red, and it's already changed to green.

Wave 4: The Tourists
   There's always one final wave of tourists who stare in awe at the people who have gone before them (because most of the members of the first 3 waves arrived at the light AFTER this group). But rather than jump on the bandwagon, they've patiently stuck it out and waited for the light to turn green, because, after all, that's the RIGHT thing to do. It's the SAFE thing.

And really, does it matter? Do any of us really get anywhere that much quicker? Nope. But we feel more efficient about our travel when we walk like the locals. And we can smugly (because, after all, this is London) look down upon those who stand and wait like fools.

I wonder if there is any correlation between my theory and pedestrians getting hit by cars... Hmm...

The Royal Wedding

Five months ago, before I left Canada: "Nah, I don't think I'll go. I don't care much about the Royals, so why would I brave the crowds?"

Two months ago, once I'd started talking to locals about their plans: "Nope, I'm definitely not going. It's a thing all the tourists will do. Every English person I've met is doing all they can to avoid it, even leaving the country for the 4-day weekend."

Two weeks ago, when the hype was getting a little more exciting: "Well, maybe I should go. I mean, when will I ever get this close to a Royal Wedding again?"

Two days before the wedding: "Okay, let's go down to Central London, but watch it in a pub or something. I don't want to get crushed by the crowd."

The day before the wedding, after a teacher I'd met offered to lend me her fabulous hat for the weekend: "Heck YES I'm going! I'm going to do the whole thing: get up ridiculously early, head right into Central London, stand along the Royal Mall, see the Royals. Get the whole experience."

And now? I'm really glad we went. It really was a moment in history. A once-in-a-lifetime thing to see all of the Royal family in person, right there in front of me.

Plus, it's all anyone talked about for days afterward. That night, Joe, Rich and I, all exhausted from our own adventures that day, collapsed in our lounge comparing stories and photos. Even now, a week later, when I meet new people, one of the first questions I'm asked is "and what did you get up to for the Wedding?"

This is what I tell them:

My friend Anna crashed at my place the night before so we could get up and out efficiently, without having to find each other in a crowd. The alarm had been set for 5am (seriously, who gets up at 5am on a HOLIDAY, right?). We got up, dressed, made coffee and were out the door shortly thereafter. After a quick stop to grab some provisions for the day, we met up with some other friends of mine and headed over to the Royal Mall (the long road leading up to Buckingham Palace from Trafalgar Square). Unfortunately, it didn't really work to be in a group of 5 and we ended up separating from those girls a little later.

As soon as we got through the gate and found ourselves staring up at the massive flags waving all the way up the Mall, we were distracted by an approaching journalist. He represented the Associated Press and wanted to interview me. Me? Yes, ME! He asked where I was from, why I was joining the crowd for the wedding, and then got down to his REAL reason for stopping us: gesturing towards my head, he said, very red-carpet-esque, "and, uh, WHO are you wearing today?" Seriously? You think this hat, which I borrowed from someone I barely know and has a "Made in China" label is designer? Well all right then!

"Vera Wang."

Yeah, I went there. I figured he clearly didn't know any better, since he was the one asking the question. (And truthfully, she's the only designer's name I could come up with on the spot). So he wrote it down in his little reporter's notebook, took my photo and told me this would all be on Twitter within about 5minutes. If I had any idea at all (or even any interest in learning) about Twitter I could tell you whether or not this claim was substantiated.

In any case, Anna and I kept on moving. We scoped out a pretty good spot, right along the Mall, with only two rows of people in front of us. And then...

we waited.

And waited.

And waited some more.

Given that we were there before 7am, and the first royal car to drive by was at 10:15...we were there a while. But we chatted with the English people around us (who were actually quite helpful when it came to identifying the random royalty that drove by later) and listed to the Royal marching band entertain us with tunes such as "Copacabana". Plus, we did some people watching and texted people we knew who were watching it in other locations. Somehow, we passed the time!

From 10:15 until 10:50 it got VERY exciting. Starting with William and Harry, followed by Charles and Camilla, Queen Elizabeth and Prince Phillip and finally Kate herself, they passed right in front of us as they all made their way to Westminster Abbey. Every time a new vehicle was approaching there was a surge of excitement. Even I got caught up in it - and, as I mentioned earlier, I've never even been a particularly huge fan of the Royals!

I had assumed that from 11:00 onward it would be a bit boring as we all stood there waiting for them to come back. But oh, how wrong I was! The spot we picked turned out to be fabulous for another reason: there were speakers mounted just across the Mall from us, which broadcasted the whole wedding! That meant we could hear everything everyone said and sang. It was quite amazing, actually. As soon as the service started, the whole crowd was respectfully quiet - they wanted to hear it! And about two minutes in, when Kate said her first words, "I will," there was an absolute eruption of cheering from everyone around us. Being the cheeky smartalec my mother raised me to be, I just had to pipe in with, "wow, were you all really that surprised?"

The crowd continued to participate appropriately in the rest of the service too. We were quiet when we should have been and sang along with the hymns (they were published in programs). And then, when it was over and they were on their way back to Buckingham Palace, it all got very exciting again. This time the seating arrangements were a little different and Wills & Kate were first - and this time they were all in open-top carriages so we got a MUCH better look at them. They were waving and smiling to everyone! And we were all waving and smiling (and snapping photos) too!

When it was over, and we joined the throng towards the Palace to see the balcony bit (and the kiss!) I quickly realized that there was no way we were going to get close enough to see anything. So Anna and I ducked out of the crowd and made our way back to Trafalgar Square, where we knew giant screens had been set up. We got right into the thick of it over there, met back up with the girls we had separated from earlier, and watched the last part there. I'm really glad we did - we could see it perfectly, and the crowd there was just as excited to see it as we were (hence all of the waving flags obscuring the view!).

Once it was all over, I headed home to have a nap and then, as I mentioned, rehashed it all with my housemates. We all really felt we had participated in a "moment in history", and I don't think anyone would disagree. Years from now, when we are all watching their coronation, those of us who braved the crowds last week will be able to say, "I was there on their wedding day. I saw them moments before and after they took their vows. They were beautiful and they looked so happy."

But I also felt, beyond the grander "moment in history" feeling, a more intimate reaction to the event. The moment the service started, and everyone quieted down to hear them speak, it felt as though we all had been personally invited to the wedding. I mean, sure, we all had really crappy seats and couldn't see the bride and groom. But we were there. We were a part of it. I think that's what really struck me the most.

And finally, a note on Kate (or Catherine, the Duchess of Cambridge, as we're supposed to call her now). I'm actually quite impressed with her. Granted, I don't follow any news or gossip about her, so I only have my own impressions from the one day. But she seemed quite composed and happy for someone taking on so much responsibility. And she doesn't seem to expect the attention she receives, but rather seems to be surprised and appreciative about it. When she and William stepped out onto the Buckingham Palace balcony, and she looked around at the 2 million people who had come out to see them, the look on her face clearly read, "Wow...all of these people are here to see...ME?" And then she smiled naturally and waved and kissed her husband when she was told to and carried on responding to the crowd. So I have to say, well done, Kate! And good luck!

Road Trip! ...Costa-Brava-style

On our last day in Spain, we rented a car and drove around exploring the Costa Brava area. To start off with, the day wasn't looking very promising. Basically, every single thing the guy told us when we reserved the car a few days earlier was wrong. The price was higher to add a second driver. We were going to have to drop off the car within working hours, which meant we had an unforeseen deadline on the day. Our hotel Room Number (the only contact information the company had for us) had been written down incorrectly. There were also a couple of things that COULD have been disastrous when we got started. The car was a Standard (which I can't drive... good bloody thing Anna can!). We couldn't figure out how to unlock the gas cap (and the fuel tank was empty when we picked up the car). But, in the end, we got it all sorted and were soon on our way!!

One of the biggest motivators for the road trip (for me, anyway) was the Salvador Dali museum in Figueres. I've always been a fan of his work, and I was excited to see the city he had lived and worked in. Plus, I had read that the museum was designed by him, and that it was called the Teatre-Museu Dali because he wanted it to feel like a theater, in which the audience is a part of the experience and everything is open to interpretation. That's also why there are very few titles or captions on the pieces. You're supposed to decide what it is and what it means. I like that :) I also really enjoyed seeing the vast (and I do mean enormous) range Dali had. He was most famous for his surrealist pieces, but his work includes statue, metalwork, and carving. There are pieces that can only be properly seen when viewed through a mirror, and others that require the translation of a metallic bottle. His pieces that address the human body are varied and stunning. Yep, I'm even MORE of a fan now that I've been there!

After the museum, we wandered around the city of Figueres a bit, and found the building Dali was born in and the hotel he frequented, then headed back to the Parkade to pick up our car. And oh, what an adventure we had there! When we had arrived at the Parkade, which was conveniently located just behind the museum, we thought it was going to be perfect. And the driver in the car ahead of us appeared to just push a button and have a ticket thrust out at him, so we thought it was going to be easy.

Not so much.

When WE got up to the ticket machine, Anna pushed the button...and nothing happened. Well, I should clarify: nothing happened in English. A bunch of Spanish and Catalonian words scrolled across the screen...not helpful. So Anna started jamming every type of payment we could come up with into the slot, to no avail. By this time there were several cars backed up behind us, and we were feeling more than a little stressed. Finally, between the teenaged girl in the car behind us and the parking attendant who came to investigate what the heck was taking us so long, and with the help of a lot of very broken English and a tiny bit of broken Spanish, we determined the problem: the carpark was full!! Good grief. Eventually a space opened up, Anna pushed the button again, and it WAS that easy...

Until later, when we tried to leave and the machine didn't take cash. After trying all of the cards we had between us that SHOULD have worked, we threw my "only works with a PIN" credit card (which thus SHOULDN'T have worked) in as a last-ditch effort...and it worked! Hooray! Off we go!

Our next (and even more disastrous) stop was Girona. Just thinking about trying to navigate through that city brings back feelings of frustration. After driving around for what felt like days trying to find what we wanted to see, and a parking space once we finally found the right area, we were both absolutely DONE with Girona. So we parked the car temporarily (in a handi spot...), got out to snap a few photos (I do have to admit that what we saw was beautiful) and got the heck out of dodge.

At that point, we'd pretty much seen all we wanted to, so as a bonus we drove out to Empuries, an ancient Greek trading post on the coast. It was beautiful! We went for a nice walk along the water, and ended up discovering an adorable little cluster of streets. Actually, one of my favourite parts of the trip were these moments - when Anna made me put my map away and we just wandered and discovered (having said that, I will be ever-grateful for my travel books and maps - we would have been lost without them on more than a few occasions, and we learned a lot of interesting tidbits from them too). I think the best thing Anna and I brought to each other and to the trip was our ability to balance each other in this way.

A few things I noticed about driving in another country:

- Road signs: there are a whole series of signs with black diagonal stripes across them. After 2 days of seeing these and trying to work out what they mean, we decided that they were permitting you to do something, maybe, if you felt like it. And then we saw one that was plain white (with the diagonal stripes). Pardon my language... but...wtf? Does this mean you can do whatever you want, maybe, if you feel like it? Yes, I think so.

- Directional signs: on highways, they give the name of the CITY you're headed towards, not the street or area. I think this is because the cities are so much smaller and quite spread out. So as long as you know the name of the town, you can probably find what you're looking for fairly easily (unless you're in Girona).

- Addresses: when they're written down, the street name is given before the number. Which is actually quite logical. The information appears in the order you'll need it!

- Scenery: it looks completely different when travelling in the opposite direction!! Well no, not really. But that's what our guide book told us, and we thought it was pretty funny!

All in all, Spain was a fabulous trip!! Thanks for coming with me, Anna!

Bustrip to Barcelona!

In the interest of seeing as much of the surrounding area as possible, Anna and I took a bus from Lloret de Mar down to Barcelona and stayed for two days.

The first thing we saw? The Arc de Triomf. Yes, really. It was even shaped the way the original one in Paris is. And, admittedly, I know nothing about the significance of this particular version. But come on, Spain! Get your own tourist attractions! What was the thought behind this one? "Well, France has one, so we want one too!" Likely.

Luckily for us, the rest of Barcelona's sights were much more impressive and interesting. We hit up all the famous spots:

• La Rambla, where you can buy a parrot and a sketched picture of Justin Bieber while watching the tourists get pick-pocketed without even leaving the main strip; 
• La Mercat de la Boqueria, filled with all the sights, smells and colours of a good (and used-by-locals) market, complete with calling of orders and prices and a little orchestra of three; 
• Sagrada Familia, designed by the late, great Gaudi and absolutely stunning to behold; 
• Park Guell, also designed and intricately decorated by Gaudi.

One of the major draws for us (especially for Anna) was the beach, with its palm trees borrowed from Hawaii, sand imported from Egypt (which was, incidentally, thrilled to pieces that someone wanted to BUY it) and nude sunbathers. Calls of "Hola, masahay? ['massage']" over and over again assaulted our ears, punctuated by the guys offering "Cervesa, Cola, Agua!! ['beer, cola, water']," interrupted our relaxing waterside siesta, but I suppose it's all part of the atmosphere. Another required "on the beach in Spain" side effect: the sunburn I got. Good thing I bought that bottle of sunscreen in Lloret de Mar when it WASN'T sunny enough to be necessary and then FORGOT to bring it to Barcelona with me for the HOT weather...

I have to say, the absolute most priceless beach moment happened when Anna left to get some refreshments. Which is unfortunate, because she missed it, but being alone contributed to it being funny... Anyway, I was lying there minding my own business when a woman walked up to me and said, in English but heavily accented, "Hey, where you from, ladieS?" Um...what? Even though she was standing right in front of me, and even though she was looking right AT me, I still took a swift look around to make sure she was talking to me. I mean, I know I've got a few extra pounds on me these days, but... really? I'm big enough right now to be taking up the space of multiple people? Nah...even MY self-esteem isn't that low...must be a language barrier thing. Anyway, in the space of about 20sec she determined that she was not going to be successful recruiting me to the club she was promoting and moved on... To the group of teenaged boys next to me. Let's just say they were MUCH more receptive to her offer. Especially when her partner came over and described the club as a "strip club...you know...titty bar. We have everything. You like girls? It's okay. You like men? It's okay too. Good club. Good music." (Of course, as every second-language speaker can understand, there were actions to accompany the description, you know, to make sure the boys understood). They were pretty much hooked at that point... Oh, except they were young. "How young?" The promoter asked. "17? 16?" "Yeah, we're all 17 or 16." "No problem, no problem, you all come together with your ID, I get you in. Good deal." "Oh...but a few of us are 15." "15? Okay, okay, no problem. You all come together, you look for me and my partner, we get you in. Get you good deal. Alcohol too. No problem, no problem." Awesome. So these 15-year-old kids have pretty much just gone on the BEST sports-tourney trip of their lives. Alcohol served. "Titty bar." Yep, a night to remember. I was laughing hysterically as it all unfolded before my eyes... It's really too bad Anna missed the whole thing!

The hostel we stayed in was quite nice, with a free card worth 20min of internet usage for every guest and a free breakfast. Oh, that's right... We forgot to bring something else: bedding of any kind. Looks like that thin little bedsheet is going to serve as a blanket! While we were there we met a couple of Canadians travelling through Spain - they were on a break too, from studying business at a school in Nice (just like my sister Jennifer was doing a year ago!). They were quite nice (...looking...), so we willingly gave up our "let's just get a book full of Sudoku puzzles and stay at the hostel" evening to hang out and have a few beers with them. Sadly, one if the guys revealed himself to be a Flames fan, but Iginla IS his neighbour and Fleury DID throw him a game puck once. So...all right, I'll let it pass.

Unfortunately, we were joined by a Hostel employee whose job it is to recruit people like us to the nightly pub crawl. He was a bit of a git. And asked Anna if she was "allergic to smiling", which put us both off. He was a bit cocky, too, and informed us derisively that he was NOT learning to speak the local Catalonian language, but was living in Barcelona to practice Spanish. Too bad Barcelona is the worst place in Spain to learn Spanish, since it's everyone's second language!

Lastly, we happened to be in Barcelona on Palm Sunday, and the palm branches we saw people carrying around were incredibly intricate and beautiful. Some were fashioned into mini-bird cage shapes, others had decorative elements attached, and still others had candy hanging from them, no doubt for the children to enjoy after the services. A far cry from the simple palm-crosses I am used to seeing back in Canada!

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!