Bangers 'n Mash

Volcanoes in Iceland??? Berlin to London by Land

2010-04-19T22:02:00.006+01:00

A little story about meeting the right people and being in the right place at the right time…

Growing up, I had been taught not to talk to strangers. After my adventure from Berlin to London yesterday, I am glad that I broke this rule, as I never would have gotten to London safely had it not been for the kindness of strangers, and a whole lot of luck.

I had been in Berlin since Tuesday, April 13th. It was the last city I had planned to visit as part of my two week Easter Break before returning back to London on Friday, April 16th so that I could play in my rugby game on Saturday and use the weekend to prepare lessons for a new job I was to start the following Monday. Unfortunately, due to forces beyond my control, namely the disruptions in air transport as a result of volcanic activity in Iceland, I missed my rugby game and showed up to work today completely unprepared and exhausted (but at least I went- 17 teachers were absent from school as they were stuck in other countries!).

Due to the dangers of flying through volcanic ash clouds, my flight was cancelled and rescheduled until Tuesday morning at 9:35 am. I was a little annoyed and stressed: I would have to spend an extra four nights in Berlin and would miss two days of work. Since I work for a teaching agency as a temporary worker, I do not get compensated for days I miss from work. By missing two days, I would have difficulty paying my rent for May, since I had essentially spent all my money during my two week holiday and was relying on a full week of work for my next paycheck.

In order to avoid complete financial anxiety, I telephoned my parents on Skype from an internet café in Berlin to see if it would be okay if I borrowed some money from them in case my personal funds ran out as a result of the extra travel expenses I would incur. Luckily, my parents are very supportive and in a position to be able to help me out whenever I need it and agreed to transfer money into my Canadian account if required.

Having to ask my parents for money was worse than the feeling of being stuck in another country, as for me, it felt like a complete loss of independence. Even though I lived on the brink of existence financially, I had done well managing my money and budgeting so far this year- but I had not anticipated needing an emergency natural disaster fund. Neither did most other travelers, as I soon learned. I am very fortunate that I have people who I can go to for help when I need it, but there are many stranded travelers who are sleeping in airports and train stations, and who are probably starving due unplanned expenses.

My friend, Nita, who I was travelling with told me that she thought that what I needed to learn from the “being stuck in Berlin” fiasco was that it is okay to ask for help when I need it and that I won’t be able be self-sufficient all the time- that I will need the support of others from time to time. She is probably right.

On Friday and Saturday, I tried to take advantage of having more time to experience Berlin. It is ironic that on Thursday I had told Nita how I wished that we had booked a longer vacation, as I didn’t think I would be able to see everything I wanted to. Although I was appreciating the extended holiday, by Saturday night, the news reports were predicting that flights might not resume for another week or so, and I became a bit panicked. Would my flight be cancelled Tuesday? If it was, when would I be able to leave? I decided that I could not wait any longer. I needed to feel as though I was doing everything I could to get back to London. Who knew how long the volcanic activity would last?

On Sunday morning, I went to the train station in Berlin to see what my options were. Nita decided to wait in Berlin until Tuesday and see if she could get on our scheduled flight before taking action to travel by land. This meant that I was travelling alone. I was also without a cell phone, which I had stupidly left at my friend Angela’s on my trip to visit her in Brussels a few days earlier.

I thought that I would probably travel to Calais, France, and then try to take the ferry from Calais to Dover, England. When I got to the train station, I realized that my best option was to take a train to Brussels, Belgium, via Cologne, Germany and either take the Eurostar or coach bus through the Channel Tunnel to London. I knew that both the Eurostar and bus were sold out and that I would probably have to spend a few days in Belgium before I could travel onwards to England. Since Angela lived in Brussels and I knew I would be able to stay with her family if I needed to, I decided to go there instead of France. Unfortunately, I did not have her number. It was saved on my phone- in her house! I did not have enough time to e-mail her either. The next train to Cologne was to leave in ten minutes. I was alone and not really sure where I was going, or what I was getting myself into. All I could do was hope that everything would work out.

I had to stand on the train from Berlin to Cologne since I had bought my ticket last minute (and paid 140 Euros. Eww.). However, this turned out to be a blessing because I met Geraldine and Patrick, an Irish couple who were trying to get to Ireland from Berlin, and Bryan, another Irishman who was trying to get to Dublin from Poland, and had already had quite the adventure before we met him. Bryan was in communication via text with his wife, who was researching our options online, and Geraldine was in similar contact with her daughter. Although I was cellphone-less I had my Lonely Planet guide, “Europe on a Shoestring”, which proved to be a valuable resource in providing them with ferry options to various places in the UK, as well as to Ireland. The four of us instantly became friends and talked non-stop about our lives and backgrounds, which made the uncertainty of getting home and travelling alone less scary. I was no longer by myself.

When we arrived in Cologne, the train was overbooked and we had to get on a bus to Brussels. The four of us stuck together to make sure that we all got on the bus. By the time we were nearing Brussels, Geraldine, Patrick, and Bryan had all been booked into hotels by their families and were very worried about what would happen to me once I got to Brussels. My plan was to find an internet café (if I couldn’t get the bus or the Eurostar, which were both extremely unlikely options) and e-mail Angela in hopes that she would get back to me soon. Geraldine and Patrick insisted that I stay with them if I was not able to get in touch with her, as they did not like the idea of me staying on my own.

The internet café at Brussels Midi Station was closed. This completely baffled me: with so many people stranded at the station it was a good opportunity for the business to make money! I wandered around the station in search of internet options and started to get a little bit nervous. Perhaps I would have to spend the night in Geraldine and Patrick’s hotel room after all. As I shuffled through the crowds of tired and frustrated passengers hoping to get on the Eurostar stand-by, I saw a familiar face: my friend Anna, another Canadian teacher who lived on my floor in residence in London! What a relief to see someone I knew.

Here is where the story gets unbelievable:

Anna: How are you going back to London?
Me: No clue. I am currently trying to find an internet café in hopes of getting in touch with a friend who lives in Brussels. I’ll probably be here a few days.
Anna: I have an extra Eurostar ticket for a train to London tonight. Do you want it?

Was she joking? Did I hear her properly? Looking at the hundreds of people hoping to get on a train at some point in the next couple of days, let alone tonight, I realized I had literally hit the jackpot.

Even more unbelievable was how Anna came to have an extra Eurostar ticket. She booked the Eurostar the previous Thursday after she decided to head back to London from Amsterdam via Brussels on Sunday. However, while she was booking her ticket, her session timed out. This was after she had entered her credit card information. She thought that her credit card wasn’t working, so her friend, Ashley, another Canadian teacher whom Anna was travelling with, booked tickets for the both of them. Later on, Anna got an e-mail from Eurostar confirming that she had a spot on the train she thought that she had not booked for Sunday. Therefore, Anna and Ashley had three tickets between the two of them- by accident. I ran into them as they were waiting in line to see if they could get a refund for the extra ticket. What are the chances?! Miracles really do happen. Thank you, Anna. Thank you, Guardian Angel!

The whole trip to Berlin was an emotional roller-coaster. In addition to the stress imposed by the looming uncertainty of how and when I would return to London, I had been feeling a little disheartened when I was sight-seeing. Reminders of terrible events in history, through visits to the Berlin Wall, Checkpoint Charlie, the Holocaust Memorial, and Sachsenhausen Concentration Camp, made me reflect on the dark side of human nature and the root of evil. Fortunately, my faith in reality was restored when I saw people coming together to ensure that complete strangers were able to get home safely. I would like to thank Bryan, Geraldine, and Patrick, who really took care of me on the journey from Berlin to Brussels. It was amazing how quickly we became a team and helped each other out. I hope that you are all able to get back to Ireland safely!

I would also like to thank Chris and Oliver, who allowed Nita and I to stay for free in the flat that we had rented from them for our first three nights in Berlin, once we learned that our flight had been cancelled, forcing us to stay in Berlin longer than planned. Otherwise, we would have had to pay for 4 extra night’s accommodation. They were also incredible hosts and went out of their way to ensure that we were taken care of while in Berlin. Future travelers, please let me know if you need somewhere to stay in Berlin. Their flats are really nice and in great locations!

The chaos and disruptions created by the volcanic eruptions made me realize how much we take the power of nature for granted. No matter how hard we try to control our lives, we are completely helpless to random acts of nature, or “Acts of God”, as some airlines and insurance companies are using as justification for not having to pay their passengers’ expenses while they wait for a rescheduled flight. It has also made me think a lot about the existence of fate and fortune. I still cannot believe that I bumped into Anna in a busy train station in another country and that she had accidently booked herself into 2 seats on the sold-out Eurostar.

I told the students at my new school that the universe had somehow enabled me to teach their lessons this week, so that they better behave as to avoid bad karma! Unfortunately, this only tamed them for a little while!

I also did not know much about Iceland before this experience, and certainly did not know that it had any volcanoes. I guess the whole world does now!!!

Good luck to all of my friends who are stuck in Greece, India, Egypt, Thailand, Spain, Morocco, and elsewhere in the world. Stay positive: miracles can happen!

When in Oslo…

2010-04-12T23:04:00.010+01:00

A few weeks ago, I went to Oslo, Norway, with my friend, Mel, an Australian who I met on my ski trip in France. It was a jam-packed weekend, as we tried to squeeze all of the sights into two days, but definitely worth it.

Our decision to go to Oslo was a little spontaneous. I was having an incredibly rough day at work (but now can’t remember what even happened, so it mustn’t have been that bad!), and started browsing the Ryan Air website to get myself excited about my next adventure. The wonderful thing about teaching in London is that your next holiday is always less than 6 weeks away, so whenever you have a bad day, you can always start dreaming about your upcoming vacation. While I was searching for flight prices for weekends I had off rugby, I came across a flight deal to Oslo: 5 pounds each way! What a bargain. This would be a cheap weekend getaway, I had thought. How wrong I was! Oslo is ridiculously expensive. I still feel sick at how much money I spent in a single weekend. Oh well, when in Oslo…This experience taught me that a cheap flight does not equal a cheap trip and I will be a little more cautious as to where I go for budget vacations. In hindsight, however, I am not upset I spent so much money in Oslo, as I did enjoy my time there and learned a lot about Norwegian history and culture.

As a result of my confusion in converting currency, I did not initially realize how expensive Oslo was, especially for food. Norway’s currency is the Norwegian krone (NOK). One British Pound is approximately 9 NOK (and 1 Canadian dollar is just less than 6 NOK), which is a little disorienting when trying to figure out the value of items. Mel and I were being pretty frugal in where we ate, but what is usually considered cheap food in London ended up being quite pricey. For example, we ate at Burger King, which I paid for on my credit card. I was shocked when I looked at my statement. A simple burger, drink, and fries combo ended up costing 13 pounds, which converts to over 20 dollars Canadian. Yikes…and this was a cheaper meal! It was also funny when I withdrew 200 NOK from an ATM thinking that it was alot of money, when it was really less than 25 pounds. This being said, I felt foolishly rich when I had 500 NOK in my possession (less than 60 pounds).

We arrived in Oslo late Friday night, checked into our hostel and went on a wander around the city. My first impressions of Oslo were really good: it seemed lively and cosmopolitan and the people were really friendly. Also, as it was the first place I have been to where I did not understand the first language (Norwegian), I was a little taken aback by the fact that many signs were meaningless to me. Everything was written in Norwegian (although most signs, menus, and brochures are also written in English)! Luckily, most people spoke English fluently so we did not have much difficulty communicating.

On Saturday, we ate what I now realize was a very overpriced breakfast at the hostel and went for a walk around the city. Our first stop was the tourist information center, where we bought a 48-hour tourist pass, which granted entry to most of the major attractions and allowed for unlimited access on public transport. I would highly recommend the tourist pass to anyone planning on visiting Oslo in the future. It is definitely good value for what it offers and forces you to see as much as you can. The public transport system is also efficient and user-friendly and we ended up using it a lot.

On Saturday morning, we visited the Norway Opera House (which Mel was not too impressed by since it apparently did not compare to the Sydney Opera House), and walked around the medieval Akershus Castle. We later stumbled across “The Mini Bottle Gallery” en route to the Nobel Peace Center. This bizarrely delightful gallery is basically a collection of over 50 000 mini bottles and ended up being the highlight of the trip. I thought that it was quite funny (and reflective of today’s youth-haha) that we spent so much time in what could be considered a silly, meaningless exhibit during the time we had intended to spend in a very serious and meaningful one.

When we were finally able to pull ourselves away from the mini bottles, we went to the Nobel Peace Center, as planned, and it was incredible. There was a very moving exhibit, “From King to Obama” which portrayed how the work of 1964 Nobel Peace Prize winner, Martin Luther King, Jr., in the American Civil rights movement helped create an opportunity for Barrack Obama, this year’s Nobel Peace Prize winner, to become President of the United States.

In the afternoon, we had a late lunch at the waterfront and enjoyed the view of the harbor. Afterwards, we walked through the Vigelandsparken Sculpture Park, which contains walkways lined with 192 bronze and granite statues of naked and obviously passionate lovers, naked screaming babies, naked affectionate elderly people, and most centrally displayed, a 14-meter phallic-like column consisting of 121 entwined naked human figures. All the sculptures were carved by Norwegian sculptor Gustav Vigeland (1869-1943) and I would have liked to know what his intentions were when he created the park because I simply didn’t get it.

On Sunday, we took the subway and a bus to Holmenkollen Ski Park, where we saw the newly rebuilt ski jump and visited the ski museum. There was actually a biathlon competition going on that day, so it was neat to see all of the fans dressed up in their country’s colours and waving flags to support their athletes. Later on, we went to the Bygdoy peninsula, which is located just outside the city center, and visited the Viking Ship Museum and the Norsk Folkemuseum. The Viking Ship Museum is really impressive, as it showcases three 9th century Viking ships which are in surprisingly good condition. By the time we got to the Norsk Folkemuseum, I was feeling pretty exhausted from all the sight-seeing so did not really appreciate it as much as I could have.

The aspect of Oslo that I loved the most was its proximity to the wilderness. In fact, this made me a little homesick, as it reminded me of all of the outdoor activities that I participate in regularly in Canada. Although London has many beautiful parks to run and cycle in, I often crave the beauty of the great outdoors.

Oslo is in an amazing location. It lies at the tip of a fjord and is surrounded by forests and mountains. It was common to see people with their skis on the subway, as the public transportation system in Oslo connects people with a few ski hills and an extensive network of cross-country ski trails. It was too bad that we were only there for a weekend because we did not have time to both ski and see the sights. While we were there, I made a tentative plan to go back the following weekend to do some cross-country skiing…unfortunately, the one weekend ended up being too expensive to justify a second trip. I really would love to go back to Norway in the summer and venture north to do some camping and hiking.

Despite the fact that my weekend in Oslo did major damage to my bank account and made me a little homesick, I absolutely loved it. I could really see myself living in a place like Oslo forever, as I appreciated the culture, the arts, and the opportunities it offered for healthy, active living. I guess it is a good thing that I enjoyed it so much, because it reminded me a lot of Canada! Hopefully, I’ll be able to go back at some point to take advantage of the outdoor activities…but next time I go for a weekend, I’ll budget for a week!

Would I be Happier as a “Lifty”?

2010-03-28T09:49:00.003+01:00

The first time I saw mountains was in Banff National Park. I was 14 and completely mystified. To this day, my family makes fun of my romantic reaction to the sight of them. “I am overwhelmed by the magnitude of the mountains”, I said out of both awe and infatuation. What a geeky thing to say. Oh well, I was in love.

Since then, I have always felt a strong pull to the mountains. I am not sure exactly why I am so captivated by them; perhaps it is the striking presence of both danger and beauty, the draw to push myself beyond my limits, or the harsh reminder of my insignificance in nature. Whatever the reason, whenever I am surrounded by mountains I am always dominated by one feeling: freedom.
Over my February Half Term Break from school, I had my first experience with European mountains, the Alps, at La Plagne Ski Resort in Savoie, France. With altitudes between 1250 and 3250 m, 225 km of skiable terrain, and stunning scenery, it was definitely worth the 18 hour bus ride from London.

I signed up for an organized group trip with two Canadian teachers who I have been lucky to have become friends with in London. Taking part in the group trip turned out to be a great decision, as we were able to meet other travelling teachers (mostly Australian) to share experiences with, and have a great group of people to hang out with both on and off the slopes. It was an amazing 6 days of skiing with pretty good conditions and blue skies for most of the trip. Unfortunately, the biggest dump of snow was on the day we left, so we didn’t have the opportunity to ski any fresh powder, but luckily, I was able to find enough good snow anyways.

While I was there, I tried hard not to think about returning to London. Although I do really like London, my love for the mountains made me dread going back to the grind of city life. Despite the fact that my current status as a teacher in London has its perks: lots of vacation time, the opportunity to live in one of the world’s greatest cities, gaining valuable experience in the classroom, it has also been a test of my resilience, as I constantly feel as though I give and give and give to very needy students and inadequate systems with minimal return for my investment. This being said, I seriously contemplated getting a job as a ski-lift operator and staying in La Plagne for the rest of the year (or the rest of my life). Truthfully, I think that the only thing that held me back was that so many of my personal belongings were in London.

The whole debate makes me question why so many people choose to live in the city instead of the mountains. I suppose it all goes down to a feeling of usefulness. In the city, there is more opportunity to contribute to something greater than oneself. For me, living in the mountains would simply be blissful ignorance. After having been exposed to so many social problems from my experience teaching in London, such as child poverty and homelessness, dysfunctional families, gang violence and bullying, inadequate resources and funding in inner-city schools resulting in student underachievement and staff burnout, it is hard to walk away without doing something to help. This being said, I think I would feel too guilty in the mountains to really enjoy it. Unfortunately, with the guilt also comes the feeling of overwhelming helplessness: the problems are politically and institutionally rooted- what can I really do to make things better?

Maybe I would be happier working as a ski lift operator, but I am guessing that eventually I would get tired of doing the same thing everyday, and develop an itch to do “more” with myself. At least the mountains will always be there for a temporary escape; a chance to appreciate the world’s beauty and forget about the often troubling realities of city life.

"How vain it is to sit down to write when you have not stood up to live." (Henry David Thoreau)

2010-03-27T23:03:00.004Z

Such is my excuse for not posting anything on my blog for the last (gulp) two months. I apologize to the wide readership of my parents, brother(s)? and aunts.

If Only I Could take a Chair-lift to Work

2010-01-13T23:34:00.007Z

One of the things that I love most about skiing is riding the chair-lifts. At least on chair-lifts in Canada, it is acceptable, if not expected, to chat with the strangers beside you. The ascents are usually only 10-15 minutes in duration, so conversations typically cover the standard: Where are you from? How long are you here for? How are the conditions on this or that run? Are those powder skis you’ve got? Pretty fancy.

These brief exchanges are not intended to lead to lasting relationships; rather, they are simply friendly conversation. However, they are almost always pleasant and can even improve your day by providing you with tips on how to make the most out of your skiing experience.

Such is not the case on the London Underground, or “the Tube”, where passengers tend to mutually ignore each other. In December, 2009, The London Assembly’s Transport Committee’s report, Too Close For Comfort, found that some trains carry more than four people per square meter during peak morning hours. During rush hour, passengers are often physically pressed up against each other, yet usually abstain from acknowledging the other members of their intimate human sandwich; for on the tube, eye contact is one of the most deadly sins.

There are a few common techniques that people use to help them avoid human interaction on the Tube. The first, and most common, is reading. I always bring a book with me, but for those who arrive at the station ill-equipped, free newspapers like the Evening Standard or the Metro function as excellent shields from the wandering gazes of deviant passengers. It is also important to step into the tube carriage with some form of literature so that you don’t risk breaking another cardinal Tube sin: reading over someone else’s shoulder.

Another popular technique of social avoidance on the Tube is listening to iPods. In my opinion, this strategy provides greater invisibility than reading: not only can you avoid looking at people, you can avoid listening to them (well, the few who actually speak). Listening to music, audio books, podcasts, and other programs helps passengers zone out of their stressful physical environment and tune into the world of their digital media. iPhones give users an even greater sense of public absenteeism on the Tube. They enable passengers to write drafts of emails (there is minimal internet service underground), play games, listen to music. I find it ironic that users of iPhones avoid socializing on the Tube as this technology enables them to be incredibly socially connected above ground.

A more controversial method of anti-social behavior in the London Underground is eating. This is probably the least used strategy. The Tube hosts a high volume of passengers, and is, thus, not the cleanest place to eat a meal. However, it is an effective way of repelling other passengers: some people are so disgusted with even the idea of eating in such a germ-filled environment that they completely ignore you.

I am not sure why passengers try so hard to avoid human interaction on the Tube. As someone who enjoys talking to strangers and making new friends, I am always baffled by the social anxiety I feel when I enter a London Underground station. I think that part of the reason we are so anti-social on the Tube is simply being underground, which causes us to feel trapped and suffocated. In addition, once we step into a carriage, we lose complete control of the efficiency and duration of our journey. Problems such as delays, communication failures, and overcrowding are not up to us to solve. All we can do is accept that we are going to get there when we get there.

Regardless of the reasons why passengers snub each other on the Tube, it often makes for an unpleasant and uncomfortable experience. Instead of going to work keen and energized, I often feel panicked and stressed out. Although the London Underground is an amazing system of mass transport, I wish that it could be a little friendlier. I think that if the social experience of taking the Tube was more like riding a chair-lift, London would be an even more productive city: people would come to work feeling healthier and happier, and may even pick up a tip or two to improve their job performance!

FAQs from Students

2010-01-09T23:19:00.002Z

While I was writing my post “FAQs from Friends and Family”, I couldn’t help thinking about the questions I get asked from the students I teach. I thought I would share some with you:

Are you American?

Do you like Americans?

Are you offended when someone calls you American?

Does McDonald’s (actually they pronounce it MAC- Donald’s) taste better in America?

Have you been to New York?

Students seem much more fascinated with “America” than Canada.

Do you know Drake?

After having been asked so many times, I looked him up and discovered that he is a Canadian actor and hip-hop artist (and, seemingly, the most famous Canadian celebrity among British youth).

Do you know Mr./Mrs.________ (Canadian teacher at their school)?

Do you have school in the winter in Canada?

Can you say something in “Canadian”?

Have you seen a polar bear?

Are you Janine from “East Enders”?

I have been asked this question several times now. “East Enders” is a popular television series here. I have never seen it, but apparently the students at my new school think that I am the actor that plays one of the characters on the show…despite the fact that she speaks with a British accent.

Were you on “One Tree Hill”?

After speaking with another Canadian supply teacher who has also been mistaken for an actor, I am guessing that they somehow equate our "American accents" with Hollywood.

The funniest comment:

After telling a Year 5 class that I am from Canada, I informed them that I was from the “capital of Canada” and asked if anyone knew what that was:

“Toronto!” No.
“Vancouver!” No.
“Mexico!” ?!

I find it hilarious how little most Londoners know about Canada. But if you think about it, I didn’t know a whole lot about England before I came here!

FAQs from Family and Friends

2010-01-09T22:32:00.004Z

When I was at home for Christmas, my friends and family were very interested in learning how I have enjoyed my experiences both teaching and living in London so far. Although there have definitely been difficult moments, both in and out of the classroom I have learned a lot and have definitely benefited from being here. For those of you that I wasn’t able to see during the break, and for the rest of you who are simply interested, I complied a list of answers to the Frequently Asked Questions that I received over the break:

Is living in London expensive?

Yes. Yes. Yes. Have I saved anything? Absolutely not. Will I save anything? Probably not. However, I make enough to be able to travel on my breaks, chip away at my student loan, and live semi-comfortably in London. I came here to learn and explore, so I am not really concerned about saving- just as long as I don’t go into more debt than I started with, I am happy.

Truthfully, I don’t find living in London much more expensive than it was to live in Toronto (where I spent a year while completing my B.Ed. at U of T). The reality is, big cities are expensive, but they also have a lot to offer that smaller cities or towns do not: vibrant multicultural communities, a lively scene of art, culture, and entertainment, an opportunity to participate in anything and everything, and the constant buzz of excitement and struggle- the exhausting rush of so many people trying to “make it in the big city”.

Since there are so many shops, pubs, shows, and things to see and do, it is easy to spend an entire paycheck before you get the next one. However, you can actually live pretty cheaply here if you try: it is all dependent on what you value and how you want to spend your money. If you eat out all of the time, never pack your lunches, buy lots of drinks at the pubs, and go shopping a lot, you will have difficulty even surviving in London. But if you take the time to live a little more frugally, you will be fine. It just takes a while to figure out how.

For example, I had initially been spending a lot more than I needed to on transportation. I had been using a “pay as you go” Oyster Card for the tube and paying regular fare for trains. Even though it is cheaper to use an Oyster Card than it is to pay normal tube fares, it added up. Payment for the London Transportation System is based on how many “zones” (1-9) that you travel through. It is often faster to travel to the suburbs via train, but it is also more expensive. However, what I didn’t initially realize is that you can purchase “Travel Cards” that give you unlimited travel on the London Underground (tube), National Rail (train), and buses between certain zones.

When I was supply teaching, I had difficulty anticipating my travel costs because I never knew where I would be travelling to. Usually, the schools I worked at were in Zones 1-3, but on a few occasions, I also worked at schools in Zones 4 and 5. Since I was normally called in less than an hour before school started, I needed to get to the school as fast as I possible could. This meant taking the train. The costs definitely added up.

Now that I have the transportation system all figured out, have a permanent job at the same school every day, and have developed more of a consistent routine, I use a Zone 1-2 Travel Card which costs £25.80/week, or £99.10/month. In the spring, I might just start riding my bike to work (it is about a 30 min bike ride), which would save me quite a bit of money.

When you were supply teaching, did you get lost trying to find the schools?

I never got lost once on my way to work. Travelling in London is pretty straightforward once you understand how to read the Tube map. Directions and names of stops are all clearly indicated in the stations; all you have to do is make sure that you take the time to stop and read them. My agency was really good about providing me with clear directions from my residence. They would usually text me the specific directions as I was in transit so that I would not waste time figuring out how to get to where I was going. I also always brought a London “A-Z” map with me, so if I was ever unsure of my location, I would just look up surrounding street names to orient myself.

Have you done much travelling?

I have not done as much travelling as I had hoped, but have some exciting trips lined up for the rest of the year: weekend in Belgium, skiing in the Alps, rugby tour to Ireland, travelling through Spain and Portugal, cycling in Italy...and, hopefully, more to be scheduled. For the first part of the year, I was focused more on setting up my life in London than I was in leaving the city. The highlights, however, were definitely my trip to Dublin over the October half-term, and to Paris on my birthday weekend. I have explored England a little bit, as I have been to Bristol (where my good friend, Angela, goes to University), Bath (to see the “Roman Baths”), Salisbury (to see Stonehenge), Brighton, and have cycled through much of Kent.

Are the students badly behaved?

I have been in some classes which have been absolute nightmares, but have also been in some really nice classes. There have been moments where I have done everything in my power not to cry and have been moments when I have really had fun with my job. The worst experience I had was when a student told me to “shut the #$&%# up”, refused to leave the class when I told him to get out, and then hid under a desk and started chucking paper balls at the rest of the students. Although this was a horrible experience for me, I found the time when a girl took a hair straightener out of her purse, plugged it in and started straightening her hair in the middle of gym class much more disappointing.

I find the hard part about managing students here compared to back home, is that you are completely on your own. I haven’t been in any schools that have intercoms or “P.A.” systems. Therefore, if students get into a fist fight in class (which has happened at least 3 times so far), it is hard for me to contact other authorities. All you can really do is send a student to get “someone”, usually their “Head of Year”. It has definitely been hard and frustrating at times, but I am hoping that dealing with such crazy classes now will make future teaching experiences much easier.

What is the weather like there?

The weather in September and October was pretty comparable to how it is in Canada during those months. In November and December, it rained A LOT, but it wasn’t that cold. It felt like late October in Canada. The temperatures in January are normally above zero, but this past week, it snowed! It is rare for London to get any snow, but we got about 10 cm. The city was in a complete panic! It was really interesting to see the chaos that was created over such a small amount of snow, but understandable considering that there are not the systems in place here to effectively deal with snow removal and people are not used to driving and walking in snowy conditions. I literally saw people walking sideways on the sidewalks because they didn’t know how to walk across the ice! Many schools closed, but mine remained open. However, only about half the students were there (even though they all walk to school…those slippery sidewalks!). The snowball fight at lunch was a full-out, school-wide war! Although it was complete craziness in the school yard, it was cute to see the students having so much fun in the snow, and makes me realize how much we take our seasons for granted in Canada.

Do people make fun of your accent?

Yes. They notice my “American” accent right away, and the students particularly, get a kick out of some of the terms and expressions I use (see my British/Canadian dictionary), but I think they actually like learning the differences in our vocabulary.

Can I come and visit?

Of course! Anytime!

Have other questions? Don’t hesitate to contact me or leave a comment.

“There is poetry in a pint of Guinness”

2009-12-21T16:23:00.008Z

“Guinness tastes so much better in Ireland”, I had been told before my trip to Dublin. Intrigued as to how a mass produced brand could taste distinctly different in one country, I felt obligated to sample “a few pints” of the famous brew in its homeland. Prior to the trip, I had only tasted Guinness a couple of times, and was not a huge fan. I found the beer bitter and was worried that its heaviness would do damage to my dainty waistline (haha). I had also perceived it to be more of a ‘Dad drink’ so wasn’t inclined to order it at pubs (as weird as that sounds). Thus, I did not expect to enjoy the notorious perfect pint of Guinness that I would be served in Ireland.

The production of Guinness began in December of 1759 when Arthur Guinness bought a 9000 year lease on an old brewery (which had been on the market for 10 years!) on St. James Street in Dublin. The purchase was quite a risk, as the location was very popular for competitors. More than 60 small breweries had already established their business in Dublin due to its excellent water supply from the rivers Liffey, Dodder and Poddle. Through hard-work and perseverance, Guinness was able to surpass the competition. A dry stout, Guinness has just four ingredients: barley, hops, water, and yeast. Through trial and error, and pure craftsmanship, Arthur Guinness combined these ingredients to create what is now often referred to as the “perfect pint”.

By 1833, Guinness had become so popular that the St. James Gate Brewery was the largest in Ireland, and by the 1880s, it had become the largest brewery in the world. As a side note, I have a soft spot for the Guinness Brewery because I played on the St. James Gate (an Irish pub in Banff) basketball team when I lived in the wonderful little mountain town, although I never drank Guinness while I was there…

Today, 35 countries brew Guinness worldwide. However, each brewery must include the famous secret ingredient, a flavoured extract that is still brewed exclusively in Dublin and sent to international breweries so that the flavor of the perfect pint is consistent.

My first sip of Guinness in Dublin was at the Brazen Head, Ireland’s oldest pub. Dating back to 1198, The Brazen Head had been serving alcohol well before official licensing laws came into effect in 1635. A neat bit of trivia is that the pub is featured in the James Joyce novel, Ulysses: “You get a decent enough do at the Brazen Head”.

It was the perfect venue to sample the perfect pint: its “medievally, tavern-esque” dark, cozy atmosphere and cobble-stone courtyard create the Irish pub that I’d envisioned. All that was lacking was the music, which was to start in a couple of hours (we went for dinner, the traditional Irish pub food- stew, chowder, fish and chips, so were there a bit early).

When I put the ‘liquid gold’ (as Guinness is known due to its flawless flavor and profitability) to my lips, I was surprised at how smooth, creamy, and delicious it was. The thick creamy head is the result of the taps injecting nitrogen gas into the beer as it is being poured. With aftertastes that hinted flavours of rich coffee and dark chocolate, Guinness was not at all the bitter black stuff that I remembered. I am not sure if it was the beverage itself that I was enjoying, or merely the excitement of drinking Guinness in Dublin, but I was hooked. I literally began to crave the beverage’s distinct malty, mocha flavours. Thanks to Lululemon and stretchy denim I was able to put all of my waistline anxieties aside and continue to contribute to Ireland’s economic growth (in truth, at 198 kcal per pint, Guinness actually contains less calories than most non-light beers).

The next day, we visited the Guinness Storehouse, where you can go on a self-guided tour of the brewery, learn how to pour the perfect pint, and purchase Guinness merchandise. The tour was really interesting, well-organized, and informative. At the end of the tour, you receive a freshly brewed pint of Guinness. Actually, you have the option of learning how to pour the perfect pint, or enjoying a pint poured for you at the top-floor Gravity Bar, which is walled with windows and offers a 360 degree view of the city. It is worth going on the factory tour simply to see this fantastic view of Dublin. Pat and I opted to enjoy our pints on the top floor, while our friends earned certificates of mastery in Guinness pint pouring. Did you girls remember to update your résumés?

The slogan, “It’s alive inside” is used to advertise Guinness. Although this is not literally true, there is something magical about drinking Guinness, especially drinking Guinness at the St. James Gate in Dublin. The pint I had in the Guinness Storehouse was pure perfection. It tasted smoother, creamier, and more delicious than the pint I had at the Brazen Head (and at subsequent pubs…). In terms of its physical composition, I doubt that the beer poured at the St. James Gate is in actuality any different than the beer poured at any other pub in Dublin. However, the allure of drinking Guinness at the Guinness brewery definitely adds to the richness of the experience, and makes you feel like you are consuming an extra special recipe.

One sign that caught my eye in the Guinness Storehouse read “There is poetry in a pint of Guinness”. I thought a lot about what this means. I suppose I would define poetry in an English class as a “written expression of human emotion”. But another interpretation could be that, poetry is, essentially, life. Therefore, the poetry is not the pint of Guinness itself but the life experiences created by the pint: sampling Irish pub food with my brother and friends, discovering that musicians in Irish pubs seem to only play American covers and U2 (I guess I had expected the fiddle??), the feeling of panic when I looked in my wallet and realized I had spent more on a night at the pub than on my return flight from London to Dublin (alcohol is ridiculously expensive in Dublin- I literally spent 7 Euros on pints at some pubs), meeting other interesting travelers, and of course, the memory of tasting my first sip of Guinness in Dublin.

It is interesting to note that despite the love of Guinness that I developed while I was in Dublin, I haven’t had a drop of it since I got back a couple months ago. Perhaps this is because I subconsciously know that it just won’t taste as good as it did at the St. James Gate? Although I am sure that I will order the odd pint of Guinness every now and then, I doubt I will ever choose it regularly over other options that I would, of course, drink responsibly.

Since my perspective of Guinness consumption in Dublin came from a tourist’s point of view, I am interested in learning more about whether Guinness is actually the drink of preference for most Dubliners, or if that is simply a stereotype. I suppose the commercial success of Guinness suggests that people do, in fact, drink it quite often, but do Irish people link Guinness with part of their cultural identity? Or is its Irishness simply the brand image that Guinness promotes to the world?

I am already looking forward to going back to Ireland with my rugby team when we go on tour in April! Hopefully I’ll be able to learn more about Guinness and Irish culture through conversations with my opponents after games!

Paris: Romantic? Repulsive?

2009-12-06T00:09:00.008Z

"For decades I tried to figure out why Paris is shrouded in such mystique. Granted, walks at night along the Seine are enchanting, but that alone cannot explain why the very mention of Paris had always conjured up tales of romance, well before it was blessed with gas or electricity, well before its exquisitely lit street-corners were replicated the world over in black-and-white print. After all, medieval Paris was a dark den of filth, reeking with nauseous stench, and the two sinister prison fortresses that jutted out of its skyline could hardly have been conducive to romance. Not to mention the 32 rotting corpses dangling in the offing when the royal gallows was used to full capacity. Yet the myth has been perpetuated for a good thousand years.

I racked my brains, I dug into the past, I travelled into my own psyche looking for an answer, but I came back empty-handed. There simply is no answer. There lies the beauty of the enigma. Paris is poetry, Paris is mystery, Paris is beauty-an exasperating decoy that never quite delivers, all the more compelling for its imperfection, the archetypal reservoir of all our passions...."
(Thirza Vallois- Romantic Paris)

Perhaps it was because I was sharing a bed in a budget hotel with my brother, but during my three days there, I could not figure out why Paris is considered to be the most romantic city in the world. I accept that the wine, the delicious pastries, the opera, the history of great art and literature, gothic architecture, and even the French language give the city an artisan feel, but it is not an effect I would describe as romantic. I guess that for me, romance is simply enjoying time with someone you love, something that occurs regardless of location. Paris, in my opinion, is powerless over love or relationships. It is the people, not the city, that create romance.

My criticism of Paris’ romantic image begins with the Eiffel Tower, one of the most prominent symbols of romance in the popular culture. If you take the time to stop and think about it, the cold, iron-lattice structure is not at all romantic. In fact, it was considered an eyesore when it was first built, and the city of Paris had initially planned to tear it down once its 20 year permit ran out. Apparently, French novelist Guy de Maupassant, detested the tower’s appearance so much that he ate lunch in the Eiffel Tower’s restaurant daily, as he felt that it was the only place in Paris where he could avoid looking at it.

My preconceived dreamy image of Paris was further shattered when I realized how dirty the city is, especially compared to London, where the streets are constantly swept and public areas are cleaned. I was also shocked by the number of homeless people who aggressively approached anyone who looked like a tourist. On several occasions, sad yet beautiful young Eastern European-looking girls who wore tattered dresses and scarves on their heads tapped me on the shoulder asking if I spoke English. After I would nod naively, thinking they might need help with directions or something, they would hand me a note saying they were refugees who had been orphaned and needed money. For me, the presence of so many homeless people made the obvious display of the city’s wealth through its elaborate architecture a little nauseating.

I was particularly disgusted with the Palace of Versailles, located 20 km south-west of Paris, which was France’s political epicenter from 1682 and home to Louis XIV, XV and, XVI, and Marie Antoinette. The palace housed the royal family until October, 1789 when the French Revolution forced them to return to Paris. Elaborately decorated with classical French paintings, sculpture, and lavishly covered in gold, the palace is an artistic masterpiece. It successfully showcases the French monarchy’s wealth and power during its reign. Constructed as a symbol of royal absolutism, the palace is also a reminder of political oppression. It is no wonder that the people of France revolted against the monarchy—they were dying of starvation and malnutrition while their rulers lived in a castle made of gold. Think of how much more could have been done with the money spent on gold paneling and crystal chandeliers. I am always baffled by how so many rich people choose to live extravagantly rather than use their wealth to elevate the poor in their communities…

Pat also seemed to be disgusted by the palace: while we were in the excessive building, he had to run as quickly as possible to the nearest washroom to throw up. Although he likely either got food poisoning or caught the flu, he joked that he was nauseated by the “opulence of Versailles”.

Despite its flaws, I won’t deny, that Paris has a certain magnetism that captivates visitors. The charm of its narrow streets, patisseries, cafes, and fashionable shops combined with the “I can’t believe I am actually in Paris” rush does give the city a magical feeling. Whether or not it actually is a romantic place, Paris is travel destination for people who want to experience romance. From a North American perspective, travelers can enjoy activities very similar to options back home: they can dine out at fancy restaurants, go to the theatre, walk along the river, and go to museums and art galleries. Although many of the sights are embedded in history and considered to be world-class, the activities themselves are essentially the same as those offered by any major city. However, I do not know that many men back home who would actually enjoy a night out to the opera or a trip to an art gallery, but somehow they will do it in Paris. At home, these are outings that men get strung along to by their wives or girlfriends- not experiences that most would actively select. Thus, I present one hypothesis on why Paris has been deemed as romantic: it enables non-Parisian women to experience an idealized version of their husbands: artsy, cultured, attentive, and sociable.

Even though my perceptions of Paris were not romantic, it was amazing to have had the opportunity to experience a city so alive with culture and history. I particularly loved the excuse to sample as much cheese, baguettes, and pastries as possible! Also, it was refreshing to realize that cities are not the cause of romance, that people create romance. Therefore, romance can be experienced anywhere in the world, not just in Paris!

Celebrating my 25th Birthday with the Mona Lisa

2009-11-29T22:51:00.005Z

On my 25th birthday, I went to the Louvre and saw one of the world’s most popular paintings. (No big deal- I took a Monday off so my brother Pat and I zipped to Paris on the Eurostar for a long weekend). Maybe it was symptomatic of some existential quarter-life crisis, but to me, seeing the Mona Lisa was a huge disappointment. To be honest, if it wasn’t so famous, I would probably have just walked by the Mona Lisa without noticing anything special.

On this visit, however, like most other tourists at the Louvre, I did not walk by the famous painting. Instead, other fantastic paintings were granted a mere glance while Pat and I bee-lined to the renowned exhibit. Once there, I aggressively used my rugby skills to push through the crowd so that I could take pictures of myself with the Mona Lisa in the background. This frantic, almost hostile behavior shows that subconsciously, I was less interested in seeing the Mona Lisa than being seen with it; proof of my “worldliness”; being able to say: “I have been to Paris and have seen the Mona Lisa”.

After I had finished taking my pictures (see below for how wonderfully they turned out), slightly embarrassed by how tacky I was being, I tried (as pretentiously as possibly) to appreciate the fact that I was standing in front of the most famous painting in the world. However, the physical set-up for viewing the painting makes it difficult to get into an artistic mood. First of all, you are constantly battling other tourists for a peep-hole of viewing space while standing behind a rope, which is at least 30 feet back from the painting. Since the dimensions of the painting are only 30” by 21”, and it is encased in bullet proof class, it is impossible to take in much detail. In hindsight, I should have looked at the painting through the zoom on my camera.

Perhaps my expectations for the iconic painting had been too high, as I had anticipated a magical, life-changing experience. I had presumed that seeing one of the most famous pieces of art in the world would have had at least some effect on me. I am no art connoisseur, but feel that the purpose of great art is to expand the mind of its audience. I hate to admit it, but my vision of the world has not been altered by seeing the Mona Lisa. In fact, all I felt was confusion: who and what determines great art? Is anyone nowadays actually impressed by the Mona Lisa, or do we simply pretend to be wowed by it because we are told that we should be?

Apparently visitors spend an average of 15 seconds viewing the Mona Lisa, which after factoring in photo-taking time, doesn’t really allow for meaningful reflection. I am really interested in knowing what people are thinking about while viewing the painting, and if the experience leaves any sort of lasting impression on anyone.

After a trip to Paris, one of my professors at Queen’s went on a rant during a lecture because he was still disgusted with his friend who had ruined his recent experience of seeing the Mona Lisa. During what my prof had built up to be an epic moment in his life, his friend leaned over and whispered that he was really craving a cheeseburger and wondered if there was a McDonald’s nearby. I really want to know what my prof expected his friend to be thinking about, or what he himself had been thinking about during this time! Perhaps his friend’s hunger actually saved my prof, for now, he will forever blame his disappointing experience with the Mona Lisa on his artistically ignorant friend and can preserve his grandiose image of the famous painting.

Painted by Leonardo da Vinci in the early 1500s, the Mona Lisa is thought to be a portrait of Lisa Gherardini, the wife of Italian silk merchant, Francesco del Giocondo. Apparently, the painting was commissioned for their new home and to celebrate the birth of their second son. The title, “Mona Lisa”, comes from the Italian word “ma donna”, often shortened to mona, which means “my lady”.

What has drawn critics to the painting is Lisa’s “enigmatic smile”. However, it is not the smile itself that has attracted so much attention; it is the idea behind the smile. I guess it was not common for women of this time to be captured as relaxed. Prior to the Mona Lisa, women had been depicted as stiff and angelic in portraits. Mona Lisa’s mysterious smile caused people to speculate as to what was behind the smile: rebelliousness, complexity, and above all, personality. She represented the idea that women could be more than a portrait of a porcelain doll; that shockingly, women could be interesting. Therefore, the painting changed the way that women are allowed to be represented in art, which is likely how it gained so much momentum.

I think that it is a good thing that people of my generation are dreaming of cheeseburgers instead of being wowed by Mona Lisa’s mystifying gaze. It is a sign that we have progressed: we are not interested in a painting of a woman who seems interesting, because we accept that women are interesting. I suppose that I did, in fact gain something from seeing the Mona Lisa, as it also made me feel lucky that I turned 25 at a time when I am allowed more than a smile. I have the freedom and independence to celebrate my birthday with a glass of wine, a baguette, and some Brie à Paris!

Pat’s Visit: Exploring London, Dublin, and Paris!

2009-11-29T20:56:00.007Z

I have realized that one of the great things about living in London is that so many friends and family members from back home are keen to take advantage of the opportunity to visit this great city (and me, of course!). I am very lucky to have already had one visitor: my brother, Pat. He stayed for just over two weeks, arriving on October 28th and departing on November 11th. Since he timed his trip to coincide with my half-term break (The school year in England is organized a little bit differently than it is at home. It goes until the middle of July, so there is a shorter summer and more breaks throughout the year.), we were able to do a bit of travelling together.

When he arrived, we spent a day in London, so that I could give him a jam-packed overview of the amazing city that I now call home. We then spent four days in Dublin with two other Canadian teachers I had met in my residence. While there, we went to the Dublin Castle, Guinness Brewery, went to Glendalough (a 6th century monastery, the Wicklow Mountains, and felt obligated to experience as many pubs as possible, as this is such an important element of Irish culture. The highlight of the trip was spending a day with my friend, Kayla, a Canadian who I met while working in Banff who is now living in Ireland. Since she is a really close friend of mine, it was incredible to reconnect with her somewhere neither of us would have ever expected to be. Despite how outrageously expensive it was (many items cost twice as much as they do in London), we had a really fun trip- I definitely could live in Dublin for the rest of my life. I’ll go into more specific detail of my perceptions of Dublin and Irish culture in subsequent posts.

The next week, Pat explored London while I worked, and he visited numerous museums, the Tower of London, Westminster Abbey, Big Ben, and other popular attractions. I met up with him after work to experience more sights at night. It was great because I was able to discover many new places and activities.
We went to “Ye Olde Cheshire Cheese”, an old pub on Fleet Street, which was shortly rebuilt after London’s “Great Fire” in 1666. Its gloomy cellars, narrow alleys, and low ceilings make you feel like you were in a Dickens novel. This is probably because the pub is actually featured in “A Tale of Two Cities” and was frequented often by Dickens himself, as well as other prominent figures such as Samuel Johnson, Oliver Goldsmith, Mark Twain, Alfred Tennyson, and Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. At the pub, Pat and I enjoyed a pint of beer and shared an order of “Spotted Dick”, a traditional English dessert, which is basically bread pudding with dried fruit and custard.

During this week in London, Pat and I also went to see the musical “Billy Elliot”, went on a tour of the Globe Theatre, and went to a Guy Fawkes Night bonfire. Guy Fawkes Night is an annual celebration in England on the 5th of November which marks Guy Fawkes’ failed attempt to blow up London’s Houses of Parliament in 1605. The night involved a bonfire which burned a life-sized dummy of Guy Fawkes, an impressive fireworks show, carnival games, and the consumption of cotton candy and mulled wine. We were lucky to have taken part in this very “British” event.

Since Pat was visiting, I took Friday off and we went to Brighton for the day. About an hour’s train ride away on the South Coast of England, Brighton, is a former fishing town and is characterized by its rocky beaches. While there, we walked on the beach and on the pier, shucked some oysters and ate the best fish and chips of our life. It was nice to get out of the city for a day and breathe in the fresh ocean air.

On Saturday morning, we took the Eurostar to Paris, where we spent the next three days. We arrived in Paris at about 9:30am, with no real plan but were both very excited. It was funny, because we had a moment of “ok, uh…so we are in Paris…what do we do now??” We solved the problem by getting a map, finding our hotel (which was an absolute dive), and wandered aimlessly through the city. We were immediately surprised to discover that the cliché of Parisians strolling through the streets with a baguette in one hand and a cigarette in another is actually true. However, we were quite happy to participate in the baguette-eating ritual. While in Paris, we went to Sacre Coeur, Notre Dame Cathedral, Le Palais de Versailles, L’Arc de Triomphe, the Louvre, and of, course, the Eiffel Tower. Although it was amazing to finally experience Paris, we were both turned off by how dirty it was and how aggressively beggars approached you for money. Please see later posts for more specifics on Paris.

All in all, it was so wonderful to spend two weeks with my brother, Pat. Even though I am enjoying and benefiting greatly from the experience of living in another country, it is hard to spend so much time away from all the people I care about back home. It was nice to have a little bit of home come over here (I especially appreciated the 2kg jar of Kraft Peanut Butter that Pat brought over for me). This being said, if you are considering doing any traveling this year, please don’t hesitate to visit. I would love to have you! Thanks again, Pat, for such a fantastic trip. I am still baffled by how you put up with me for over two weeks and how well we got along!

"When you're safe at home you wish you were having an adventure; when you're having an adventure, you wish you were safe at home." (Thornton Wilder)

2009-10-20T08:43:00.009+01:00

Last weekend was Canadian Thanksgiving, which is my favourite family holiday. I enjoy it even more than Christmas; instead of being distracted by consumer-driven expectations like gift exchanges, wasting electricity by covering our yards with more lights than we need, over-decorating the tree with tacky yet “sentimental” crafts that we made in elementary school, and listening to the same carols over and over and over (Celine Dion Christmas in my house!), Thanksgiving is a holiday which allows us to fully appreciate time with the people we love.

My Mom always cooks an incredible feast: turkey, gravy (that I have never burned, regardless of what anyone tells you), stuffing, mashed potatoes, carrots, peas, cranberry sauce, pie (hopefully ones made by Brian!), squash, turnips, and of course, lots of wine. She is also an amazing host and invites as many people as she can possibly squeeze into our “little” cottage. It is funny that I was in England for Thanksgiving this year, as last year, two of my friends from England celebrated Thanksgiving with us at the cottage!

Another component of Thanksgiving that I love is the quirky family traditions. For example, my family also goes on an annual “Busman Walk”, while the turkey is cooking in the oven. A big group of my relatives partakes in this potentially dangerous event, where we walk on the dirt road behind the Norway Bay Golf Course towards the Bristol Mines (while trying to avoid being hunting targets), with the final destination being the property of a man who lives in his bus. We do not attempt to make contact with the man, but rather observe the bus’ status as compared to previous years. A weird tradition, I know, but it adds a bit of excitement to the holiday, and the crisp fall air always seems to stimulate our appetites. The weekend also involves the much dreaded routine of putting our bodies at risk of hypothermia to remove docks and boat hoists, which should have been taken out on Labor Day (when no one had the heart to accept that summer was over). Oddly, in recent years my daily exercise (run or bike ride) has conflicted with this wonderful chore (which is usually completed by my Dad and uncles)…don’t know how that happened…

Since Thanksgiving isn’t celebrated in England, I was feeling a bit homesick last weekend. I tried to remedy the problem by cooking a Thanksgiving dinner for some of the Canadians I have met in London. It ended up being a great meal of roast chicken (it is too hard to find a turkey here!), stuffing, potatoes, asparagus, carrots, rice, and amazing desserts. As wonderful as it was to celebrate a Canadian holiday abroad, I missed my family and friends a lot and wished that I was at the cottage with them (or maybe it was just the lack of turkey…).

I suppose the yearning for the comforts of home led me to question why I left in the first place. Why did I choose to leave behind everything that I know and love to come to a big city where I often feel like just another Oyster Card swiping in at Goodge Street and out at whatever station I end up at (usually Waterloo where I take the train to my next destination)? Truthfully, I have difficulty identifying exactly why I feel such a strong pull to travel and explore the world. I wish that I could just stay at home and be able to spend holidays with the people I love. Perhaps I am attracted to the mystery of the unknown, a thirst for knowledge and experience that can’t fully be satisfied by the comforts of home. Reading about places and seeing them in movies just isn’t as exciting (or scary) as actually being there (and London is probably one of the cities that is documented most in fiction…it IS an amazing place).

When you are travelling, each day brings the possibility of adventure. I suppose such escapades can occur at home as well, as life itself is a great journey- it is impossible to predict exactly how the day’s events might unfold and how you will react to them- but people tend to limit exploration at home. While there, we don’t often seek opportunities to step outside our comfort zones. I know I don’t. It is so easy to live within the boundaries of the comfortable monotony of your daily routine. I guess I left home to seek new experiences, meet new people, and learn as much as I possibly can about life and the world.

Here is an example of a recent spontaneous adventure: I had the day off and went to Charing Cross train station with my bike, with absolutely no destination. I got on the next available train, bought a map at the gas station when I got there, and explored. It was amazing because by pure accident, I ended up stumbling upon Hever Castle, the childhood home of Anne Boleyn. As I was cycling through the countryside from Tonbridge to Edenbridge, I had been thinking about how much the landscape reminded me of the farmlands in the Pontiac (where my cottage is). All of a sudden, I saw a sign that indicated that there was a castle 1 mile to the left, and I was quickly reminded that I was in England and not Quebec.

Perhaps this lust I have for excitement and adventure will prove to be a big waste of time (and money…yikes, I try not to think about my dwindling bank account), as it is not really that “productive” to be constantly bouncing around from one place to the next with no real direction or purpose. However, I have learned a lot about the history and culture of a new city and country, and have met some incredible people. I have been lucky to have met a great group of Canadian teachers and have joined the most welcoming and fun rugby team (the Harlequins)! Deciding to come out of retirement and play rugby has been an invaluable part of my experience so far. The girls are wonderful and have introduced me to many aspects of British culture that I would not have been exposed to otherwise, such as teaching me slang, bringing me to some good pubs, going to a professional rugby match, and introducing me to their friends and family. Without these social connections, it would be so easy to feel lost in such a big city.

Most importantly, by being away from home, I have gained much insight into myself and what I value…like being able to celebrate Thanksgiving with my family at the cottage! I guess I did, in fact, participate in the most important element of Thanksgiving this year- taking the time to appreciate the people I love, but unfortunately, it was not in the way I would have liked. Hopefully, I’ll be able to join them on the Busman walk next year!

Is my life going down ‘The Tube'*?: Despairs and Delights of Supply Teaching in London

2009-10-06T22:26:00.002+01:00

Year 9 Student: Miss, why didn’t you aspire to do more with your life?

Me: Uhhh (awkward) like what?

Year 9 Student: An actress! There are heaps of acting jobs in America (of course she assumed I was American).

Me: Hmmm good suggestion, but I don’t act…?

Year 9 Student: Well, didn’t you say you could play basketball? You could be a professional basketball player!

Me: I was an ok player, but not THAT good. It is pretty hard to make the WNBA. I actually like teaching you wonderful people.

Year 9 Student: That’s bollocks. Who would actually be crazy enough to want to teach US?

Meanwhile the rest of the class is cheering because another student successfully hit a pigeon with a paper airplane he threw out the window. This was a few minutes after some boys put a condom (out of the wrapper) on a girl’s assignment.

Not all of my classes have been as crazy as the one I just described. In fact, most of the students that I have taught have been pretty well-behaved (although I have to keep reminding myself that I would probably be acting like a complete goofball if I was a thirteen year old boy and had a supply teacher).

Supply teaching isn’t an easy job, but I wouldn’t describe it as that difficult- you simply have to be able to “go with the flow”. Most mornings I wake up not knowing where I am working (in a city I don’t know that well) or what I will be teaching. However, I always manage to come up with something for the students to do (teaching them about Canada is a great time-filler, and they are actually very intrigued by it…they ask many questions about the cold, winter, and our “national animals”- ex. penguins and polar bears! I was also asked if I could say something for them in “Canadian”)

Of course, like all jobs, supply teaching does have its benefits:

1. No prep or marking:

I usually get to school at 8:20 am (most schools I’ve worked at start at 8:40) and leave by 3:15 pm. Regardless of how wonderful or miserable my day has been, I have the rest of the day to do whatever I want. This means being able to enjoy being in London and take advantage of all the city has to offer!

2. Exposure to a range of schools:

It is a great learning experience for me to see how different schools are organized and work with a variety of staff and students.

3. Flexible schedule:

I can pretty much take time off whenever I want. Right now, I am trying to work as much as possible so that I can afford to maximize travel opportunities…but it would be no problem for me to, say, take a Friday off to go to Paris or something…

4. Exposure to a variety of subjects:

Since I have been here, I have taught Secondary P.E. (one of my subjects), English (other subject), Geography, Food Technology, Religion, Math, Year 5 and Year 6 (Primary School), which has given me some great lesson ideas and taught me some knew information (ex. I taught a lesson about the population trends and demographics of Brazil…which went surprisingly well).

5. Each school is a new and different experience.

If the day has gone terribly, in most cases, I can quickly forget about it, because I’ll be at a new school the next day with a new group of students.

With the pros come the cons:

1. Each school is a new and different experience.

Often, it is hard for me to leave a class or group of students at the end of the day because I want to be around long enough to make a meaningful impact in their lives. Last week, I was lucky to be at one school for the entire week, which was great because I got to know the students really well, but I’ll probably never see them again.

Rewind to Friday when I told my class it was my last day:

Year 10 Student: “Miss, you are my favourite teacher. Can you work here?”

Me: “That’s nice. But I have to go to another school next week.
Why am I your favourite teacher?”

Year 10 Student: “Because you have pretty hair!”

See, not making enough of a meaningful impact…

2. The Unknown

I don’t know the names of staff or students, school and classroom rules, where classrooms are located in the school, school schedule, where I’m going to be working tomorrow…

3. Students abandon all behavior codes and social expectations.

I have been lucky in that students have been pretty responsive to me and I haven’t had to deal with any serious behavioral issues. However, I am alarmed that 13-year-old boys think that it is ok to ask their teacher out on a date?! After reminding them of the inappropriateness of their proposition, I usually tell them that they are 10 years too young and not hardworking enough for me.

4. I don’t know the students.

It is pretty hard to get students’ attention when you don’t know their names! Also, you are often completely oblivious to students who might need special attention. For example, last week, I had a student in my class who couldn’t speak any English and I didn’t even find out until the last 10 minutes of class! I felt so bad for the poor girl because she must not have had a clue as to what was going on.

5. Low expectations of your teaching role.

When I asked a staff member at the school for his opinion on what I intended to do with the class I was covering, he replied, “Do anything you want- as long as everyone goes home safe, we’re happy.” This was pretty disheartening, as it implied that the school was indifferent as to whether or not the students actually learned something while I was there. It is difficult not to perpetuate such attitudes by setting low expectations for yourself in the classroom. Luckily, I am abnormally positive and will continue to make an effort to at least teach the students something in each class I’m in!

To be honest, supply teaching is not something that I want to do for much longer. It is simply not enough of a challenge for me, so I feel that I am not really progressing as a person. Although it is nice to have so much free time (since I don’t have the responsibilities of a regular classroom teacher), I am someone who loves to be over-involved and over-committed. I guess I had anticipated that living in a new country would be harder than it is…but I haven’t lived at home for 6 years, so I suppose I’m used to living on my own.

This being said, I am itching for a more challenging role while I'm in London. Hopefully, a permanent position will come up in the next little while…I still LOVE being here and get excited at each opportunity to explore…but I’ve realized that it’s not enough for me to travel for the sake of travelling. I want to feel more useful.

Oh well, at least if this teaching thing doesn’t work out, I’ll still have my acting career, or the WNBA to fall back on.

*My brother, Pat, made up the clever title. I am not going to pretend to be that witty.

“The Jester Sang for the King and Queen…”

2009-09-22T19:36:00.002+01:00

The “King and Queen” is the pub next door to my residence where my friends go regularly. It is a traditional Old English pub that has a lot of character, and draws in a mix of local people. The inside of the pub is decorated with pictures of kings and queens of England…and a photograph of Bob Dylan.

On Friday night, one of my friends asked the pub owner about the Bob Dylan photo. He said that Bob Dylan played at the King and Queen in 1962 when he was travelling throughout Europe. It was his first performance in London! He also told us that the line from the Don McLean song, American Pie: “The Jester sang for the king and queen in a coat he borrowed from James Dean” is thought to be a reference to this performance.

An interesting bit of history! For more info, go to:
http://www.musicpilgrimages.com/articl/8001.php

http://www.bobdylanroots.com/carthy.html

Accents and Igloos: Learning what it means to be Canadian

2009-09-22T18:46:00.003+01:00

When Londoners I meet hear my (haha) foreign accent, they immediately assume that I’m American. I guess the strong influence of the American media in the UK encourages them to recognize it as such.

After correcting their misjudgment by informing them that I am not American, but Canadian, most are quick to mutter something like “Oh sorry! What an insult!”

It is funny because being labeled as American is not really an insult to me. I personally have nothing against Americans. I don't always agree with their politics, but that make me offended to be called American. In fact, nearly every American I’ve met is absolutely wonderful. Also,I love the Dixie Chicks, George Clooney, college basketball, the Alaskan wilderness, the American Dream, Oprah, and of course, given that I’m an under-25-idealist, I am a HUGE fan of Obama.

In order to understand why Canadians are so highly regarded here, it is important to understand what Londoners think it means to be Canadian. Since the “Canadian Identity” question is one of constant debate and uncertainty, perhaps understanding how we are viewed by people abroad will help us to understand ourselves and our culture.

First, as I have already noted, a critical aspect of what others think of our identity seems to be that we are “not American”. But…we talk like Americans, consume their products, watch their television shows, follow their political elections more closely than our own….What exactly are these apparently unique qualities that make Canadians so popular abroad?

Based on my observations thus far, the average non-Canadian living in London does not know much about Canada. For example, when I say that I’m from Ottawa, few people are able to identify it as the capital city (most think that the capital is Toronto or Montreal).

It also seems that many people perceive Canada as a great wilderness and associate it with images of a Northern climate. Of course parts of Canada are like this, but many Londoners are surprised to discover that most Canadians actually live more like they do than the rugged Arctic inhabitant they envision.

Let’s rewind to last week:

It is 7:30 pm on a Sunday evening. Shannon is cooking a tantalizing stir-fry made from a kit which she purchased on sale at Tesco a few hours earlier when she realized that her only dinner options were apples, yogurt, and cheese and crackers.

28 (ish) year old PhD student (serious tone- NOT sarcastic): Oh! You’re not eating bear meat!

Shannon (looking intently at rice which was burning and sticking to the pan she had purchased at Argos a few hours earlier): No, I’ve never eaten bear meat. In fact, I’ve only seen 2 bears in my entire life and I spent a year working in the Canadian Rockies where bear sightings are common.

28 (ish) year old PhD student: Oh, do you eat seal?

Shannon (getting annoyed and scraping frying pan with plastic spoon because she is still too cheap to by real utensils): No, in fact, I have never even seen a seal. People only really only eat them up North, and most of the population lives within 200 km of the United States where seals are scarce.

Another example:

Student at secondary school I was teaching at: What is it like to live in an igloo?

Me: Quite warm, actually.

Fascinated student: It must be so weird here living in a house made out of bricks instead of snow.

Me: I was joking. I don’t actually live in an igloo. Most people in Canada live in houses that are similar to the ones here.

Teacher at the same school: I heard that Canadians snowshoe to school during the winter.

Me: No, I took a school bus.

Hmm….

This whole experience of trying to understand what it means to be Canadian has brought me back to my OAC year when I applied for the Ottawa Catholic School Board's “Trustee Award”. Having been highly involved with my school’s athletic, student government, and peer helping programs, I thought that I had a really good chance of winning the award.

Prior to the interview, I had been preparing for questions like: “what do you want to do after high school?” or “give an example of something you’ve done to improve the school community?” or “give an example of a time when you had to overcame a personal weakness”…I was taken aback by the question I was asked.

My question: What does it mean to be a Canadian citizen?

I had absolutely no clue how to respond. How was I supposed to know? I had never left Canada, and had never been exposed to anything different.

“Uhh…peaceful…nice…multicultural…supposed to like hockey?”

Needless to say I did not win the award!

What DOES it mean to be Canadian? Beavers+bilingual+multicultural+maple syrup+Mounties+winter+Prime Minister+Governor General+plaid+eh+hockey+…= I don’t know. Google doesn’t even seem to know (I did a bit of research).

So far, the people I’ve met in London think Canadians are: wild, outdoorsy, resilient to cold and fortunately (as I’m told), not American.

I am going to continue to document other people’s perceptions of what it means to be Canadian as I travel this year. Hopefully, I’ll be able to come up with some better answers. Until then, I hope to represent Canada well and will do my best to perpetuate stereotypes by wearing plaid shirts to the bar, eating game, yearning for the outdoors and winter, and being as friendly and bubbly as I possibly can…shouldn’t be too hard, I tend to do most of that, eh?

My Home Away from Home: Tourist to Local

2009-09-14T22:19:00.002+01:00

Me (at ‘Pret’ a coffee chain): May I please have a regular coffee to go?
Barista: Black?
Me: With milk.
Barista: White coffee.
Me: No, just coffee with milk.
Barista: Yes, white coffee.
Me (slightly embarrassed): Oh. Ok. Yes. White coffee.

I have been living in London for less than two weeks now and it already feels like I have been here forever. The transition to living in a new country has been pretty easy for me- I have been lucky to have made a pretty good group of friends, and my life here is pretty similar to how I live back home in Canada. In fact, I actually prefer some of the differences! (Don’t worry, Mom and Dad, I’m not planning on moving here forever!)

What I love most about London so far is the active hubs of people. With a population density of about 4700 per square kilometer, people live in much smaller spaces than they do in Canada. Stores and services like supermarkets, banks, post office, drug stores, bakeries, delis, etc., are all within walking distance. At home, we usually get in our cars and drive to all these things- so it is nice to be able to walk around and get some fresh air (I’ve seen many cyclists wearing gas masks, though, so I’m not sure how fresh the air is). Although people don’t really have yards, there is a lot of green space in the city’s parks. I am lucky and live very close to Regent’s Park.

I find the energy created by all the people so contagious- it makes you want to get out and experience all that the city has to offer! There are so many interesting people to meet and so many events to participate in. For example, this weekend, I attended the “Thames Festival”, which was a free event by the Thames River that showcased musicians, dancers, and performing artists, as well as the best fireworks show I’d ever seen. I loved being part of the excitement and seeing so many people out and about.

Work has been a bit slow lately, since school only started last week. My experiences so far have been very positive. As a supply teacher, I have realized that you need to be flexible, creative, and extremely confident. Although you have absolutely no clue what is going on, it is important to portray a sense of complete control. Even though I have been living in London for two weeks, teaching for uhh…two weeks, and don’t know much about the UK curriculum or the schools I am teaching at, it is important to appear as though I am a master of it all. For example, I had to teach netball for one of my classes. I had never heard of netball or even seen it played, but apparently, it is what girls play instead of basketball here. Before we started, I asked, “who would like to volunteer to explain the rules of netball to the class for your ‘classmates’ who may have forgotten”. Haha. Essentially, it is the same as basketball, minus the dribbling and the backboards.

For my first day of work, I was called at 8:15 am to teach P.E. at an all-girls high school. School started at 8:40am. I was in Starbucks (ordering a white coffee!)…a 5 min walk from home. I had called my agency at 7:00am to see if I was working that day, and was informed that I probably wouldn’t get any work that day. By 8:00 am, I hadn’t heard anything, so decided it was safe to get a coffee, since I was planning on going for a run and (sadly) can’t have a good run without some caffeine!
My agent (who is super nice and unbelievably supportive), informed me, “there’s no need to panic, but you need to leave as soon as possible since it takes 30 minutes to get to the school”. Luckily, I have a very high stress threshold, so was somehow able to remain calm as I navigated my way through the tube system (which I had previously only used once before), and arrived at the school in good time (another teacher covered the class until I got there).

The students I have taught have been surprisingly well-behaved so far, and have actually been pretty receptive to me. They seem very interested in Canada, although they have a ridiculously stereotypical perception of what it is like. Yep, live in an igloo. Nope, don’t know Drake- it’s a big country.

They are also amused by some of the language I use. For example, I taught a badminton class, and told students to get a “birdie”. Everyone started laughing because they had no idea what I was talking about. In the UK, they call them “shuttlecocks”, or just “cocks” as one sassy gr. 9 was quick to note!
I am itching to get more work, as I haven’t worked in 2 months and am starting to feel a bit useless (and broke- yep, the student loan is almost completely maxed out). However, I have used my free time and the bank’s money well: I saw the musical “Wicked”, got tickets in the pit for Shakespeare’s “As You Like It” at the Globe Theatre, went to the Art Gallery, discovered my local pub, went cycling in Kent, played in 2 rugby games, wandered all over the city, checked out several markets that I will try to stay away from…mmm bread pudding at Borough Market…and (yikes!) brown leather jacket that I bought at the Camden Market (it was only 30 pounds, though!).

I guess that’s all the news that I have for now. I hope that everyone is doing well. It is weird to think about how life just continues on back home as normal when you’re gone. I miss my family and all of my AMAZING, inspiring friends, but am feeling happy with the community I am establishing here. Please send me updates on your lives. I don’t want to be too out of the loop!

Shannon 

“When a man is tired of London, he is tired of life; for there is in London all that life can afford." (Samuel Johnson)

2009-09-06T07:36:00.001+01:00

I have been in London for almost four days now and am already in love with it. I can certainly see what all the hype is about. The streets are filled with so many interesting people, shops, and historic buildings…which combined, creates an energy that makes you just want to go out and explore!

So far, I have spent most of my days wandering around with my “London: A-Z Map” and my Lonely Planet (thank you, Lauren!) trying to understand the city’s layout (which doesn’t really make sense to me- I tend to be directionally challenged to begin with, so the roundabouts, street names changing every couple of blocks, and backwards traffic flow only add to the confusion) and have loved everything I’ve seen. I am interested in knowing how many kilometers I covered over the past few days. I should have worn a pedometer (typical phys ed….whoops “P.E.” teacher thought-process)! I feel really lucky to have the opportunity to live in such an exciting city and experience the heart of it.

I haven’t actually done anything touristy yet- I am waiting until I get a paycheck before I fall victim to London’s tourist trap! However, I have walked past many of the major sights: Big Ben, Westminster Abbey, Buckingham Palace, St. Paul’s Cathedral, the Thames, Covent Garden Market, Trafalgar Square, Hyde Park, have explored many of the popular districts: Soho, Bloomsbury, Kensington, Westminster, and have gone on a few runs through Regent’s Park (which is a 5 min jog from my building!).

Today, after the big adventure of finding a replacement quill bit for my bike-- the bike box got damaged on the plane and a few parts fell out—I was finally able to take my bike out for a little spin around the city! Although drivers are really aggressive here, London seems to be cycle-friendly, at least in some areas. There are bike lanes throughout the city, many of which are separated from motorized traffic by a median. I am looking forward to doing some cycle trips throughout England on weekends, and hopefully, some of Europe!!! I hope to join a cycling club and would even like to do a road race or two while I’m here!!

I don’t think that the adjustment to a new place and way of life will as difficult as I anticipated. Everyone has been very helpful and friendly so far, which has made the transition really easy. Also, many things are familiar to me here. Often, I forget I’m in Europe, and feel like I’m just in another city in Canada! I think that I might even feel like more of a foreigner in Quebec! They have many of the same stores and restaurants here that they have back home: Starbucks, McDonald’s, Subway, GAP, H&M, HMV, American Apparel…so it doesn’t feel too foreign. I am looking forward to doing a bit of shopping in the stores which were previously unknown to me…and maybe become slightly more fashionable (I know, wishful thinking…). I already know that there is limited hope for saving money here, though. I live right in the middle of the shopping/fashion district…so even though I don’t plan on buying many “things” while I’m here, as I want to save my money for “experiences”, I am sure that I will get seduced by all the SALE signs and European fashions.

Actually, so far, I don’t find it too much more expensive here than it is in Toronto. I mean, I found living in Toronto expensive compared to Ottawa or Kingston (but maybe less expensive than Banff???), but I had prepared myself that London was going to be outrageously pricey. However, my rent is reasonable, and the prices of groceries are comparable to home. Even drinks in the pub are about the same (especially once you factor in that you don’ t have to tip!). I went to the Canadian pub, the Maple Leaf, with my cousin Laura, and her Canadian friends, so pub prices were a true comparison!

I haven’t spent much money over the past few days and have had a lot of fun… I think it is just difficult to save money in any big city because almost everything you do costs money. Based on what I’ve observed from the price tags here so far, as long as I don’t go to shows every night and have fancy dinners out all the time, I should manage just fine, and will be able to do lots of travelling. (Don’t worry, I do plan on going to shows and fancy dinners, though- I’m not going to be a total cheapskate).

My location is very central- close to Goodge Street and Oxford Circus tube stations for those of you who have visited London. Basically, I can walk to pretty much anywhere in the city, or hop on the tube if I’m feeling pressed for time. Anything I need-banks, grocery stores, pubs, drugstores- is a short walk away. I anticipate that I will have a good quality of life here and a very healthy lifestyle with all the walking!

I am living in a residence which is partnered with the University College of London Hospitals, so most of the other tenants are either working as nurses, are in medical school, or are Health Sciences students. It is nice to be living somewhere where it is so easy to meet other people!! I have my own room and share the kitchen and bathroom. It reminds me a lot of my room in Waldron Tower, where I lived during my first year of university at Queen’s- it also has a sink! It is great, all I need, and the price is right!

I haven’t started working yet, but am starting next week! Right now, I am going to be supply teaching in Central London (there is a teacher shortage here, so you get work almost every day), but may take a long-term contract if one comes up that interests me. However, I am actually excited to supply teach, as I will be exposed to many different types of classes and groups of students. There are many differences in the British school system compared to ours’ in Canada, so I am interested in having a range of experiences, which will hopefully translate into meaningful learning opportunities for me. Of course, supply teaching has its downsides (“whooooo! We have a supply teacher! Let’s go CRAZY!!!”), but I’m sure I’ll survive. It also has the benefits of no prep or marking, meaning, more time to experience London life! Without a doubt, I’ll have many stories to write about!!!

Tomorrow, I’m off to go watch my friend, Jane’s (a friend from Banff) rugby game at Wimbledon…looking forward to seeing how the game is played in England!

My plan is to update the blog weekly, unless something incredibly exciting happens to warrant an additional entry. Please don’t hesitate to e-mail me at shannon.mullen@hotmail.com if you have any questions or comments--even if you just want to say hi. I’d love to hear from you.

Life is exciting, wherever you are in the world. There is so much to see and do, and so many wonderful people to share these experiences with! Whether you are in London, England or in the bouncing metropolis of Bells Corners, Ontario, partake in the adventure- every day is a gift.

Live. Dream. Explore.

xoxo Shannon :)