Fin

Well, here I am on the train from Salzburg back to Munich, where I spent a lovely day with some Aussies exploring the town. It was the perfect way to end this euro trip for a lot of reasons, but mainly because it epitomized the experience of traveling in Europe. In the sense that you met people you never would have before and suddenly, due to circumstances, a bit of luck, and the occasional pint you wind up becoming friends and casually driving to another country for the day. Just. Like. That.

The past six months cannot be summarized in a blog post, they cannot fit neatly into the constraints of a postcard or letter, they can't be measured by the number of likes on a Facebook photo, and they definitely cannot compare to anything else I have experienced before. From the beginning days "studying" in Leicester (and I use the term here loosely, and in the best ways possible), to the final days spent in train stations, trying desperately to catch up on sleep, walking through sore feet, and juggling bags of luggage on the tube, I wouldn't change a moment.

There is a quote that says, "the point of traveling is not to step foot onto foreign land, but to eventually set foot onto ones homeland as a foreign country". As the day to my flight home draws nearer and nearer I can't help but feel this quotation gets it all right. Sure, I'll know the bus routes and the street names back home by heart, but I'll be experiencing my hometown in a whole new light. I'll be visiting the same places and seeing the same wonderful friends I have had for ages, but with a new perspective. A new perspective that incorporates all of the cultures, histories and traditions I have learned about while being abroad.

Those perspectives will also incorporate my own personal moments. Moments that include, getting lost in Brussels, wandering around Stirling in the pouring rain, watching a bullfight in Spain, eating pizza in Italy, swimming in the Mediterranean sea, walking alongside the Berlin Wall, drinking the worlds first lager in Prague, visiting the Dachau concentration camp in Munich, and so much more. And these will be the experiences that no matter how much I try to talk about them in stories or share them through photos, will be uniquely mine and shape the course of my travel. Not all are good, some are stressful, others lonely, others complicated, or messy; but all are a part of it.

And for the opportunity to experience these moments, good and bad and entirely indescribable, I am eternally grateful to the family and friends I have back home, and to those who I have met along the way. Near or far, you were a part of every smile, cry, laugh, cheer, chant, scream, whisper and awe inspired sigh I had along the way. See you all soon! 

Cheers,

Alison 

Eastern euro

During my recent visit to some of eastern Europe, a friend asked me what's the appeal? Everyone talks about Paris and Rome, but rarely do you ever hear tourists rave about The Czech Republic or Hungary, what gives?

To answer that I'll break it down into three B's: beer, bucks and bizarre history.

It's no secret I like my beer. Ales, lagers, stout; I'll take 'em all. So naturally, the flourishing amount of beer produced, distributed and consumed in eastern Europe has to be one of the reasons I loved these countries. Specifically, the coty of Prague is home of the world's first lager and boy, does it show. These thing line the walls of every supermarket, whole sections are dedicated to varieties of beers, and on average a Czech person drinks 1.5 liters of beer...per day. Enough said.

On to the next B, bucks. By this I mean dollars, euros, pound, korunas, whatever you call it. In Budapest they call it fornits - a word I would come to love. The live affair began my first day in Budapest as I sauntered up to the money change desk and handed over a 50 euro bill to (my disbelief) receive over 14,000 fornits in return, for an exchange rate of 1:300 At first I was skeptical, what could this actually get me in the stores? I walked over to the nearest grocery store and went to the beer section (of course), amongst the most expensive beers there were 175-200 fornits...an equivalent of less than 1 euro. Again, enough said.

Finally, bizarre history. This B I was not expecting to encounter. I like reading about history and learning new things so I thought I had a good grasp on what has happened on this side of the pond, but that was to change. A few walking tours later and a trip to some of the memorial sites still standing and I realized I had no clue about most of eastern European history. Suddenly I was acutely aware of kings and queens, rebel religious leaders and Protestant martyrs I had never heard of before, but who each played a significant role in shaping their country as any name I ever had.

So there it is. Beers, bucks and bizarre histories. Just three of the reasons why eastern Europe should be visited, viewed and veered towards.

Just another brick in The Wall

I fell in love with Berlin. I fell fast and hard from the very moment I got off the platform at the train station to the final moment when I got back on to leave. The city was full of energy, youth and excitement. Getting off the train we were greeted by a crowd of people walking around with beers in hand (thanks to no open liquor container laws) enjoying the music of singing buskers. Turns out we stumbled into the city right during an outdoor music festival, in which street performers took up whole blocks playing music. The next day we also wandered into the gay pride parade and walked through the packed streets as food trucks, beer gardens and scantily clad (albeit gay) men danced around.

Besides the lively atmosphere of Berlin there was also a deep historical and cultural side. Visiting the broken wall and the East Side Gallery of portraits painted across it was truly humbling. To visit the sites where Adolf hitler and his dreaded SS once occupied, and to walk through the holocaust memorial site where moments I will never forget. Sites like these are important because they raise questions and leave you wondering about the world you live in. For me, the question remains how could a country, a city, a people who at the present wholly embrace liberal opinions and minorities, discriminated against them in the past? This question is one that is sure to follow me as I explore the neighboring cities of Prague and Budapest. Above all, it is these types of questions and moments that are only permitted through travelling and through walking, even for a day, in someone else's shoes.

It's all Greek to me

My trip to Greece began with a rocky start. After a 2 hour flight delay in Rome, in which none of the airport staff seemed to know what was going on, or were willing to help, we landed in Athens to be greeted by a public transit strike. That meant our 20 minute metro ride turned into a race to find somebody to split a can with amidst a line up of hundreds of people pushing into cabs. Luckily, a lovely Argentinian couple whose parents hosted a girl from clagary learning spanish overhead us and offered to share a cab into town. From there on it was smooth sailing. Literally.

In Santorini we opted to do a boat tour of the island and it's surrounding isles. Along the way we met a group of Canadians from Quebec and Alberta who  spent the day with us on a hike up some volcanic rock, a swim in the Mediterranean, a dip in some hot springs, and sunset in Ia (the most northern part of Santorini). The next day it was off to explore the rest of the island via ATV. We rented one for the day and rove up and done along the coast to see some spectacular views and traditional blue and white churches.

From Santorini, we took the ferry to Paros. This island seemed to be a lot less full of tourists and we were able to walk around the main towns with no one else around, and enjoy the sandy beaches on our own accord. Our living situation in Paros was probably the most interesting thus far. Located right by the beach, we stayed in a "hut" for lack of a better word,     fully equppied with electricity, but lacking in the basic necessities of toilettries, and toilets for that matter...no worries though, most of the time was spent in the ocean or at the pool working on somewhat of a tan in the 30 degree weather.

Taking the ferry back to Athens, we managed to make it to the acropolis and walk amongst the theater of Dionysus and the Parthenon before having our last meal of souvlaki (accompanied by some stray feline friends) and settling in for the night. All in all, Greee has been one of my favorites. The people were friendly, the food and drink were good, the scenery was awesome and the ocean was beautiful.

Tomorrow though it's off to new adventures and new sights in the wonderful city of Berlin!

BRUCE...in Italia

Every country, or every place rather, seems to have that one day or one moment when things shut down and all of it is worth while. It doesn't matter that your train was delayed, or that you walked six hours, or that your hostel bed was unmade, or that you got lost in the middle of another plaza, all that matters is what is happening at that point in time.

For Italy, this moment happened at the Bruce Springsteen concert in Milan. Months ago, in the dreary days of England's February I bought tickets with a friend for the show in June. Then about two weeks ago I found myself sitting in the nosebleed sections of a huge soccer stadium, singing along to every word in broken English with an enthusiastic Italian crowd. The seat section, which made Bruce look like a distant miniature toy army man, didn't matter, the fact that no one around me spoke the same language as me didn't matter, and the struggle of finding our seats amongst the fans didn't matter. All that mattered was that despite the obvious language and cultural barriers, a group of people came together to relish in some good music and good fun. The most suprising part of the experience for me was the universality of Springsteen's music. When born in the USA came on the entire crowd yelled, shouted and applauded in excitement. American flags were on hand and American merchandise populated every kiosk outside the venue. It was as if the American dream had landed, face first and sprawling, into a stadium parking lot of Italy.

Springsteen himself seemed to bask in the cultural appreciation. He started promptly on time, played for three hours straight, showed no sign of his 63 year old age, took requests from the audience at will, and even made a few people's days by bringing them on stage to sing along. Although I wasn't one of those lucky fans, I still felt like one of the luckiest people there.

For a complete set list of his show in Milan check this out
http://brucespringsteen.net/shows/06-03-13-milan-italy
And for another interpretation of the concert here is a good read
http://brucespringsteen.net/news/2013/notes-from-the-road-milan

Espana!

I just finished two weeks of traveling through Spain and have some time now to reflect on it all. We started off in Barcelona, where we appreciated Gaudi's architecture and his masterpiece, the Sagrada Familia, while also enjoying the nightlife with some fellow Canadians we met along the way. After that it was off to Madrid to check out fabulous parks and plazas. The city as a whole felt like a mix of Paris and New York and people were always bustling about. Next stop was Malaga for some fun in the sun and beach time. Finally, last but not least was (my favourite) Sevilla.

A few years ago I had the opportunity to visit this city while my brother was studying there on his exchange journey. At the time I don't think I fully appreciated the culture and the courage he had to live abroad on such a foreign climate. This time around however, I was able to spend some time and immerse myself in the tapas, the cathedral, the language and (also my favourite) the siestas.

Of all the things I have done while abroad probably the most otherworldly and foreign experience I have had was attending a bullfight while in Sevilla. The fight consists of 3 matadors each fighting 2 bulls in separate matches. Each match is divided into 3 sections and are judged by the crowd and officials to determine the best matador of the night. When I first approached the stadium I had the unusually familiar feeling that I was going to watch a C's baseball game back home. There were old die hard fans with seat cushions and bottles of water with them, outside the gates there were people selling peanuts and souvenirs and inside everyone was ushered into their proper seat by stadium attendants. But once the fights began an eerie silence fell over the crowd in anticipation of the first appearance of the bull. Despite the obvious controversies surrounding bullfights and the nature in which they are killed, the cultural aspects of the event, I believe, overwhelmed the negative.

Everything from the matadors flashy outfits and confident stride, to the crowds enthusiasm and emotional response to his achievements or mistakes, to the brass instruments that trumpeted the defeat of the bull exuded a Spanish flare. There were no big frills or gimmicks, it was simply just a man and an animal standing head to head in a ring. I'm not sure if there are words to describe the overall essence of the event, but to steal one from Spaniards themselves, ole!

Cheers

I have heard the phrase "cheers" used here more times than I can possibly count. Cheers for holding the door open, cheers for giving back change from my 5 pound note, cheers for drinking, and cheers for everything in between. But only now has it hit me just how much I have to cheer for.

The past four months has flown by. I remember standing at the gates at YVR and thinking How am I going to do this? The act of moving halfway across the world to a place where I knew no one and had no idea what to expect seemed overwhelmingly daunting. Four months later I'm sitting in my pack up room, luggage scattered about and a bulletin board empty behind me, and I'm thinking, How could I ever not have done this?

I think when we go through the day to day routine at home, in a place of familiarity, we often forget just how wonderful the unfamiliar can be. That feeling of butterflies in your stomach, or of a quickened pulse when you don't know what's going to happen. All of which lead to the satisfaction of turning a street corner and discovering something new.

I am so grateful for the new things this experience has provided me with new friends, new memories, new places and new knowledge. The expectations I had going into this semester were nothing special, I thought I would have some fun and see some cool things, but all those were exceeded.

And now, as the final day here draws to a close I realize there were a lot of lasts.
Last dinner all together, last walk to ASDA, last night out, last time I'll sleep in my bed here. But for what it's worth, as I look back on all those lasts, I'm so glad that four months ago I took a deep breathe, walked on the plane, and took a first.

familiarities

And then there was the time that I got off the train in Leicester and I knew that I had to walk right out of the station instead of left to get to the bus stop. And that because it was a Saturday the 31 bus would only run every half an hour instead of every 10 minutes so I knew I had time to walk down to Green Oasis on London Road to get a coffee before it came. And I knew that the coffee would be 1.20 and that it would come it a beige take-away cup and that I would have to switch hands while holding it because there was never any sleeves left. And I knew to press the stop button for Oadby Village sometime between the school sign that said 'Best A-Levels Results in the East Midlands' and the road that shared the same name of my Dad's hometown in Saskatchewan, otherwise it would be too late and the driver would go right past. And I knew that once I got off the bus at Oadby that it would only take 5 minutes to walk back to my room if I went past the gardens, and 7 minutes if I didn't. And I knew all of this because, somewhere along the way, without even realizing it, it had become like home.

Hockey eh

You don't really realize the importance of hockey as part of the Canadian national identity until you step outside of Canada. Suddenly, the world seems a lot bigger and emptier without the comforting knowledge that Saturday's Hockey Night in Canada is just around the corner. You find yourself wondering what absurd suit Don Cherry is wearing? and what comment will he make that will cause Ron Maclean to cover his face with his hands trying to hold back calling him an idiot? Without the daily update from Dan O'Toole and Jay Onrait you are lost in the world of sports. You have no idea what the TSN turning point of the day was and you can't even begin to guess how the Canucks finished off the third.

Whether you grew up around hockey or not, whether you knew the rules to offside, or when a ref should call slashing or roughing it doesn't really matter. You knew that come May long weekend when the weather started to get nicer there would be a line up of boys on the road curving sticks and dragging hockey nets out of the garage. The sound of chatter and chirping interspersed with the universal call for time out - CAR! Playoffs meant that your Dad would start to sport and unusual amount of facial hair (and complain about it itching the whole time), game 7 meant an undeclared bank holiday and overtime meant you were to follow an undeclared house rule to duck in front of the TV if you had to get up (and it had better be a good reason).

You learned a lot of lessons from watching games too. You learned that its ok for grown men to cry over a loss, that you should stick up for your teammates and that a black eye or a broken jaw didn't mean sit this one out, it means persevere. From hours spent at the rink, either on the ice or in the stands you learned to cheer for a common goal and shake hands no matter the outcome. On the drive home you learned to give praise when deserved and simply say "Next time" when it was not (because there was always a next time). But most of all, you learned that the Canadian national anthem  is sung at the beginning of games not only because of tradition and out of respect, but because hockey is undeniably a part of Canada, and is indelibly painted, just like the blue line on the ice, into the mosaic of this country.

Scotland

There's an image of Scotland I have.
Of rolling plains scattered with cows and sheep.
Of mountains intersecting the valleys of the highlands.
Of a boy, age 16, walking home from school, tie loosened,
his best mates on either side and Irn Bru in hand.
Of white haired ladies at bus stops asking where you're from
and sitting down for tea time at family owned cafes.
Of a pride for tartan and scotch and Sean Connery.
Of unabashed humour, matter of fact conversation,
and hand rolled cigarettes stuffed into denim jackets on the North Bridge.
Of crowds of people on Princess Street holding bags overflowing with Primark clothes.
Of the Royal Mile at midnight, loud and fun and busy.
Of a mosaic of single images that when put together fit side by side into the shape of a country...
That's the image of Scotland I have.

Ireland...

Where to begin? The cliffs, the ocean, the accent, the amazingly interesting history or the guinness? Lots and lots of Guinness. Rather than trying to recall everything I saw and did over my 6 day tour of Ireland, which travelled from Dublin up north to Belfast and many other towns in between, I'll just write the highlights and surprising facts I learned along the way.

1) Dublin castle is the film site of king Henry VIII's court in The Tudors tv show

2) Christchurch in Dublin is the birthplace of Tom and Jerry: the cat and mouse duo were found dead in the organ pipes and kept by the janitor of the church until they were donated by him after his death for their preservation

3) If you have a southern Ireland driving license you cannot get a speeding ticket in northern Ireland

4) southern Ireland driving licenses are written and printed on a piece of paper, no lamination, nothing

5) Arthur Guinness signed a 9,000 year lease on the Guinness storehouse

6) the south uses euros while the north uses pounds that are different than British or Scottish sterling

7) the cliffs of Moher were the film site of scenes for Harry potter: the half blood prince and the princess diaries, also, for some unknown reason your hair stand on end and become static when walking around the cliffs

8) an original bullet hole from the Easter rising still exists in the angel statue in Dublin on o'connel street

9) a river divides the northern town of Derry and separates Protestants from Catholics. Each attend different schools, hold different ideologies, support different beliefs, are stubborn to change and rarely cross paths in town; yet the most annoying problem seems to be the roaming charges they receive from having uk phone suppliers.

10) after the death of Margaret thatcher a minority of Catholics threw a street party, streamers and all. The "wicked witch" was dead.

11) to kiss the blarney stone you have to lie on your back and hang upside down halfway out of the top of blarney castle in cork

12) there is Tim hortons! And molsons!

13) the views are amazing

Welcome to the Netherlands!

3 things about Amsterdam;
Bicycles
Canals
Cafes
They are everywhere at anytime in any place. That about sums it up.

Out of all the cities I have visited this one seems to be the most live able. Although the city center is buzzing with tourists, most of which are either trying (poorly) to ride bikes or trying to (poorly) avoid bikes or trams, the city itself has a hometown feel. The canals are beautiful, day or night, and the architecture of the quirky narrow buildings and houses are great to look at.

I had heard stories about Amsterdam. Mostly about the legalization of marijuana and prostitution. But I was still not prepared to wander along the city and end up in the red light district, where women casually sat in glass paneled doorways waiting for someone to knock and then let them in. The thinking behind it's legalization seemed mainly to be control. If it is legal then the government and police forces can sanction and supervise it. It would be interesting to see the statistics behind it all in comparison to other cities. Despite all that though I never really felt unsafe or lost in the culture, to them it was commonplace, and as a visitor you adapt quickly. The highlight of the trip was a visit to anne frank's museum, which is located in the original building where she hid during nazi occupation, and a day trip to Utrecht to meet up with a friend.

Anne franks father, Otto frank had set up the musuem in the 1960s with the help of the city and donated Anne's original diary and countless pages of writing. At the time of her capture, there were over some 1,000 pages of writing and editing that she had accumulated during her time in the annex. These pages were sparred by the nazi ambush through some miracle and returned to otto after he survived the war and internment camps. The rooms are left empty to symbolize all the empty lives and rooms of Jews that suffered during the war, but some pieces of furniture, wall decorations and the original secret bookcase remain. It was truly a humbling experience to stand where that family stood and only begin to comprehend what they experienced.

On a lighter note, the next day was spent in a town called Utrecht which is about a 30 minute train ride from Amsterdam. There I met up with a friend who I had met just before leaving Canada, and she showed us around her hometown. We visited their clock tower, church, a beer festival and an amazing bar called Olivier's. During the Protestant reformation Catholics were faced to hide their places of worship in buildings that looked like simple houses or in other secret locations. On the outside, Olivier's looks like a normal storefront or house, but once you step in there is a huge organ at the back wall, a high vaulted roof and acoustics that bounce conversations back and forth. After the tour, we were treated to a traditional dutch dinner ( I won't attempt to spell the Dutch names of food) that consisted of homemade soup, meatballs, sausage, potatoes with kip, and a yogurt and vanilla desert. Delicioussss. You truly appreciate a good meal after eating out or sneaking sandwiches in your bag from breakfast at the hostel. Then it was a few drinks with her friends and a very late train ride back to Amsterdam, complete with riding on the back of a bicycle to the station. A new experience for me that the dutch found funny to watch as a I struggled to balance on the cobblestone streets.

The day after was dinner out with some Brits we met at the hostel and a flight to Dublin in the morning!

Belgium

Brussels is a city that sits closest to the border of France. It's unique geographical location is evident everywhere in the city. Shopkeepers and clerks greet you in French and street signs switch between their ditch, French and English names. It seems like residents know at least 2 languages and live in the intermediate city using both. It's not uncommon for the curved streets to change names at intersections ( a confusing fact that led to almost 2 hours of wandering to find our hotel) and the all streets in the city center wind about in circles filled with restaurants, waffle stands, chocolate shops and speciality beer stores. Needless to say, the main food groups in Belgium seemed to be sugar and starch. Equally delicious. Because we arrived on Easter weekend a lot of the museums in town were closed but I did manage visit the main church, parliament buildings, academic area and a couple parks. Brussels in itself probably isnt my favourite city but the grand place is the highlight. It is a sequence of large buildings with ornate decorations that line the surroundings of an exposed square where merchants sell paintings and people mill about or eat at the many restraints below the buildings.

After exploring Brussels it was onto to Bruges. Only about an hour or less away by train, Bruges is a quiet city with cobblestone streets, bare trees in the winter, and small bridges that cover over canals. We visited a small pub called De Garre that was tucked away in an alleyway and served house brewed beer which I would highly recommend. Further out of the city centre tourists dissapeared and there were only a few bikes and people walking about their daily routines in the streets. If you've ever watched in Bruges you can visit the locations where the movie was shot and go up the clock tower. The quiet town is a nice change from loud tourists and busy city centers. After that, it was off to Amsterdam!

Bonjour!

The start of Easter Break began with a (long) bus ride from Leicester to Boulogne sur-mer in the north west coast of France. The most interesting part of the trip was the way in which we crossed the ocean to France. I have taken the Chunnel before on a train, but I had never thought about how a bus would make the journey. That question was soon answered as the bus drove into a train cargo case and then sat the remainder the journey enclosed in this space as it crossed thought the Chunnel. If you happened to be claustrophobic, this would not be the place for you. After about 20 minutes we were in France and greeted by the overwhelming but exciting feeling of knowing nothing about the city you stepped into or where to go. Armed with a ague google maps and a very (very) basic recollection of high school French we asked for directions and found our way to our hotel. The town of Boulogne was under Roman occupation at one point during its history and a large castle remain and belly tower still exists from the 12th century. It was a little too cold to enjoy the beach, but there was a large marina and lighthouse that sat alongside a sandy waterfront. The apartments were a mosaic of beiges an light pastels, half worn down and half eclipsed by the more up to date cages and restaurants below them.

Two days were spent there and then on to Paris. We got in at a decent hour and were able to take the metro to our hostel in caulaincourt, near the Lamarck station. The area is about five minutes from the scare coeur and nearby a metro to take you into the heart of Paris. We chose to walk the first day, and spent 2 hours wandering into city centre while admiring the scare coeur, moulin rouge, place de Madeline and the outside of the louvre along the way. There we met up with a friend from school and had lunch, then off to noted dame and the gardens behind it and finally the Latin quarter (filled with brightly coloured restaurants and inviting windows of cured meat, Payaya, and spices).

The row upon row of faded beige apartments and black balcony railings that line the roads seem to lead to endless streets filled with people and things to look at. Let's hope my feet can keep up!

Update from Leicester

The past few weeks have been busy. I started off with watching both a women's football and men's rugby game for varsity week. During this week, Leicester uni plays against their rival team, DeMontford uni in a battle to see who comes out on top. Rather than playing in the normal school pitches, varsity week means that teams play in the city's stadiums. The experience of watching one of the matches is unlike most university sporting events in Canada. The stadium is crowded and loud, they sell beer and food, and every point or goal is returned with a loud cheer from thousands of people who come out to show their support. Very cool.

Later in the week I went to a talk on campus from a Holocaust survivor who spent his time during world war II in an internment camp in Vienna. During the day he repaired railways that had been bombed by the RAF. While during the night he waited for those same planes to come back, filled with a mix of appreciation for their efforts and fear for the bombs they dropped. His talk lasted for about an hour and finished with a simple message, "if you see evil happening, even in the simplest form, don't sit on the fence or hesitate, do something about it"

The latter half of the week I celebrated St. Patrick's day with my flatmates and introduced them to a few new North American ways to celebrate ;) Finally, made some plans for the summer, finished an essay (one of the rare times I find myself doing school work), and packed for my 5 week Easter Break (which proved harder than I thought...fitting everything into one bag was like a complicated game of Tetris).

Above all, I found myself this week thinking how amazing it is that you can spend such a short period of time in a place and become so comfortable with it. Already I find myself sitting on the bus to and from school, or into the city and zoning out while I listen to music. The sights and streets that were once so unfamiliar have become part of my everyday. Undoubtedly I still appreciate everything about my new surroundings and being in a different country, but in a different way. The new and exciting has now become the familiar, and dare I say it, in more ways than one, home.

Lumineers

Just got back from a quick trip to London where I spent the night at a concert for one of my current favourite bands at the moment, The Lumineers. The concert venue was called the O2 Academy in Brixton and housed just over 2,000 people within the amphitheatre setting that included both a floor standing section and a balcony seating area. We were in the balcony section after buying last minute tickets off eBay, but there was no sitting to be had. Everyone was up on their feet within the first few songs and stayed there for the rest of the night. The performance was polished, down to earth and the quality of the sound perfectly showed off their grassroots tone and effortless musicianship. It seems the once in a lifetime moments just keep adding up.

"When we were young, oh oh, we did enough
When it got cold, ooh ooh, we bundled up
I can't be told, ah ah it can't be done"

Manchester

Manchester on an overcast day is red brick rubbed
smooth from weathering
and tiny sized hands,
that prick and prod the edges
on their way home from school.
Clad in tights and cardigans,
dress pants with rolled cuffs to accommodate growth spurts
and socks that hug the body of their knees.
Fathers and mothers waiting at home
watching the window where the stadium looms,
on guard against predators
who prey on boys running to be men,
chasing dreams down a field toward their goals.

Manchester on an overcast day is a city of facades,
where buildings wear masks of the old,
the historical,
the memorably forgotten,
and cover the hidden urbanization beneath them.
Stores shelve themselves between each other along the street
as customers trail their fingers along the overcrowded stock
and choose between them.
They stop and ponder window dressings
never having to choose between old and new,
ideally situated in a present that allows them to be in both
presences.

Manchester on an overcast day is an apparition
of industrial smoke,
billowing from long ago closed chimneys
that gave life.
Reproduced through textiles and metal
and corn exchanges,
where the people would stand at yell as the numbers scrolled past
one
after
another
predicting the future.

British Banter

After reflecting on some of the things that  are unique to Canadians, I thought it might be time to evaluate the culture I'm living in. Here are some phrases and daily things that still surprise me about England...

1) Traffic lights: Usually these lights blink in a pattern of green yellow red green, but here they go green yellow red yellow green. The extra yellow lets you know when it's just about time to go. There also doesn't seem to be any stop signs anywhere. When you come to the intersection that precedes the entrance to my residence off the main road there is no stop signs, the cars just automatically stop and proceed when safe. Common sense.

2) Light switches: On is off and off is on

3) School: The lecture and seminar structure here is a lot different than back home. In my English classes the professor giving the lecture seems to rotate through a cycle of lecturers that change every class. Lectures themselves often differ from what you're covering in tutorials, so that one week you may be reading Oscar Wilde while your lecture covers a different book entirely. Each lesson is only an hour long and there is no time in between to get to your next class so it usually starts late. Class discussion in tutorials is very good though and everyone participates without the usually agonizing taunting of seminar leaders.

4) Red Solo cups: These things are like gold to British people. They don't sell them here anywhere and epitomize American culture. My flat mates told me that last year they had a Red Solo cup party in which the soul purpose behind the party was to use Solo cups.

5) Keyboards: Very different here, the @ symbol is where the quotation mark symbol is and vice versa, there is also a pound symbol next to a dollar sign and a euro sign

6) Style: Fashion here is very different, I have concluded that people dress as if they are part of a band that is about to audition for a gig and have mild success after but never really amount to anything. Leather and jean jackets are popular, as well as studded flats, converse and tights. The guys prefer button up shirts done all the way to the top and thick holiday style jumpers. Super Dry is also a hugely popular brand here, and has whole stores devoted to it, which is odd given that it's Japanese

7) Transit: public transportation in Leicester is pretty good on the whole. A bus runs every ten minutes from my residence to campus on school days. Interestingly, the bus driver will give you change when buying a ticket, and these are printed on flimsy newspaper paper that he rips off from a stack. However, if you don't wave down the bus, even there is a big line behind you it will drive right past.

4) Language: there are a lot of different phrases used, here are some of my favourites....

• hoover - a vaccum, "John hoovered the floor today"
• pulled - to pick someone up on a night out, "He pulled that girl last night"
• knackered - exhausted, "I'm completely knackered after that work out"
• gutted -unhappy, "I was so gutted by the result of that football match yesterday"
• fit - attractive, "That lad is well fit"
• cluedo - this isn't really a phrase, but I discovered the other day the board game Clue is called Cluedo here and in Australia
• y'alright - how are you, how's it going, "Hi y'alright?"
• hiya - hello, "Hiya good to see you"
• cheers -  thanks, "Cheers mate"

Just touched down in LondonTown

Last weekend I had the privilege to take a trip to one of my favourite places in the world, London. After a 3 hour bus ride from Leicester we arrived at Victoria station and was greeted by a friend of a friend who is from London and lives there still. He took us around to all of the usual sights, Big Ben, Parliament Buildings, Westminster Abbey, Hyde Park, the London Eye and Southwark church where Shakespeare visited frequently. But we also got the pleasure of doing some things I've never done before like a walk along the Thames in South London that led to a huge food market with fresh fruit, homemade pies and sausage, pastries and fresh squeezed juice. After some lunch we went to the Tate Modern, call me old fashioned but I like my art to be appealing. I just don't get a canvas painted entirely grey or a white rectangle with asymmetrical sides that fades into the wall. That night we went to a club called Piccadilly Institute that was right in the middle of Piccadilly Circus. Our new friend and tour guide also works as a paramedic and apparently that means free entry into clubs, which was a good thing because if we had to pay it would've been 10 pounds -____- The club itself was pretty amazing, 7 floors each with a different them and genre of music. It was surreal leaving from a good night out right into the streets of Piccadilly Circus.

The next morning (after some much needed Tylenol) we headed to Abbey Road. Of all the things I saw that weekend, I could not comprehend how Abbey Road was still open for public use. Tourists would jet out in hopes of a look-a-like Beatles picture and cars would come to a sudden dead hault inches from them then angrily throw their hands up as they drove away. Still, it was a great thing to see and the area around it is very quiet and calm with a church nearby and large knotted trees on either side of the streets. After that we headed back into central London to pay a visit to the British museum, which I could easily spend hours in every week and still be amazed by the artefacts it holds. Then it was onto Coventry market where along the way stopped off at the Rock & Sole, opened in 1870, to pick up some fish and chips. Or I should probably say, a whole fish and 2 potatoes because that was about the portion size we got. We ate lunch on the side steps of Coventry market while watching street performers from between the legs of the large crowd that formed and milled about. Finally, it was onto the National Gallery for some good old fashioned art and then to the  pub at the coach station to rest our feet before the bus ride home.

I've had some bad travel experiences; stalled planes stuck on tar mats, unseemly weather, getting sick on flights, layovers that lasted for hours upon hours, and losing valuables just to name a few. But this bus ride back to Leicester easily makes the top 3. At first everything was fine, we found four open seats at the back all together and sat down with our stuff piled in front, but about 20 minutes into the journey I can feel the heat at my feet on full blast. I'm sure that will go off soon,  I think. At an hour into the journey I have pant legs rolled up and my feet perched precariously on the back pack to the right of me to try and not melt. At an hour and a half into the journey the heat is still on but now the air conditioning at my head has been turned on full blast and I feel like half of my body is in Mexico while the other half is in Antarctica. At two hours into the journey I go to rearrange my feet and burn the back of my leg on the heater, yes, it was THAT hot. So finally I go up to the driver and ask him to do something about it, he says to me "Ya, to be honest, this bus is shit. They are going into retirement in 2 weeks so everything is broken and they won't fix it. Sorry." Defeated and with a singed calf I walked back to my seat to cover the heater with my coat and pray that it didn't ignite into flames on the last hour of our ride. Regardless of how it ended though, the trip was a success and I've got the scar to prove it.

(mis)perceptions about Canada

Here are some of the misperceptions about Canada that I have heard from other study abroad students and Brits.

MYTHS

• Canada is in fact pronounced Canadia
• No matter where you are from in Canada it is very very cold and there is a lot of snow
• Canadians sell milk in bags
• Canadians say eh after every phrase and enunciate O's like there is no tomorrow
• All of the stereotypes personified in How I Met Your Mother are true
• The Canadian national anthem resembles the Genovia national anthem from Princess Diaries
• Canadians are very polite

FACTS

• C-A-N-A-D-A
• Although the majority of the country gets quite cold and there is a lot of snow, my hometown of Vancouver does not! It is way colder here and there is definitely no snow in February back home
• We sell milk in jugs and cartons, bags are a thing of the past
• I do say eh, NOT every time I talk though. I think I have been called out on an 'eh' slip three or four times since I've been here and a hard 'O' once or twice. These are moments of pride, not shame
• Of all the stereotypes on HIMYM the one that is exemplified the best is that we have a sense of humour and are able to laugh at ourselves. Also that we love Tim Hortons, I really do love Tim Ho's and miss Iced Capps
• My friend Kendall is the source of this Genovia myth, I refuse to believe there is a similarity but you can see for yourself on the link below
• Why yes, we are polite, thank you so much for saying that, I really appreciate it and I hope you have a good day!

Patriotisms

It's odd how when you travel away from home you immediately feel more attached to it. Despite the separation of thousand of my miles and exploring new places with new people you intrinsically identify with your home more than ever. I call this phenomenon, and its subsequent outbursts of nationalistic pride, Patriotisms.

This phenomenon was most prominently displayed during Superbowl Sunday last weekend. The game, which began at 10pm my time and ran until 4am (at which time I was fast asleep) had the uncanny ability to draw together a collection of cultures. About half the spectators that crowded around the satellite streamed game from New Orleans had no knowledge of American football, yet nonetheless cheered as each pass was completed and each touchdown scored. The amalgamation of foreign nationalities resulted in a comparison of each person's native country. The results of which were threefold:

1) The Australian national anthem is by far the happiest and funnest to sing. With lyrics such as "let us rejoice", it was an immediate crowd pleaser. The Canadian national anthem was best known by the Aussies but mostly unrecognizable to the Brits and the majority of our neighbourly Americans...for shame. Finally, the American national anthem was well known by all but also lovingly teased by all for the patriotic emotions and tears it conjured in full grown 300 pound men on the sidelines.

2) Lemonade is a heated debate topic. To North Americans, lemonade is a tart juice drink that one has on a hot summer's day or one sells for 25 cents on the corner of their street in the prospect of entrepreneurial success. However, in Britain, lemonade is a commercially made and carbonated beverage, similar to 7up or Sprite but sweeter. Sacrilege if you ask me. In our dining hall there is usually pitchers full of this "Lemonade" on the tables that have been referred to during dinner as "squash" or "cordial". Needless to say, amidst this quandary of nouns one question decidedly stands out, what's the difference? Essentially, the words squash and cordial are interchangeable and are used to describe a drink made from water, sugar and juice. The closest equivalent in North America would be Kool-Aid (OHHH YEAH) and its closest taste would be to sweet diluted juice. Aren't you glad I cleared that up? You can now sleep at night knowing that the great juice debate of 2013 has been solved.

3) Patriotisms exist regardless of what country you call home. You may recite the Canadian anthem or debate the "rightness" of juices, but when it comes down to it these patriotisms are more pro than con. They tell us where we're from and where we are and ironically have the ability to connect us in our differences.

Refresher's Flu

I'm suffering from a cold right now, aptly nicknamed the Refreshers Flu. It's tyrannical rampage has seemed to have hit almost every study abroad student here. I guess it just goes to show you can only go out and party 5 nights in a row without any repercussions. The video below sums up how I feel.

Getting There

Well, the moment came. I boarded my flight to London Heathrow on January 21st and arrived in Leicester on the 23rd. I would like to say that the journey overseas was easy, that my flight was uneventful and that I was greeted with open arms upon stepping foot into my new home, but what would be the fun in that?

The night before my departure I was feeling anxious and nervous to be leaving everything behind and departing on this adventure solely by myself. All these feelings are natural to experience before you move somewhere, or before you have a big game to play, or before a first date. But for me, someone who experiences anxiety in certain situations, a fact that I don't often disclose to people (until now I guess) these feelings often overwhelm. In this particular case they resulted in me having stomach pains and throwing up the whole night before my flight left...and then again in the car, and again in the airport. I gathered myself together long enough to approach the check in desk, only to discover that the luggage I had intended on bringing aboard my flight was too big and had to be checked as well. Thankfully, the man behind the counter took pity on my disheveled appearance, complete with kleenex box and plastic bag and checked it for free. After a brief anxiety attack between check in and departures in which what can only be described as a mild asthma attacked ensued I was in the clear; until hunger struck.

The small rectangle box of food landed on my folded down airplane tray wafting the smell of microwaved chicken and mashed potatoes seductively into my nose. Normally, airplane food is the equivalent of hospital food and both conjure images of overcooked vegetables and gross pudding cups, but to someone who hadn't eaten anything substantial in the last 12 hours, it was heavenly. Big mistake.   If you haven't ever gotten sick in an airplane bathroom before don't start know. On the third trip there I felt faint and dizzy and was about to put my hands on my knees when they gave out and I passed out on the floor. The most notable thing about the experience, besides the odd smell of the airplane carpet flooring, was probably that no one noticed. Less than three feet ahead of me on my left sat two boys watching a movie and to the right a row of four people still eating their meals, and not one of them turned around. I simply picked myself back up and walked back to my seat with none the wiser.


When I landed in Heathrow I took the bus to the hotel where I was staying that night and after dragging my luggage back and forth two times between reception and my room I finally had to switch rooms 5 floors down because the lock on the original one didn't work. The next day I took a chartered bus along with other study abroad students to the University of Leicester. I arrived in my new home and woke up the next day to discover the one shower across the hall from me didn't work and the other didn't lock, and furthermore somewhere along the way my name had been crossed of the registration list for classes and I had to re-enroll in my courses.

There's a thing called Murphy's Law that says if anything can go wrong it will. I don't tend to believe in superstition, I don't mind walking under ladders or opening an umbrella inside, but if I ever meet this Murphy I will surely kick him in the face. Luckily, there is also a saying that goes, what doesn't kill you makes you stronger. After my first week here where I met really nice people from all over the world, went to parties on campus, moved into my room and attended classes I enjoyed, I choose to believe in the second saying.