Monday, December 21, 2009

“There is poetry in a pint of Guinness”

“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!

Sunday, December 6, 2009

Paris: Romantic? Repulsive?

"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!

Sunday, November 29, 2009

Celebrating my 25th Birthday with the Mona Lisa

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!

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!

Tuesday, October 20, 2009

"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)

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!

Tuesday, October 6, 2009

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

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.

Tuesday, September 22, 2009

“The Jester Sang for the King and Queen…”

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

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?

Monday, September 14, 2009

My Home Away from Home: Tourist to Local

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 

Sunday, September 6, 2009

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

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 :)