Tsunami Valentine

2008-06-22T11:16:00.003-04:00

A little white lie for Liz… (I'm home!)

OK, so I lied to everyone. I told you I would be home in early July. The truth is, I got back on Friday… Antonia met me at the airport with a plan for Ethiopian dinner and volunteer work at the street festival the next day (where, naturally, I ran into people I knew). Welcome back to the Toronto rhythm, Marijke… *grin*

But why the lie? Well, it was all for Liz. This weekend was my girl’s bachelorette party and bridal shower. Since I’ve been the Bridesmaid-at-Large for the last few months, I was looking for a way to make up for my long-distance negligence.

Surprising Lizifer at her bachelorette party was the perfect way to do it.

So my apologies to everyone for the little lie I had to tell – Liz is actually a follower of my blog – to keep the surprise alive. If you had seen Liz’s face when I walked in the door last night, you’d know that it was all worthwhile.

Pictures and tales of the Sweden-Denmark-Germany portion of my travels coming soon.

2008-06-09T05:41:00.009-04:00

It's not a family tree, it's a family bush

If you know me, you know that my family is... erm... complex. When asked the common icebreaker question, "Do you have any brothers and sisters?" I just shake my head and laugh. Kirsten likes to say that we don't have a family tree, we have a family bush. Really, even I get confused sometimes. It may require a map to understand, but they're all my family, and I love them. The problem is, we don't see each other nearly enough...

The last few days in Barcelona were sandwiched around a trip into the French Pyrenees for a family reunion (or as close as my family can get to that). As hard as it is to believe, France was actually the most convenient place to meet -- siblings came from Spain (me and Laura), Argentina (Diego) and California (Kirsten), and the parental generation (Laurence and Rosa) came from Canada.

It was the first time in 5 or 6 years that we had all been together, and we spent a few days enjoying good food, good wine and a whole lot of laughter. As much as I joke about my crazy, dispersed siblings, and as proud as I am that we all have such adventurous spirits, it's hard not to have a consolidated family unit that you see regularly. Despite logistical problems to get us all in the same place, we really do have a great time when we are together.

Granted, this is only one side of my family. With a little luck, we'll manage to coordinate the same thing on the other side of the family (that's you, mommas and Andres!) sometime in the summer or fall....

As an added bonus, I got to see my cousin Jay and and his wife Isabella, who happened to be in Barcelona the same days I was. And Diego and Laura and I had some quality BCN-drinkin' time. And to top it off, Laura and I spent my last night in the city at a Feist concert (an amazing show), where we even got to sing the Canadian national anthem at the top of our lungs -- oh the pride.

Pictures of Barcelona and France are here.

I arrived in Sweden yesterday, and am reconsidering some of my travel plans (Iceland may not be in the cards after all). Either way, it'll be an adventure....

2008-06-01T11:16:00.006-04:00

Parting Is Such Sweet(water) Sorrow

It happens every time: I start to feel at home in a place just when it's time to leave... It's always in the last week that I find that great bar, that cute boy or that great group of friends... and this time was no different.

The last two weeks have been a whirlwind of goodbye parties and sentimental moments. I don't deal well with goodbyes in general. I usually like to have a going-away party a few days ahead of time, and then slip away when no one is around. It didn't quite work that way this time.

In the end, the experience in Aguadulce was a good one. My original goals had been to gain teaching experience and travel around Andalucia, and I met (and surpassed) both of those goals. True, I wasn't in love with the town itself, and it lacked a certain social and cultural excitement. But I had great luck in terms of the school I was assigned to, which made the entire year enjoyable.

At the end of the day, the experience is about the people you meet. And I was lucky on that front, too. I met some amazing teachers -- people who taught me about teaching, inspired and encouraged me, and who were (and will continue to be) great friends. These people put the "sweet" in Sweetwater, and they are the main reason that I will miss the place.

And the kids.... Oh, the kids. How to describe how much I adored them? Saying goodbye to them was harder than I expected. My 1o ESO class (roughly Grade 7) cried their way through the last hour of class, sang songs, and gave me presents and sweet cards. The 2o ESO class (Grade 8) demanded one last sing-along to "Molly Malone", which I caught on video (they've learned all the words!). And the 2o BACH class (Grade 12/13) invited me to their graduation dinner, where there was much revelry and picture taking.

Pictures of all the great people I met are here.

And on to the next....

From here, it's a crazy ride that takes me through 5 countries (the main goals are a family reunion in France and a return to the Viking Festival in Iceland) before I land back in Canada in early July.

What's my next step? I'll let you know when I know....

2008-05-13T12:35:00.002-04:00

Yet another birthday (or: "Oh my god, you're old!")

Yup, it's yet another birthday... the big 3-1. Truthfully, I feel younger than I have in years -- something about the travelling lifestyle (despite all its stresses) seems to agree with me.

Naturally, I find myself reflecting on yet another year gone by. So here, without ado, is a listy-type recap thing.

Best moments of today:
- My class of thirty 13-year-olds surprising me by breaking into "Happy Birthday" (coached by the music teacher)
- One of my 18-year-olds asking me for proof when I told her my age, and then exclaiming (in what I can only take as a complimentary way) "oh my god, you're old!"
- The hand-painted T-shirt my student made for me.
- Having my sister here to celebrate with me.
- The long leisurely lunch with some of my favourite teachers (and a gift of books -- the ultimate way to my heart)
- Spending an hour at the beach in the middle of the day.

Best moments of the past year:
- The viking festival, volunteerism, and the hike in Iceland
- The sunlight of Almeria
- New Year's Eve in Cadiz
- My students -- even on bad days, I have so much fun with them.
- Alex and Mike's visit, and my dad's visit.
- Finally getting the turtle I've always wanted.
- When Liz asked me to be her bridesmaid.
- Visiting my mom in Oregon
- Every glass I've raised with a friend...

Best moments of the year to come:
Erm... I'll get back to you on that one... But I think it's gonna' be a good one.

2008-05-07T09:39:00.004-04:00

PEHDTSCKJMBA! (or why I love Tom Waits)

OK, so I know that this blog is usually about me, and my travels. But if you've know me for, oh I don't know, an hour or so, you'll know how much I love Tom Waits. Seriously. When I was 7 years old, I knew all the words to "Frank's Wild Years" (admittedly, not the most appropriate song for a kid that age).

So this is a quick interstitial entry about Tom. It's my lifelong dream to see Tom in concert, so I get very excited every time he announces a tour (which is actually fairly rare). Problem is, he's always going to the most random places, and I haven't managed to coincide with any of them yet.

And now, he's announced dates for his new Glitter and Doom Tour, along with its rallying cry: Pehdtsckjmba! Watch the press conference for an explanation:

So, if anyone is stuck on what to get me for my upcoming birthday (it's less than a week away, after all), may I suggest a concert ticket and road trip to some fine city in the Central or Southern US in July....

Seriously, I'd love you forever.

UPDATE: The tickets go on sale Friday May 16th. If anyone is honestly interested in taking in one of these concerts with me, let me know. I just might try to get a couple tix (though they usually sell out in minutes).

2008-04-28T12:41:00.003-04:00

The Week of the Bocadillo

Alex and Mike came to visit last week. I'd been looking forward to their visit all year, and it was every bit as good as I hoped. We laughed, talked, ate and drank our way through a week of fun and sun.

We started the week out in Barcelona, wandering around the city and seeing the sights. We went up the tower of Sagrada Familia and (more importantly) back down the frighteningly winding staircase. We had beers on patios in my old neighbourhood of Gracia (with my old flatmate Luca) and visited Laura at work. We shopped at the waterfront, visited the Picasso Museum and Parc Guell, and even found Space Invaders around the MACBA. After a few days of big-city tourism, we hopped an early morning flight down to good ol' Aguadulce.

The rest of the week was spent on the beach (the weather cooperated wonderfully), reading, talking and soaking up the sun. We ate an amazing quantity of bocadillos, laughed a lot, and generally relaxed.

The week was a vacation for Alex and Mike, but it was also a mini-vacation for me. Spending time with close friends -- with an intimate and implicit understanding of one another -- is something that I have been really missing. Their visit allowed me to recharge my batteries to face the last leg of my journey here. Of course, it also made me excited to come home for a while and spend quality time with the people I love.

Alex and Mike, thank you so much for coming all the way over here to hang out with me. I loved having you here, and can't wait to see you both again sooooooon.

Photos of the week are here.

2008-03-24T04:54:00.003-04:00

Semana Sistah'

If you ask me to name some of my favourite things in life, my little sister would be pretty high on that list. So would Barcelona, travel, live music, and beer. Interesting rock formations might make it on there, too, as well as Picasso, meeting new people, and catching up with old friends.

This past week (my Semana Santa vacation) included all of the above -- how could it not approach greatness?

Live music: The week started with an odyssey out to the town of Salt for the Rude Cat music festival. The bands were mostly reggae and ska (fortunately more ska than reggae), and our main goal was to see The Slackers, a NYC ska band that Laura really likes. And boy, did they put on a show! The place was jumping, and we were right up front, takin' it all in.

New people: Laura's new job is at a hostel near Ave. Parallel, and it seems pretty sweet. The place is nice, and the staff were cool people. They've accepted Laura into the fold -- no surprise there, that girl can make friends anywhere! I've always liked the hostel vibe (I'm good with transient people, I suppose), and had some fiction-worthy moments in the evenings we spent there.

Old friends: Over the course of the week, I got a chance to catch up with Luca, Carmen, Patricia, and Gaspar. The general consensus was that I need to come back to Barcelona. I second that. We also got a chance to hang out with Laura's uncle and cousin, who were in town for a few days.

Rock formations: A day trip to Montserrat satisfied a certain touristic need. The mountain is beautiful and peaceful, and has a monastery at the base, where we heard an all-boys choir sing their little hearts out.

Picasso: We spent an overcast afternoon wandering through the Picasso museum. I could truly spend a lifetime admiring his work.

Barcelona: Yes, I still love the city. I saw new parts of it, walked new streets, and learned new things. My love affair has not ended.

And most importantly, Laura: I am so lucky to have this girl as a sister. She understands me like no one else, supports me when I need it, and calls me on my shit when she has to. I hope I manage to give her even a fraction of the good she gives me. Laura, I love you to bits.

The memories: Wanna' see photos? They're here.

2008-03-12T15:37:00.004-04:00

Family Matters

So a couple weeks ago, my dad came to spend a week with me. Our tour of Andalucia had actually been planned for May of last year, but since I bolted from Spain in such a hurry, he wound up doing it alone. So we decided to do it again, this time together.

The whirlwind tour went something like this: Malaga -> Cordoba -> Granada -> Aguadulce (I had to work for 2 days) -> Osuna -> Seville -> Cadiz (to have lunch with Jesus before he left for Germany) -> Seville -> Malaga. Quite a haul for 9 days, I must say.

The truth was, we probably could have stayed in one city the whole time, and the visit still would have been great. Mostly we spent the time walking around the respective cities and talking about everything. We laughed about silly things, discussed serious things and covered pretty much all the territory in between. I think it will go down in memory as one of the nicest times I have spent with my father. Some pictures of the trip are here.

In other family news, my little sister has moved to Barcelona! She got a job at a hostel and is settling into a new apartment. As luck would have it, I have vacation next week (Holy Week here in Spain) and am heading up to see her on Friday... I can't wait. (The pic above is from her visit to Belfast last year. Look forward to updated pictures when I return!)

The trip comes at a time when I am doubting a few things about my experience here. Mostly social issues, as this is not an ideal place for evening romps. I know that a week spent with my sister will help clear those mental cobwebs and get me back on track. After that, I get to look forward to Alex and Mike's visit in April!

Other than that, all is well. The weather is starting to become beach-worthy. I am still greatly enjoying the work in the school -- today we went on an excursion to Granada with forty 13-year-olds (exhausting, but great fun). Neil and I sang at an assembly for the theatre students, and have now acquired a certain rock-star status in the school. And as always, I am working hard to get the kids thinking about bigger issues -- politics, environment, gender issues (teaching through the material, as they say)... I'm even starting to see some progress, which is incredibly satisfying.

Plans after May 31st are still cloudy, but I've got a couple of irons in the fire, and it looks like they might be getting hot. I'll give details when I feel more certain about the outcome.

2008-02-05T10:28:00.000-05:00

On Homesickness...

The other day Alex asked me if I was homesick. My answer was no, but that I missed certain things. Her first response was, "food?" My reply was, "people."

Actually, we were both right. There are quite a few things that I miss about Toronto, but people and food definitely top the list -- sometimes together. So here, without further ado, is a rundown of things that I miss about Toronto, at this very second. (This list is by no means complete, and in no particular order.)

1. Pad thai (preferably from the Salad King, with 5 chilis)
2. Pasta and exotic beers on the Cafe Volo patio with Alex
3. Streetcars (except during rush hour on College St.)
4. Dancing at the Stones Place with my sister (and entourage)
5. Adventures in ice cream parlours with Chris
6. Soundscapes
7. Sunny Saturday afternoons in Little Italy
8. Kensington Market
9. Delicious spring rolls and watching Heroes with Mike and Antonia
10. Excel Chlorophyll gum
11. The crazy people -- especially the ones you know by name
12. Sushi
13. Snow (it's true! I actually miss it sometimes!)
14. Sunday brunch with my dad
15. Good beer selections
16. Chicken and brie sandwiches (and good company) at The Roxton
17. Watching hockey at the Brass Taps
18. Fast work lunches at Fresh
19. Dancing at the Phoenix and the Dance Cave (feeling old, but having a blast anyway)
20. Movies that aren't dubbed
21. Calgon Hawaiian Ginger body spray
22. Local theatre (especially in support of people I know)
23. Live music
24. Real Indian food
25. Chinatown, and everything it entails

There's more, I'm sure, but I must run out to give a class.

Anyone coming to this side of the pond in the next few months should try to cram as many of these things (and people) into their suitcase for me... I'll love you forever.

2008-01-23T09:46:00.000-05:00

It's not that I don't love you all....

OK, so, about the recent radio silence....

It's not that I don't love you. It's not that I don't think about you. It's not that I don't have time. It's not that things are terrible, though it's not that things are amazing, either. It's not that I'm trying to hide anything, and it's not that I have nothing to tell. It's not that I'm uninspired (OK, it might be a teensy lack of inspiration). Really, I promise.

I don't know why, but lately I seem to have developed some kind of allergy to communication. (Not that I was the most excellent communicator before, mind you.) I mean, I still check my email religiously, and I want to respond. I even think of the things I'll say in my reply. But as my mouse hovers over the "Reply" button, it's like I break out into hives or something... I just hope it's not an epidemic!

Anyway, I apologize profusely for the lack of updates and the ever-growing pile of unanswered emails. And I have stories to tell, too! Tales of holidays spent in Barcelona and Cadiz (See Pictures Here)! Successes and failures in the classroom! Constantly changing ideas about next year (one day it's Spain, the next Turkey, the next Tanzania)! And more!

I promise that when this communication-averse sickness runs its course, I will regale you with verbose emails about nothing and endless rambling blog posts about silly minutiae. I imagine that'll happen soon -- I'm not exactly one to keep quiet for long...

Right. I'm going to post this now, before I develop a rash.

2007-12-20T09:55:00.000-05:00

Holiday Cheer, Spanish Style...

Christmas vacation has arrived, and we're all in a tizzy packing bags and heading out of town.

I admit that I've sort of skipped the Christmas spirit this year. Sure, I've been singing carols with nearly every one of my classes, but that was purely pedagogical (the Music class about the 12 days of Christmas was particularly fantastic). A few teachers (including Neil and me) even sang a few carols in the teacher's lounge at recess today.

There are a few personal holiday traditions that I will definitely miss: Antonia and Mike's annual party, Christmas Eve dinner at Tony and Vic's with the family, Christmas dinner with Alex's family, and the New Year's Eve Supper Club in Chinatown. Feel free to add a life-size cardboard cutout of me to any of these festivities....

Still, this holiday season feels decidedly un-festive. No Christmas baking (our flat doesn't have an oven), no snow (though watching footage of snow-buried Toronto makes me a bit nostalgic), no tree trimming. To top it all off, I will actually be completely alone on Christmas day -- a new experience for me.

I'm heading to Alicante tonight, to catch a flight to Barcelona in the morning, where I'll spend a week or so. After that, it's off to Cadiz to spend New Year's with Jesus, and back to Aguadulce sometime in the new year.

So happy holidays. I miss everyone very much, and hope you have a great time, wherever you are. On Christmas day, I'll be armed with calling cards and a fully-charged cellphone (call me!) to exchange as much trans-Atlantic cheer as I can.

Merry Christmas, Happy New Year, and other assorted merriments....

2007-12-12T07:36:00.000-05:00

An Andalusian Jaunt

My flatmates and I decided to take advantage of the long weekend (Constitution Day) and head out to Seville for a few days. Armed with sandwiches and bad directions, we pointed our trusty steed (Neil’s car) northeast, and set off.

On the way, we stopped in a tiny town called Osuna (recommended to me by a colleague) and admired the building facades that dated back to the 16^thcentury.

The Oasis hostel in Seville was great – clean, friendly and central. They organized a tour of tapas bars and a (mediocre) flamenco show. We spent the weekend wandering the winding streets of Seville, visiting Plaza España (used as a set in Star Wars, ep. 2, for the geeks in the crowd), the Cathedral, the Parque Maria Luisa (where we rented a 4-person bike), and meandering.

I’ve been thinking lately about the difference, in tourism, between seeking the “traditional” (to witness something that doesn’t actually exist anymore) and the “authentic” (how a cultural tradition has evolved into the modern age). In an effort to put theory into practice, we did our own tapas and flamenco tour on the last night, with some fellow hostel-ites in tow…

The Bodega Santa Cruz is packed and wonderful, and the men who work there are energetic and entertaining – the place embodies “authentic”. A few of us went to a tiny flamenco bar on the other side of the river. The band wasn’t spectacular, but people (young and old) were hitting the dancefloor to show their flamenco moves. It was like a nightclub with more wrist movement.

On Sunday morning, we hopped in the car (giving a ride to a nice Irish architect) and went to Cordoba. We spent the day at the Alcazaba and the Mezquita (truly one of the most amazing combinations of Arabic and Gothic architecture I’ve ever seen). We stopped to eat in a rather touristy restaurant (think flamenco shawls draped from the balconies and a stone fountain in the courtyard), but the older waitress taught me how to do the flamenco clap, and how to move my hands when I dance.

On the way home, we accidentally took the National highway, and wound up chugging along behind tractors… lesson learned, stick to the autovía.

A nice part about the weekend for me was the chance to break out meet some other travellers. I spent hours talking with people not only about their travels, but about the bigger journey – the search they were inevitably on in some way or another…. When asked what I planned to do next by a Dutch girl, I answered, “Well, that’s the big question.” She astutely replied, “Every traveller has a Big Question.”

My big question at the moment is where I want to teach next year, and if I can find the work. But I’m trying not to worry about that until after the holidays.

Next week, I head to Barcelona for a week and then to Cadiz for New Year’s Eve. The only strange thing is that this will be the first year I spend Christmas day alone, and I’m not sure how I’ll feel about it.

Anyone want to book a last-minute flight to Barcelona and spend it with me?

2007-12-06T03:27:00.000-05:00

... Pause for Effect...
A quick apology for the lack of updates, as some people have scolded me of late (that's you, momma!). Somehow November slipped away from me.... but all is well.

I'm headed to Seville for a few days, after which I promise a real update, with details and stories and all that good stuff....

2007-11-11T17:54:00.000-05:00

How to Spend a Weekend in Almería Province...

Looking to create the perfect weekend in Almería? Here are some step-by-step instructions.

1. Begin with tapas:
Kick off the weekend with a Thursday night outing to Casa Puga, a very typical tapas bar in Almería. Drink wine and eat baby squid (so good!). Play a multilingual game of 21, until everyone is utterly confused.

Drink more wine.

2. Find the music. If you can’t find it, create it:
Wind down your Thursday evening at a small tetería (they sell tea – get your mind out of the gutter) with live music.

Enjoy the accent of the Argentinian singer, but not his out-of-tune guitar. Applaud for the guy who pretty much channels Bob Dylan. Wonder at the randomness of the old guy who gets up and tells jokes. Sip your jasmine green tea. Cheer like hell when your flatmate decides to get up and play a couple songs – even with a cold. Vow to return the next week (whether you actually do or not).

3. Remind yourself that it’s November:
On Saturday, join your flatmates and a couple of their coworkers in a trip to Laujar, a small town in the Almería part of the Alpujarras (basically a series of hills that border the Sierra Nevada, dotted with villages).

There, you will find that November is alive and well in all its autumnal splendour (changing leaves, brisk wind, falling pinecones). Even the sweet odour of half-rotted leaves will make you happy, as you walk around the pretty little ravine. After a brief stroll, step into the adjacent restaurant and gorge yourself on migas (a traditional dish of flour fried in oil – the result is almost like couscous) with blood sausage, chorizo, roasted green peppers, and other tasty treats.

4. Get deserted:
On Sunday, meet up with a couple colleagues and head out to Cabo de Gata, the large nature reserve about an hour away from Aguadulce. The whole area is a sort of desert-scape, with the occasional white stucco town, tiny beaches, and an amazingly blue sea. It’s the kind of landscape that reminds you how small you are, and how powerful nature is.

Head to the small village of Las Negras and eat paella by the roar of the sea. Stop at Playazo on the way back, and wander around. Then hit up La Isleta del Moro (apparently named that because of the North African pirate who laid claim to a particular jutting rock) for a coffee.

Arrive home content, relaxed, and ready to start a new week. Avoid work for the rest of the evening.

And how was your weekend?

2007-10-31T14:21:00.000-04:00

Intense – Like a Circus!

So last week, a travelling circus breezed into this little town of Sweetwater, and set up at the end of my street. It was literally set up overnight, and I couldn’t help but get excited. A real travelling circus!

From the roof of my building, I could see that the circus was a simple tent and about four trucks. No great shakes, but I had to witness it. So on Sunday night, after failing to convince my flatmates to join me, I ventured out alone to the Big Top.

The set-up was simple. One tent, a bunch of patio chairs, dirt floor, and some construction-type railings and fencing pieces. But what a show!! Tigers! Llamas! Camels! Bulls! Ponies! A zebra! And of course, the juggler, the balancing act, the clown, and an inexplicable act that appeared to be a person moving a life-sized doll of two people dancing around the circus ring.

OK, so the llamas, camels, zebra, etc. didn’t so much do tricks as run in circles. And the tigers looked so bored that I probably could have ridden them. To say nothing of the performers themselves – even the 8-year-old hula-hoop girls looked unimpressed. But still, it was more than I had expected.

What was most interesting, though, was the reaction of the spectators. One mother squealed with astonishment at each new animal and cried with laughter at the worse-than-sub-par clown. There was wonderment all around – adults and children alike.

I started thinking about the bizarre parade of animals, and their impact on the small audience, who had definitely not seen creatures like this up-close before. When the camels came out, the woman in front of me was so scared that she picked up her daughter and moved to the back of the tent.

See, as a big-city girl, a trip to the zoo is a de rigeur childhood experience. Being within spitting distance of a polar bear, rhinoceros and alligator doesn’t seem improbable – it’s a grade 5 field trip. But I couldn’t tell you where the nearest zoo is around here, and I doubt it’s a common outing for kids.

So I found myself wondering if the “marvels and enchantments” of the travelling circus tradition could, in fact, serve the purpose to introduce people to new and exotic creatures. Sure, nowadays, people have probably seen pictures in books and online, but to see them live is something else entirely. Animal rights concerns (and there are many) aside, I felt like this little, dusty, roadside attraction actually had an educational impact.

If there had only been a bearded lady, then the experience would have been complete.

2007-10-20T15:43:00.000-04:00

Introduction to Aguadulce

So, it’s been a few weeks, and I thought you might be interested to hear a thing or two about the latest place I’m calling home.

The Town

Aguadulce literally means “sweetwater”, which sounds like it would be better suited to a small town in Alabama. Instead, my little Spanish paradise is located 11 km from the city of Almería on the southeast coast of Andalucía, a stone’s throw from Morocco (map here). Aguadulce is basically a resort town and well-to-do suburb. This gives the town both good and bad aspects, as follows:

Bad:
- Since tourist season is past, it’s super-quiet.
- The architecture leaves something to be desired.
- The amount of ongoing developments in the region is astounding (today, as we walked to the nearby town, we counted 26 cranes in the distance!)
- There’s not a whole lot of cultural activity. Actually, there’s basically none.

Good:
- The sea is a 5-minute walk from my house, and the water is swimmable
- It’s easy to walk everywhere – school, the supermarket, the beach.
- The streets are lined with palm trees (actually, date trees!)
- Did I mention the 5-minute walk to the beach?

The Household

I live with 3 other language assistants. They are:

1. Neil, the goofy Belgian, who likes Elliott Smith and chocolate, plays a mean guitar, and makes self-deprecating jokes about his hairy chest.

2 & 3. Suzy and Greg, an American couple who are funny, energetic, and quick studies at card games (I taught them Spite and Malice, and they're hooked!).

As a household, we get along pretty well, and have had excursions to Almería and Granada together, as well as many an evening watching Scrubs and Heroes – we’re even developing inside jokes!

The Work

The school that I'm working in is basically a high school, with an age range of about 11 to 18 or so.

We are working in English classes as well as Immersion classes (Math, Music, Physics, Social Studies, etc.). We're there to help the teachers with their classes and plan communicative activities with the students. This, of course, works better with some classes than others. Most of the teachers seem pretty cool, and open to different ideas.

The nice bonus is that Friday is our day off, so if I want to travel, I always have a 3-day weekend...

The General Impression (so far…)

It’s always hard at first, when you hit the left-my-life-behind-but-haven't-made-a-new-one-yet doldrums… But that moment is always temporary, and I’m already starting to settle in. I've been missing Barcelona a lot, but I try not to compare the two experiences...

Mostly, I've been trying to figure out exactly what my goals are while I'm here, and to focus on those. The two major goals are to travel around Spain, and to gain as much teaching experience as possible. If I can work toward those goals, then this year will be a success…

2007-10-14T09:23:00.000-04:00

The Pause that Refreshes...

Hi, there. Remember me? It sure has been a while...

I wasn't really updating because I actually figured no one really read this thing. But surprise! People do. So I guess I should get my ass in gear and start updating regularly.

In an effort to catch up, here is a quick bullet point list of what I've been doing since the last update:

1. Iceland Part 2 -- This was actually the bulk of my time in Iceland, and the indescribable reason why I haven't quite let go of that country yet. Part 2 included a second volunteer workcamp which was great fun, a four-day solo hike through some of the most amazing landscapes I've ever seen, and some travel up the northeast coast, and around the Golden Circle.
2. The Long Way Home -- It took 7 days to get back to Canada from Reykjavik, mainly because I went via Dublin and Barcelona. I got home to Toronto in late July.
3. All Play and No Work... -- In an effort to balance out all the fun I had for 7 months, I launched right back into work for the summer, winding up with a to-do list that was 2 pages long before the first day was out. Trouble is, I was having fun -- I enjoyed the work I was doing, the people I was working with, and the return to a daily routine. Seriously, something must be wrong with me.
4. Friends and Family -- I enjoyed the hell out of my summer in Toronto -- spending time doing some of the things I knew I'd miss (Cafe Volo! Justin Rutledge!). Photos of some shenanigans are here. The only regret: I didn't get to spend enough time with my little sister.
5. West Coast Chillin' -- I managed to get over to Oregon to see my moms for a few days. It was nice and relaxing, and so great to see them.

And last but not least....

6. Escape to España -- In which I made a move to the south of Spain, where I will be teaching English in a secondary school for the year. I got to Aguadulce (a small resort town on the Andalucía Coast) last week, and am gradually getting comfortable. This will likely be the subject of many entries to come.

Well, that pretty much brings us up to date. Now back to your regularly scheduled programme.

2007-07-15T13:48:00.000-04:00

Iceland, part 1 -- The Viking Festival

I arrived in Hafnarfjordur and met the group of volunteers. The first evening, we enjoyed a nice dinner and some getting-to-know-you games. On the second day, we began work, unloading all of the material to build the market and setting up the tents and such. Good physically taxing work. Over the next couple days, the vikings arrived and the festival began in earnest.

After a few days, we packed up some of the tents and went to Saudakrokur, a town in the north of the country, for a few days. While there, we got to see the amazing island of Drangey, home to a million puffins and the place where Grettir the Strong was killed. The island is 176m high, and the climb up was a challenge to my fear of heights (especially the metal ladder at the very end).

But the highlight of the festival, for me anyway, was the vikings. I met some absolutely incredible people, who made me feel like part of the family. They were kind, generous, open, friendly, and a hell of a lot of fun. And that was before the beer started flowing... (To talk about the viking nightlife, including raucous songs and painful-looking games, I'd need a whole other entry. But next time you see me in person, ask about it...)

I need to specifically mention Nis, Sara, David, Gunnar, Tatiana and little Venya, who were truly instrumental in making the experience special for me.

More Photos:
The volunteers
Viking festival
Drangey

2007-07-14T18:25:00.000-04:00

Back in Ireland

I got back to Dublin this afternoon, though apparently, my luggage has decided to take the scenic route and do some sightseeing in London...

The entire experience of Iceland has been pretty indescribable, but I will do my best. Over the next couple days, I will post separate entries for the various parts of my trip.

But tonight, I'm going to step outside and experience the dark of nighttime for the first time in 6 weeks...

2007-06-22T09:07:00.000-04:00

Iceland

So I'm at about the halfway point of my journey in the land of ice and fire.

I spent the first two weeks working on the Viking Festival in Hafnarfjörður, which was great great fun. We helped build the tents (which I loved), worked the cafe and restaurant, and generally made ourselves available for anyone who needed a hand. (I, for example, wound up spending a day making Viking bread in one of the tents). The Vikings were so friendly and welcoming (a few in particular blew me away with their warmth and generosity), and I began to consider becoming a Viking myself.

We spent a few days in Sauðarkrokur, a city in the north of the country, and saw some incredible landscapes around there. We did an excursion to the island of Drangey, which is home to about a million puffins, and features the steepest and most frightening climb I have ever had to do. But the beauty and peace at the top is worth it, and we lay in the long grass and listened to our guide tell us the story of Grettir the Strong (protagonist of Grettir's Saga), who lived and died on the island.

A couple days ago, the festival came to an end, and we had a backbreaking day of disassembling and storing the tents and structures until next year.

In the meantime, I changed all of my plans for the rest of my visit....
I wanted to support the volunteer organization that was involved with the Viking festival, as it's a young group and has a good environmental focus. So when another work opportunity became available with them, I cancelled my original plan and signed up with them.

As a result, I've come to Reykjavik for the week to help out with the International Children's Games. The work is a bit boring, but it's a nice event -- essentially the Olympics for the 12-15-year-old set.

On Monday, we head off to Þorsmörk, a mountain/glacier/volcanic valley in the south of the country. We'll spend a week clearing, marking and building hiking trails, which I'm greatly looking forward to. (I was hoping for more physically demanding work during these volunteer opportunities, and there hasn't really been much.)

When the workcamp is finished, my plan is to do a 3-4 day hike from Þorsmörk (apparently you walk directly between 2 glaciers!) and then resume my original plan to tour the country in 6 or so days...

I might be ambitious with everything I want to do and see (the buses are pretty infrequent, and run on "Icelandic" time, which means... erm... whenever they feel like it), but we'll see what I can accomplish...

Since I don't have my laptop at hand, I will have to post photos of the amazing landscapes when I return.

In other news
I've been accepted into the Teaching and Cultural assistant program in Spain for the fall. I'll be headed off to Andalucia (city still to be determined) in late September... I can't wait!

In the interim, I'm looking forward to being home for a while (I'll be back in TO on July 20th), regrouping a bit, and having many patio drinks with everyone to catch up!

2007-06-02T17:21:00.000-04:00

Final Days in Ireland

As my time in Ireland comes to an end (I head off to Iceland in the morning), I've been trying to pack in as much sightseeing as possible. To do this, I set off on a 3-day whirlwind tour of the south, arranged by Paddywagon Tours.

I admit that I had some reservations at first -- the Paddywagon website (and building and vehicles) had an oi-me-Lucky-Charms aesthetic, and I worried that the sheep-and-shamrock approach would be frankly a bit irritating. But a visit to their office reassured me. Our guides are proud to be Irish, the girl assured me, but they don't dress up as leprechauns or anything... I was convinced, and signed on.

What an amazing experience! I kissed the Blarney stone, walked along the cliffs of Moher and met some wonderful people.

Here are some of the highlights of the trip:

Day 1:

- Freezing picnic in Clonmacnoise (see the Celtic crosses)
- Discover our guide's amazing cow-whispering abilities (he would moo out the bus window, and all the cows would come toward us.)

- Wander around Galway

- Dinner in Galway

- Dance to live Irish tunes

Day 2:

- Climb up the limestone rocks of Burren (where Tolkein got inspiration for Lord of the Rings)

- Toss coins into a roadside fountain for a wish

- Dip feet in the ocean in County Clare

- Visit the cliffs of Moher

- Dinner and Irish-themed shots in Killarney

- Drinks and old-school rock cover tunes

Day 3:

- Skip the morning carriage ride, due to downpour

- Kiss the Blarney stone in the pouring rain

- Check out an amazing natural cave

- Long and tired drive home

The People

We were 20-odd in the bus, mostly from Australia, New Zealand and (surprisingly) Canada, with some Germans, Croatians and Mongolians thrown in. I admit that I got excited about being around Canadians again, and I spent some of the time with two girls from Ottawa and two girls from Montreal (one via Vancouver).

But it was the lovely Croatian ladies -- Franka and Ivana -- who were the highlight of my trip. We clicked instantly, and laughed, danced and talked our way through the rest of the trip. I learned more Croatian in 3 days than I've learned Irish. Thanks ladies!

Trading the R for a C

Tomorrow morning I head off to Iceland for six weeks of volunteer work... I don't know exactly what to expect, but I can't wait!

2007-05-26T11:10:00.000-04:00

Rebels and Writers...

Kilmainham Jail was built in 1796, and has held many important prisoners in Irish history, as well as petty criminals and thieves (including lots of people stealing food during the famine). 14 prominent leaders of the 1916 rebellion were executed by firing squad in the courtyard. One of the rebels was so sick (and said to be dying already) that he had to be carried in on a stretcher and tied to a chair in order to face the firing squad. Pretty redundant, if you ask me, but I guess that's the way capital punishment works...

The jail is an interesting piece of Irish history, and the setting for a few movies (In the Name of the Father, for example). It was closed in 1924, and remains open as a museum.

After visiting the jail, we went to a literary pub crawl. Led by two local actors, the crawl covers a few venerable boozy joints (and a couple of non-boozy ones) that relate to Irish literature. The actors kept us entertained between pints by performing scenes from Beckett, Joyce and Wilde, among others.

A few days later, I went out to Sandy Cove to visit the James Joyce tower. OK, James Joyce only lived there for about a month (without paying rent), but it's now a museum dedicated to him.

The tiny stone steps were challenging to climb, but the view from the tower is lovely.

On Monday, I head off for a 3-day tour of southern Ireland (to kiss the Blarney stone and all that touristy stuff), and then it's a whirlwind of preparation for the Iceland trip!

2007-05-18T07:23:00.000-04:00

Space Invaders!

OK, so I have been a fan of the Space Invaders for many many years. Not necessarily the videogame (though that's pretty rad, too), but the actual little creatures. When I was in my ironic-T-shirt-wearing phase, I had one that featured the little guys emblazoned across my chest, with the phrase I scored with Space Invaders... I know, so clever -- but it made me some friends.

I first heard about the Space Invaders project when I worked at Shift Magazine -- a good 6 or 7 years ago. I'm a great admirer of anonymous public art, and was particularly interested in the international scope of this one... Over the years, I've kept loose tabs on the project -- one man, some tiles, and a whole globe to cover. I admit that every time I travel, the hope of seeing a Space Invader crosses my mind at least once.

Imagine my delight the other day, walking home with Diana, when I suddenly noticed one of the little guys sitting there on the wall. It was my version of celebrity-spotting -- I got quite excited.

Meanwhile, Back at the Ranch....

I'm officially going to Iceland!

As of this morning, I received confirmation for the two workcamps I wanted to do -- a Viking Festival and a Folk Festival -- and am now scouting airfares and other details. I'm looking forward to the physical challenge of the workcamp, and the opportunity to check out Iceland. True, it's not exactly a fun-in-the-sun summer holiday, but that would be boring anyway...

I'll be headed over there the first week of June, and staying until mid-July... Happy days!

On the vanity front, I cut off about half of my hair -- giving me the shortest hair I've had in over 10 years! It will take some getting used to, but I'm pretty pleased with the results:

2007-05-14T20:22:00.000-04:00

On Belfast and Turning 30…

I went to Belfast last Wednesday to see my sister. I was so excited to see her, to hang out with family, to be around a familiar person. We only spent two days together, but those two days rejuvenated me, and gave me renewed strength… (Thanks, Laura!)

Our magnificent host Ollie dutifully took us to his local watering hole (the infamous Bot), introduced us to his buddies, and gave us a consolidated history lesson of Belfast. We took a taxi tour through the Catholic and Protestant neighbourhoods of West Belfast. Looking at the peace wall that separates the areas (the gates are still closed at night), you realize just how recent the violent history is. The murals are compelling (and quite militant) and the fortifications on the houses near the wall (steel barriers to prevent damage from flying bricks) remind you that the current peace is still quite tenuous.

This is not ancient history -- this is now. When we got out of the taxi on the Protestant side to take pictures, Ollie commented that a few years back, he wouldn’t even have gotten out of the car. Everyone I talked to had a family member or friend who had been affected by the “troubles.”

My sister left on Friday, and on Saturday, I met up with Diana and Tom, who drove up to celebrate Tom’s father’s 60th birthday party. The party was great fun, with good food and people and music.

At about 12:20am, I was chatting with a friend of the family when she casually asked me how old I was. I shyly replied, “actually, as of about 20 minutes ago, I’m officially 30.” This sparked a bit of hoopla (which I had been sort of trying to avoid), and it was decided that my birthday needed to be marked in some way. The result was a few shots of vodka, and a photo (below) to commemorate the moment. Personally, I thought using the bananas to form the 3 (Diana’s idea) was a stroke of genius…

So how do I feel now that I’m 30? Hard to say. Not that different, really. I’m still unsure about where exactly I’m going. And it’s still a lonely journey. But I’m feeling more motivated now, and I have a feeling that it won’t be long before I’m back in action…

2007-05-09T06:03:00.000-04:00

Donegal – Everything and Nothing

The first thing you notice about Donegal are the colours. The powerful combination of green hills, blue ocean, sandy beaches, and brooding skies means you are always looking at a fantastic mix of contrasting shades. Throw in some meandering sheep and cows, and the occasional brightly painted house, and you’re pretty much walking through a living painting.

There is actually very little agriculture in Donegal. For all its aesthetic, the soil is actually pretty poor and most of the land is devoted to peat and grazing livestock. The roads are not in the best condition (driving on the narrow winding roads is taking your life into your hands – which we did a lot), and the climate is strangely temperamental (you can get an idea from the cloud formations in the pictures below).

We were there for Tom’s friend’s birthday party, and stayed at a very cute B&B right near a beach. We spent most of our time wandering around Donegal to see the sights (waterfalls! the ocean! frolicking lambs!) and breathing in the fresh (and windy) air. Among other things, we ate phenomenal seafood chowder at Nancy’s, played a game of Pitch ‘n’ Putt (yes, I actually played golf), wandered into the Atlantic ocean (I made it up to my knees, but Diana, armed with a wetsuit and went all the way in), and drank Buckfast (a Donegal, um, specialty that tastes like carbonated cherry wine) in the back of a minibus.

Diana says Donegal is her favourite part of Ireland, and I can see why. The stunning terrain and laid-back lifestyle of the area are pretty mesmerizing…. I’d go there again in a heartbeat.

And Speaking of Birthdays…

So here I am, staring down the barrel of my Dirty Thirty. Who could believe it? Though it seems strange to have a birthday in a place that is not home and where I don’t have friends, it seems kind of fitting. I don’t have to go through the anxiety attack that often accompanies 30 – that “Oh my god, what am I doing with my life?” feeling. After all, I’m smack in the middle of that already.

No specific plans for my birthday – in fact, I’m not sure if I will still be in Belfast or back in Dublin. But I’m sure there will be some pre-birthday celebrations in Belfast with my sister. Which reminds me, I need to go catch the bus to Belfast now…

2007-05-07T21:13:00.000-04:00

Dublin – A Brief (and Overdue) Synopsis

Apologies for the radio silence... the last 3 weeks have been a bit of a blur. I admit that I have done a lot of relaxing, reading and generally being a slug, but I have actually managed to get out and do things somewhere in there…

Dublin is a busy and cool city. It’s very walkable, safe, and quite pleasant. Though it’s not a hot-bed of architectural treasures, there’s definitely a sense of history that permeates. Because Dublin is becoming a hip (and expensive) international city, you occasionally get a feeling of cosmopolitan growing pains: fashionable bars nestle into the banks of the Liffey River among the traditional Irish pubs – but Guinness is always to be had.

There’s been plenty to do around here. Among other things, I’ve touched a mummified body at St. Michan’s, crawled through a subterranean tunnel at Knowth, admired graffiti from 1808 (no kidding) in the neolithic passage grave at Newgrange, chatted with a man at Christ Church about the floor tiles and the Franciscan-Benedictine monk rivalry, walked along the cliffs in Howth, and chewed roasted barley at the Guinness Brewery. And yes, I’ve had a few pints here and there.

Last weekend Diana and Tom and I went to Donegal, which I will do a separate entry about, and this week I’m off to Belfast for a couple days to see my sister – I can’t wait!

A sampling of photographs are below (when I get myself together, I’ll put up a proper slideshow of everything I have).

And on the continuing plans…

The hardest thing when I meet people is when they ask me how long I’m here for, or what I’m doing. I can’t seem to find an adequate answer. One guy put it well when he said that I was like the subplot of a comic book – in the “Meanwhile…” phase. I liked that.

I’m still working out some plans for the fall… Grad school? Back to Spain? Something else? The irons are in the fire, and I’ll let you know what happens.

I’m also starting to hatch some evil schemes for volunteer work in the summer – I’m thinking Iceland.

More to come on that.

2007-04-16T11:21:00.000-04:00

Dublin - Week 1

The weirdest thing about being in Dublin is hearing English.

When you're in a country where you don't speak the language, you tune out conversations that go on around you. Incomprehensible to you, they become white noise. But your ear becomes fine-tuned to languages that you recognize. In Switzerland, if anyone within a one-block radius was speaking English, French or Spanish, I knew. It was like a homing beacon.

Even in Spain, where I understood the conversation around me, English conversation reverberated at a particular pitch in my ear. Usually, it made me cross the street to get away, but the point is that I could always pick it out.

So imagine the feeling when I walked down O'Connell Street a few days ago. At first, I heard the people next to me, and thought, Hey, I understand them! How cool is that? And of course, I had to remind myself that I am in an English-speaking country. Just like that, my natural tendency to eavesdrop was turned up to 11. Suddenly I could hear every conversation, every uttered word, all at once. A bit overwhelming, I must say.

You know in the movies, when a character suddenly gets the power to hear people's thoughts, and all of the thoughts come rushing in all at once, indistinguishably, chaotically, and the character feels like they might go mad? That’s the way I feel right now. There is way too much noise in my head. It's going to take a little time to get used to.

Now, as long as I don't get crushed by a car driving on the left side of the road, I'll be just fine.

No pictures yet, but I will put some up as soon as I've got them....

2007-04-13T07:19:00.000-04:00

Everything Was Beautiful, and Nothing Hurt

Some sad news this week.... Kurt Vonnegut, Jr., passed away on Wednesday.

I mention this because Vonnegut has always been one of my favourite authors. An inspiration in his witty and sarcastic ability to expose a stark and often painful truth, his novels have a special place in my heart. In fact, on Wednesday night, by complete coincidence, Diana and I were talking about Slaughterhouse Five.

Whenever people play the game of Who would you have dinner with, living or dead? my answer is always the same: Kurt Vonnegut. I'd make steamed artichokes. We'd laugh a lot, and he would help me with the dishes. I've always liked the answer, because it seemed somehow plausible.

When I mentioned Vonnegut's death to Diana, she informed me that we went to high school with his grandson. How had I not known this?

We are here on Earth to fart around, and don't let anybody tell you any different. - Kurt Vonnegut, Jr.

2007-04-09T17:29:00.001-04:00

On Boredom, Art and Mountains…

I have been bouncing around like a pinball in Zurich, killing time before my next move (to Dublin on Wednesday), and am beginning to go stir crazy. Everything here is too perfect. Even the hoodlum kids who drink beer by the riverbank dutifully deposit their empties into the nearby garbage cans. The closest I have gotten to a seedy underbelly of this city was drinking absinthe with a couple of leery but very nerdy Swiss men that I met in a pub near my hotel.

At the very least, there is some decent art to be seen. I spent an entire afternoon at the Kunsthaus, checking out the Rodin exhibit and their varied permanent collection, and another at the industrial design museum which had a couple of very specialized exhibits. A third afternoon was spent in the park by the lake, reading Chuck Palahniuk (you were right, Jesus! I loved it!) and checking out the Le Courboisier Pavilion (closed, unfortunately, but neat from the outside anyway).

Today I took the train into Luzern to spend the day. Luzern is a bit smaller than Zurich, but just as idyllic. The air is a bit crisper, and you can see the mountains (see photo above). I walked around for 5 hours, visiting the churches and crisscrossing the river over the two medieval bridges. I conquered my fears and climbed the stairs of the ancient city ramparts to enjoy the spectacular view. And of course, I continued my ongoing quest to take a decent self-portrait without feeling like a complete dork (as yet unsuccessful)…

Now I’m back at my hotel, where I plan to spend the evening watching CSI in three languages (it’s equally predictable in German) and eating chocolate in bed…

Happy Easter!

2007-04-04T05:48:00.000-04:00

Hello, Zurich? Disney called. They want their movie set back.

Zurich might just be the perfect city. The streets are clean and cobblestoned. The people are beautiful and speak Swiss German (like German sprinkled with fairy dust). The water of the river is so clear, I have to resist the temptation to strip off my clothes and dive right in. Sure, it’s ridiculously expensive, but that’s the price you pay for perfection.

So what could be wrong?

I’ve wandered around for two days, and I’ve found myself thinking, “Come on! This can’t actually be real!” I’ve seen daffodils and baby swans and honeysuckle (I’m not making that up), and skies that were so blue even the clouds seemed idyllic. I keep waiting for someone (probably me) to lean up against the wrong thing, and for this whole, 2-dimensional façade - this movie set - to come crashing down.

Frankly, Zurich might just be too perfect. I find myself wondering, don’t these people get bored? Where’s the dirt and the chaos and the seedy underbelly that makes the heart beat just a little faster?

I went into Grossmunster (pictured above), and found it underwhelming. A couple of densely coloured stained glass windows, but otherwise unimpressive.

At a bakery near my hotel, they had sandwiches that were glazed like pastries. Salami, pickle and boiled egg beckoned in eerily shiny perfection. I bought one, not because I was hungry, but just because I was curious. The sandwich was, I think, a bit like Zurich – perfection to the eye, ordinary flavour.

In a way, this is the ideal setting for me right now. This implacable beauty and calm helps me approach my inner chaos (the part of me that ravenously wants to be back in Barcelona) with some disconnection. And yet, at every turn, I feel just a little more visible – like my inner turmoil might boil to the surface, and they might kick me out of the city for being, you know, not perfect enough...

2007-04-01T07:57:00.000-04:00

Reflections on a Barcelona Experience

Today is my last day in Spain.

The last 3 months have been some of the best times of my entire life. When I got here, I expected that I would have some difficulties, a few small successes and a healthy dose of homesickness. It didn't work that way. Instead, I accomplished more than I even thought possible -- both professionally and personally.

Ever since I realized that I was leaving the city, I've been living like I was 20 years old -- staying up most of the night and stumbling into work in the morning. I decided to set aside any decision-making and truly enjoy the time I had left in the city. And enjoy it I did -- to the fullest.

In the last week I've been hyper-aware of how much I have actually settled into this city. In the last week, 4 strangers have asked me for directions on the street, and I was able to answer all of them. I've come to love the spontaneous nature of a neighbourhood festival (when a dragon, fireworks and a marching band pass below your window unexpectedly, you just look, smile, and go back to your lunch.) I've found a local bar where I feel at home (sadly, I just found it in the last two weeks). I've met enough people that I coincidentally run into them on the street or at concerts. I've seen contemporary classical concerts in auditoriums and jazz or flamenco bands in smokey back rooms (sometimes all in one night).

I've met some amazing people, from amazing places (Italy, Germany, Argentina, Catalunya, Cadiz, New Zealand, to name a few...). I've had incredible students who truly made me feel like a great teacher. I've laughed and clapped and toasted, and maybe even loved a tiny bit.

But there are still a lot of things that I never did. Below, a shortlist:
- I never went into Sagrada Familia
- I never stayed up past sunrise (almost, but the time change saved me...)
- I never stepped in dogshit (this isn't something I wanted to do, but it's nothing short of a miracle that it never happened)
- I never learned Catalan
- I never stepped into the sea
- I never went up Mont Juic
- I never learned enough about the local politics

All of this to say that I need to come back. And I will. Somehow.

It's been raining in Barcelona for the last few days, and I have joked that Barcelona is crying about my departure. It's a joke, but it keeps me from having waterworks of my own...

Tonight, I board an overnight train to Zurich with no idea of where I will be next week or what I'll be doing. It's a strange feeling, but I've been pretty calm about the whole thing (at least so far). But the melancholy is starting to sink in, and will likely increase the further away I get. I expect at least a few tearful Swiss days...

2007-03-24T10:07:00.000-04:00

Calcotada - The Way of The Onion

Last weekend, I went to a calcotada, a festival that is typical in small towns in Catalunya in February and March. The festival involves calcots, which are a kind of sweet onion (bigger than a green onion, smaller than a leek) that is grown here. The onions are cooked on an open fire and then served up with a special dipping sauce.

We had been trying to get to a small town to experience the calcotada, but we couldn't seem to get co-ordinated. And then Jesus (looking tough with me in the picture below) mentioned that there was one happening a square about 2 blocks from my house. My neighbourhood is awesome. It was an amazingly sunny day, so a few of us wandered down to enjoy the event. The square was packed, and we waited for quite a while to get our food, but the sun and beer made the time pass pleasantly...

Eating a calcot is a messy affair. First you have to peel the charred skin back to expose the cooked onion, then you dip it into the sauce and drop it into your mouth. The onions are sweet and soft, and very tasty. We also had plates loaded with butifarra (blood sausage), pan tomate (a traditional Catalan bread rubbed with tomato) and some other stuff. Between the five of us, we shared two plates of food and left contented and full -- with black fingernails and messy mouths.

The event was actually organized as a political event that had something to do with the okupas (squatters). There was music and speeches, but since my understanding of Catalan is pretty poor, I wasn't exactly clear on the message. But I did understand the song they sang about a certain idiot in Washington...

It was a fantastic day with sun, beer, food, and excellent company.

In sadder news...

Due to a visa problem, I am actually going to have to leave Barcelona at the end of the month. It came up unexpectedly, and I am now scrambling to decide my next move.

I'm sad to leave, but I'm taking a longview of the situation. I have really had an amazing experience these last few months and have done more than I expected to do, so there are no regrets. And Barcelona is not over for me -- I will be back.

For the moment, I will be on a train to Zurich next weekend, where I'll spend a week clearing my head and regrouping. So you can look forward to future entries about chocolate and political neutrality...

2007-03-16T12:41:00.000-04:00

A Religious Experience?

When you sit in the Basilica de Santa Maria del Mar, you can understand why people would feel religious fervour... the place is impressively stunning (see the link for pics). And Wednesday's performance of Mozart's Requiem in the Basilica was probably the closest I will ever get to a religious experience.

The performance itself wasn't spectacular (the choir lacked the necessary power, and the pace occasionally raced like a runaway train), but the combination of the location, the acoustics, and one of my absolute favourite pieces of music made it completely worthwhile. It was especially poignant because I've been listening to that requiem a fair bit since my grandfather passed away a few weeks ago.

I usually get strange looks when I go to the symphony, because I bob my head to the music as if it were a rock concert. It's probably terribly uncouth of me, but I can't help it. I was delighted to discover that Luca's friend Jesus, who was sitting next to me, did the exact same thing.

I resisted the urge, however, to pump my fist in the air and make devil horns with my fingers... Do you think it would have been too much?

2007-03-04T16:39:00.000-05:00

Lazy Sunday, Spanish Style

Elena and I had a couple of people over for a Mexican fiesta lunch. The weather was amazingly co-operative and the sun was decidedly Corona-worthy.

We woke late (there was much music-playing and general reveling last night), and were worried that we wouldn’t get our act together in time. Elena acted as chef extraordinaire, and I served double duty as sous-chef (a.k.a. veggie-cutter) and dessert chef.

After some unfortunate mishaps with the tortillas (and sending one of our guests running to the store for replacements), we managed to crank out some mean quesadillas, guacamole and black-bean-tomato goodness. One guest supplied the Corona and Negra Modelo and the feast was complete!

We topped the lunch off with a fruit salad, garnished with sliced chirimoyas (a tropical fruit that I had never seen until I got here – tastes like a cross between pear and apple), sugared dried figs and Lindt chocolate. In the photo below, Luca is halfway through his dessert, and already eyeing mine!

After lunch, Elena and I decided that we needed a walk, so we hopped the metro to the beach. It was actually my first time at the beach, and despite a late-afternoon chill, it was wonderful to see the sea. We sat on the boardwalk, drank coffee, chatted and watched a spectacular sunset that made the sky and water turn a variety of breathtakingly unnatural colours.

Now it’s back to work, hitting the books and planning for a long day of classes tomorrow. Oh, auxiliary verbs and question tags, what would my life be without you?

2007-03-03T11:55:00.000-05:00

My Kingdom for a Horse

Today was the fiesta de Sant Medir (apparently the patron saint of horses) in my neighbourhood. The festival is intended to bless the horses, so local riding associations take to the streets to celebrate.

After being woken by the Spanish version of a 21-gun salute (more like 35 guns, I’d say), my roommate and I wandered the barrio to catch the festivities.

Every street was filled with groups of drummers, people on horseback, and trucks filled with people throwing candy to the spectators. Children and adults alike were filling huge bags with the candy that they caught.

We stopped in a bakery to get breakfast, and the bakers had a pile of candy that they were throwing out the window at the trucks. As we stood there, a group of drummers came marching toward us – right toward us. They then marched into the bakery and back out the other door, much to our amusement. Fortunately, the horses didn’t follow suit.

After wandering around, collecting candy, we went to a plaza for a nice lunch, and then to market to visit my favourite dry-goods stand (the lady there is very patient with my ignorance of baking vocabulary…).

We’re now sitting in another plaza, enjoying the late-afternoon sun (and balmy temperatures), having a tea, and taking advantage of the available Wifi…

Ah, this is the life.

2007-02-15T14:20:00.000-05:00

A room with a view

OK, not really, but it's an apartment with a view... I have moved into my little flat two weeks ago, and am settling into the daily routine.

The flat is in Gracia, the same neighbourhood as Carmen's house, on a pedestrian street, right across from a market. The neighbourhood is full of squares, shops, cafes and bars, and has a real community feel to it. I have already chosen my favourite stalls in the market for veggies, pasta and charcuterie, as the French say.

The flat is narrow, with an impossibly tiny bathroom and kitchen (only two of us fit in at once), and a cute little balcony that opens onto the street and market. My room is in the middle, and is a very decent size...

I have two roommates -- an Italian architect who has been in Barcelona for a year, and an American teacher who got here about the same time as me. They are pictured above in our first official "family" dinner. We get along great, and laugh a lot...

Work has been a haul -- both of my schools have been giving me classes, and I now have a schedule of about 27 teaching hours a week! My students are at all different levels, and it's been tough to plan them all. Still, I'm having a blast.

Some highlights of my teaching career so far:
- teaching on/in/near/under by getting my two students to stand on/in/near/under their chairs.
- substitute teaching a class of teenagers, and teaching them how to say "Yeah, right!" with appropriate teenage sarcasm (they worked it into a dialogue in the next class!)
- my beginner student, an older businessman, who laughed all the way through our first class as I walked out of the classroom, and then walked back in and re-introduced myself like I'd never seen him before.

A fellow teacher saw me the other day and said, "You're always smiling." It was the first time I noticed it, but it's true. I'm tired and busy and worried about where this adventure is going, but there is not a day that goes by that I'm not happy.

Which is new for me.

2007-02-01T15:22:00.000-05:00

Anatomy of a Barcelona Building

When you first walk into a building, you are not on the 1st floor, you are on the 0th floor (that's right, the zeroth floor).

The next floor up is called planta principal (main floor) or sometimes entresuelo (middle ground). Occasionally you will have a building that has both a principal AND an entresuelo.
Are you counting? So far, you've reached the equivalent of the 3rd floor in a Canadian building.
After that, you reach the 1st floor...

This is a useful thing to consider when you are looking for places to live. You will need to walk up a minimum of 3 flights of stairs just to reach the 2nd floor...

And that's the floor that my new place is on. I'm moving in on the weekend. Pictures will be forthcoming...

2007-01-24T16:21:00.000-05:00

And just like that -- I'm suddenly busy...

I've only been in this country three weeks, and I suddenly feel insanely busy. I've spent today running around, hoping I'll make it to the next place in time for my class/appointment/whatever... How does this happen to me?

Here's the lowdown on everything that's been going on...

The work situation:
I've had an amazing amount of luck with the job search -- getting positive responses on the first day I started handing out resumes.

I've managed to get classes at a couple schools. The first is a smaller institute, where I have one class with 3 students. I feel pretty good about the class (well, today I do -- I think they actually had fun in tonight's class), and the director has been really good about giving me personal attention and guidance. I think it's a good environment for a new teacher like me.

The other school is a larger academy. They've given me a couple of one-on-one classes, and it looks like they're lining up one or two more for me. The advantage of this place is that there will be more opportunities to pick up classes.

So all in all, I'm up to about 9 or 10 hours of class a week, which is way better than I had expected.

The living situation:
I'm finally starting to look for a room to rent, and hoping that I can stay in the same neighbourhood, as it's lovely, and within walking distance of both of the schools. I've seen a couple of places, but nothing that has amazed me just yet.

And who could forget the social life?
I've met two other Canadians (one is a fellow teacher), and I've been spending some time with them, but I'm still trying to figure out how to break through the Catalunyan coldness and make some honest-to-goodness Barcelona friends.

Last weekend, the teachers from the smaller institute went to an Indian restaurant on a street off of La Rambla. The area was pretty sketchy, and we all went for a beer first at a bar down the street. We'd been there about 5 minutes when the power went out all the way down the block. 5 minutes after that, 4 cop cars went screaming by the window. My favourite part was that no one batted an eyelash -- we all just kept drinking our beer and chatting in the dark.

There's a little bar in the plaza near Carmen's place, which I've chosen as my spot to go when I need to write or read with a beer. The second time I went there, the guy behind the bar (Mexican, incidentally) said, so, are you moving in here, or what?

I feigned shock, but it was nice to be recognized and remembered...

2007-01-15T08:12:00.000-05:00

Park Guell (Gaudí, part II)

This weekend I walked up to the Park Guell, one of the most well-known Gaudí attractions (second only to Sagrada Familia, which I have been to twice, but am not ready to comment on just yet).

Guell, Gaudí’s most loyal patron, intended to create a community of 60 or so houses. But the project was a flop, and the city took the land over as a park. A fantastic place to waste a Saturday afternoon, I thought, so off I went.

The first thing you see when you go in are two bizarre stone-and-tile buildings that look like gingerbread houses on acid.

The main stairwell is guarded by a tile lizard (I won’t put a picture – I’m sure you’ve seen it), and opens into a hall of columns (originally intended to be a market). These columns support the main courtyard with its snaking mosaic bench (said to be patterned after the indents of a human body in plaster). Off to one side is a grotto-like passageway carved out beneath the main pathways:

The best thing about Gaudí is the details. He makes these wild fantastical structures, but it’s the little extra touches I like – a ceiling mosaic, a hidden detail or an unexplored corner:

After an hour or so of gawking, I left most of the crowds behind and headed up a series of meandering paths (both intentional and unintentional) that twist and turn through the rest of the park. I wandered for 3 hours, accompanied by a soundtrack of Elliott Smith and Sacha. I even momentarily conquered my fear of heights to shimmy up the narrow staircase of the torre de tres cruzes and look over the city, and I spied on a young musician who sat among the trees and sang in French and Italian.

There’s lots more to see in Park Guell (I didn’t go into the house or the museum), but that will be for another day…

In more me-related news

People have asked how things are going on the work front. It’s going well – much better than I expected – but I’m going to hold off on the details for now. Call me superstitious, but I’d rather not talk about the possibilities until they are confirmed.

But suffice to say there have been some pleasant surprises, which gives me some hope, and still more determination.

2007-01-10T09:08:00.000-05:00

It's the little things....

When I don't know where to put my fare as I get on the bus, I feel like an idiot.
When I find my stop without having to ask the driver, I feel like a genius.

I feel like a newborn -- I have to relearn everything. What does a supermarket look like? Where can I get a bottle of wine? Do pedestrians have the right of way? Do people look each other in the eye on the street?

It's all these unwritten subtexts and cultural codes that we take for granted when we are at home... All this relearning makes everything feel like a super-human effort (oh my god! I actually managed to buy a quart of milk! I'm the king!), but it's fun, too. And it makes you evaluate the semiotics of everything -- how many of our cultural symbols we internalize and understand without even noticing.

I'm curious to see how long it takes me to internalize the Barcelona way of life (well, of course it's closed between 2:00 and 4:00pm! I mean, who in their right mind would be *open* at that hour?). It's all about learning the rhythm of a city -- culturally, temporally and emotionally...

In other news... some statistics from my first day of job-hunting:

Total schools visited: 7
Resumes delivered: 4
Snooty brits who told me "only EU citizens" and hung up: 1
Times I was asked "where are you from?" (including the corner store guy): 5
Schools that were closed (between 2:00 and 4:00pm): 2
Schools that were on my list, but didn't actually exist: 1
Blisters on my feet: 1
Directors who introduced themselves: 2
Times someone couldn't pronounce my name: all of them
Schools that asked me to come in and teach a test class: 1 (woohoo!)
Kilometres walked: no idea -- a lot

All in all, a pretty successful first day, I think...

2007-01-06T11:09:00.000-05:00

Tourist Days

I will have lots to say about Gaudí during my stay here, but yesterday I went up to the Casa Milà, affectionately known as La Pedrera (the Stone Quarry), so I thought I’d share some initial thoughts.
The building is part corral reef, part medieval grotto, with its snaking hallways and arched brick attic. There isn’t a straight wall in the place -- legend has it that when asked by a resident where to put a grand piano, Gaudí responded simply, “Get a violin”.

The pièce de résistance is the rooftop terrace, with its undulating waves of stone and anthropomorphized chimneys (see photos above). Here, stone is made light by giving it human form and an abundance of personality. The forms are at once oppressive and amusing, and one has the strange impression of being among friends.

Of course, when the building was completed in 1912, the Milà family who had commissioned it was aghast, and denounced it as unlivable. But then, what could they have expected when they commissioned Gaudí??

Down the street from Casa Milà is the Casa Batllo, another Gaudí creation and decidedly my favourite building in Barcelona. When I was initially considering coming here, I found a picture of it online and put it on my desktop to serve as motivation. Yesterday, I took my own version of the very same picture (and in fact, it’s now on my desktop). The building is said to represent St. George slaying the dragon, but it has always seemed to me like an underwater seascape – I’ve always referred to it as “The Fish house”.

I stood in front of Casa Batllo for a good long while, resting against a tree that perfectly fit the curve of my back. I think when I have moments of feeling frustrated or lost (which I’m sure I will), this will be the spot that I come to for inspiration.

Today is a strange day – I’m feeling a bit lost. There’s a saying in German that the soul of the traveller arrives at a destination 10 days after the body… I think it’s starting to sink in that this isn’t just a vacation.

Monday, I hit the streets. I am armed with a list of 28 language schools, copied from the phone book, and I intend to hit them one by one, and see what happens.

Keep your fingers crossed for me.

2007-01-03T09:34:00.000-05:00

Spain – Day 2

So I’m here, and still can’t believe it. It feels a bit like a dream, or a stopover on my way to something else…

The trip over was fine. Alex and Laura took me to the airport, and I avoided bursting into tears by being mostly nervous… I’m going to miss both of those ladies so so much.

The flight to Munich was long and uncomfortable, and I didn’t sleep at all – partly from nerves and partly because I rarely sleep on planes. At customs in Munich, they barely asked me anything (except to see my return ticket), and I was on my way. After some confusion at the Barcelona airport (I went to the wrong baggage claim, so I had to go back in through security and walk down to the other terminal), I made it out to find Carmen there to greet me.

The weather here is fantastic – I had lunch sitting in the sun on Carmen’s terrace (pictured above). It seems I’ve also arrived during a full moon, though I don’t know if that’s good luck or bad luck.

Today, I’m getting started for real – wandering the city, getting my bearings, and starting to figure things out…

I wonder when I will start feeling like this is truly a reality?

2007-01-01T09:52:00.000-05:00

Here I go...

My bags are (mostly) packed and I'm nervous as hell...
I'm on a plane this evening, and by mid-day tomorrow, I'll be sitting in Barcelona, fretting about whether I packed the right stuff and wondering what the hell I'm doing!

I can't wait.

2006-12-25T02:21:00.000-05:00

A new beginning...

In 7 days, I'm moving to Spain.

Here's a step-by-step guide to how this kind of thing starts:

step 1: become a workaholic. be serious and responsible for 10 years (and think often about changing your life)
step 2: buy a condo. (and think often about changing your life)
step 3: fall in love. (think about changing your life in a good way)
step 4: agree to move to Germany with the person you fell in love with.
step 5: get unceremoniously dumped.
step 6: take a stand. decide (finally) to change your life.

So that's essentially how it happened. That's the short story. And now I'm 7 days away from a move that could be the best or worst experience in my life. I'm flying by the seat of my pants, I have no job, no place to live, and no plan.

The weirdest part about it is that I don't feel scared. I have no idea what I'm doing, and I can't see 2 months into the future, but I have this strange zen-like calm about the whole thing. That's really unusual for someone as neurotic as I am. It's this calm that makes me know that I've made the right decision -- whether the experience is good or bad, it will be a key moment in my life.

I've spent the last couple years searching for a person that I used to be -- a person who was passionate and excited. A person who laughed and talked to strangers. A person who felt intensely about politics, literature, music, and social issues. I lost her for a while. But as soon as I made the decision to go to Spain, I caught a glimpse of her. The closer I get to this trip, the more she appears.

And that's definitely a start.

Merry Christmas.

2005-09-19T22:46:00.000-04:00

ceci n'est pas un test...