A crabby French lady tried to get me in trouble at the Toulouse airport tonight. I had a few questionable items with me when I was going through security, so they were searching my bag. I'd done my homework of course, and everything was legal. The security lady was very friendly, asking questions like "will the berries on your mistletoe plant turn red, or stay white?"
THEN the nasty lady came along. Having her bag selected to be searched must have put her in a bad mood. I believe her exact words were (in French) "Am I hallucinating, or are you letting her through with all that!?!". She then proceeded to try to convince the security guard to me me throw it all out. They were still arguing when I'd finished packing my bag and walked away.
Don't think she got through with whatever was in HER bag!
Thursday 22 December 2011
Wednesday 21 December 2011
Bonjour de la France!
Bonjour du Sud de la France!
Disclosure: I am fully aware that I do not blog in any sort of regular pattern. Because I have to censor what I write due to the sensitivity of school issues, I rarely write during the week. The best way to follow my adventures would be to subscribe by e-mail.
I have been LOVING my visit to the South of France. I was coming primarily to visit my friend Elea, who's family kindly addopted me in highschool. Because I had been focusing on that, I hadn't thought too much about teh AREA I was coming to. Here's an exerpt from a postcard I wrote this morning:
"I feel like no matter how long I am here, there will still be more to explore. Yesterday we went to see these natural "orgue" sand sculptures that are a bit like the Alberta Badlands, only more delicate (on les appelle des cheminées de fée par ici).
"Everything here is so close. Not only country to country (imaginez... 9 livres pour un vol international!) but within the area that Eléa lives as well. The Mediterranean Sea is a half hour drive to the East, she lives in a flat orchard/vinyard area, and the Pyréné foothills are maybe 15 mins away. There are ancient castles, abbies and churches everywhere! And oh... the food!
"It's not too late to come visit."
I've aready posted a few photo albums on FaceBook, so check them out. I've got more to post once I have a free moment, as well as some retroactive blog posts about the area!
Disclosure: I am fully aware that I do not blog in any sort of regular pattern. Because I have to censor what I write due to the sensitivity of school issues, I rarely write during the week. The best way to follow my adventures would be to subscribe by e-mail.
I have been LOVING my visit to the South of France. I was coming primarily to visit my friend Elea, who's family kindly addopted me in highschool. Because I had been focusing on that, I hadn't thought too much about teh AREA I was coming to. Here's an exerpt from a postcard I wrote this morning:
"I feel like no matter how long I am here, there will still be more to explore. Yesterday we went to see these natural "orgue" sand sculptures that are a bit like the Alberta Badlands, only more delicate (on les appelle des cheminées de fée par ici).
"Everything here is so close. Not only country to country (imaginez... 9 livres pour un vol international!) but within the area that Eléa lives as well. The Mediterranean Sea is a half hour drive to the East, she lives in a flat orchard/vinyard area, and the Pyréné foothills are maybe 15 mins away. There are ancient castles, abbies and churches everywhere! And oh... the food!
"It's not too late to come visit."
I've aready posted a few photo albums on FaceBook, so check them out. I've got more to post once I have a free moment, as well as some retroactive blog posts about the area!
Wednesday 7 December 2011
Fiddling around
Wow. I've been sort of working on Da Faerie Reel off and on over the past couple of weeks. I've been listening to a slower recording on the bus most mornings, and every now and then been picking up my fiddle trying to play along. Today I have Part A down pat, but was getting fed up with Part B. I actually have the sheet music, so I figured "Whatever, let's just get on with it." But the weirdest thing happened when I opened the book... I lost all sense of the song. I couldn't even play Part A! So strange.
Tuesday 29 November 2011
Sneaky LIttle Changes
Wow, they may be taming me.
A friend and I were planning on going to a Da Vinci exposé. Much to our chagrin, we discovered that the tickets were already sold out. For the next 4 months.
I've always been fascinated by him, not so much because of his art, but because of his inventions and his unique and odd personality. How cool is it that he wrote his journal in mirror-image writing? And have you ever seen sketches of his flying machine?
Needing to confirm such terrible news for myself, I googled it. What did people do before the Internet. I never cease to wonder. And when will they add "Google" as a verb to the dictionary? Those little red underlines annoy me.
It was true. But while I was on the National Gallery website, I checked out some of their free talks, and admission (Canada, it's free by the way. As are all of the big museums. And you can actually go right up to relics here. And dogs are allowed on buses, and in pubs. Just a few things we could learn from our mother country.)
I started seriously considering checking out the gallery this coming Saturday. And then I caught sight of a photo of the front of the building. Do you know that I walked right past it my first week here, wandering around Trafalgar Square? I admired the living painting to the side (but only because it was made of plants), giving the front steps a wide birth, shuddering, and thinking "Not going in THERE!"
They're sneaky here. You visit all of these interesting buildings, and they casually strew a few paintings here and there for you to admire. Some of them are ginormous, and you stare at them from the sheer novelty of the size! Next thing you know, you start looking at the people in the paintings, wondering who they are. And then you start noticing how they make the eyes so life-like, the brush strokes, the painting techniques. Sneaky, sneaky.
A friend and I were planning on going to a Da Vinci exposé. Much to our chagrin, we discovered that the tickets were already sold out. For the next 4 months.
I've always been fascinated by him, not so much because of his art, but because of his inventions and his unique and odd personality. How cool is it that he wrote his journal in mirror-image writing? And have you ever seen sketches of his flying machine?
Needing to confirm such terrible news for myself, I googled it. What did people do before the Internet. I never cease to wonder. And when will they add "Google" as a verb to the dictionary? Those little red underlines annoy me.
It was true. But while I was on the National Gallery website, I checked out some of their free talks, and admission (Canada, it's free by the way. As are all of the big museums. And you can actually go right up to relics here. And dogs are allowed on buses, and in pubs. Just a few things we could learn from our mother country.)
I started seriously considering checking out the gallery this coming Saturday. And then I caught sight of a photo of the front of the building. Do you know that I walked right past it my first week here, wandering around Trafalgar Square? I admired the living painting to the side (but only because it was made of plants), giving the front steps a wide birth, shuddering, and thinking "Not going in THERE!"
They're sneaky here. You visit all of these interesting buildings, and they casually strew a few paintings here and there for you to admire. Some of them are ginormous, and you stare at them from the sheer novelty of the size! Next thing you know, you start looking at the people in the paintings, wondering who they are. And then you start noticing how they make the eyes so life-like, the brush strokes, the painting techniques. Sneaky, sneaky.
Sunday 27 November 2011
Christmas Present Ideas
My mum just found the sweetest MacBook skin. It's Snow White, taking a bite out of the glowing MacBook apple. How cool is that? It's from SkinAT.cc
Saturday 26 November 2011
Continuing classroom adventures
I've had a good last couple of weeks. We're getting into the holidays, so schedules are a little bit more flexible, and there's a lot more variety. Lots of Christmas productions in the works. It's a good thing that I've watched the Sound of Music many times... I had to teach "Do, A Deer" to a class of 4 year olds, with no prep. Another day I got to play Miss Hannagan (sp?) in Annie. I still have "it's a hard knock life" playing through my head.
Kids have the strangest memories. I was in a school that I'd visited once about 2 months ago. The kids from the next door Reception class came up to me at playtime to ask me if I could help them draw a spider web. Sure they don't remember the actual curriculum I taught them that day, nor my name (they all think I'm miss "Cones" here, which I suppose is about as close as "Coombs" back home), but they remember some random 5 minute activity I did with a few of them. It's like when the girls at camp, who by the way were NOT in my cabin, wanted to show me their teeth were squeaky after brushing them (the year before, when they WERE in my cabin, I couldn't get them to brush their teeth for the life of me).
Getting side tracked, as usual.
Next week I'm at my favourite school again. I've got a Year 1 class (kindergarten) that I know fairly well. My personal mission is to try to train them not to crowd around me poking me and saying "Miss, miss, miss!" while I'm already speaking to one of them. I'm not sure it's possible. I can barely train my 11 year olds back home. Any ideas you experienced infant teachers?
Well, my train has arrived at its destination. I'm off to see the queen! May have to settle for her castle.
Kids have the strangest memories. I was in a school that I'd visited once about 2 months ago. The kids from the next door Reception class came up to me at playtime to ask me if I could help them draw a spider web. Sure they don't remember the actual curriculum I taught them that day, nor my name (they all think I'm miss "Cones" here, which I suppose is about as close as "Coombs" back home), but they remember some random 5 minute activity I did with a few of them. It's like when the girls at camp, who by the way were NOT in my cabin, wanted to show me their teeth were squeaky after brushing them (the year before, when they WERE in my cabin, I couldn't get them to brush their teeth for the life of me).
Getting side tracked, as usual.
Next week I'm at my favourite school again. I've got a Year 1 class (kindergarten) that I know fairly well. My personal mission is to try to train them not to crowd around me poking me and saying "Miss, miss, miss!" while I'm already speaking to one of them. I'm not sure it's possible. I can barely train my 11 year olds back home. Any ideas you experienced infant teachers?
Well, my train has arrived at its destination. I'm off to see the queen! May have to settle for her castle.
Sunday 20 November 2011
Come and listen to a story about a man named Jed...
One of my housemates complemented me on how well put together I was looking this morning. I answered "I'm a real girl now," referencing Pinocchio. Then expanded with "I'm not a puppet anymore." As soon as it was out of my mouth, I realised the irony of my statement.
That being said, I sure felt small town when we got to Camden Market, and we stepped into Cyberdog. All of my senses were totally overwhelmed. The staff either looked like they were intent on becoming cyborgs, or being adopted into the Jetsons family.
I loved Camden Stables Market... it's built on the site of a Victorian horse hospital, which was used to treat the horses that were injured while pulling the barges down the canals. You could catch glimpses of giant copper horse sculptures through the milling crowds everywhere you looked. And the stalls! You could find anything your heart desires, from retro and vintage, to the exotic and the bizarre. It winds its way under the open sky, through the old arches, and down into the catacombs bellow.
Later on, I creatively found my way to meet Kim at Oxford Circus. WHY they choose to shut down half the tub lines for repairs on weekends is beyond me. Supposedly half of London commutes out of town for the weekends, and it's "dead". I can't wait to see the congestion during the Olympics next summer. Side-tracking, side-tracking.
The Christmas shoppers are out! We wove our way down Regent Street, clutching each other's sleeve or coat collar, finding our way to Hamleys Toy Store... 5 floors of fun for children of all ages! They have hired extra workers for the holidays, demonstrating toys. With all of the people, the toys flying around,the decorations and the Christmas music blasting from the speakers, the place had the distinct feel of Santa's workshop.
That being said, I sure felt small town when we got to Camden Market, and we stepped into Cyberdog. All of my senses were totally overwhelmed. The staff either looked like they were intent on becoming cyborgs, or being adopted into the Jetsons family.
I loved Camden Stables Market... it's built on the site of a Victorian horse hospital, which was used to treat the horses that were injured while pulling the barges down the canals. You could catch glimpses of giant copper horse sculptures through the milling crowds everywhere you looked. And the stalls! You could find anything your heart desires, from retro and vintage, to the exotic and the bizarre. It winds its way under the open sky, through the old arches, and down into the catacombs bellow.
Later on, I creatively found my way to meet Kim at Oxford Circus. WHY they choose to shut down half the tub lines for repairs on weekends is beyond me. Supposedly half of London commutes out of town for the weekends, and it's "dead". I can't wait to see the congestion during the Olympics next summer. Side-tracking, side-tracking.
The Christmas shoppers are out! We wove our way down Regent Street, clutching each other's sleeve or coat collar, finding our way to Hamleys Toy Store... 5 floors of fun for children of all ages! They have hired extra workers for the holidays, demonstrating toys. With all of the people, the toys flying around,the decorations and the Christmas music blasting from the speakers, the place had the distinct feel of Santa's workshop.
Thursday 10 November 2011
Two Blogs Behind
I'm falling behind. There aren't enough hours in the day. Why is it, that no matter where I live, whether it be in a remote Northern community, or bustling London, I end up booked solid? Hmmm.... obviously have not learned my lesson yet about scheduling, and giving myself time off. PS, I still consider myself an introvert.
First blog entry:
I've officially ditched the group fiddle lesson in Northern London. I always try to see things through to the end, but this time I don't feel all that guilty.
As it happens, there is a Folk Club that meets at the White Horse Pub at the end of my street on the same night. My housemate accidentally stumbled upon it, and passed on the information. I went last night, and had a blast. No one there takes themselves too seriously (one lady has a ukelele plastered in puffy stickers), and they're super friendly and welcoming. Very much the opposite of my experience in London.
What I hadn't realised is that it's more of an open mic night with crowd vocal participation than a jam session. So I stood up and played in front of a crowd of strangers. If I keep this up, I might actually get over my stage fright and stop choking in the middle of my songs.
And they loved the infusion of new Canadian tunes! New to them at least. I was even asked to take a second turn. The only problem is that I'm now out... I played Pelican Reel, Log Drivers' Waltz and St. Anne's Reel. Then I played Cripple Creek, which is probably American, but they had never heard either. Can anyone suggest any other tunes that are Canadian and might be a part of my limited repertoire?
Second blog entry:
I was invited to a women's Bible/book study tonight. They're doing a study of the book of James. Tonight's topic was about money. It was incredibly eye opening. Some of the attitudes towards money are the same as in North America, at least in a general sense (disposable society, temptation to live above your means). However, as much as Canada was colonized by Great Britain not that long ago (historical time takes on whole new meaning this side of the pond), there have been different influences on each society. Also, the neighbourhood I live in is a little more strapped for cash.
I certainly felt a little sheepish about my current lifestyle. Quite honestly, I'm on a bit of a joy ride. I'm still working for my keep, and having to work hard, but I'm hardly wondering whether or not I will be eating today, or having to choose between taking my child to the doctor or putting the next meal on the table. Trusting in God takes on a slightly new shade of meaning.
First blog entry:
I've officially ditched the group fiddle lesson in Northern London. I always try to see things through to the end, but this time I don't feel all that guilty.
As it happens, there is a Folk Club that meets at the White Horse Pub at the end of my street on the same night. My housemate accidentally stumbled upon it, and passed on the information. I went last night, and had a blast. No one there takes themselves too seriously (one lady has a ukelele plastered in puffy stickers), and they're super friendly and welcoming. Very much the opposite of my experience in London.
What I hadn't realised is that it's more of an open mic night with crowd vocal participation than a jam session. So I stood up and played in front of a crowd of strangers. If I keep this up, I might actually get over my stage fright and stop choking in the middle of my songs.
And they loved the infusion of new Canadian tunes! New to them at least. I was even asked to take a second turn. The only problem is that I'm now out... I played Pelican Reel, Log Drivers' Waltz and St. Anne's Reel. Then I played Cripple Creek, which is probably American, but they had never heard either. Can anyone suggest any other tunes that are Canadian and might be a part of my limited repertoire?
Second blog entry:
I was invited to a women's Bible/book study tonight. They're doing a study of the book of James. Tonight's topic was about money. It was incredibly eye opening. Some of the attitudes towards money are the same as in North America, at least in a general sense (disposable society, temptation to live above your means). However, as much as Canada was colonized by Great Britain not that long ago (historical time takes on whole new meaning this side of the pond), there have been different influences on each society. Also, the neighbourhood I live in is a little more strapped for cash.
I certainly felt a little sheepish about my current lifestyle. Quite honestly, I'm on a bit of a joy ride. I'm still working for my keep, and having to work hard, but I'm hardly wondering whether or not I will be eating today, or having to choose between taking my child to the doctor or putting the next meal on the table. Trusting in God takes on a slightly new shade of meaning.
Sunday 6 November 2011
"but I didn't inhale!"
I had an amazing time in Oxford this weekend. I wandered around town gawking at the architecture, highlighted by he Autumn colours for a couple of hours until Jen was finished work. And the window shopping! There were so many nice things.
I can't get over how gorgeous the town is. The colleges, libraries and churches all look like medieval castles, covered in gargoyles. And I loved how almost everyone traveled by bike. There must have been a few graduation ceremonies that day too, because many people were wearing their gowns.
Chris took us to his favourite pub for super. Apparently it was the place that President Clinton didn't inhale. After why I have to admit was good pub grub, we walked out to the Guy Fox bonfire and fireworks. Much better than Halloween.
Today we went for a walk in the countryside. I love how there are public footpaths crisscrossing the country, although I suppose they are the bane of farmers' existence. There's so much to see and so little time.
I can't get over how gorgeous the town is. The colleges, libraries and churches all look like medieval castles, covered in gargoyles. And I loved how almost everyone traveled by bike. There must have been a few graduation ceremonies that day too, because many people were wearing their gowns.
Chris took us to his favourite pub for super. Apparently it was the place that President Clinton didn't inhale. After why I have to admit was good pub grub, we walked out to the Guy Fox bonfire and fireworks. Much better than Halloween.
Today we went for a walk in the countryside. I love how there are public footpaths crisscrossing the country, although I suppose they are the bane of farmers' existence. There's so much to see and so little time.
Monday 31 October 2011
I'm making friends!
Finally! I'm making friends! I connected with a few ladies my age at church yesterday. A few of us went for lunch and a walk yesterday, and I'm also getting together with another one tonight.
And now today, I've been asked by one of the teachers if I want to go to a Tobi Keith concert. Tobi Keith. In England. It has me laughing, as it seems a little counter productive to experiencing all I can of the UK. I haven't heard any country music since leaving North America.
But I (potentially) have friends!
And now today, I've been asked by one of the teachers if I want to go to a Tobi Keith concert. Tobi Keith. In England. It has me laughing, as it seems a little counter productive to experiencing all I can of the UK. I haven't heard any country music since leaving North America.
But I (potentially) have friends!
Friday 28 October 2011
Yet another facet of Ireland
Today was all about the people. I met all sorts of interesting Irish today. This morning we went to the Grange Stone Circle, the largest standing stone circle in Ireland. As David pointed out, it's more than a little impressive that they were building similar stone circles, with presumably the same functions, in 2000BC in both Ireland, and England and Scotland. Imagine the physical and cultural barriers to overcome. We were met at the gate by the farmer who owns the field. He was quite proud of the circle, and showed us his collection of postcards that visitors had sent him once they returned home. It only got better from there.
This evening we went to Glenstal Abbey, an abbey just out of town, where the Benedictine monks sing Vespers in latin every evening. After Vespers, we hiked back into the closest village, and had supper at a pub while waiting for the local taxi guy to finish his runs and come back for us. It was a little surreal, eating good food, while watching rugby in Irish (apparently only tourists call it Gaelic) and chatting with Denny. We thought he was having a laugh at us, introducing himself as "Demi Moore", but it was just his thick accent. The taxi driver called him a rogue, and David called him "a right colourful character". At any rate, I think he proposed to me, if I made it out correctly. He was eventually surrounded and led away by five other locals in the pub.
Even the taxi driver was great fun!
David: This lady sitting next to me comes from Canada!
John: Canadian! (a bunch of gibberish in a country accent)
David: She lives up north in Yukon... It borders Alaska.
John: Yukon! Yukon you say? ... That place is full of squas. You a squa? Are you a squa?!?
and then later...
David: And did you know that they actually have Eskimos there? I thought Eskimos were imaginary! You know, like Leprechauns are to Ireland, Eskimos are to Canada. Hey... can you hunt Eskimos?
I think he was pulling my leg. I HOPE he was pulling my leg. [5 minutes later] Nope, it's confirmed. He was not pulling my leg.
Political correctness was also apparently a lost battle.
This evening we went to Glenstal Abbey, an abbey just out of town, where the Benedictine monks sing Vespers in latin every evening. After Vespers, we hiked back into the closest village, and had supper at a pub while waiting for the local taxi guy to finish his runs and come back for us. It was a little surreal, eating good food, while watching rugby in Irish (apparently only tourists call it Gaelic) and chatting with Denny. We thought he was having a laugh at us, introducing himself as "Demi Moore", but it was just his thick accent. The taxi driver called him a rogue, and David called him "a right colourful character". At any rate, I think he proposed to me, if I made it out correctly. He was eventually surrounded and led away by five other locals in the pub.
Even the taxi driver was great fun!
David: This lady sitting next to me comes from Canada!
John: Canadian! (a bunch of gibberish in a country accent)
David: She lives up north in Yukon... It borders Alaska.
John: Yukon! Yukon you say? ... That place is full of squas. You a squa? Are you a squa?!?
and then later...
David: And did you know that they actually have Eskimos there? I thought Eskimos were imaginary! You know, like Leprechauns are to Ireland, Eskimos are to Canada. Hey... can you hunt Eskimos?
I think he was pulling my leg. I HOPE he was pulling my leg. [5 minutes later] Nope, it's confirmed. He was not pulling my leg.
Political correctness was also apparently a lost battle.
Thursday 27 October 2011
The luck of the Irish
When you think of Ireland, what do you picture? Green, leprechauns, and pots of gold at the end of rainbows? I can at least attest to the green and the rainbows. I'm still waiting to witness the wee folk step dancing. Perhaps tonight when we go down for the live music Dolan's. Tee hee!!! I'll be listening to live Irish music in Ireland!
I've been here for two days now. It was a little weird being greeted at the airport by a Canadian. Krysta and I stayed up until 3am catching up on news from home, and laughing. David has been an excellent guide, even if he insisted on us getting up at 8am to start the day.
Yesterday we did the Ring of Kerry. The scenery around the Gap of Dunlop was breathtaking. Luckily, David is a photographer, so we had frequent roadside stops. I don't have my laptop with me, but I'm hoping that I have some good photos for my scrapbook. We also stopped at Ballinskelligs to clamber along the beach, and gaze out at the Skellig Islands from the top of the Kerry cliffs. These names will all make more sense once you see the pictures.
Whereas yesterday was a scenic drive, today was full of adventure. We were going to visit Bunratty castle, but it was a 15 Euro entrance fee, and due to our late start, we were on a tight schedule. Instead, David took us to Dromoland Castle, a super posh castle-turned-hotel. WOW! There's nothing like infiltrating somewhere you're not supposed to be to get the blood pumping.
At 3PM, we hopped aboard a boat to tour the cliffs of Moher from the sea. Discovery... it is VERY difficult to take pictures when tossing upon 10 foot swells, without going overboard. And to witness the power of the waves crashing on the cliffs is awe-inspiring. I could feel God's presence surrounding me as the sun was going down on the water, clambering among the rocks through the salty spray, with the roar of the surf in my ears.
Amendment: Krysta is upset because David's name is in my post more than hers. So here are a few facts about Krysta. She is a good friend. Oops, KRYSTA is a good friend. KRYSTA has an infectious laugh. David says that KRYSTA is loveable. When asked what she would like to share about Ireland, KRYSTA responded, "divine encounter with God."
I've been here for two days now. It was a little weird being greeted at the airport by a Canadian. Krysta and I stayed up until 3am catching up on news from home, and laughing. David has been an excellent guide, even if he insisted on us getting up at 8am to start the day.
Yesterday we did the Ring of Kerry. The scenery around the Gap of Dunlop was breathtaking. Luckily, David is a photographer, so we had frequent roadside stops. I don't have my laptop with me, but I'm hoping that I have some good photos for my scrapbook. We also stopped at Ballinskelligs to clamber along the beach, and gaze out at the Skellig Islands from the top of the Kerry cliffs. These names will all make more sense once you see the pictures.
Whereas yesterday was a scenic drive, today was full of adventure. We were going to visit Bunratty castle, but it was a 15 Euro entrance fee, and due to our late start, we were on a tight schedule. Instead, David took us to Dromoland Castle, a super posh castle-turned-hotel. WOW! There's nothing like infiltrating somewhere you're not supposed to be to get the blood pumping.
At 3PM, we hopped aboard a boat to tour the cliffs of Moher from the sea. Discovery... it is VERY difficult to take pictures when tossing upon 10 foot swells, without going overboard. And to witness the power of the waves crashing on the cliffs is awe-inspiring. I could feel God's presence surrounding me as the sun was going down on the water, clambering among the rocks through the salty spray, with the roar of the surf in my ears.
Amendment: Krysta is upset because David's name is in my post more than hers. So here are a few facts about Krysta. She is a good friend. Oops, KRYSTA is a good friend. KRYSTA has an infectious laugh. David says that KRYSTA is loveable. When asked what she would like to share about Ireland, KRYSTA responded, "divine encounter with God."
The End.
Tuesday 25 October 2011
It's a beautiful day in the neighbourhood
Considering I'm the first person not to get cultural references, perhaps I shouldn't be using one as my title. I frequently attempt using my "I grew up in Vanuatu" card, never mind that I've now been back for almost 20 years. H was pretty quick to point out "That's no excuse! So did I!" Oh...
It was great seeing her again. I was lucky enough to meet up with her five years ago when I was last here in the UK. Now she has a little one. And boy is he gorgeous! Mocha skin, loose curls, deep eyes. They've moved to a new neighborhood with the world's greatest playground. It's set in a huge park surrounding a historic mansion (Danson House), next to a lake where they have sailing in the summertime. The playground is huge. It has the usual big toys, plus a gigantic rope jungle gym, a child sized farm, an in-ground trampoline, tunnels that even I could crawl through, a zip line, a water park, a pirate ship, a rocket, you name it. When you're done, you can go on a tour of the house, or to the stables which have been refitted as a restaurant/cafe. It's like something out of a movie. Oh wait, they probably FILM the movies here!
It was great seeing her again. I was lucky enough to meet up with her five years ago when I was last here in the UK. Now she has a little one. And boy is he gorgeous! Mocha skin, loose curls, deep eyes. They've moved to a new neighborhood with the world's greatest playground. It's set in a huge park surrounding a historic mansion (Danson House), next to a lake where they have sailing in the summertime. The playground is huge. It has the usual big toys, plus a gigantic rope jungle gym, a child sized farm, an in-ground trampoline, tunnels that even I could crawl through, a zip line, a water park, a pirate ship, a rocket, you name it. When you're done, you can go on a tour of the house, or to the stables which have been refitted as a restaurant/cafe. It's like something out of a movie. Oh wait, they probably FILM the movies here!
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Sunday 23 October 2011
Hmmm... Makes you think
I was chatting with a friend in Canada, and made a passing comment about how it's so easy to see and do things in the UK, and that it costs only a fraction of what it would cost to do something similar in Whitehorse. He asked me exactly how much it would cost in Whitehorse.
And you know what? It really DOES cost a fraction of what it would!!! For the price of a plane ticket home, from Whitehorse to Kelowna, I have bought:
- return airfare to Ireland for 5 days
- return train tickets for TWO to Paris over New Years
- 1 Disneyland Paris MagicPass
It really makes you stop and think. And here I was chaffing because we were buying more expensive tickets to Paris, and not the £69 deal. Get some perspective Heather.
And you know what? It really DOES cost a fraction of what it would!!! For the price of a plane ticket home, from Whitehorse to Kelowna, I have bought:
- return airfare to Ireland for 5 days
- return train tickets for TWO to Paris over New Years
- 1 Disneyland Paris MagicPass
It really makes you stop and think. And here I was chaffing because we were buying more expensive tickets to Paris, and not the £69 deal. Get some perspective Heather.
Friday 21 October 2011
Half-term already?!?
I can't believe that it's already half term! As of 3 hours ago, I have a whole 9 days off! Time is flying by
so quickly that I'm a little scared. There's so much more that I want
to do. I'm not ready to go home. Not that I'm going home anytime soon,
but I just can't imagine being ready by the end of the year. We'll have
to see if and how my feelings change throughout the year.
Last week I had a 100% enjoyable week! I was personally requested by a school I'd already been to a few weeks ago, and found that I worked well in (atmosphere and people). Luckily. Because of my Guaranteed Supply Teaching contract, I pretty much have to go wherever they send me. I am allowed to "code" one school (say that I won't go there).
Things I have learned so far:
- how to be more strict
- how to raise my voice authoritatively, without anger
- that I would not only survive in a Reception class (Kindergarten-ish), but can actually enjoy it
- the learning speeds and abilities of different age groups (in progress)
- phonetic spelling by Essex children is hilarious
- not to use the word "pants" in a classroom (it means underwear here)
- when a 4 year old tells you that he/she needs to go to the bathroom, it means NOW
Last week I had a 100% enjoyable week! I was personally requested by a school I'd already been to a few weeks ago, and found that I worked well in (atmosphere and people). Luckily. Because of my Guaranteed Supply Teaching contract, I pretty much have to go wherever they send me. I am allowed to "code" one school (say that I won't go there).
Things I have learned so far:
- how to be more strict
- how to raise my voice authoritatively, without anger
- that I would not only survive in a Reception class (Kindergarten-ish), but can actually enjoy it
- the learning speeds and abilities of different age groups (in progress)
- phonetic spelling by Essex children is hilarious
- not to use the word "pants" in a classroom (it means underwear here)
- when a 4 year old tells you that he/she needs to go to the bathroom, it means NOW
Sunday 16 October 2011
Paint the town... PURPLE?
After a short night's sleep, K and I were up bright and early to head out on our Cadbury World adventure. How does one turn a chocolate factory into a full day of entertainment? Well, Cadbury has managed it.
As soon as you step off the train, you start noticing a theme.... not only is "Cadbury" plastered everywhere, with signs pointing the way to the factory, but ALL THE BUILDINGS HAVE PURPLE HIGHLIGHTS TO THEM. The whole flipping town is purple!
And then you start noticing the smell... the thick, rich smell of molten chocolate. Yes, that's right. Anyway, the factory was more like a miniature version of Disneyland than what you would imagine a factory to look like. There was even an educational section, where they take you through some of the Mayan culture, and the history of chocolate. It felt strange seeing the Mayan displays on a completely different continent.
As soon as you step off the train, you start noticing a theme.... not only is "Cadbury" plastered everywhere, with signs pointing the way to the factory, but ALL THE BUILDINGS HAVE PURPLE HIGHLIGHTS TO THEM. The whole flipping town is purple!
And then you start noticing the smell... the thick, rich smell of molten chocolate. Yes, that's right. Anyway, the factory was more like a miniature version of Disneyland than what you would imagine a factory to look like. There was even an educational section, where they take you through some of the Mayan culture, and the history of chocolate. It felt strange seeing the Mayan displays on a completely different continent.
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| The Cadbury Experience begins... in South America. |
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| Everything was made of "chocolate" |
All Dressed in Yellow
I had such an amazing time at the Fiddlers˚ Bid concert last night! I had seen three of the band members play in separate groups that week, as well as having had Andrew as an instructor, and had high expectations of what it would be like to see them all play together. Dangerous, especially when you haul a new friend with you to go see them. They did NOT disappoint! Wow! All that energy! I love it when you can feel the music go all the way through you. From vibrations up through the soles of your feet, through your chest, and through your soul. They were obviously having a blast playing together. Touring must get expensive going through all that horse hair though.
I was so pumped leaving there that I couldn't sleep most of the night. THAT's what I want to experience when I play.
Hearing the music I experienced on the Shetland Islands brought back many fond memories of my trip up there this summer. It was also a treat briefly running into a couple people that I had met at Fiddle Frenzy. Some people had traveled quite a distance to get to Birmingham that night. It was held in a smaller community's parish hall. Even THAT brought back memories of the evenings we spent out of town, listening to a concert, clearing away the chairs, and dancing the night away. I had SUCH a hard time staying in my seat last night. I could have listened to the stories and the music all night long. Three hours were NOT enough!
It's hard to describe this link I now feel with the Shetlands. It's almost as if I'm experiencing homesickness for a place that is not my home. The people were so friendly and welcoming, and the landscape unforgettable. Everything about it was unique, and yet homey in a way that melds with your heart.
I was so pumped leaving there that I couldn't sleep most of the night. THAT's what I want to experience when I play.
Hearing the music I experienced on the Shetland Islands brought back many fond memories of my trip up there this summer. It was also a treat briefly running into a couple people that I had met at Fiddle Frenzy. Some people had traveled quite a distance to get to Birmingham that night. It was held in a smaller community's parish hall. Even THAT brought back memories of the evenings we spent out of town, listening to a concert, clearing away the chairs, and dancing the night away. I had SUCH a hard time staying in my seat last night. I could have listened to the stories and the music all night long. Three hours were NOT enough!
It's hard to describe this link I now feel with the Shetlands. It's almost as if I'm experiencing homesickness for a place that is not my home. The people were so friendly and welcoming, and the landscape unforgettable. Everything about it was unique, and yet homey in a way that melds with your heart.
Saturday 15 October 2011
Heeland coos
I just learned something fascinating! Do you know why highland cows are red? Apparently there used to be a mix of black cows and red cows. Queen Victoria visited Scotland, and being the influential lady that she was, made a passing comment while looking out on a field of mixed cows about the black cows looking a bit sinister. So they bred for red cows. The things you learn on a coach.
Friday 14 October 2011
Busy, busy, busy
I must be doing something right, because suddenly I'm in high demand! I still feel a bit like I'm on stage, pretending to be someone that I'm not... I feel like I'm waiting for "them" (kids? headteachers?) to see through me. However, my initial impression of the British school system has been much tempered. Teachers here care just as much about their students as back home, and the general goals are still the same. I suppose that sending me into the lions den to experience the worst has helped me appreciate the rest. It's still no walk in the park, but it's now a challenge I'm willing and ready to rise to.
Being placed in a classroom for a whole week has been a nice transition. It gave me a chance to not only get to know the students and the curriculum, but it takes away the harried feel of trying to figure out the school schedules and routines, and more importantly, it allowed me to connect with staff members (an INVALUABLE resource.)
Last week I covered a Year 1 class. Which still makes me laugh. I swore back in Canada that I would NEVER... EVER teach Kindergarten (Year 1 here... which is actually their third year of schooling). I had a whole list of reasons as to why I couldn't. All I can say is that it's an excellent thing that I've met God, and that He's already been stretching me and teaching me that all things are possible. The school seems to like me, because yesterday they called TimePlan and requested me for all next week.
This week I was covering a Year 5 class. I really enjoyed getting a glimpse into their curriculum. I learned all sorts of new things about the lives of Victorian children, and the roots of the Bernard foundation. I also learned to check that all uniform shirts were tucked in every time we lined up for class. The school has a new headteacher, who always seems to be going full-steam ahead, and is on top of everything. I admire him, and wonder what makes him tick, but boy does he intimidate me. However, they seem to like me there as well, because before I left today, they booked me for the whole week after we get back from half-term break.
Which means, I know exactly what I'm doing for the next three weeks! No uncertainty, no getting up at 6am so that I can make the 7am phone call into the TimePlan office, no new school discipline systems/schedules/routines to learn. Life is good!
Being placed in a classroom for a whole week has been a nice transition. It gave me a chance to not only get to know the students and the curriculum, but it takes away the harried feel of trying to figure out the school schedules and routines, and more importantly, it allowed me to connect with staff members (an INVALUABLE resource.)
Last week I covered a Year 1 class. Which still makes me laugh. I swore back in Canada that I would NEVER... EVER teach Kindergarten (Year 1 here... which is actually their third year of schooling). I had a whole list of reasons as to why I couldn't. All I can say is that it's an excellent thing that I've met God, and that He's already been stretching me and teaching me that all things are possible. The school seems to like me, because yesterday they called TimePlan and requested me for all next week.
This week I was covering a Year 5 class. I really enjoyed getting a glimpse into their curriculum. I learned all sorts of new things about the lives of Victorian children, and the roots of the Bernard foundation. I also learned to check that all uniform shirts were tucked in every time we lined up for class. The school has a new headteacher, who always seems to be going full-steam ahead, and is on top of everything. I admire him, and wonder what makes him tick, but boy does he intimidate me. However, they seem to like me there as well, because before I left today, they booked me for the whole week after we get back from half-term break.
Which means, I know exactly what I'm doing for the next three weeks! No uncertainty, no getting up at 6am so that I can make the 7am phone call into the TimePlan office, no new school discipline systems/schedules/routines to learn. Life is good!
Wednesday 12 October 2011
I can admit when I'm wrong... really I can...
I just had a most excellent evening. Which is a bit ironic, since my plan going into it was to use the evening as the final proof for why I'm not going back after half-term break. You see, I'm spending 3 hours in transit for a 2 hour group fiddle lesson (really only 1.5 since we have a 30 min break in the middle). I would be willing to do the traveling if I were getting something out of it. The major issue is that it seems as if everyone else in the group has been playing for, oh, say 20 years? If I'm not in tip top shape going into it, I leave frustrated, short-tempered, and not wanting to pick up my violin for the next week. In fact, I left at break time last week because I could barely hold back the tears, and I recognized that a full night's sleep would do me more good than beating my head against a brick wall.
Tonight we learned Spoot o' Skeery, a tune that I heard on the Shetland Islands at least 5 times a night. I'm sure that being familiar with the tune helped a lot, but the instructor also slowed down and broke up the tune a bit more in his teaching. It was soooo encouraging to not only feel like I was actually walking away with a full tune, but also knowing that I now have one more tune in my repertoire that I can use next summer when I go back to the Shetlands. Slow session, here I come!
Speaking of jam sessions, we spent the last half hour of class doing a review/session. No one would volunteer to start off with a tune, which is completely ridiculous considering how GOOD they are, and have such great tunes to share. I'm getting a little sick of being intimidated (they're not the friendliest and most welcoming bunch), so I volunteered to start. I played a slower, haunting tune called Sigurd o' Gord. Legend has it that it was taught to a man who was whisked away by the Trows for a hundred years. When he was returned to his town, all of his loved ones having passed on, he went out and played this tune as the sun fell. As the last rays disappeared, and the last strains of the melody floated on the wind, he slowly turned to dust. I don't know what I like more, the tunes themselves, or the stories attached to them.
Obviously I stumbled over a few parts in the middle, but everyone seemed a little more willing to volunteer after that. AND I may have made a friend... she's been hiding in the back, being a beginner like me, and having the same frustrations. When I say "beginner", let me qualify that by saying that she plays several other string instruments and the piano, but has only been playing the violin since last Christmas. I'll take what I can.
Tonight we learned Spoot o' Skeery, a tune that I heard on the Shetland Islands at least 5 times a night. I'm sure that being familiar with the tune helped a lot, but the instructor also slowed down and broke up the tune a bit more in his teaching. It was soooo encouraging to not only feel like I was actually walking away with a full tune, but also knowing that I now have one more tune in my repertoire that I can use next summer when I go back to the Shetlands. Slow session, here I come!
Speaking of jam sessions, we spent the last half hour of class doing a review/session. No one would volunteer to start off with a tune, which is completely ridiculous considering how GOOD they are, and have such great tunes to share. I'm getting a little sick of being intimidated (they're not the friendliest and most welcoming bunch), so I volunteered to start. I played a slower, haunting tune called Sigurd o' Gord. Legend has it that it was taught to a man who was whisked away by the Trows for a hundred years. When he was returned to his town, all of his loved ones having passed on, he went out and played this tune as the sun fell. As the last rays disappeared, and the last strains of the melody floated on the wind, he slowly turned to dust. I don't know what I like more, the tunes themselves, or the stories attached to them.
Obviously I stumbled over a few parts in the middle, but everyone seemed a little more willing to volunteer after that. AND I may have made a friend... she's been hiding in the back, being a beginner like me, and having the same frustrations. When I say "beginner", let me qualify that by saying that she plays several other string instruments and the piano, but has only been playing the violin since last Christmas. I'll take what I can.
Sunday 9 October 2011
Hoser the turkey
The pumpkin was a huge success. I was actually very surprised at just how much of a success it was. We had 17 people at the house for Thanksgiving dinner: 14 Canadians, 2 Irish, and 1 English (though he is very insistent that he is Cornish, not English).
It was an amazing evening of everyone pulling together and being the family that we left behind. The house was cleaned, a plethora of dishes were served, the ambiance was cozy, and the company buoyant.
I took some photos, and will post them tomorrow after the turkey coma wears off.
Jared actually went to a free range turkey farm and picked it out by the way. Then stayed up until 2am making special herbed butter that he massaged under the skin, got up at 6am, covered the bird in bacon, and baked it to juicy perfection. This is what I mean about our "landlord" going above and beyond the call of duty. For which I am very thankful.
It was an amazing evening of everyone pulling together and being the family that we left behind. The house was cleaned, a plethora of dishes were served, the ambiance was cozy, and the company buoyant.
I took some photos, and will post them tomorrow after the turkey coma wears off.
Jared actually went to a free range turkey farm and picked it out by the way. Then stayed up until 2am making special herbed butter that he massaged under the skin, got up at 6am, covered the bird in bacon, and baked it to juicy perfection. This is what I mean about our "landlord" going above and beyond the call of duty. For which I am very thankful.
Saturday 8 October 2011
Die Pumpkin Die
We scoured town for a pumpkin pie, but none was to be found. The worker looked at me like I was crazy, and actually SNICKERED when I asked if they had a can of pumpkin puree. However, the good news is, even if they don't celebrate Canadian Thanksgiving, England, like North America, starts advertising for other holidays long before their arrival. Found a pumpkin.
Now I stand glaring at the pumpkin, sitting innocently on the counter, wondering how I'm going to turn it into a pie. Without a food processor.
Yes, this is how I entertain myself on a Saturday night in London. Or close enough to London.
Now I stand glaring at the pumpkin, sitting innocently on the counter, wondering how I'm going to turn it into a pie. Without a food processor.
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| Dedicated to "Alejandro", the art teacher in the house. Who had the nerve to tell me that my masterpiece was "cute". Psha. |
Off to the races
I went to watch my housemate and a friend race cars last night. From the way "Jared" (I've decided to start using code names on here, to protect the genius identities of my friends) described it, I was expecting deep throated, powerful machines. He was scaring "Graham" with instructions as to what to do in case the engine, nestled between your thighs, burst into flames after a high-impact crash. Now picture grown men in go-carts pretending that they're in the Indy 500. Uhuh.
But they take it seriously, and it turned out to be fun. Cold and windy, but fun. There's also this amazing, high-end Japanese restaurant next door. I think that should be a House Saturday plan someday soon... An afternoon at the track, topped off with a mouth watering meal. Winner eats free.
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| I know... terrible shot, but I only had my iPhone with me. Squint. |
Monday 26 September 2011
Time to get some wellies!
I had another grand adventure today! I went over to a friend's place for supper tonight. It was raining. Hard. As in, the rain was driving down so hard that it was bouncing off the concrete by a couple of inches. But it was warm rain, and fun. I was going to take the bus (protect my voice, which I just got back after being sick all weekend), but by the time I got to the stop, my shoes were soaked, and my jeans were wet up to my knees. Figured I couldn't get much wetter, so I decided to walk.
How wrong I was. I wish I'd had my camera... the streets were rushing rivers. Sometimes I had to reroute, because the water was too deep to cross the road at that intersection. One store drainpipe had so much water rushing down it from the roof that the water was hitting the concrete and violently spraying back up to shoulder height. Oh! And I found a new use for my umbrella! After being hit by a wave or two of muddy water, I started using it as a shield for the spray of passing cars.
By the time I got there, I was soaking from head to toe (the rain was coming through both my umbrella AND my raincoat). But it was not only a fun visit, but useful too. She's been teaching here for the last year or so, and assured me that what I've experienced so far is not normal. She's a sweet, soft-spoken lady. Gives me hope! I also spoke with a couple other British teachers over the weekend who say the same thing. I may survive here after all! She also shared a few usefull teaching resources. Excellent!
I'm even looking forward to going back to work tomorrow!
How wrong I was. I wish I'd had my camera... the streets were rushing rivers. Sometimes I had to reroute, because the water was too deep to cross the road at that intersection. One store drainpipe had so much water rushing down it from the roof that the water was hitting the concrete and violently spraying back up to shoulder height. Oh! And I found a new use for my umbrella! After being hit by a wave or two of muddy water, I started using it as a shield for the spray of passing cars.
By the time I got there, I was soaking from head to toe (the rain was coming through both my umbrella AND my raincoat). But it was not only a fun visit, but useful too. She's been teaching here for the last year or so, and assured me that what I've experienced so far is not normal. She's a sweet, soft-spoken lady. Gives me hope! I also spoke with a couple other British teachers over the weekend who say the same thing. I may survive here after all! She also shared a few usefull teaching resources. Excellent!
I'm even looking forward to going back to work tomorrow!
Friday 23 September 2011
Be careful what you wish for
I'm not quite sure what to think. I still can't get over it. I've raised my voice more over the last two days than I have in my entire Canadian career. If I'd yelled this much at my students back home, they'd all be crying AND I'd likely lose my job. If I don't yell more than this in England, I likely will lose my job.
My behaviour management techniques do not work here... the kids have been completely desensitized. In Canada, when a child is not on task, first you move closer to them, then you use proximity and a gentle touch on the shoulder, then you try proximity, touch and quietly using their name, and then you get more serious. Here, teachers jump straight to laying into a child, going up one side and down the other, at the top of their lungs. Publicly humiliating a child in Canada would make a Canadian teacher recoil in horror by the way. It's at the top of the "Do not, ever, do" list.
My morning was a disaster... we got almost nothing done, and the class was completely out of control. Why? Because I was gentle with them for the first 5 minutes. It didn't matter what I did after that. At lunch I was seriously reconsidering wanting anything to do with the British school system. Maybe I still should.
In the afternoon, I had a different class. I barked at them like a drill sergeant as soon as I went to retrieve them from recess. "FACE FORWARD", "Be QUIET!". And I had no issues with them all afternoon, on a Friday. We got through the assigned work, and I could even do a couple quick activities with them at the end of the day (I had some walrus teeth that I'd picked up in Skagway this summer, and some Canadian coins... their 5 pence looks identical to our dime from the back.)
Another anecdote: I went to get the class from the playground after recess today. It was like walking onto a frozen movie set. The kids were all over the place, in the middle of doing whatever action or game they were up to when the bell rang, but not even twitching. It was dead silent. The only sound was a lady pacing around, berating [loudly, of course] and threatening them if they dared to move. It was the strangest scene I had ever witnessed. Then, a whistle was blown, and all the children rushed into their line-ups. Or almost all of the children. The kids who had done something wrong that morning were still in the "shapes", where they are expected to stand at attention all recess. They remain there, facing the whole school, until you collect them as you march past them into class.
I can't help but wonder how this year is going to change me. Can I take the good and leave the... mayhaps I shouldn't call it bad, but techniques that don't agree with my current teaching philosophy? Will they agree with me by the end of the year? The adults seem friendly and well-adjusted (the relaxed, smiling teachers you see in the staff room do not line-up with the hard, scary teachers you see interacting with their pupils in the hallways). But the kids are treated so... differently to what I'm used to. And here I am, coming from a system where I complain that there are no consequence, and that children are allowed to call too many of the shots.
My behaviour management techniques do not work here... the kids have been completely desensitized. In Canada, when a child is not on task, first you move closer to them, then you use proximity and a gentle touch on the shoulder, then you try proximity, touch and quietly using their name, and then you get more serious. Here, teachers jump straight to laying into a child, going up one side and down the other, at the top of their lungs. Publicly humiliating a child in Canada would make a Canadian teacher recoil in horror by the way. It's at the top of the "Do not, ever, do" list.
My morning was a disaster... we got almost nothing done, and the class was completely out of control. Why? Because I was gentle with them for the first 5 minutes. It didn't matter what I did after that. At lunch I was seriously reconsidering wanting anything to do with the British school system. Maybe I still should.
In the afternoon, I had a different class. I barked at them like a drill sergeant as soon as I went to retrieve them from recess. "FACE FORWARD", "Be QUIET!". And I had no issues with them all afternoon, on a Friday. We got through the assigned work, and I could even do a couple quick activities with them at the end of the day (I had some walrus teeth that I'd picked up in Skagway this summer, and some Canadian coins... their 5 pence looks identical to our dime from the back.)
Another anecdote: I went to get the class from the playground after recess today. It was like walking onto a frozen movie set. The kids were all over the place, in the middle of doing whatever action or game they were up to when the bell rang, but not even twitching. It was dead silent. The only sound was a lady pacing around, berating [loudly, of course] and threatening them if they dared to move. It was the strangest scene I had ever witnessed. Then, a whistle was blown, and all the children rushed into their line-ups. Or almost all of the children. The kids who had done something wrong that morning were still in the "shapes", where they are expected to stand at attention all recess. They remain there, facing the whole school, until you collect them as you march past them into class.
I can't help but wonder how this year is going to change me. Can I take the good and leave the... mayhaps I shouldn't call it bad, but techniques that don't agree with my current teaching philosophy? Will they agree with me by the end of the year? The adults seem friendly and well-adjusted (the relaxed, smiling teachers you see in the staff room do not line-up with the hard, scary teachers you see interacting with their pupils in the hallways). But the kids are treated so... differently to what I'm used to. And here I am, coming from a system where I complain that there are no consequence, and that children are allowed to call too many of the shots.
Thursday 22 September 2011
Day 3: I had work!
I finally had my first real day of "supply" (Canadians, read "substitute") teaching. They didn't REALLY have work for me, but since they are paying me anyway, TimePlan sent me into a school that doesn't take advantage of their services, free of charge. No pressure now... I only had to act as ambassador and woo them into using TimePlan.
I spent the day bouncing around from class to class, giving the teachers a chance to do some planning. Discovery #1: Classroom management is really hard when you don't know kids names (and good luck with THAT when you have a new class every hour). Discovery #2: Apparently I sound Welsh (uhuh.....)
It seemed like a really nice school. The kids seem like normal kids, and the staff is friendly. A lot of the routines are alien to me. For example, at the end of the day you take your class outside and line them up, releasing the children one by one into the care of their parents. Back in Canada, the bell rings and the kids run for the door.
Teachers also rule with an iron fist here. One of the students was trying to coach me in how to yell at the class. Antonio (my latest housemate) shared a similar story; at recess, his students told him to put on a stern face, jab his finger in the air violently, and to shout "DETENTION!". Homework is also not to be started in class, but is to be done solely at home, with little direction from the teacher. And I think I mentioned yesterday that children are singled out and publicly humiliated, especially the energetic and immature boys. The above paragraph is full of strict no-no's in the Canadian system. I have no idea if this is widespread British philosophy, or simply local practice. I'm told that I'll get a class that completely destroys me, because they've been trained into this system and it's the only thing that's effective, that I'll go home and cry that night, and then get with the program. I sure hope not.
Back to my day... After lunch I had the "bad" class of the school: a Year 5 class. They had it all planned out... when I started with the register they did the age-old name switch. As if their giggling and male/female names didn't instantly give it away. I think that they were disappointed when I didn't react. This was followed by a general fist-fight: one kid got punched in the stomach, another hit over the head with a book, two girls started crying and of course a girl drew blood with her nails. I'm a little surprised that we got any work done that hour. Felt like my first year teaching with that crazy 4/5 split I had.
At the end of the day I dutifully thanked the deputy headmaster for having me into his school. He asked me if I'd consider covering a maternity leave starting in December. I know he knows about the fight (I sent to the office for help breaking it up, and had referenced it in our chat), but maybe he hadn't quite thought his offer through. It wasn't an official offer. I hadn't had any intention of taking an extended position. But by December I might be sick of supply teaching and be ready for my own class. The other major advantage is that it's just around the corner... I would save a killing in bus fare, and soooooo much travel time. It's literally a 10 minute walk from my front door.
I spent the day bouncing around from class to class, giving the teachers a chance to do some planning. Discovery #1: Classroom management is really hard when you don't know kids names (and good luck with THAT when you have a new class every hour). Discovery #2: Apparently I sound Welsh (uhuh.....)
It seemed like a really nice school. The kids seem like normal kids, and the staff is friendly. A lot of the routines are alien to me. For example, at the end of the day you take your class outside and line them up, releasing the children one by one into the care of their parents. Back in Canada, the bell rings and the kids run for the door.
Teachers also rule with an iron fist here. One of the students was trying to coach me in how to yell at the class. Antonio (my latest housemate) shared a similar story; at recess, his students told him to put on a stern face, jab his finger in the air violently, and to shout "DETENTION!". Homework is also not to be started in class, but is to be done solely at home, with little direction from the teacher. And I think I mentioned yesterday that children are singled out and publicly humiliated, especially the energetic and immature boys. The above paragraph is full of strict no-no's in the Canadian system. I have no idea if this is widespread British philosophy, or simply local practice. I'm told that I'll get a class that completely destroys me, because they've been trained into this system and it's the only thing that's effective, that I'll go home and cry that night, and then get with the program. I sure hope not.
Back to my day... After lunch I had the "bad" class of the school: a Year 5 class. They had it all planned out... when I started with the register they did the age-old name switch. As if their giggling and male/female names didn't instantly give it away. I think that they were disappointed when I didn't react. This was followed by a general fist-fight: one kid got punched in the stomach, another hit over the head with a book, two girls started crying and of course a girl drew blood with her nails. I'm a little surprised that we got any work done that hour. Felt like my first year teaching with that crazy 4/5 split I had.
At the end of the day I dutifully thanked the deputy headmaster for having me into his school. He asked me if I'd consider covering a maternity leave starting in December. I know he knows about the fight (I sent to the office for help breaking it up, and had referenced it in our chat), but maybe he hadn't quite thought his offer through. It wasn't an official offer. I hadn't had any intention of taking an extended position. But by December I might be sick of supply teaching and be ready for my own class. The other major advantage is that it's just around the corner... I would save a killing in bus fare, and soooooo much travel time. It's literally a 10 minute walk from my front door.
Wednesday 21 September 2011
Day 2: no work
TimePlan didn't have any work for me today, so I used the time to go clothes shopping. To make money, or to spend it, hmmm... I figured I better have more than one set of professional clothes though, on the off chance a school calls me in more than one day in a row.
I also started my group fiddle lesson this eve! As great as it is to be so close to London, it's also a bit of a pain. It took me an hour and a half to get there, for a two hour fiddle session. For you math wizzes out there, that's 3 hours in transit for 2 hours of playing. If I lived further away, it wouldn't even be an option, so I wouldn't have to worry about transit times.
The lesson was fun though. We learned two Irish tunes, and a few bowing techniques. There were a LOT of us. As in, more than 30. But the price is right, even after you factor in transit fare. Even so, the guy must be making a killing.
It's a mixed ability class, so there's a bit too much for me to focus on as far as technique goes (I can barely get the notes). Once again, I'm at the bottom of the lot by say... 10 years of experience? This is why adults never learn anything new. It's too depressing to constantly be in way over your head. Or be stuck with the 5 year olds. Who can still play better than you. See, with private lessons, at least you don't REALISE how bad you are :P
I also started my group fiddle lesson this eve! As great as it is to be so close to London, it's also a bit of a pain. It took me an hour and a half to get there, for a two hour fiddle session. For you math wizzes out there, that's 3 hours in transit for 2 hours of playing. If I lived further away, it wouldn't even be an option, so I wouldn't have to worry about transit times.
The lesson was fun though. We learned two Irish tunes, and a few bowing techniques. There were a LOT of us. As in, more than 30. But the price is right, even after you factor in transit fare. Even so, the guy must be making a killing.
It's a mixed ability class, so there's a bit too much for me to focus on as far as technique goes (I can barely get the notes). Once again, I'm at the bottom of the lot by say... 10 years of experience? This is why adults never learn anything new. It's too depressing to constantly be in way over your head. Or be stuck with the 5 year olds. Who can still play better than you. See, with private lessons, at least you don't REALISE how bad you are :P
Tuesday 20 September 2011
Day 1: Survived
I did my job shadowing today, after my aborted appointment yesterday (I got all the way there only to receive a call as I was walking up the steps, rescheduling for the next day). I'm very glad that I had a chance to see how students and teachers interact here, and to experience the behaviour expectation. It's very different from Canada, where we're very careful about the child's self-esteem.
I spent the morning in a reception class (the second year of schooling, aimed at 4 year olds), and the afternoon in a Year 2 class (the equivalent of Canadian Grade 1). Most of my teaching experience is with 10 to 12 year olds, so this was a great opportunity for me. I'm going to have to be careful about being sucked in by the big doe eyes and "Miss, miss, miss" in their cute little English accents. I can probably also deal with practical things like wet pants, but am completely useless with the constant "He hit me", or "I want to go home". I'm also more likely to laugh if a kid falls instead of cooing and comforting. I'm in complete awe of Kindergarten teachers' patience and ability, and have no inclination of joining their ranks.
I spent the morning in a reception class (the second year of schooling, aimed at 4 year olds), and the afternoon in a Year 2 class (the equivalent of Canadian Grade 1). Most of my teaching experience is with 10 to 12 year olds, so this was a great opportunity for me. I'm going to have to be careful about being sucked in by the big doe eyes and "Miss, miss, miss" in their cute little English accents. I can probably also deal with practical things like wet pants, but am completely useless with the constant "He hit me", or "I want to go home". I'm also more likely to laugh if a kid falls instead of cooing and comforting. I'm in complete awe of Kindergarten teachers' patience and ability, and have no inclination of joining their ranks.
Saturday 17 September 2011
Chocolate Box England
Spending the last couple of days with the Hills in Rugby have been wonderful. Everywhere we have gone on this trip we have been warmly welcomed and well looked after. The Hills are no exception. Diane is very caring, super organised and the perfect hostess. Stuart is likewise, and tops it off with incredible meals.
Yesterday we explored the Cotswolds, which are well known for its warm, honey coloured stone. Stuart is also a professional photographer (on top of being a retired school teacher and a gourmet cook). I remember being inspired by his photography as a girl, growing up in Vanuatu. He would photograph the horse club events, and capture both the events and more intimate moments. My family still has a lot of his photos on our walls.
Well, my mum and I were blessed with his tutelage on our Cotswold trip. He sees things that I miss, or that I simply can’t see. But we had lessons on our cameras, different options that they include, what to look at when we’re framing our photos, and lighting, among other details. A great opportunity in a gorgeous part of the country.
Last night we looked through some of the wedding work he’s done. I’m going to start saving now, because now that I’ve seen what a wedding album can look like, I don’t think that I can go back.
Yesterday we explored the Cotswolds, which are well known for its warm, honey coloured stone. Stuart is also a professional photographer (on top of being a retired school teacher and a gourmet cook). I remember being inspired by his photography as a girl, growing up in Vanuatu. He would photograph the horse club events, and capture both the events and more intimate moments. My family still has a lot of his photos on our walls.
Well, my mum and I were blessed with his tutelage on our Cotswold trip. He sees things that I miss, or that I simply can’t see. But we had lessons on our cameras, different options that they include, what to look at when we’re framing our photos, and lighting, among other details. A great opportunity in a gorgeous part of the country.
Last night we looked through some of the wedding work he’s done. I’m going to start saving now, because now that I’ve seen what a wedding album can look like, I don’t think that I can go back.
Friday 16 September 2011
Well that was lame...
I know, I know... I’m not doing too well with the daily updates. So today you get three.
Yesterday we visited Nottingham... home of Robin Hood’s arch-nemesis. The place was a little worse for wear. All the tourist attractions seemed to have been closed for a while. At first we thought it was the recession, but even the signs explaining about the caves and passageways under the city were so yellowed and bleached blank that it was obvious that tourism in Nottingham has been in trouble for a wee bit longer than that.
What we didn’t know, and were informed by the Hills upon arrival to Rugby, is that Nottingham is infamous for its crime. I think they need to bring Robin Hood and his merry men back.
Yesterday we visited Nottingham... home of Robin Hood’s arch-nemesis. The place was a little worse for wear. All the tourist attractions seemed to have been closed for a while. At first we thought it was the recession, but even the signs explaining about the caves and passageways under the city were so yellowed and bleached blank that it was obvious that tourism in Nottingham has been in trouble for a wee bit longer than that.
What we didn’t know, and were informed by the Hills upon arrival to Rugby, is that Nottingham is infamous for its crime. I think they need to bring Robin Hood and his merry men back.
Anyone have the Blists Hill blacksmith’s phone number?
As we pulled into Ironbridge, my dad decided on visiting a Victorian Museum (to be honest, I hadn’t been listening to the museum descriptions my mum had been reading out). We walked into a dark room that had brilliant videos playing on all four walls, accompanied by amplified sounds and voice overs, the whole depicting the history of ore mining and processing in the area. It was really well done! They managed to turn a subject that could be really boring into a stimulating presentation.
And then, as we exited through a hallway lined with blown up, yet incredibly high resolution, black and white pictures, we opened up the door into a new world. It was an outdoor, recreated Victorian Town. Think Barkerville, but way better. They had many more people employed as villagers, a greater variety of shops, and an incredible diversity of trades being worked. There were animals, a seamstress, ironworkers, a blacksmith, a candle maker, bakers, an artist, gardeners, miners, a lamplighter, and a post master among others. They also had a working fairground, and visiting school children dressed up and being given Victorian lessons. One of my dreams is to be able to spend a summer in a place like that and learn all the trades.
As Blists Hill was closing, we dragged ourselves away and back to the car to continue our journey to Shrewsbury. Have you ever heard of the Brother Cadfael series? It’s about a crusader turned monk, who faces and solves various mysteries. My dad bought the first book for my mum and I to read on the road.
Obviously by the time we arrived, the Abbey was closed. But it was neat to see from the outside, to read the history of the building, and my mum even found
“Brother Cadfael’s” herb garden. I use the term herb garden fairly loosely, as it was a rather neglected flower bed out front of the entrance.
Tuesday 13 September 2011
Could I be normal after all?
We’re back in Derby again. I love the Fey family. I always looked forward to going over to their place in Vanuatu. More than anything else I can remember. They lived a bit out of town, with fields on one side, a forest on the other, and a marsh and lagoon on the third. We had all sorts of adventures, mostly involving bushwhacking into the unknown, discovering a “witch’s hut” in the middle of the forest, or returning saturated in mud. Pretty much running wild, as I did from the age of 6-11.
As a kid, I hung out with Hannah, who was a couple of years older than me. I was frankly terrified of Stephen, who was my age. Something about him coming after us with a machete one time. Over a game of UNO if I remember correctly? (Yes, I know that some of you are thinking that that sounds more like something I would have done.) Anyway, he turned out to be a pretty good guy. It’s been especially fun getting to know someone who had the same childhood experiences as me. It’s a bit of a relief knowing that Vanuatu was not a part of my wild imagination.
I’m also really looking forward to reconnecting with Hannah, who happens to live in London. Yay! She’s married now and has a son. It’s strange connecting the people in your memory with who they have become.
As a kid, I hung out with Hannah, who was a couple of years older than me. I was frankly terrified of Stephen, who was my age. Something about him coming after us with a machete one time. Over a game of UNO if I remember correctly? (Yes, I know that some of you are thinking that that sounds more like something I would have done.) Anyway, he turned out to be a pretty good guy. It’s been especially fun getting to know someone who had the same childhood experiences as me. It’s a bit of a relief knowing that Vanuatu was not a part of my wild imagination.
I’m also really looking forward to reconnecting with Hannah, who happens to live in London. Yay! She’s married now and has a son. It’s strange connecting the people in your memory with who they have become.
When do I get my official certificate in the mail?
√ Haggis
√ Blood Pudding
√ Whisky
√ Visited my ancestral castle
√ Attended genuine Highland Games
(Did I miss anything?)
So when do I get my "I'm Scottish" certificate in the mail?
We visited Blair Castle yesterday - I'm a Murray through my Grandmother on my mother's side. It was only slightly tainted by my father telling anyone who would listen that his wife was here to claim the castle. No one thought it was funny.
It was actually a pretty cool visit. We were blasted with pipe music as soon as we walked into the ballroom. A visiting pipe band was performing in the "ballroom". I put ballroom in quotations, because I have never seen or imagined such a sight - there were antlers everywhere.
It was also very neat to look at the impressive, full sized portraits and imagine that we might be related to these people (though I doubt my branch of the family was ruling class, or we wouldn't have ended up in North America.) Reading the information plaques also took on new meaning. Blair castle was the last castle to be laid siege to in Scotland - it was during the Jacobite rebellion, and it was headed by the brother of the laird inside the castle.
We never did get to Culloden though. I would have liked to visit it, though I suppose I still have a year here.
√ Blood Pudding
√ Whisky
√ Visited my ancestral castle
√ Attended genuine Highland Games
(Did I miss anything?)
So when do I get my "I'm Scottish" certificate in the mail?
We visited Blair Castle yesterday - I'm a Murray through my Grandmother on my mother's side. It was only slightly tainted by my father telling anyone who would listen that his wife was here to claim the castle. No one thought it was funny.
It was actually a pretty cool visit. We were blasted with pipe music as soon as we walked into the ballroom. A visiting pipe band was performing in the "ballroom". I put ballroom in quotations, because I have never seen or imagined such a sight - there were antlers everywhere.
We never did get to Culloden though. I would have liked to visit it, though I suppose I still have a year here.
Sunday 11 September 2011
“Squirrel!” ... I mean, “Pheasant!”
We’re at my mum’s cousin’s place in Scotland right now. It’s been like stepping into a different world. They live in what used to be a steading and carriage house, which used to belong to a mansion down the hill. When you pull off the road, you drive through the trees up a narrow lane and along a gurgling brook. “Allt Mor”, the house, is a a stone structure with arched doors and windows, surrounded by colourful flowers.
Bud used to be the gamekeeper for an estate further north, and still has something to do with the local deer culling (hunting is very different here from hunting in the Yukon. If you don’t cull your herd, the Crown comes in and does it for you. And charges you for it. And you don’t shoot the biggest buck.) For dinner we had venison layered with homegrown potatoes, salad from the garden, and freshly baked bread. For breakfast, porridge. Very Scottish.
Bud and Jennifer have done a LOT of work to the steading. We looked through some pictures last night. When they bought it, the animals were still living in it. The room I’m staying in used to have sheep. Over the last 20 years, they’ve gutted it, pulled up the various flooring, bashed out the bricked up windows, and rebuilt it using old-time techniques. I don’t think Bud used a single nail in the whole house. And Jennifer has done an incredible job decorating the inside.
They still have a couple of their old bird dogs too. I hadn’t realized how complex their training is! We took them on a walk last night and Bud was showing and explaining some of it to me There are pheasants everywhere here. On our walk we met the gamekeeper for a neighboring estate out doing his rounds. He laughed as he told us that it was his job to baby and painstakingly take care of the pheasants for 6 months of the year, and then help shoot them all the other 6 months of the year.
Bud used to be the gamekeeper for an estate further north, and still has something to do with the local deer culling (hunting is very different here from hunting in the Yukon. If you don’t cull your herd, the Crown comes in and does it for you. And charges you for it. And you don’t shoot the biggest buck.) For dinner we had venison layered with homegrown potatoes, salad from the garden, and freshly baked bread. For breakfast, porridge. Very Scottish.
Bud and Jennifer have done a LOT of work to the steading. We looked through some pictures last night. When they bought it, the animals were still living in it. The room I’m staying in used to have sheep. Over the last 20 years, they’ve gutted it, pulled up the various flooring, bashed out the bricked up windows, and rebuilt it using old-time techniques. I don’t think Bud used a single nail in the whole house. And Jennifer has done an incredible job decorating the inside.
They still have a couple of their old bird dogs too. I hadn’t realized how complex their training is! We took them on a walk last night and Bud was showing and explaining some of it to me There are pheasants everywhere here. On our walk we met the gamekeeper for a neighboring estate out doing his rounds. He laughed as he told us that it was his job to baby and painstakingly take care of the pheasants for 6 months of the year, and then help shoot them all the other 6 months of the year.
Tuesday 6 September 2011
Gotta be willing to laugh at yourself
So we pull up to our hotel two nights ago, a tall, very narrow, decrepit, old building squished between two others. We’re given a key to Room 6. Then we find out that there’s only one room per floor. And no “lift”, but plenty of narrow, steep stairs. Loaded down with our gear (I was smart enough to bring a pack, but I also had my violin and laptop bag with me), we climb up to the 6th room, and guess what... the key doesn’t work. Turn the key upside down, and it’s a 9. Oh.
Other adventures in Wales: The Welsh have a few specialty food items, such as cockles and laverbread. We were directed to an indoor market to get our hands on some fresh samples. The cockles don’t hold much interest for me, as seafood is not to my taste, but I was eager to try the laverbread. We head straight to a bakery stall, but as I make my way around the stall, I can’t see any signs for “laverbread”. My mum asks the lady where we can get some, and she patiently points us down an aisle, and brightly tells us that Carol Watts makes the best. So we troop down the aisle, and find Carol Watts’ stall. A seafood stall?!? Laverbread is seaweed. Boiled and put through a blender. I settled for a couple Welsh cakes. The lady at the bakery stall must have had a good laugh at us as we were walking away. I wonder how many ignorant tourists make the same mistake.
We’ve stayed in Cardiff the last couple of nights, and have been exploring the South of Wales. There are castles everywhere! Mostly in ruins, but free or cheap to explore. For example, in Swansea, you step out of a Marks & Spencer shop onto a bustling shopping street, and smack, dab in the middle of the block is a green space with the Swansea Castle ruins. I think there are 6 castles on the Swansea peninsula alone.
There are also lots of fun shops. They have “arcades” here, that look like narrow alleyways, with fun, unique store fronts lining them. But even though it looks like you’re outside, the alleyways are covered. Now I just need to continue dropping the pounds so that I can fit into these UK clothes.
Other adventures in Wales: The Welsh have a few specialty food items, such as cockles and laverbread. We were directed to an indoor market to get our hands on some fresh samples. The cockles don’t hold much interest for me, as seafood is not to my taste, but I was eager to try the laverbread. We head straight to a bakery stall, but as I make my way around the stall, I can’t see any signs for “laverbread”. My mum asks the lady where we can get some, and she patiently points us down an aisle, and brightly tells us that Carol Watts makes the best. So we troop down the aisle, and find Carol Watts’ stall. A seafood stall?!? Laverbread is seaweed. Boiled and put through a blender. I settled for a couple Welsh cakes. The lady at the bakery stall must have had a good laugh at us as we were walking away. I wonder how many ignorant tourists make the same mistake.
We’ve stayed in Cardiff the last couple of nights, and have been exploring the South of Wales. There are castles everywhere! Mostly in ruins, but free or cheap to explore. For example, in Swansea, you step out of a Marks & Spencer shop onto a bustling shopping street, and smack, dab in the middle of the block is a green space with the Swansea Castle ruins. I think there are 6 castles on the Swansea peninsula alone.
There are also lots of fun shops. They have “arcades” here, that look like narrow alleyways, with fun, unique store fronts lining them. But even though it looks like you’re outside, the alleyways are covered. Now I just need to continue dropping the pounds so that I can fit into these UK clothes.
Facebook Photo Albums:
Sunday 4 September 2011
Don’t worry... I’m OK, and the car’s OK
So I’m getting pretty good at zipping around the narrow English back roads (termed “highways” here). However, I’ve gotten into my first accident. A deer hit me. Jumped right out of the forest and ran into the back of my car. It seemed to only be a bit stunned, but the one after got flattened by the big semi coming the other way.
Other than this slight shadow, today was another excellent day. Knowing how big a tourist trap Stonehenge is, we were going to simply do a drive-by on the way to the Cerne Abbas Giant (my Dad’s special request - the hill drawing, not Stonehenge. You’ll understand when you see the pictures). But it was a bit of a traffic jam getting there, so we decided to pull in and have a look anyway. It’s quite impressive! And we got closer than I’d imagined, and instead of being held back by a big metal fence, there was only a little rope at about knee height. They also had a free audio tour that was quite good.
After swinging by the Cerne Abbas Giant, we were directed along more twisty, narrow, blind-cornered “highways” through the countryside on our way to Cheddar Gorge. I’ve decided that after I marry my Highland Scotsman in a kilt, we will eventually retire in South Western England. The villages are super cute, nestled among rolling hills dotted with forests, crops and livestock.
Cheddar Gorge deserves much more of my time than I was able to give it. The gorge itself is quite spectacular. I’d love to take a long walk along the ridge, and there are some pretty cool caves that I’m dying to explore. We got there just as everything was closing though, so we didn’t even manage to get a tour of the Cheddar Cheese factory, though we were able to sample some unique and pungent cheddars at the factory store. And I thought cheddar was cheddar.
Other than this slight shadow, today was another excellent day. Knowing how big a tourist trap Stonehenge is, we were going to simply do a drive-by on the way to the Cerne Abbas Giant (my Dad’s special request - the hill drawing, not Stonehenge. You’ll understand when you see the pictures). But it was a bit of a traffic jam getting there, so we decided to pull in and have a look anyway. It’s quite impressive! And we got closer than I’d imagined, and instead of being held back by a big metal fence, there was only a little rope at about knee height. They also had a free audio tour that was quite good.
After swinging by the Cerne Abbas Giant, we were directed along more twisty, narrow, blind-cornered “highways” through the countryside on our way to Cheddar Gorge. I’ve decided that after I marry my Highland Scotsman in a kilt, we will eventually retire in South Western England. The villages are super cute, nestled among rolling hills dotted with forests, crops and livestock.
Cheddar Gorge deserves much more of my time than I was able to give it. The gorge itself is quite spectacular. I’d love to take a long walk along the ridge, and there are some pretty cool caves that I’m dying to explore. We got there just as everything was closing though, so we didn’t even manage to get a tour of the Cheddar Cheese factory, though we were able to sample some unique and pungent cheddars at the factory store. And I thought cheddar was cheddar.
Saturday 3 September 2011
Leeds Castle... NOT in Leeds
We spent the night at The Duke of Cumberland Hotel... perhaps a popular man in England, but I highly doubt you would find a hotel named after him in the Scottish Highlands...
But it was a super cute place, and the town of Whitstable is an ideal English seaside vacation town.
Leeds Castle came highly recommended from a few people, both to my mum and me. I scoffed a bit at the idea, having loved Culzean Castle so much. But it was gorgeous. Not a large castle, but the grounds were vast and well sculpted.
I think I prefer talking to the interpreters standing around the rooms better than reading the information sheets. They know all sorts of interesting little things, and don’t just spew off a bunch of names and dates *yawn*.
AND there was a hedge maze on the grounds. I’ve always wanted to try a hedge maze. And when you got to the centre, there was an underground passageway that led out from the maze. AND there was an aviary, AND a bird show (I had no idea that you could train storks), AND a dog collar museum.
But it was a super cute place, and the town of Whitstable is an ideal English seaside vacation town.
Leeds Castle came highly recommended from a few people, both to my mum and me. I scoffed a bit at the idea, having loved Culzean Castle so much. But it was gorgeous. Not a large castle, but the grounds were vast and well sculpted.
I think I prefer talking to the interpreters standing around the rooms better than reading the information sheets. They know all sorts of interesting little things, and don’t just spew off a bunch of names and dates *yawn*.
AND there was a hedge maze on the grounds. I’ve always wanted to try a hedge maze. And when you got to the centre, there was an underground passageway that led out from the maze. AND there was an aviary, AND a bird show (I had no idea that you could train storks), AND a dog collar museum.
Thursday 1 September 2011
Glasgow/Edinburgh/Culzean (Sorry, this is going to be a long one!)
With lots of excitement and a few misgivings, we head down to the car rental place. We are headed to Glasgow for the long weekend. Jody (a guy), the housing coordinator and our main connection with the UK community, looked terrified when we told him. But he lent us his TomTom.
11 Hours on one tank of diesel (40 gal). Amazing. However, the trip was only supposed to take us 6.5 hours. Our first lesson re:UK traffic. Second lesson: they are crazy. They zip in and out, cutting you off, even when there’s plenty of room ahead of you. Third lesson: people actually obey the speed limits here. As in, everyone drives 2 MPH’s below the speed limit (except for some of the aforementioned drivers). Fourth lesson: everything in this country is metric, except for their speed limits. Fifth lesson: Roundabouts are your friends (I thought that I’d hate them). Sixth lesson: These cities are NOT traffic friendly; traffic lights are poorly timed and need to have sensors installed, road lines need to be repainted, and traffic lanes made straight and MUCH more clear. Building the cities before vehicles were invented is no excuse. Seventh lesson: nothing is pronounced the way it’s written, so don’t ask for directions. On about the trip.
So Glasgow was a bit of a disappointment. If you’re not into art, or shopping at chain stores they have plenty of in London, there’s not much to do. Maybe we needed a local guide. I can’t remember who recommended it to me, but if you have to choose, stay in Edinburgh. However, it was an excellent home base for the surrounding areas. And they were filming a Brad Pitt movie in George Square, which they turned it into Philadelphia. They had to change street signs and everything. I sure hope it rains a lot in Philly ;)
Saturday we drove to Edinburgh, spent the day wandering around town, up to the castle, up something or else park hill, around various Fringe Fest stations. The crowds of people were very energizing, as well as the bright sun that broke through the clouds. We had planned on doing a tour of the castle, but decided to save our money, since we were going to Culzean (pronounced Culane). Amazing time, amazing sights.
Sunday was my favourite day of all. We spent most of the day at Culzean Castle. It was Knight and Princess training day, so the place was overrun by little ‘uns, but it also meant there were lots of treasure hunts around the grounds, demonstrations, and people walking around in traditional garb. I wanted my Knight certificate, but apparently I was too old to participate. Harumph. Next year, I borrow someone’s kid. However, they couldn’t stop me from looking for the little Lego man hidden in each of the castle rooms. What a great idea! They even move them around for people who come back several times a season. Gives the adults a chance to do their thing while keeping the kids out of their hair. And the castle was only a small portion of everything they had to offer! The stables had been turned into a cafe, the village into a visitor info centre/shops, there was a walled garden, an ice house, a gas house, a deer park, and who knows what else. It was perched on the edge of a cliff, with waves crashing below, and was surrounded by forest. Gorgeous.
We got back to Glasgow that evening just in time for service at the Baptist church next to hostel we were staying at. Baptist churches must be really big here, because they’re the only ones that I consistently keep running into. I was a bit embarrassed to walk in in my jean shorts, considering it was a cathedral style building, but needn't have worried. In fact, they were the closest church to Bethany I’ve experienced here so far. People were super friendly, casual and open, they raised their hands during worship, and even laid hands on each other and prayed a blessing when we would do our greetings back home. And I had the impression that they lived what they preached, and that church was definitely not just a Sunday thing.
Another huge highlight was finding a little local pub called Ben Nevis. We were looking for a more authentic experience, and I was looking in particular for some Scottish music (downtown is covered in trendy bars full of tourists). Murray, the bartender who looked like he wasn’t old enough to be working there (I’m starting to feel old I think), was super knowledgeable, and told us a bit about the different types of whisky, and gave us a sampling of three different kinds. Jason, I would like to happily report that NONE of them tasted like I was chewing on a cedar plank, unlike that stuff you tried to feed me. AND people started wandering in with their instruments. One girl even handed her fiddle over to me for a bit.
11 Hours on one tank of diesel (40 gal). Amazing. However, the trip was only supposed to take us 6.5 hours. Our first lesson re:UK traffic. Second lesson: they are crazy. They zip in and out, cutting you off, even when there’s plenty of room ahead of you. Third lesson: people actually obey the speed limits here. As in, everyone drives 2 MPH’s below the speed limit (except for some of the aforementioned drivers). Fourth lesson: everything in this country is metric, except for their speed limits. Fifth lesson: Roundabouts are your friends (I thought that I’d hate them). Sixth lesson: These cities are NOT traffic friendly; traffic lights are poorly timed and need to have sensors installed, road lines need to be repainted, and traffic lanes made straight and MUCH more clear. Building the cities before vehicles were invented is no excuse. Seventh lesson: nothing is pronounced the way it’s written, so don’t ask for directions. On about the trip.
So Glasgow was a bit of a disappointment. If you’re not into art, or shopping at chain stores they have plenty of in London, there’s not much to do. Maybe we needed a local guide. I can’t remember who recommended it to me, but if you have to choose, stay in Edinburgh. However, it was an excellent home base for the surrounding areas. And they were filming a Brad Pitt movie in George Square, which they turned it into Philadelphia. They had to change street signs and everything. I sure hope it rains a lot in Philly ;)
Saturday we drove to Edinburgh, spent the day wandering around town, up to the castle, up something or else park hill, around various Fringe Fest stations. The crowds of people were very energizing, as well as the bright sun that broke through the clouds. We had planned on doing a tour of the castle, but decided to save our money, since we were going to Culzean (pronounced Culane). Amazing time, amazing sights.
Sunday was my favourite day of all. We spent most of the day at Culzean Castle. It was Knight and Princess training day, so the place was overrun by little ‘uns, but it also meant there were lots of treasure hunts around the grounds, demonstrations, and people walking around in traditional garb. I wanted my Knight certificate, but apparently I was too old to participate. Harumph. Next year, I borrow someone’s kid. However, they couldn’t stop me from looking for the little Lego man hidden in each of the castle rooms. What a great idea! They even move them around for people who come back several times a season. Gives the adults a chance to do their thing while keeping the kids out of their hair. And the castle was only a small portion of everything they had to offer! The stables had been turned into a cafe, the village into a visitor info centre/shops, there was a walled garden, an ice house, a gas house, a deer park, and who knows what else. It was perched on the edge of a cliff, with waves crashing below, and was surrounded by forest. Gorgeous.
We got back to Glasgow that evening just in time for service at the Baptist church next to hostel we were staying at. Baptist churches must be really big here, because they’re the only ones that I consistently keep running into. I was a bit embarrassed to walk in in my jean shorts, considering it was a cathedral style building, but needn't have worried. In fact, they were the closest church to Bethany I’ve experienced here so far. People were super friendly, casual and open, they raised their hands during worship, and even laid hands on each other and prayed a blessing when we would do our greetings back home. And I had the impression that they lived what they preached, and that church was definitely not just a Sunday thing.
Another huge highlight was finding a little local pub called Ben Nevis. We were looking for a more authentic experience, and I was looking in particular for some Scottish music (downtown is covered in trendy bars full of tourists). Murray, the bartender who looked like he wasn’t old enough to be working there (I’m starting to feel old I think), was super knowledgeable, and told us a bit about the different types of whisky, and gave us a sampling of three different kinds. Jason, I would like to happily report that NONE of them tasted like I was chewing on a cedar plank, unlike that stuff you tried to feed me. AND people started wandering in with their instruments. One girl even handed her fiddle over to me for a bit.
My Ode to London Rush Hour
OK kids, today we’re going to learn a new game; it’s called Bumper Brellas! Last one with an eye wins.
Wednesday 24 August 2011
Laughter is the best medicine
So according to Nicole, we're about to head up to "Glass Cow". You know you're tired when a comment like that turns into a half hour joke, and we're all rolling on the floor. But we're all super psyched. Warning: anyone living in the UK... stay off the roads! We're renting a car. We're heading up on Friday, and will be returning on Tuesday.
Another moment of hilarity today: Kristen hands over a £20 to a street vender at the market. He hands it back with a perturbed look on his face.
- I can't accept this note. Who gave it to you?
- My grandfather, before I left Canada!
Apparently her grandfather grew up in the UK and moved to Canada 60 years ago. These bills were from way back when, and had since been pulled from circulation.
Another moment of hilarity today: Kristen hands over a £20 to a street vender at the market. He hands it back with a perturbed look on his face.
- I can't accept this note. Who gave it to you?
- My grandfather, before I left Canada!
Apparently her grandfather grew up in the UK and moved to Canada 60 years ago. These bills were from way back when, and had since been pulled from circulation.
Home Sweet Home
I’ve now been here for a week, and I feel amazingly settled-in. It was meeting my second housemate yesterday that made me realise just how comfortable I feel here. I am confident about getting around, I know my neighborhood within a 30min-1hr walk in any direction, I look the right way before crossing the street, I can hand over change without having to read the coins... All the important skills in life ;)
Saturday 20 August 2011
Oww.... My feet hurt
Strange... I survived 2 weeks without a cell phone. Which is quite a feat, considering that to me it’s not simply a way of communicating. It’s also my watch, my alarm clock, and my organizer. My life tends to fall apart when I don’t have my cell phone, or rather my “mobile”, beeping at me to let me know I have to be somewhere in 10 mins.
But not having Internet is sending me into extreme withdrawal. I think I’m even demonstrating physical addiction withdrawal symptoms. If we lived in Greater London, Internet access would be no issue, but here in the outer Buroughs, it’s nearly impossible to get online. Only 11 more days until the house is connected... Only 11 more days...
Other than that, I’m settling into my new neighbourhood nicely. My first housemate has arrived, and another two are expected next week. Nicole is super nice, and is interested in doing all the touristy things with me. It sure was strange hearing a Canadian accent after two weeks of Scottish brogue and English accents. Some of their vocabulary was already starting to creep in (I was starting to use words like “brilliant”, “lou”, and “chap”), but everything’s back to normal again.
We spent the last two days exploring London. Yesterday we visited St. Paul’s Cathedral, then crossed over the Millenium Bridge and walked the South Shore of the Thames and then back across to Westminster. They’ve got some sort of festival going on on the South Shore, so there were some neat sidewalk acts, lots of colours, and lots of people. It was a gorgeous day, as you will see in the pictures.
We signed up for the evening Ghost Bus Tour, so we had dinner while we waited, then decided to pop down to Buckingham Palace, and then meander around the art exhibits in Trafalgar square. Everything is so accessible here. It really doesn’t take that long to walk from one place to the other. Or maybe it’s that I’m not under any time constraints yet.
But not having Internet is sending me into extreme withdrawal. I think I’m even demonstrating physical addiction withdrawal symptoms. If we lived in Greater London, Internet access would be no issue, but here in the outer Buroughs, it’s nearly impossible to get online. Only 11 more days until the house is connected... Only 11 more days...
Other than that, I’m settling into my new neighbourhood nicely. My first housemate has arrived, and another two are expected next week. Nicole is super nice, and is interested in doing all the touristy things with me. It sure was strange hearing a Canadian accent after two weeks of Scottish brogue and English accents. Some of their vocabulary was already starting to creep in (I was starting to use words like “brilliant”, “lou”, and “chap”), but everything’s back to normal again.
We spent the last two days exploring London. Yesterday we visited St. Paul’s Cathedral, then crossed over the Millenium Bridge and walked the South Shore of the Thames and then back across to Westminster. They’ve got some sort of festival going on on the South Shore, so there were some neat sidewalk acts, lots of colours, and lots of people. It was a gorgeous day, as you will see in the pictures.
We signed up for the evening Ghost Bus Tour, so we had dinner while we waited, then decided to pop down to Buckingham Palace, and then meander around the art exhibits in Trafalgar square. Everything is so accessible here. It really doesn’t take that long to walk from one place to the other. Or maybe it’s that I’m not under any time constraints yet.
Tuesday 16 August 2011
Here I am in my new home
I made it safely to Essex (Chadwell Heath)! The house is really cute. I'll post pictures once I have regular internet access, or find a cafe with Wi-Fi.
I arrived late yesterday afternoon, immediately bought an "Oyster Card" for the transit, and found my way to a shopping mall in Romford. I needed bedding before the shops closed ;) The good news is that I didn't get lost either on the way there, or on the way home. So I'm well on my way to getting to know the neighborhood. Tomorrow I tackle London.
I arrived late yesterday afternoon, immediately bought an "Oyster Card" for the transit, and found my way to a shopping mall in Romford. I needed bedding before the shops closed ;) The good news is that I didn't get lost either on the way there, or on the way home. So I'm well on my way to getting to know the neighborhood. Tomorrow I tackle London.
Saturday 13 August 2011
Michael's Wood
We were bussed to Aith today (well, yesterday). It is our last full day of classes.
I had signed up for a trip this afternoon, but am skipping out on it, because I'm having such a blast in my new tutor's class. He's Andrew Gifford from Fiddler's Bid (whom I'm going to have to see while I'm in the UK... I've seen three of their band members perform this past week, and would love to see them perform together). Not every good musician is a good teacher, but he pulls it off.
AND over the last few days we haven't learned anywhere near as many tunes, so I feel like I'm actually able to start remembering some of them. I think my favourites are the Trowey tunes, given (or stolen) by the Shetlanders from the Trows.
I've slowly been accumulating information about these little, furry, red people over the week. They don't bother mortals... much. They're fun loving, can be mischievous, and are excellent fiddle players though they only have three fingers. Their tunes tend to be fun and fairly simple, though sometimes they seem to just *stop*. Because when the sun comes up, they turn to stone.
Before supper, I took a walk through Micheal's Wood. There are no true woods here on the Shetlands, because the wind and salt spray prevents trees from growing. But these woods were planted in dedication to a young musician who died of cancer. It's fairly small, planted on the croft he grew up on, but they've set up a meandering path that makes it seem much larger. The Philosopher's Path has quotes set up along the way, that either make you pause and think, or laugh. There are all sorts of fun nooks for children, and beautiful places to stop and rest. It wasn't sad, but rather peaceful and refreshing. I climbed up over the hill beyond the woods and strolled through the moors overlooking the village and locks. I love feeling the wind in my hair, and seeing the fields ripple with it. It was wonderful being able to recharge, spend some time alone and with God. I only had a couple hours, but I could have spent all evening exploring.
I had signed up for a trip this afternoon, but am skipping out on it, because I'm having such a blast in my new tutor's class. He's Andrew Gifford from Fiddler's Bid (whom I'm going to have to see while I'm in the UK... I've seen three of their band members perform this past week, and would love to see them perform together). Not every good musician is a good teacher, but he pulls it off.
AND over the last few days we haven't learned anywhere near as many tunes, so I feel like I'm actually able to start remembering some of them. I think my favourites are the Trowey tunes, given (or stolen) by the Shetlanders from the Trows.
I've slowly been accumulating information about these little, furry, red people over the week. They don't bother mortals... much. They're fun loving, can be mischievous, and are excellent fiddle players though they only have three fingers. Their tunes tend to be fun and fairly simple, though sometimes they seem to just *stop*. Because when the sun comes up, they turn to stone.
Before supper, I took a walk through Micheal's Wood. There are no true woods here on the Shetlands, because the wind and salt spray prevents trees from growing. But these woods were planted in dedication to a young musician who died of cancer. It's fairly small, planted on the croft he grew up on, but they've set up a meandering path that makes it seem much larger. The Philosopher's Path has quotes set up along the way, that either make you pause and think, or laugh. There are all sorts of fun nooks for children, and beautiful places to stop and rest. It wasn't sad, but rather peaceful and refreshing. I climbed up over the hill beyond the woods and strolled through the moors overlooking the village and locks. I love feeling the wind in my hair, and seeing the fields ripple with it. It was wonderful being able to recharge, spend some time alone and with God. I only had a couple hours, but I could have spent all evening exploring.
So much to do, so little time! (Wednesday/Thursday)
Jim, my fiddle "tutor", opened the week with a story about how he had just been doing a fiddle workshop in France. He told that the language barrier had been a real problem, and said how he was excited for that not to be an issue this week. I think my face must have registered quite a bit of disbelief. Though at that point I had only been here for a day, I had already had to add quite a few new vocabulary words to my bank, as well as deceipher some pretty thick accents. Here are a few examples that come to mind right away:
peerie = small
fae = from
bairn = baby/child
trow = small mischievous critter
However, I was reassured last night when I found out that they can't even understand each other. I was taking a break from the dancing and was chatting with Lawrence, one of the local storytellers. As it was just after midnight, we were wondering how late the dance went. Richard, one of the organizers, was standing in a group nearby and shouted over "'alf an oor yet!" to which Lawrence yelled back "Happy New Year!"
Twice this week they have bussed us out to other communities for the day. Fiddle classes continue as usual, but there are also optional trips around the countryside. Even the bus ride, and the opportunity to interact with the different locals gives you more of a flavour of the islands. I'm finding it extremely difficult to capture on film. Part of it is the wind, the horizontal rain, the shifting shadows when the sun is out, and the smells. Part of it is the sheer expanse of everything surrounding you.
I think that everything started catching up with me on Wednesday. I had a pretty rough afternoon. Everything seems very similar on the surface, but there are little differences that are hard to pinpoint. Almost hitting people that you pass in the hall, because you move to the right and they move to the left, reaching for the toilet handle and having to readjust your aim for the right side. Not being able to all out play your fiddle, because you don't share a single tune in all of your repertoire. Trying to assimilate a new style so that you can start picking up even portions of new tunes played at breakneck speed in the sessions. Not enough sleep over an extended period of time. Jet-lag. No alone time. It wears away at you. I had a pretty rotten attitude on Wednesday afternoon, and a sour disposition.
But I'm back now. I had to get away for a bit, go for a walk in the "bracing" wind. Humble myself and go apologize to a few key people.
peerie = small
fae = from
bairn = baby/child
trow = small mischievous critter
However, I was reassured last night when I found out that they can't even understand each other. I was taking a break from the dancing and was chatting with Lawrence, one of the local storytellers. As it was just after midnight, we were wondering how late the dance went. Richard, one of the organizers, was standing in a group nearby and shouted over "'alf an oor yet!" to which Lawrence yelled back "Happy New Year!"
Twice this week they have bussed us out to other communities for the day. Fiddle classes continue as usual, but there are also optional trips around the countryside. Even the bus ride, and the opportunity to interact with the different locals gives you more of a flavour of the islands. I'm finding it extremely difficult to capture on film. Part of it is the wind, the horizontal rain, the shifting shadows when the sun is out, and the smells. Part of it is the sheer expanse of everything surrounding you.
I think that everything started catching up with me on Wednesday. I had a pretty rough afternoon. Everything seems very similar on the surface, but there are little differences that are hard to pinpoint. Almost hitting people that you pass in the hall, because you move to the right and they move to the left, reaching for the toilet handle and having to readjust your aim for the right side. Not being able to all out play your fiddle, because you don't share a single tune in all of your repertoire. Trying to assimilate a new style so that you can start picking up even portions of new tunes played at breakneck speed in the sessions. Not enough sleep over an extended period of time. Jet-lag. No alone time. It wears away at you. I had a pretty rotten attitude on Wednesday afternoon, and a sour disposition.
But I'm back now. I had to get away for a bit, go for a walk in the "bracing" wind. Humble myself and go apologize to a few key people.
Monday 8 August 2011
Friday 5 August 2011
The Shetlands
Made it to the Shetlands! It was like something out of a fairy tale... coming down through the clouds and seeing the rocky shore and green fields surrounded by wild waters. You even pass over the Jarlshof ruins as you come in to land. However, there were no ponies to carry our luggage into the terminal. I'm very disappointed ;)
Sunday 24 July 2011
There's Gold in Them Thar Hills!
New retirement plan: We're going to retire to Barkerville. Teresa will paint, sew and sing, and I will fiddle, knit and blacksmith.
Who says advertising doesn't work? On the way up the highway, we saw more and more signs for Barkerville as we approached Quesnel. So we decided to stop in. And stayed 24hrs. There was so much to see and do! And either we were loud and obnoxious, or other visitors are boring. One actor, erm... resident, asked us if we hired out as the perfect audience. And another made several comments throughout the day about "everybody's favourite audience".
They were all a lot of fun. Oh, and we found out that blacksmiths in the 19th century are addicted to Starbucks. But that Tim Horton's is good enough for the road construction crew.
PS. Mum, you can now sign up for e-mail updates. Look for the box to the left (or right, for you non-dyslexics) of the Blog.
Who says advertising doesn't work? On the way up the highway, we saw more and more signs for Barkerville as we approached Quesnel. So we decided to stop in. And stayed 24hrs. There was so much to see and do! And either we were loud and obnoxious, or other visitors are boring. One actor, erm... resident, asked us if we hired out as the perfect audience. And another made several comments throughout the day about "everybody's favourite audience".
They were all a lot of fun. Oh, and we found out that blacksmiths in the 19th century are addicted to Starbucks. But that Tim Horton's is good enough for the road construction crew.
PS. Mum, you can now sign up for e-mail updates. Look for the box to the left (or right, for you non-dyslexics) of the Blog.
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| My Barkerville retirement plan |
Wednesday 20 July 2011
An Accident Waiting to Happen
They REALLY need to stop rerouting the roads in my home town. Here I am booting along a back road that I "know well"... at a fairly decent clip... at night. And I go around a turn, and suddenly, it stops. In a cul-de-sac. With rocks along the end. Seriously. A few years ago, I came to town and couldn't find my way home, because they'd rerouted and cut off the roads leading to Clifton Rd. AND moved the entire bottom half of Clifton itself!
That being said, I've had a great visit in Kelowna. And it's been so much fun catching up with friends I haven't seen in years. Maybe we don't have to wait so long next time?
Nostalgic memory triggers:
- reaching the arid landscape just outside Kamloops, and suddenly being hit by the feeling of "home"
- the Ponderosa Pine smell of vanilla on a sweltering day
- the dry heat
- driving through orchards, and automatically trying to identify the apple tree varieties from the road
- driving past the empty lot that used to be KSS
- the juicy explosion of a ripe cherry
- the sweet smell of hay, combined with leather and horse sweat
That being said, I've had a great visit in Kelowna. And it's been so much fun catching up with friends I haven't seen in years. Maybe we don't have to wait so long next time?
Nostalgic memory triggers:
- reaching the arid landscape just outside Kamloops, and suddenly being hit by the feeling of "home"
- the Ponderosa Pine smell of vanilla on a sweltering day
- the dry heat
- driving through orchards, and automatically trying to identify the apple tree varieties from the road
- driving past the empty lot that used to be KSS
- the juicy explosion of a ripe cherry
- the sweet smell of hay, combined with leather and horse sweat
Happy 60th Dad! And Happy Retirement!
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| A Family Reunion Portrait like no other |
Wednesday 13 July 2011
Calgary Stampede
The last two days at the Calgary Stampede have been amazing! There is so much to see and do. The only thing that didn't live up to my expectations was that the country music was a little sparse. I did track down the Calgary Fiddlers. I think I was the youngest in the crowd by at least 30 years. Hmmm....
On Monday we started off the day watching the herding dogs. Wow, are they intense! Some of them just lost it under the pressure though. It was pretty funny *grin*. We briefly thought that one dog was named "Listen" because his owner kept screaming it at him. Sound familiar Dad?
We followed that up with the rodeo. Did I mention that it had been raining for the last week? Just wait until you see all the muddy pictures I post. Other highlights included the cutting horses, the artists at work, and the evening show last night. Watching the fireworks at eye level was incredible. I've only seen better once... the Canada Day fireworks off the banks of the fleuve St-Laurent. A wind spring up and blew them right overhead.
Anyway, it's breakfast time, so I'm off. When I get to Kelowna I'll see about getting some of my pictures uploaded :)
On Monday we started off the day watching the herding dogs. Wow, are they intense! Some of them just lost it under the pressure though. It was pretty funny *grin*. We briefly thought that one dog was named "Listen" because his owner kept screaming it at him. Sound familiar Dad?
We followed that up with the rodeo. Did I mention that it had been raining for the last week? Just wait until you see all the muddy pictures I post. Other highlights included the cutting horses, the artists at work, and the evening show last night. Watching the fireworks at eye level was incredible. I've only seen better once... the Canada Day fireworks off the banks of the fleuve St-Laurent. A wind spring up and blew them right overhead.
Anyway, it's breakfast time, so I'm off. When I get to Kelowna I'll see about getting some of my pictures uploaded :)
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