Do Something Extraordinary

I read some inspirational list of things you’re supposed to do in your life a while back (likely some New Years Resolution drivel). The one thing that really stuck with me was a simple expression of a desire I’ve had for some time now.

I want to do something extraordinary.

I want to get to the end of my life, look back, and know that I’ve made a difference somehow. I’m not interested in skating by through this lifetime, with just doing the bare minimum and “getting through” each day. I want to work towards something, to earn something, to achieve something huge. Not big. HUGE.

...but how? How do you get from ordinary to extraordinary?  And how do I pick? To be honest, I’m not very inventive. I’m not very good at “thinking outside the box.” As a friend of mine commented a while ago, that’s because the box has gotten so big. And I think he has a point. In this technological age, where everything is created and developed at an exponential rate, where is there room for me to edge in and do something memorable, on a grand scale?

I can’t even begin to imagine what my “extraordinary accomplishment” might actually BE, either. It’s like I’m “dreaming BIG!” but without having a tangible dream (which, let me tell you, is a little disconcerting!). I feel like there are two possible ways for this goal to play out:

1.       I plan and dream and work hard towards a known goal (for instance, I could write a bestselling series, a la J.K.Rowling or Jeff Kinney). So the idea here is that I define what I want to do (and therein lies the problem with this one), then get all Angela-like (driven and hardworking) and tackle it step-by-step. But again... what’s the goal? How do I choose? What are my options?

or...

2.       I’m in the right time at the right place and act with the right response (such as saving someone’s life). There’s little I can do to prepare for this one (thus the problem). But maybe I can put myself into situations where something extraordinary might happen? Start volunteering at the hospital, or make lots of friends so that one day one of them asks me for a kidney? Yeah, okay, even *I* think that sounds a little silly...

Most people who have even cursory knowledge of me know that I’m super busy. I pack my schedule full of all sorts of things – work, volunteering, socializing, etc. It’s a “slow week” when I only have ONE plan each night after work. And I’ve been criticized for this; people worry that I’m not leaving enough time for myself, for finding a partner, for ... whatever they think should be important to me. But the truth is that I equate hard work with success. So the harder I work, and the more I accomplish in a day, the closer I get to achieving increasingly higher goals.

I’ve always been this way. The difference over the past few months is that I don’t know anymore what the next goal is. So I just keep working hard, but it’s not focused work. It’s a little scattered. And that’s hard for me to reconcile in my head.

*sigh*. I’m kind of at a loss here. Most of you who read this blog  know me fairly well... any suggestions? (...given my lack of consistency in posting to it these days, is anyone even reading it anymore?)

January's Toque Tree

As previously mentioned (here), I purchased my very first “very own” Christmas tree this year. It’s a little dwarf spruce (yes, it’s real... I’m one of those “fake tree = fake Christmas” people). And I loved it so much that I just couldn’t part with it come January.

So I’ve decided to make it my Year-Round Holiday tree. And each month (for as long as it survives... which, given my complete and utter lack of a green thumb, could be a very short period of time) I plan to decorate it with holiday-appropriate crafts.

So here’s January’s Toque Tree (so Canadian of me, I know). These were the simplest little things to make, and I just love how cute they are!

Overheard at Work

Woman 1 to Woman 2: "Hey! Let me see your stick. Is it bigger than mine?"



...Maybe they'd been taking lessons from the men in the office...???

hahaha!! Actually, there IS a perfectly normal explanation for this one... but it's funnier without it, don't you think?

12-month Hiatus

About six weeks ago, a major change occurred in my life. Everything has been affected: my daily routine, my future career potential, even some of my relationships. This change came as a result of A LOT of personal consideration, input from friends and family, and (most important of all) the fact that I finally allowed myself to let go of something I’ve been holding on to for years now. In short, I’m about six weeks into a 12-month hiatus from teaching.

When I say it took a long time to come to the conclusion that this was what I needed and THEN to finally take the jump and do it, I’m not kidding. For a year now, I’ve been feeling unhappy and unsatisfied with my teaching career. And really, it’s been even longer than that. But as soon as I got to England, and starting teaching again after the month-break I’d had prior, I felt such anxiety whenever I thought about stepping into a classroom that I was forced to take a look at my chosen vocation. And I realized that I’d been feeling that way for much, much longer – I just hadn’t allowed myself to acknowledge how I felt. I’d been on the path to teaching for so long, and spent so many hours (and dollars!) working towards that goal. How could I give it up? Wasn’t I, as everyone I knew constantly reminded me, born to be a teacher?

In order to put into print the conversation I’ve had on very many occasions recently... I present to you...

“The Top 3 Most Likely Questions That Have Popped Into Your Head As You’ve Been Reading This Blog Post”

1.       But Angela, wouldn’t it be better if you had your own class?
Maybe. It’s definitely possible. But if subbing is the only part I don’t like, if it’s just the “newness” of each and every day, if it was the teaching I loved and if I could just do that part without all the uncertainty of being a TOC... then at some point during the day, when the “newness” has worn off and I know the kids and we’re in a groove and it’s all going well and I even planned part or all of the day... at some point, I should sit back and think, “I can’t believe I get paid for this. I love being a teacher.”

But I don’t.

I cannot say when the last time was that I felt that. I’m not sure I ever did. And that makes me nervous. What if I’m actually putting in all this sucky time of dealing with being a TOC, and then eventually, after years and years of hating this and feeling this unhappy, when I finally get my “own class” (the thing that’s supposed to solve all of the negative feelings I have right now)...I’m still this unhappy. What then?

2.       Well Angela, was it just teaching in London that you didn’t enjoy? You know the kids there are really bad, right? First of all, the kids I taught in London weren’t any different from the kids I teach in Canada. Kids are kids. Some kids have more behaviour difficulties than others, and that requires a little more attention and work on my part, but they’re NOT “bad”. And the work I did in London was very similar to that of Victoria, even sometimes easier because I never had to plan anything myself. So no, teaching in London did not make me hate teaching.

I did, however, spend A LOT of my “living in London” time contemplating why it was that I seemed so much more unhappy with it while I was there. And I think it all comes down to balance. When I was subbing in Victoria, before I left for England, I was also maintaining a part-time job. A job I loved. A job that made me feel like I was helpful and appreciated. A job I looked forward to going to, because I knew my time there would be productive, helpful and fun. So even though I was teaching a lot, I always got to fill my “other-than-teaching time” with this other job. I didn’t have time to be unhappy with my work, because the “less than satisfying” part was balanced with the “very satisfying” part. Once I got to London, ALL I did was teach. So I started spending EVERY day unhappy and I started losing sleep over how anxious I felt about that.

So I came back. And I went back to teaching. A lot. And I was STILL not feeling happy. In fact, I was feeling quite UNHAPPY. So again, I can say, with total certainty, it was NOT just “teaching in London” that made me unhappy. It was “teaching”.

3.       Oh Angela, what if you tried a specialty?

I’ve thought a lot about that too. And I’m actually currently still enrolled in a course that would lend itself to becoming a Reading Specialist, who could help kids who struggle with reading and writing. And I’ve even looked into quite a few Masters Of Education programs, thinking that maybe I could continue studying Learning Assistance or Gifted Education (both of which interest me very much). But at this point, I think it’s the learning part that interests me. I’m enjoying the challenge of learning again, more than picturing myself actually working in this capacity in the future. So... all I can say on that front is, “we’ll see.”

And so, the hiatus. A friend of mine connected me with a job that offered a 12-month fulltime contract in an office environment similar to that part-time job I mentioned, after which I can go straight back into teaching (if I want to) or continue with the current job (if I want to and if there’s an extension available) or try secret-as-yet-unknown-option-three (something else entirely).

And heck, standing in front of a classroom with 24 expectant faces staring at me is certainly not the only way to use the training I have. I believe in Educating and in Education. So maybe my path is to work in Admin, but still related to teaching. Maybe I’ll end up working for the Ministry of Education. Maybe I’ll find my way back in to a School Admin position. Who knows?

The bottom line is, I just refuse to accept that I have to spend the rest of my life doing something that makes me feel unhappy and unsatisfied. Maybe that’s naive. But heck, I’m still pretty young. If I’m going to be unrealistic and idealistic about the world, and throw away my career to find another one, at least I don’t have any dependents relying on me for an income. So I figure, THIS is the time to be brave and start again.

Or at least to take 12 months to think about it (and make some steady income in the meantime).

Christmas

I don’t care how old you are; Christmas should make you feel excited. It should be a time of joy, of anticipation, of love. Note that I didn’t say everyone feels this way; but they should. It should be possible for all of us to enjoy a few days off and spend some time with people who make us feel valued (whether that’s your biological family or the one you built up around yourself). Idealistic? Sure. But what better time of year than Christmas to be a little unrealistically optimistic?

For me, Christmas this year was a conglomeration of a whole lot of different.

Disneyland
My first exposure to the 2011 holiday season was in Disneyland. As I’ve mentioned in a previous post, I traveled down to California with my Dad, stepmom and siblings in mid-November for a few days. I don’t care how old you are (sound familiar?); Disneyland should make you feel like a little kid. There’s something about the Magic Kingdom, about the first Mickey Mouse sighting of the trip, about waiting in lines and getting soaking wet on SplashMountain. Any one of those is enough to send me into fits of giggles and to break my face muscles with smiles. And all of them combined? On one of the slowest visitor days of the year? I was downright bursting with glee (as I have been every other time I’ve ever visited the park, even the time I dragged Monica along with me to Disneyland Paris!)

And this year, we combined all that excitement with Christmas! Disneyland had just completed its holiday transformation, which after 8ish visits, we’ve actually not experienced before (I say 8ish because the actual visit count for each of us is different... and because I can’t remember what my own is... suffice it to say, going to a Disney Park is kind of the Chorney-vacation-thing-to-do!!). The Haunted Mansion was made to look like a scene out of “The Nightmare Before Christmas”, fake snow was blasted out of cannons at the conclusion of the firework display, and every exterior was bedecked with red-and-green shiny swag.

In short, Disneyland + Christmas = Awesome.

Throw in a little Chorney Kid Adventure (which just wouldn’t be one without being silly and drawing a crowd), and, well, does it get any better than that?

Advent

On the very very opposite end of nearly every spectrum known to man, is the season of Advent (when comparing it to Disneyland, that is). I’ve remarked to a couple of people that this year, I finally got it. Because the church calendar just hasn’t ever been a significant presence in my faith experiences, Advent (or Epiphany or Lent or... any other one, for that matter) hasn’t really meant anything to me. Over the past few years, as I’ve become more involved in the Lutheran tradition, I started noticing that we changed the colour of the trimmings. But still, that was about it.

Until this year.

I made a habit of attending the Thursday night candlelit services held at my church throughout the four weeks leading up to Christmas. Actually, I only really meant to check out the first one, but something inside my spirit really connected with God at that first one, and I couldn’t have stayed away from the others if I’d tried. They were peaceful. Serene. Spiritual. At the end of one of them, I inexplicably began to cry. Such a release of pent-up emotion could only be attributed to the peace I felt at being drawn into stillness mid-week, mid-season, mid-job-hunt, mid-stress. Everything else in my life melted away and I could just be. I must admit, it’s hard to explain just how I felt that night, and each night after I left those services. The best I can do is to say that I felt ... something.

The purpose of the Advent season is to anticipate the birth of Jesus. And this year, I really felt anticipatory. I felt the slow build-up of the season, the lifting of my spirit, the happiness of the general good mood around me.

The Season Itself

And then, after all the looking-forward-to, Christmas was upon us. And I had what was probably the best Christmas season I’ve had in a long time. From the “12 Days of Michael-and-Ang-mas” right through to the wonderful laziness of hanging out with my family and not doing anything on Christmas Day, it was all great. Just enough relaxation mixed with just enough social fun.

My Christmas Tree

Oh yes, and I purchased my very first “very own” Christmas tree this year. I was so proud I made everyone I know come look at it. It’s true. If you were within 50 feet of my house, and I knew you were there, you came in to see it.

Isn’t it cute? It’s just so... Angela. :)

Alienation

This past weekend, I attended a funeral service at a Catholic church. As has been the case every other time I've attended such a service, I've had some ... reservations about them. I hesitate to lambaste Catholics as a whole, as I'm sure there are variances at each church and that my observations may not be accurate for each and every community. But based on the experiences I've had personally, here's what I think.

My primary problem with the services is how exclusive they are. Non-Catholics, and especially non-Christians couldn't possibly feel included and welcomed into the services I've attended. Page numbers aren't listed, hymnal and service order books aren't always provided, much less referenced so that the irregular attender could read along and participate if they chose. As the family of the deceased, none of us were given a service order or even a hymnal. Had I not been a regular attender in a Lutheran community (which shares some of the liturgy with the Catholic service), I wouldn't have had any idea what was going on; my family, most of whom don't attend services regularly, likely felt the same way. The language used is lofty and what I would define as "Christianese" - it's hard to understand what's going on around you when you can't understand the words, and when they're not even printed on something for you to read, there's no way to keep up.

All of this contributes to an alienating culture. Those who are "in" on what's going on move through the service merrily; there's no problem for them and I'm sure they are comfortable and able connect with God (otherwise, why would they continue to attend?). But for the visitors, the people the community is presumably happy to have join them, the presence of God appears to be inaccessible, as they struggle to figure out what's happening. How could it not be?

This isn't to say that you necessarily have to understand every word to really engage in a faith service. I attended a Pentecostal service when I was in Africa. The language spoken was entirely Amharic (the Ethiopian national language). But the presence of God was palpable in that room; the congregation sung with their souls, and you didn't need to know what they were saying to know that they were praising God with every iota of their being.

But I can't help but feel that the way Western Catholics run their services is simply unfair. I don't understand a church culture that doesn't jump at the chance to include and welcome every visiting member. Maybe it's because I'm spoiled by belonging to a community whose greatest strength is its warmth. From my first day at Church of the Cross I've been welcomed as a family member. Pastor Lyle makes it a practice of our community to individually welcome and introduce new and visiting people every single Sunday. So this is what I've become accustomed to. This is how I feel we should be doing it.

There are other so-called "Christian" practices that I just can't comprehend (must less condone). Such as those people who stand on street corners or outside event centres holding signs and preaching at the masses. I have to wonder how effective this is. How many people come to know Christ this way? I'm put off by it, and I'm a Christian! I've been with unbelievers on more than one occasion who turn to me and say, "You're a Christian, right? Do you do this kind of stuff?" I feel like I have to do more explaining about why other Christians might act this way, rather than actually sharing my own faith and how I practice it.

But maybe I'm wrong. I speak from one person's perspective. I know there are members of my family who were at said funeral service who also read this blog; perhaps you had a different feeling? Maybe you agreed with me? Maybe you had other thoughts I haven't even considered? I'd love to hear what you "mused"!!

Kings and Ducks

I’d forgotten how much fun it is to take in a live hockey game. While I missed the audio commentary that usually comes out of my television because I like hearing the random facts and stats (plus, let’s face it, three hours is a long time to pay attention to the same thing and it’s nice to have someone tell me what just happened when my mind wanders a little…), it’s fun to be in the arena. The place is electric, the crowd noisy with cheering and jeering, the air crisp. It’s fun. It’s exciting. It’s a bonding experience with thousands (or hundreds, if you’re a Canuck and you’re in someone else’s home turf) of other fans.

And fans there were. There was a sea of green and blue splayed out before us, surrounding the ice and cheering on our boys. Canadians are good at sticking together (even when we're losing). Choruses of "Luuuuuu!!!!" and “Go, Canucks, Go!” rang out sporadically throughout both games and I was right in there with the best of them (as evidenced by my lack of an upper voice register a full week later).

The sense of togetherness didn’t just take place during the periods, either. After the L.A. game, a huge contingent of Vancouver fans gathered together in one section for a group photo and a spontaneous round of “O Canada”. During the Ducks game, the elderly, non-English-speaking Korean woman behind me shook me a few times, then actually hugged me, she was so excited that I was so excited (as a sidenote, one of the funniest moments of the trip was when Lynn ran into this woman in Disneyland a few days later, pointed to her and shouted, “You’re the lady!!”). It's also been pointed out to me that she could have actually been frustrated with me, since I kept leaping up every time something exciting happened, and she probably couldn't see. But I prefer to think she was cheering me along because I was fun for her to watch... yeah, we'll go with that...

And, of course, there were your typical haters too.
Favourite quote from the L.A. game:
   L.A. Fan, sneering at us: “How’s Game 7 feel now??”
   Dad: “A hell of a lot better than getting kicked out in the first round!”

Favourite quote from the Anaheim game:
   Anaheim fan [to Lynn, who wears a Kesler jersey]: “Kesler sucks!”
   Lynn: “Actually, I’m his Mom.”

LAX

This past week, I have been in California with my family, doing the Chorney family thing… that is, Disneyland. This time, for a little extra flavour, we threw in the Canucks games against the L.A. Kings and the Anaheim Ducks as well (which was a genius addition, I have to say).

On our way down, Jenn and I had a couple of hours to wait in the L.A. Airport before the Calgary crew’s flight landed, so we chilled out in the International Departure Lounge (the only place we could find to get some food). In addition to feeding our hungry tummys, we also had a grand ol’ time observing the world around us. A few highlights are listed below:

- At McDonald’s, you can order the “two cheeseburger” meal, or you can just get the burgers for $3.02. Or… you can buy cheeseburgers individually for $1.46 each. um… what?


- There are Exit signs in all the usual places… and also the UNusual. Like this one, bolted to the wall near the ground. How is that useful??


- Best Shirt of the Day Award goes to… The guy wearing this one: “So far this is the oldest I’ve ever been”  (Okay, to be fair, we couldn’t actually see all of the letters on the shirt. But this is the most logical conclusion based on the parts we COULD see.)


- Best Announcement of the Day Award goes to… British Airways: “Youseff Madri*, please report to the British Airways counter. Youseff Madri, arriving from Las Vegas and en route to Cairo, please report to the British Airways counter.” Why was all of that information necessary? In case there were multiple people in the airport with that very specific name?

After visiting the airport, I’ve decided that if I were going to design one, I’d do it very differently. First off, the ARRIVALS section would be the nicest. I would want people visiting my fictitious city to marvel at how great it was as soon as they stepped off the plane. And I would make it a lot easier to have a snack while people were waiting for their family members to arrive on later flights by having restaurants in more convenient locations. The DEPARTURES area would be less flashy. Who cares what people think about your city while they’re on their way OUT of it?


* Name has been changed to protect the innocent… and because I can’t remember exactly what it was but I KNOW it was something atypical for the setting.

The Moody Blues!!!

My parents are self-described "concert junkies." Music (especially Rock music) has always had a prevalent place in our home. While doing chores as kids, we'd be blasting Rod Stewart, AC/DC or The Rolling Stones over the stereo (according to Murray, this isn't really very normal... his family was washing dishes and vacuuming to the harmonious backdrop of the Rankin Family).

So it's not surprising that my first concert was years ago, when I was 10 - we saw the Moody Blues play at the outdoor stage in Deer Lake Park.

Fast forward 18 years, and there we were again, rockin' out to "Your Wildest Dreams", "I Know You're Out There Somewhere" and "I'm Just a Singer (In a Rock And Roll Band)". And, yet again, they were live in concert.

A fan-freakin'-TASTIC concert!!

The back-up drummer (Gordon Marshall) is AMAZING. This guy clearly lives and breathes the music. His body rocks with the rhythms and he is in constant motion on stage. Beats flow through his muscles like they were born there. I've never been so blown away by a dude on a set of drums!

The keyboardist was likewise very entertaining. Jenn and I just couldn't help but laugh every time our attention was turned to him. He was just so... goofy! (Unexpected for this genre of music, I know). The guy, unlike every other clad-in-black band member, was sporting a white and orange t-shirt. Probably the least Rock 'n Roll shirt I have ever seen. And his hair was the product of a JustinBieber/BeachBoy mash-up. But he was fabulously charismatic and highly entertaining.

The Blues themselves were also great. Though the sound system left something to be desired, the words we could make out were at times funny and at others interesting. Graeme Edge, having recently turned 70, shared a few humorous anecdotes and danced a little jig (with better moves than the New Kids on the Block, I might add) before casting aside his tambourine with a flourish. Bear in mind, the Blues were old dudes even when I saw them as a kid... and, well, they haven't gotten any younger. But they've still got the moves, let me tell you!

From the first chord of the first number, I was brought back to my childhood again. Granted, we didn't watch tonight's concert from under an umbrella, and we didn't have to walk ten thousand miles back to the car afterward. But it still transported me back in time to that first concert experience with my Auntie Carol and Ray. I've always had a special little place in my heart for the Moody Blues, and tonight's concert just cemented it in.

HUGE thanks to my Mom and Alan for the last-minute idea and the ticket gift. You guys ROCK! (hahaha... I'm so punny!)

Overheard by a Canadian: Episode 10

More of a conversation this time, but still super-cute.

After opening a thermos full of soup for a student in my Grade 1 class:
Me: "It's because of my super strength. I'm a superhero."

Kid: "You can't be a superhero!"

Me: "Why not?"

Kid: "Because Mr.Parker [the Principal] already is one!"

Me: "Well, can't we have TWO superheroes at this school?"

Kid: "No! *pause*  But you can be his sidekick!"

My Church Family

Today I am thankful for... my church family, whose members love and support me with a depth equal to that of my relatives.


It started when I moved to Victoria six years ago and had every intention of "church hopping" until I found a community I could be fed by and could serve in return. One Sunday, Nathan and Brittany invited me to theirs. That first Sunday (which coincidentally was Student Appreciation Sunday - gotta love a basket full of goodies!!) was the first of many - I never left. The community was welcoming and friendly (and helped me navigate what felt like ten different worship hymnals and books). They've only become more so over the years.

And now that I'm back and re-establishing a life here, it's great to have people who support my career, my home-search and my tummy (um... what? Yep, my tummy. Big thanks to the McKenzie family for feeding me dinner tonight!).

These people have real love for me. They are proud of me and are excited to see me succeed as a Teacher. They hugged and welcomed me back when I returned from London and are oh-so-thrilled that I'm among them again.

And I have real love for them. I feel pride for my Youth students, whom I've watched grow up over the past six years. Many of them have graduated from high school now, which is as unbelievable to me as it is to their own parents. I am so happy to be among this "chosen" family again. I feel safe and welcome. I feel Godly love when I'm surrounded by them.

So... thanks, Church peeps. U da bomb.

A Network of Support

It's Gratitude Month. I don't have a verified source on that one, but honestly... who cares? Shouldn't we all be a little more thankful for what we have? I made "Thankful Trees" with my students today, and they came up with all sorts of stuff they were thankful for (although I did make an "only one toy" rule...). So, it's my turn.

Today I am thankful for... a support network of wonderful and generous people, some of whom have made good on the promise of a spare bedroom to crash in.

How many times have you heard someone say, "you know, if you ever need a couch to crash on, you can stay on mine!"? And how many times have you dismissed this offer because, A) you didn't think they really meant it (it's just a thing people say, but don't really mean, right? or B) you are the kind of person who is too proud to ever admit that you might need this kind of charity? Well I'm a big ol' dismisser of this kind of offer.

Until now.

Having spent seven very financially irresponsible months in Europe, I am beyond broke right now. Add that to a healthy dose of stubbornness, and you'll find me currently living in Vic with nowhere to actually live. I came over three weeks ago with two suitcases and a third one chalk-full of faith (sidenote: what's the origin of the phrase chalk-full? Am I even saying that right? My family DOES have a habit of changing these things...). Fabulous Set of Friends #1 saved the day and offered their spare room. And so, I've been living with Kate and Jon since then. But the agreement from the get-go (with their landlord, that is) was that I would be gone by October 1.

Since I still don't have a permanent place to call home (or any money to pay for a first months' rent plus damage deposit), Fabulous Set of Friends #2 (known in local circles simply as Scott and Thomas) have stepped up to the plate and I'm now in their spare room. Which is awfully convenient, 'cause I hang out there most days anyway :)

Moving *back* to a city definitely has its perks. I am ever-so-thankful (hence the inaugural "thankfulness" statement) for these friends (and more, who made genuine offers that still may be taken up). In a very real sense, I have been given a roof over my head - not too shabby a gift, if you ask me!

An Interview with Richard

So, since I announced to my friends here that I'm leaving in July, there have been lots of "why?" questions. But my housemate, Richard, who has a much bigger heart that he gives himself credit for, took the time to ask me a couple of thoughtful questions:

What were the highlights of your time here?
In list form (and in no particular order),
  - my trips to Iceland, Spain, Scotland, Thailand/Vietnam and The Netherlands/Germany/Denmark/Norway/Scotland/France
  - the Royal Ascot (which was unlike anything else I did and which I was inexplicably REALLY excited about all day)
  - the Royal Wedding (which I didn't even intend to attend, but am so glad that I did)
  - seeing Wicked (which was phenomenal) and the Lion King
  - my little weekend to Battle and Canterbury (which was the only thing I really did alone, and was also the first time I ever cared about something considered history)

It's notable to me that very few of these highlights took place in London. For the most part, I used my time in London as a springboard to everything else I enjoyed. And I think that's related to my reasons for leaving. London was great for a short while, and I enjoyed the time I had there... But London just isn't the city for me. It's too big and I feel too disconnected and displaced. Turns out, I'm just better suited to a smaller city.

What will you take with you / What have you learned?
The obvious answer here is that I made some great friends. My housemates, travel buddies, fellow teachers and occasional pub partners made my trip what it was.

But I also learned a little bit about myself. Part of that is what I talked about earlier, relating to the kind of city I see myself in longterm. But another thing I know now is that I'm ready to start thinking about my life in a longterm way. I desire, unlike ever before, to start putting roots down somewhere. I want to settle, to live somewhere longer than a few months or years. I want to start investing and saving for a house. I've never wanted these things before (hence my tendency to just pick up and move to new cities). Now that I do, I really feel like something inside me has shifted - like I've grown up a little. I may even have become (dare I say it?) an ADULT. Yikes.

~~~~~

Since returning to Victoria, I've had a lot of "um... weren't you going to stay there longer?" In a nice way, I think people are a little confused about why I would move to one of the most famous cities in the world... and then come back. But I never really committed to staying there forever. When I left, I knew that I would either stay 6 months (the minimum term, and the remainder of the school year) OR for a longer time, on the scale of years. And when it came time to decide between the two (around the 4 month mark, when I needed to seriously think about booking a return flight), I knew that I needed to return to Canada. Given the aforementioned desire to settle somewhere, and knowing that London wasn't a place I could see myself living long-term, well, any more time spent there would kind of be... wasting time.

So here I am. All settled (except for a place to live... I'm still workin' on that one...) and happy back here in Victoria. I love that I walk down the street and run into five people I know. I love teaching back at my favourite school. I love that as I typed this sitting in a local Starbucks, a woman beside me asked me to watch her stuff... and that was completely socially acceptable and normal! I love being able to walk to a friend's house (and it doesn't take an hour on the tube to get there). I love the sunny weather!

It's good to be home.

20, 21, 22, 23

I recently traveled on a 10-day European cruise with my Mom, step-Dad and Aunt. It was great to see some family again, after being away for 6 months. Plus, I racked my country-count up to 23. In a word: fabulous!

Awww...

Dover & Canterbury: Before the cruise left, we spent one day in each of these English cities. I'd never been to Dover, and had wanted to visit the castle and the famous "white cliffs" since I got here, so it was nice to check that off my list. Learning all about Operation Dynamo, when thousands of Allied troops were rescued from the nearby French shores during WWII was also really interesting - another example of history becoming so much more interesting when I'm actually in the place where it happened. I'd been to Canterbury before, so I wasn't really expecting much from it (other than it being amazing again!) but it turned out I had missed several sections of the grounds on my first visit! So that was great too.

I pretty much did this with every statue

Amsterdam: Overall, Amsterdam was my favourite city. The Anne Frank house (something I've always wanted to see), was simply something else. Walking through the house, being able to picture the Frank family living and hiding there was... almost indescribable. All I can tell you is that I felt a physical heaviness in my heart as I walked through the bedrooms and saw the height chart for Anne and Margot, and Anne's posters stuck to the wall. This isn't just any other museum. This is a space in the world that has been preserved, where a tragic moment in history actually took place. I've always been fascinated by the holocaust, so being able to visit this place was something I've wanted to do for some time.

The other aspects of Amsterdam were equally as touching for me. I found the city so vibrant and dynamic. So many different facets of the city are present in such close proximity to each other. Of course, there were literally thousands of bicycles around, and beautiful canals to walk along. We went through the red light district, which was... well... unlike anything I've ever seen before, that's for sure! But just strolling along the squares and waterways was quite fun for me - four hours was just NOT enough time to explore! Wish I had a week there!

The Brandenburg Gate -
marking the neutral ground between East & West Berlin

Berlin: While Mom and Alan explored Hamburg, my Auntie Carol and I took a bus into Berlin. The city itself was... we'll say... not one I'd visit again in a hurry. The architecture seemed quite sterile and cold. Very straight lines and not a lot of character. But the historical sights we visited (the Brandenburg Gate, Checkpoint Charlie, and the remaining bit of the Berlin Wall) made the visit worth it (and worth the 4-hour each way bus drive!)
 



Copenhagen: Copenhagen was beautiful. We couldn't walk five steps without finding something (be it a building, an alley or a monument) that was picture-worthy (and being with my very camera-happy Mom made this even more apparent! Just how many "money shots" with "foliage" did we get, Mom?) We saw the big attractions, of course, (the Little Mermaid, the Stroget, the Amalienbourg Palace, Hans Christian Anderson's house and statue, the Nyhaven, etc.) along our meandering stroll through the city.






The nice thing about Copenhagen was that we had enough time to really get a sense of the city, and to see everything we wanted to without having to rush. Oh, and my favourite thing is that everything is decorated with cute little hearts - including their money and the little huts that their guards stand in! Not very menacing, I have to say...





Kristiansand: Our next scheduled stop was Oslo... but we were literally en route there when the Norway massacre happened! It was quite unnerving to find out about it while we were planning our day there... to think that if it had happened just 24 hours later we would have been there was more than a little scary.

Apparently I had an amused audience for this one!

So they diverted us to Kristiansand instead, another little town in Norway. Had it not been for the rain and cold (and for the fact that yours truly managed to slip on the gangway while walking off the ship and had soaking wet pants all day long), we would have enjoyed our day here quite a bit. It was a cute town with lovely architecture and a nice little train that took us all around. NOT cheap, though... we're talking £9 for a pint!! Yikes!!

Inverness: Having just visited Loch Ness at Easter, I wasn't really interested in the ship's tours there; plus, Carol and Mom have been there before too, and it's really just a lake, after all (apologies to the Nessie fans out there...). So we just caught a bus (mind you, a very long and very packed bus - wouldn't you say, Alan??) into Inverness. We really just wandered around and checked out the castle and its surrounding streets. We also stumbled upon an old graveyard that was quite cool.

 

Rouen: We split up again when we got to France; while Mom and Alan had their own little romantic get-away in Paris (which is really as romantic as I let them get, without playing the "daughter card"), Carol and I visited the quaint little town of Rouen. It is most famous for being the site of Joan of Arc's burning at the stake, as well as Le Gros-Horloge, a large clock showing the current hour, day and phase of the moon - and it ran for 5,000,000 hours without "skipping a beat" as it were! Pretty impressive for something built in the 16th century! We both loved this little town that was just so wonderfully French! As a bonus, I managed to find both a crepe and a raspberry tartlette - my two favourite foods from my previous visit to France!


London: After the cruise, I entertained Mom and Alan for a few days while A.Carol went on her own adventure visiting some other family. We did the "must-sees" in London, of course, but mostly it was nice to show them "my" London - the places I go and my house and that sort of thing. Plus, they were great visitors; they wanted to sleep in every day (no complaints here!) and then when we got out and about, they were keen to see as much as possible! Excellent!


All-in-all, a lovely vacation, and so so SO great to have my family with me here in Europe! I'm so glad we got it together to have them come and visit before I leave!

Our dinner waiters, who brought us way too many desserts,
made us fun things out of napkins and
spoke with fabulous Indian accents  ("whoop, whoop, whoop, very fast")

Our "wee" Scottish family

London PRIDE

London's Most Fabulous were out and about for the PRIDE festival and they did not disappoint. In the spirit of celebration, I have decided to name the best and worst of the day.

And so, ladies and gentlemen, the award goes to...


Best phrase on a t-shirt - there's a tie in this category, because I just can't decide between "It's exhausting being this fabulous" and "Some people are gay. Get over it."

Best phrase uttered by a gay man - "that's so gay. " I befriended the gay couple beside me, and they, of course, were judging the train wrecks (or, as they called them, "gays without a cause") right along with me. The two of them reserved this particular phrase for those whom another gay friend I know would deem "unforgivably gay".

Best Protest against a Protest - the gay men and women waving rainbow flags and chanting "God loves everyone!!" as a response to religious picketers.

Best crowd I've yet seen in Trafalgar Square - I've now joined the crowd on both Chinese New Year and Canada Day, and this day probably saw more people milling around Trafalgar than both of them combined. The announcer said that over 1 million people were participating in the day's festivities - that's a LOT of people supporting PRIDE! Well done, London!
     edit: Since drafting this post, I've been reminded that I was also there for the Royal Wedding... during which the entire area AROUND Trafalgar was also packed. I also attended the Harry Potter premiere there more recently than PRIDE, and I had to stand in the middle of the street OUTSIDE the square just to see the screen. So I'm still giving PRIDE an award for excellent supporter turnout... but I suppose it's not the best crowd I've seen there.

Best show of support without flaunting promiscuity - while last year's Vancouver PRIDE day was amazing, I had to admit that the thing it seemed to promote the most was a promiscuous lifestyle. On the other hand, London's parade had 0 naked people prancing about, 0 packages of lubricant handed out, and very few clubs represented. Instead, there were loads of political, school, and religious groups whose supporters were happy to dress (somewhat) more conservatively and be just as proud of their support of the GLTB community.

and now for the worst...

Worst evangelistic idea (possibly ever...) -  set up right next to (and I do mean right next to, as in directly beside) the parade route were a group of men and women holding signs with Biblical verses printed on them. The preacher, oblivious to the crowd and its disinterest or disapproval, carried on with his (to most of this crowd) incomprehensible "Christianese" speech. I get that you think you are acting in love, and I understand where you stand on this issue, but come on... Did you really think that you were going to convert the masses this way? In this location, on this day? Give your head a shake.

Worst wardrobe malfunction - one of the drag queens in the parade was sporting ridiculously high heels, which clearly had been damaged at some point in the festivities. And the method of fixing chosen? Packing tape. Ugly, brown packing tape. I mean, honestly! You couldn't have used some ribbon, as I saw another queen doing? Wardrobe fail.

Worst handout of free swag - pamphlets and stickers. And that's it. No lollipops, drinks, condoms, flags or mardi-gras-style necklaces (all of which are handed out like they're going out of style at both the Victoria and Vancouver PRIDE festival parades). Lame. But, on the bright side... I didn't have to figure out what to do with all of that stuff afterward!!

Overheard by a Canadian: Episode 10

In a Year 2 class, after I'd finished a Robert Munsch story:

Boy: "That was WICKED!"
Me: "Do you like Robert Munsch as much as I do?"
*boy cocks his head and thinks for a moment*
Boy: "um...no."
Me: "But you just said the story was wicked!"
Boy: "oh. oh yeah. Okay, then yes."

Royal Ascot

To be fair, I hadn't heard of it before moving to England. But as soon as I got here, people were telling me it was a not-to-be-missed event. This is a day marked on high society's social calendar. The Queen even attends (and yes, we did see her as she processed along the race track in an open carriage - and this time I had a front-row seat)!

And so, I donned my large-brimmed hat, dressed up all fancy-like (which, if you've spent much time with me you'll know, is quite the rare occurrence) and headed to the races. And it was Fabulous-with-a-capital-F! Every gentleman and lady was dressed to the nines. There are actually dress codes that must be adhered to, and they vary depending on the ticket you purchase. But regardless of station, nearly every woman had donned a hat, or the ever-popular fascinator. Men wore suits and tuxes with tails (with major hot-points going to those who chose to add a top hat).

The races themselves were actually quite exciting. Although I didn't bet anything, I chose a favourite for each race (based on the highly scientific method of "which horse has the best name?"). I did pretty well, actually, for the first half of the day... But my method fell apart a bit after that and it was probably a good thing I didn't have any actual money on the line!

But even without having any vested interest in who won, it was still exhilarating to watch. The excitement of the crowd tangibly swelled around me as the horses approached and the race neared the finish line. Various names were shouted as betters cheered on their steed. And everyone else, like me, just shouted and cheered for the fun of it!

I couldn't help but notice the horses and jockeys responding to the energy of the crowd too. As they neared the finish line, I could see the horses' muscles working so hard, and the jockeys urging their animal to go faster and harder. It was almost as if the two of them fused into one muscular and powerful being. I know that sounds a bit hokey and poetic, but honestly, I've never seen anything like it!

And after all the races had concluded, I headed over to the Bandstand with Richard and Pippa for a good old-fashioned bandstand singalong. And I'm so glad I did! It was definitely a highlight of the day. Little union jacks were waving all over the place as the slightly-inebriated crowd belted out tunes by the likes of ABBA and The Beatles. The people were loudest, however, when they clutched their hearts, flung their arms over each other's shoulders and swayed gently back and forth for the more traditional English tunes: God Save the Queen, for one. This was English patriotism like I've never seen it, and quite something to behold. Definitely worth staying for.

Thailand: The Return Journey

After our 10 days in Vietnam, it was time for Joseph and I to venture back out on our own and leave our new friends. I was unexpectedly quite sad to leave them! I guess I hadn't really considered that I would make some true friends on this trip. So to our "Back Of The Bus Brigade" (Aimee, Buckles, Casey, Moby and Allan), along with our new London friends (Nathalie and Jarlath) and our always fabulous Kiwi girls (Jenna and Emma), I just want to say that I do miss you and hope that our paths cross again! You will always have a couch to crash on whenever you choose to visit!

But enough with the sappy stuff...

On our way back to London, Joe and I had 3 flights and a long layover in Bangkok. So of course, this was a recipe for more adventure and even more mishap!

It started at the airport in Hanoi. After going through Passport Control, we were standing in the security line when a guard approached me, asked for my passport...

...and then ran away.

Yes. You read that correctly. He ran away with my passport!! After a stunned moment, I gave chase! He was absolutely NOT getting my passport out of my sight! I followed him to two different secure areas where I was clearly not allowed to be standing, but I didn't care. Without much English, no one was really able to tell me what the problem was. I could see (since I stood behind them as they entered information into their computers) that my details were producing some kind of error message. After about 10minutes (and what FELT like an hour!) they just handed it back to me and sent me on my way. They should really make it a part of border guard training that it is inadvisable to seize innocent passengers' passports and then run away. Someone should really tell them that doing so is likely to induce mild panic. I would even be willing to provide a first-hand account, proving this, if they'd like. Really. I wouldn't mind.

Once we got back to Bangkok, we decided to make our way into the city, mostly for a way to kill our nine free hours. On the subway, we met and started chatting with a man who told me he was 65 years old and still travels all the time and moves from city to city every few years when he gets restless. I love this. I hope that when I'm 65 I still have the energy and love for travel that I do now. I guess I always assumed that I'd have to give up my own tendency to get bored with a city after a few years. But maybe not...

The thing we noticed most about being back in Bangkok was that the system of bartering is much different from that in Vietnam. The shop owners just seem much less interested in bringing down their asking price. In Vietnam, we were getting things for half or even a third of the original price, once we got used to playing the game. But in Thailand, low-balling and walking away just didn't have the same effect.

We have a few personal theories to explain this (none of which are based on anything resembling research or fact, mind you): it could be that this city, and the Khao San area in particular, are frequented by more tourists, so shop owners are less motivated to do business with each one. It could also be that this influx of tourists has accepted higher prices, and over time the average or accepted price has been driven ever higher. We also postulated that it could have something to do with the initial mark-up; if it's lower here than in Vietnam, then it could be that the selling price needs to be nearer the first offer in order to maintain a profit. And finally, we wondered if it could be related to the standard of living here; perhaps the people of Bangkok require a higher sales level to afford the same necessities as their Vietnamese counterparts.

~~~~~

Overall, the two weeks I spent in Southeast Asia were absolutely amazing. This trip, as I've mentioned, was completely unlike any other I've been on.

I learned a few things about myself too. For one, I am absolute rubbish at bartering. Mind you, I did get a little better after practicing so much, but I'm still not very good. I just can't get past the fact that the amount we're haggling over is so insignificant to me, and would be so valued by the shop owner! I also saw in myself a certain hesitancy to take advantage of opportunities. Most of the time this was driven by funding issues (either not being able to afford the activity or not having regular access to my money due to the credit card problems I had). But I kind of wish I was more of the type of person who just did things, without really thinking about it. I want to be able to come home thinking that I took advantage of every opportunity. An area for growth, I guess.

I also learned some things about Joe... spending every minute with someone for two solid weeks will do that! I think the most enlightening fact is that Joe can literally sleep anywhere at any time!! He would say to me, "I think I'm going to fall asleep for a bit..." and then BAM! he was asleep, just like that. I took to calling him "Captain Narcolepsy", a nickname that has actually kind of stuck! (he referred to himself as such just this past weekend, and we got back nearly a month ago!)

Vietnam: Same, Same, but Different

"Same same, but different" - it's a phrase often used to explain things in Vietnam. It's usually set up as a comparison between something we'd be familiar with and the particular item being described. But it also became somewhat of a mantra for us throughout the trip, and many of us even bought the t-shirt.

And, as it turned out, our last few days in 'Nam were just that: "same, same, but different." Same beautiful scenery, same busy schedule, but different adventures.

Our stories-to-be-told from Hanoi began the moment we stepped off the bus. One of the women we'd seen lugging baskets draped from poles accosted Jenna as we stepped out at our hotel. Since Jenna didn't want to buy her pineapples, the woman just hefted her pole onto Jenna's shoulder. The idea here, of course, was that someone would take Jenna's photo, and then the woman would charge her for that picture. Well, when a different woman tried it with ME a few minutes later, I decided to play a bit of a trick myself. At Joe's suggestion, when she refused to take the pole and baskets back from me, I just turned and started walking down the street! Completely ignoring her protests, I walked about a half a block down the street before she started getting a bit panicked and heaved on the basket to stop me. Needless to say, she didn't bother asking me for any money!!

On our way to the Temple of Literature that afternoon, our local guide, Friday (thanks for the Rebecca Black interlude there, Joseph...) told us a bit about the city. Since we were back in the land of crazy traffic, he told us that there is actually a scooter for every two people in the city, and that 70% of the population travels this way. No wonder we were seeing them everywhere and avoiding about a million of them every time we tried to cross the street!

I found the gates to the Temple (which was later converted to a University) the most fascinating part. The characters at the top of it read "heart" and they've inscribed "intelligence" over the exit door. The idea is that the university looked for people to admit who had integrity and a good spirit, THEN trained them to be knowledgeable while they were there.

~~~~~

The final stop on our tour was an overnight junk boat to Halong Bay. This is a collection of nearly 2000 islands, which made for an absolutely stunning view as we sailed along. We visited a beautiful cave system as well as going kayaking through a bit of a cave and next to some beautiful cliffs. This was, of course, a huge highlight for ocean-loving me!

photo credit: Joseph Liu

While on the boat, we were fed the most amazing seafood feasts - crabcakes baked in a crabshell, giant prawns, heaps of clams, fish prepared in a variety of ways. Lunch and dinner were great! Breakfast, however, was a little weird... It was almost like they tried to give us breakfast AND lunch at the same time, but in the wrong order. We were served the following, in this order:
  1. Fries
  2. Chicken
  3. Calamari 
  4. Eggs
  5. Veggies
  6. Fish
  7. Rice
Keep in mind that we got one dish at a time, never knowing what was coming next, and sharing the dishes with everyone at the table. So by the time we got that rice, we were all full and had already finished eating the fish. Pretty ridiculous meal, all around. But, that's okay. It was more than made up for by the awesomeness of the overnight stay in beautiful Halong Bay!

Vietnam: Weather Forecast: 35; feels like: 45

45? That's ridiculously hot.

Hoi An. Definitely my favourite stop on the tour. I loved the less-hectic atmosphere, the shop mentality (rather than the stores of Ho Chi Minh and Hanoi) and the near-empty streets. It still had the authenticity of a Vietnamese village, but without the major hustle and bustle of the major centres. It was possible to wander down a street and be the only one in sight. The buildings were a soft orange colour which made it all seem quite mellow. It was to Vietnam what Victoria is to Vancouver: a city, but one where everything just relaxes slightly and your physical reaction to it is a bit like a big sigh.

I also had my favourite "moment" of the trip. I've been asked quite a few times now what the best thing I did was, and it was this: renting bicycles. After picking them up, all 32 of us set out into the traffic. Thank goodness we did this in Hoi An, as I think half of us might have died if we'd tried to integrate into the traffic of Ho Chi Minh. Finding myself suddenly immersed in the insane world of driving in Asia, I was a little overwhelmed! The rules of the road seem to be as follows:
- the lines on the road (if there are any) are merely suggestions
- if you're driving something (car, tuk tuk, scooter, bicycle, whatever), just honk continuously so that everyone else will get out of your way
- when approaching an intersection, don't bother stopping or even slowing down; again, just honk
- if your horn is broken, or you don't have one, just shout "honk, honk" repeatedly instead
- if you're a pedestrian and you want to cross a street, just put your head down and walk slowly and predictably; assume everyone will weave around you

Yes, I'm serious about this. And yes, there ARE an inordinate number of traffic accidents and vehicle-related deaths every year.

But nonetheless, we dove in. Surprisingly, we all survived (although one guy on the tour later rented a motorized scooter and crashed it into a wall...). The cities in Vietnam aren't very big, so it didn't take us long to get out into the countryside. Here we meandered through rice paddies and stopped to watch a man till his land with a water buffalo and a two-by-four with stakes driven into it.

This is what I love. This is the REAL Vietnam. And this is what it looks like to the locals. Seeing the country this way was infinitely better than viewing it from the air on a plane, or even from the elevated tour buses we drove around in. It's a different perspective and a different experience to get down to ground level and do something the way the locals do. And that's always my favourite part of traveling.

The next morning, we drove out to see the Temple remains at My Son ("mee sawn") On the way, our local guide offered a few tidbits of knowledge. Did you know, for instance, that the local people refer to the highly corrupt police force as "yellow dogs" (so named for the colour of their uniforms)? Or that the rice paddy labourers make about $5 a day? Fascinating stuff!

The temple was quite interesting too. We walked through what's left of these buildings, which were bombed during the war because the Americans believed the area to be a VietCong base. And we learned the male/female duality of Shiva and saw evidence of carvings dedicated as such. We also saw a large number of headless statues - the head is the easiest part of the statue to steal and would have been worth its weight in gold at one time. It's unfortunate that it was so, so, so, so, so HOT that day - all we could really focus on was finding the next bit of shade!

~~~~~

Our next stop on the tour: Hue. Here we got to ride around in cyclos, which was pretty sweet. Basically, we each sat in a little carriage, and a man sat behind us cycling us around the city. A bit like a kabuki cab (for those of you in Victoria), except you're sitting in the front. My driver also pointed out all of the highlights of the city: most notably the pool hall, the preschool and the cinema. Awesome.

At the citadel...well, let's be honest... I got a little bored. So I wandered away from the tour and ended up going on a little mini-adventure with my new friend Jenna. The whole story accompanies the photos on Facebook, but the short version is that we tried to go to as many places we weren't supposed to, tried things on and took pictures we were supposed to pay for, and became pseudo-celebrities while on a mission for international high-fives! Pretty epic.

The costumes we were meant to pay for,

the photo we were meant to pay for,

the place we weren't meant to be,

and the celebrities we were destined to become!