Exciting news !

Regina has a hill ! When I asked last week about where to go tobogganing and was told that the city was built on the flattest part of the province I had a small feeling of culture shock. I found the idea hard to take and I was even contemplating writing the mayor and suggesting they follow Saskatoon's example and build a few. I was very happy to see a hill today by Wascana lake, but I am not actually sure how far away it is...

I also find it funny the city only has one bridge and that it is referred to it as 'The' Regina bridge. Whereas Saskatoon, the Paris of the North or city of bridges has at least five or six. Right now for I associate Albert Street in Regina with the river in Saskatoon and think of it as the dividing axis in the city, however I have been told that isn't true. It actually just goes to show that I need to get out and visit the rest of the city.

Seven Random and/or Little-Known Facts About Me

So, there's this meme... and Cristina tagged me. Here are the rules:

Link to your tagger and post these rules.
Share 7 facts about yourself: some random, some weird.
Tag 7 people at the end of your post and list their names (linking to them).

Let them know they've been tagged by leaving a comment at their blogs.

Here we go:

1.If I were to have been a boy my parents planned to name me Eli.

2.When I was small I could not sleep without a large rock under my bed because I needed it to break the window in case of a fire.

3.When I was four I got my first pair of shoes with laces and I worked very hard to learn how to tie them on my own that same day.

4.I know basic American Sign Language from having studied two Sesame Street sign language books as a child. I learned important phrases like ‘Follow me and learn your ABCS’ and ‘Do not feed the octopus.’

5.In grade eight I danced with the Alberta Ballet as a rat in the Nutcracker.

6.I was evacuated from my house in Saskatoon when the neighbour hit a gas line while digging up tree roots. We were sent down the street to wait in a school bus and during the evacuation a neighbour invited the group into their house to watch the O.J. Simpson chase live on t.v.

7.I sometimes send postcards to my friend Ami telling her about my imaginary life in Europe where I am married to a German theatre director named Jan and we have a daughter named Pamplemousse.

So here are the seven people I am tagging:

1 - Mark

2 - Kristen

3- Joel & Michaela

4- Samuel

5- Edgar

6- Anna

7- Paloma

Between Cities

I have now been in the city of Regina for almost two weeks, so I guess I can now start to say that I am living here. During my first week I made four different trips into the city and wasn’t really ‘living’ anywhere.

On the 15th I started a position as project officer with the Assemblée communautaire fransakoise (ACF). My project right now is to coordinate the Francofièvre concert for 2008 and I am sure you will hear more about that later.

Trip #1- Arriving at the airport from Ottawa (so I went on a short trip out East in early November)

As soon as my tiny plane had landed I set out to find some friendly local to answer some of my many questions. I had to wait a while, but eventually a security guard came to the information desk. He told me I should take a taxi, but then showed me where the nearest bus stop was on the map and I decided to walk. The cold wind that greeted me while stepping out into one of the flattest cities in the country nearly changed my mind. Then I thought about how it was only a year ago that I was hiking the Camino to Santiago and I stubbornly continued on to the bus stop. No sooner had I arrived and there was a bus. I cautiously asked, ‘are you going to the Golden Mile Mall?’ and being told yes I sat down to study my map. I found Retallack street, my friend’s apartment, a pay phone (hooray for 25 cent calls!) and then went to wait for her brother to bring over the key. By the time he arrived I had already met the neighbour and my bags were waiting inside the front door. Really it was all a little too easy, so I set out to do some exploring. As I took a short cut to the nearby mall I told myself don’t walk through the alley this is murder capital of Canada and it’s night time, but nothing happened.

Having grown up in Saskatoon I am a little bit biased towards my city and have been told all the bad things about Regina. How the lake smells, the water tastes bad, the university is small, etc., and the original name ‘Pile of Bones’ didn’t make it sound very appealing.

The next day I was immersed in all things Fransaskois at a conference organized by the ACF. I even made it so far as to get caught up in a conversation on language politics with some displaced Québécois critically commenting on the French language and culture in the province.

It was a very long first day and I only started to feel more at ease as I drove back to Saskatoon. I caught a ride with two friendly Fransaskois and a new immigrant from Cameroun. It was a fun trip and the man from Cameroun was highly entertained with the sight of the lone Saskatchewan ski hill ‘Mount Blackstrap’.

Trip # 2 - Moving
The next day I ‘ moved’ to Regina by packing my parent’s car full of things, driving down to the city with my mom, dropping my stuff off and then driving back to Saskatoon again.

Trip # 3 – To Regina by bus
On Wednesday I eventlessly took the bus back to Regina. Outside the bus station in Regina seemed a little sketchy, but soon enough I was on a city bus back to Golden Mile Mall, my point of reference in the city. I still don’t quite understand the layout. If I think about Albert St. like the river in Saskatoon I feel a little bit oriented.

Two days later I embarked on my second carpool experience with the daughter of a woman who sings in my dad’s church choir. It was dark while we drove and I tried to make conversation to pass the time. When she dropped me off she warned me on the drive back she was bringing her cat so there would probably be lots of meowing.

Trip # 4 – The winning adventure
Sunday morning we were greeted with snow and it was the day Winter had decided to settle in. The weather really in fact had little effect on the drive back it was instead the cat. I got in the car and looked in the back and Moe was sitting inside his traveller bag meowing piteously while staring out through the netting. It sounded a little like crying and I imagined him saying ‘stop the car ! get me out of here ! take me home!’ It bothered me a little, but there wasn’t much to be done. After having been on the highway for about ten minutes I noticed him pawing at the corner of the bag and soon enough there was a little hole. Then he started biting at the hole and it got bigger. I incredulously watched as the cat first pushed out his nose, then his head and then emerged from the bag.

At first I was a little scared. I thought ‘the cat is angry and is going to attack me, the cat is going to destroy the rental car trying to dig and escape and without a seatbelt the cat will get hurt’. Luckily the driver was much calmer, she pulled over and the cat climbed into her lap. I tried to ease the awkwardness with the newly acquainted stranger by asking if she knew how other people travelled with cats. She said some of her friends just let the cat wander around the car and she figured he would eventually fall asleep. ‘Okay’ I told myself we’ll see. Moe was not interested in sleeping because he wanted to be up at the front with the driver. Eventually I ended up holding the cat, petting him and for a while he stopped meowing. I became covered in masses of cat fur and tried not to think about my allergies. I would wiggle my nose so I wouldn’t sneeze too much as my eyes teared up. It was a long two and a half hours and I felt almost victorious upon arrival because I had survived.

I still think car pooling is a fun idea; something like organized hitch hiking and for the time being I am going to try and create a network of Saskatoon commuters. Other than being reminded that Rick Mercer calls Regina ‘the city that rhymes with fun’ and seeing a bus advert encouraging STD testing since the city also holds the title of ‘ Chlamydia capital of Canada’ I am slowly adjusting to queen city.

Happy Halloween !

Snow

I was plunged into flurry of snow flakes as I walked down the street. A young boy was walking towards me and when we crossed he suddenly turned to me and said 'I can't believe it is snowing.' I saw other children leaving school yelling, running and spinning like the swirling snow flakes. Hands open,tongues out and the word snow on everyones lips. The soft white clusters magically melted like cold kisses on my cheeks. I had to hold my hand over my eyes to see. For a minute the world was painted white and then a short while later it was gone. There was a chill in the air and the faint whispering of the wind saying softly winter is coming.

Comparing cultures, or missing Spanish fiestas

Early October is when Canadians celebrate Thanksgiving and Lucenses, natives of the city of Lugo in Spain celebrate San Froilan. There is really little comparison between the family feast to celebrate the end of harvest in North America and the lavish nine day street festival honouring the Spanish city’s patron saint, but I think it would be fun to think about the possibility. To start the traditional fare at the San Froilan festival is octopus and I can’t even imagine the reaction my family would have if instead of turkey we had a large platter of purple Pulpo at the meal.

Next would be the costumes which at the early part of San Froilan seem to have the theme of traditional Galician dress and by the end of the celebrations they change to medieval attire. I suppose for the traditional costumes one would dress as a pilgrim or farmer and later on you could be a little more creative with the Thanksgiving theme and bring out your vegetable, cornucopia or superhero costumes. (A small aside to mention my little claim to fame is that I actually won a Thanksgiving themed costume contest in High school dressed as ‘Captain Turkey’ a little known thanksgiving super-hero)

Now I think it would help if the Thanksgiving celebrations were moved outdoors, a marching band hired to parade your family down the street and then at the end of the day you might set off a few fireworks. Having gone to all this trouble why not just extend the celebrations over a few days or even a week. I think maybe next year it might be easier to just buy a plane ticket to Spain. Here’s a website with some of the colours of the festivities in Lugo: http://sanfroilan.lugo.es/

Prairie skies

Not too long ago the phrase ‘ Land of the Living Skies’ was added to the license plates in Saskatchewan. At first I didn’t like it because my sister had submitted an entry with ‘Sunny Saskatchewan’ in the contest and I had liked that better.

I found the expression Land of the Living skies very fitting this past week as I got to witness some spectacular sunrises while riding my bike along the river. I didn’t bring my camera until the end of the week because I know my father carries his camera around religiously and I am trying not to act too much like him.

Another scene I saw was the field full of Canadian geese as I biked up towards the University of Saskatchewan. For some reason I found it cheering and comforting to bike past flock of geese, maybe because if they are still there means we’ll be getting a few more days of nice weather.

Celebrating Saskatoon history

Last Friday was an exciting day in Saskatoon because there was a celebration for the 125th anniversary of the founding of the city. A re-enactment of the meeting between John Lake, the commissioner of the Temperance Colonization Society and Chief Whitecap, the Dakota First Nation chief had been planned. The mayor and town council in period dress came down the river in canoe and Chief Darcy Bear the current leader of the Dakota First Nation rode up to the riverbank on horseback to meet them.

I only caught a glimpse of the canoes and horses as I rode my bike across the Broadway Bridge to meet up with my parents at my dad’s office. As soon as I go to the street corner I jumped off my bike and ran up announcing that the Dakota were coming with some of the passion that Laura Secord might have had. We then quickly started walking towards the Victoria Traffic Bridge. We missed the official meeting, but had a chance to listen to some of the speeches and later watch a number of dance performances on the new River Landing Amphitheatre. It was a beautiful fall day.

Between the speeches and the dances we decided to check out the food stands on the bridge. A lot of other people had the same idea at the same time and in order to try and save time my mom joined one hamburger line-up and my dad joined another one at another stand on the opposite end of the bridge. My role was to be the go-between and pull one person out of line when the other was shorter. The situation was a little ridiculous and even more so because in the midst of it all I ran into a friend and I had to tell him that I didn’t have time to talk because I was busy being a messenger between hamburger line-ups. In the end we didn’t even end up eating until later. As the evening drew to a close I ran off to go and volunteer at an International Peace day event, but crossing back over the bridge I stopped for a few minutes to watch part of the fireworks display. I love the excitement of fireworks.

Job hunting, sort of

I am still in a bit of an unknown, awkward space right now. I am feeling more settled back in Canada, but I still don’t know what I am going to do. I have had a few temp jobs lately that have been far from interesting. For two weeks I felt imprisoned in a dusty, windowless basement doing inventory and data entry. The positive side of that experience is that I now feel a strong urge to work harder on my job search because I cannot do work like that for the rest of my life.

I had one very unusual interview that was done via videoconference. The whole experience was a bit of a gong show because I’ve lost count of the number of miscommunications there were on the time, location, etc. At the first interview attempt I was led to a room that one might call a meeting room with a few extra computers and a large television. I was told the interviewers should appear on the screen because they had remote access. However after patiently waiting for fifteen minutes for people to magically appear at any moment on the television screen I decided I should try and phone them. Of course it was too old fashion to have had the room equipped with a phone and the only number I had connected me to voicemail on which I left a polite, but confused phone message.

A couple days later on the second interview attempt there was temporarily a little confusion on the location, but we eventually figured things out. As I sat down in front of the camera I suddenly felt like I was doing a television interview as the TV screen was split in four. In the top left and bottom right corners I saw images of myself and became very conscious of my appearance. I found myself leaning forwards towards the flat microphone positioned in the center of table, and as most of the questions were asked by the men who appeared to me in the bottom left corner of the screen I noticed I spent a lot of time looking down. Since it appeared I was staring at the table I tried to smile a lot to compensate.

The other challenge for me during the experience was that the sound would sometimes cut in and out and a couple of times I was barely sure that I had understood the question, so I started my answers by repeating what I thought they had said hoping that they would understand me. Maybe this is the way of the future?

Walking for Hope

This morning my mom, my aunt, my cousin Charlene and I took part in the 5km walk for hope for Ovarian Cancer. It was a small way to remember my grandma Florence McBride who passed away in May, 2005. The message of my hope that I pinned to my back was for more cancer survivors because too many people are getting the disease these days.

Adventures at home

While travelling I am often asked what is typical Canadian food and I always have a hard time thinking of what to say. Pemmican (a mixture of dried meat and berries), bannock (similar to fried biscuits), caribou stew or bison burgers are probably the most native to Canada, but not things my family usually eats. I thought I would describe a meal we had with some family friends not too long ago to give another attempt at an answer.

Before we left the house I took a picture of the desserts my mom had prepared. On the left is a blueberry torte with a meringue topping, next to it is an apple crisp, then there is a rhubarb torte and in the front some of my mom's popular toffee-chocolate-almond crunchies (or oatmeal cookies). I think we also brought a mango spinach salad because it is quite popular. When we sat down I remember thinking there was an awful lot of food for supper. There was a roasted turkey with mashed potatoes, carrots and gravy, a potatoe salad (similar to the Spanish Russian salad), a tossed salad and then in true Saskatchewan style a jelly salad.

Thank goodness that is not how we eat everyday. Supper is usually the biggest meal of the day and is eaten around 6pm. A typical spread at my parents house usually consists of a casserole type dish (i.e. Spaghetti squash & sauce), two vegetable dishes (a tossed salad and boiled peas) and dessert (a cookie or a piece of cake). Not everyone eats like us and instead of saying my mom likes to cook it would be best to say that she likes to try new recipes. Like yesterday for example she was preparing some Habanero jelly because it was a new recipe she found in her Canadian Living magazine.

Sometimes I try to help, but last week when I made a cheese cake I broke the egg beater. Really it would be better to say I melted it because it started to smoke while wrestling with the cream cheese.

I am including a photo of the cook, but this time in one of her fixing up the house projects. This one was trying to replace the broken tracks on the top drawer of my old desk. After several detective trips to various hardware stores and a lot of imagination we thought we had it solved by fitting in metal tracks used for hanging shelves, but the result proved to be a very tight fit and the creation of a new safety deposit compartment. In the photo you see my mom trying to open the drawer. After I gave up my mother pursued and fitted one side with a small piece of wood, so for now it works. I guess my childhood furniture is a little out of date and I need to work on my manual skills.

Labour day

My great uncle used to like to say things like ' I wish someone would cut off my nose' when it would run incessantly and that's how I felt this morning as I was attacked by yet another allergen in the air. Today is Labour day, or more commonly known as the September long weekend during which you should soak up lots of sunshine to prepare yourself for the arrival of the 'W' season. I took my parents on a long walk through the 'adventure' trails accross the river and just barely got away without a sunburn. We got to take the new walkway under the Circle Drive bridge. Lately it has become a bit of an attraction along the riverbank. I've even seen it used for wedding photos.

Anyways I was thinking about my eventful summer that has included two weddings, two babies, a funeral and lots of travels. Though I have been in Saskatoon for past month I don't really like to stay at home and sit around. The first week back I was out volunteering at the Fringe festival. I 'worked' four shifts and in the end saw ten plays for free. I find it hard

to call ushering work because after you take the tickets at the door you get to sit and watch the show. The next week I was out volunteering at the Peruvian pavilion at Folkfest. It was a bit more work selling passports, serving food and helping set things up, but a very good excuse to speak Spanish. Finally, my latest volunteer project is to help at the Global Gathering Place which is a drop-in centre for new immigrants. For a little while I was feeling a little like a new immigrant back in Saskatoon, but that's a bit of a silly thought because I grew up here.

I am still at the figuring out what to do next stage of my job search, so I can't really say much about my upcoming plans. To reconnect with my prairie roots I took part in a couple of 'prairie' summer outings which have included a barn party one night at a farm near Rosthern and then a couple days at a cabin at Martins Lake. It's nice to not always be in the city. I hope this is not an Adieu to summer, but we'll see what September will be like.

Craziness in Canada

It’s not just in Spain where you find strange and curious customs. I have noticed we have a few in Canada too. Maybe it is the extreme weather or the large amounts of space and wilderness that we try to fill that lead to some original ideas.

Last weekend, which was a rather arbitrary long weekend for ‘Saskatchewan day’, a day created to have a long weekend in August; I drove my youngest sister to Edmonton to catch her flight to Mexico. One might say it is a short 550km or 5&1/2 hour drive away. On the trip we made a short stop in Cutknife to see the world’s biggest tomahawk, one of the many ‘giant’ sized sculptures that dot the country. I now have a small series of photos from my travels, which include the giant Ukrainian Easter egg in Vegreville (Alta), the giant Moose in Moose Jaw (Sask) and the giant Canadian goose in Wa-wa.(Ont). http://www.roadsideattractions.ca/province.htm . In a similar theme we stopped at the ‘world’s largest entertainment and shopping centre’ or West Edmonton Mall to meet a couple of my sisters’ friends for supper.

We may not celebrate carnival, but people still like to dress-up. My middle sister was recently preparing a costume for a Harry Potter pub-crawl where she met up with a group of friends dressed up as characters from the book. They were shuttled from bar to bar in a little yellow school bus. I think usually pub-crawls are fundraisers, but this one was just for fun.

On a side note, while in Normandy I heard about the 7 km ‘Foulées des bistrots’ in Caen, which is a race that involves elaborate costumes, drinking and running. The friends who told me about it had entered dressed as Vikings and ran with a rather large cardboard boat, so if you like to run and would like an interesting trip to France, mark your calendars for the end of June.

Other fun things you’ll find in Canada are real, live and dangerous wildlife. (have I convinced anyone to visit yet?) Last week I went to visit Beaver Creek, a nature conservation area just outside of the city with a series of nature trails. As we started pushing the door to the nature center a cougar warning sign caught our attention. The next few minutes my friend and I spent memorizing the guidelines. Don’t run, talk to the cougar in a calm voice, carry a walking stick should you need to fight it,etc.…while inside there were some furry ponchos for dress-up and my friend put on one and pretended to be a cougar so we could ‘practice.’ Sadly we did not meet any cougars, and only heard a bit of rustling from small animals in the bushes from time to time. I would never really like to meet a cougar, bear, wolf, etc, however talking about the possibility of meeting them made the hike more exciting.

Return to Canada

On July 27th it was a long day of traveling which stretched over about 24 hours from my step cousins house in Sheffield to my parents house in Saskatoon with stops in both the Manchester and Calgary airports. Stepping off the plane in Canada we were given a very warm welcome from smiling seniors in cowboy dress driving golf carts to greet and assist visitors on their way to the passport control. I thought it was a nice example of customer service whereas my sister thought it was to show off the Calgarian love of cars. The long part of the trip was the eight-hour wait for the connecting flight to Saskatoon, however the Space Center was fun to play and when I finally got to Saskatoon there was an amazing prairie sunset to greet me.

It’s interesting having a sense of perspective on your own culture. One of the first things I noticed as I quietly fingered the ‘ new’ Canadian coins to buy a card was that things seem to be more expensive. I got that impression because of the lower value of the currency and then because of the ‘ surprise’ tax that was added on at the end. I also noticed that people smiled a lot and were very friendly.

Back in Saskatoon right now it is as if I had never left, that I had never traveled and that all the other countries and cities I have been to sort of feel like a part of my imagination. It’s ten years this year since I graduated from high school and it seems now people have grown further and further apart. In some ways I felt I was ‘successful’ with my grades when we graduated, but now the mark of ‘success’ seems to be being married, having kids and a house and I don’t really fit in. I generally do things to try to be different, but sometimes it seems like it would be easier to be more the same. Right now everything is a little confusing and I don’t like people asking me about my plans for the future because I don’t have a very good answer yet. Poco a poco or little by little, I have to remember.

End of travels in England

Arriving in Britain from Spain what I first noticed was the abundance of rules and the frequent reminders of these rules through witty signs and announcements everywhere I went. ‘ No roller blading in the station’ was what I heard as I walked into the London King’s Cross to catch a train and then when I went to look for a ‘litter bin’ I could only find signs warning that there was a 75 £ fine for littering. In order to throw my banana peel away I had to ask a ‘Bobby‘ to help me find a man cleaning, who had a cart and finally a litterbag. In France they have also eliminated garbage cans in train stations for security reasons, but in their place they have shallow cardboard boxes on the floor that are a little bit easier to find. The best sign I saw was one warning you not to spit out your chewing gum because they threatened to do DNA testing, find you and fine you.

It took a little while to get past the white bread, excessive butter, copious amounts of tea and the need to plan every minute of an outing, but in the end I had a very nice visit with my British family. I have family in England because when my grandmother was young she decided that after having worked as a nurse and mid-wife in Sheffield during the Second World War that she set out for adventure to Canada. I am intrigued by how she first decided to work in a hospital in Kenora, Ontario, courted an Irish-Canadian through correspondence and then shortly after traveled to live with him on a farm outside of Delisle, Saskatchewan and there had three children. Unfortunately the marriage did not last and my grandmother will always tell you it is her greatest regret that she had to leave her children behind when she left. She did try to bring her kids with her, but could not because they were Canadian citizens. In any case she later remarried and we have been adopted by our step family in Britain.

For the first few days of my visit I stayed with my step aunt in Hull on the East coast. Since my last visit she has become involved with a project providing aid to the small town of New Yundum in Gambia and for the first time in her life had the opportunity to travel outside of England. The project http://www.newyundumgoodwinlink.kk5.org/ has changed her life as much as it has the village and it was wonderful to hear all of her stories.

Arriving in Sheffield I caught up with my family and also with British television. It probably made up for all of the television I didn’t watch this year and I now know that some people can get quite excited while watching darts. One afternoon we went to the Butterfly house (a site just outside the city which is a little overrated), another day we were off to Leeds to visit the fascinating Thackray medical history museum and while in the city we had a quick peek in the posh shop of Harvery Nichols, really looking more for celebrities than clothes and then before we left we took my grandma to tour a few art galleries.

It was sad to say good bye to Europe, but sadder yet to say goodbye to my grandmother not knowing if we would ever see her again as she is turning 89 in the fall.

Travelling with the family in Seville and Granada

We arrived late at night in Seville and it was noticeably warmer than the North of Spain, but we didn't feel the full effects until the next day in the sun (actually we were lucky and it only hit about 38 C)

We went to see the major sites of the city, the Plaza de Toros (a bull ring), a tour of the Cathedral and finally the Alcazar (an arabic palace). We saw some Flamenco dancing and I made good use of my new fan.

My sisters commented that they felt as though they were on the Amazing race as we went around from site to site. My mom was all about the souvenir shops and my Dad always wanted to try a new cerveza.

We got on the train to spend one night in Granada and to visit the Alhambra.

Now I am in Hull in England at my step aunt's house and I have only a few days left in Europe.

Travelling with my parents and sisters in Galicia

The visit got off to a rocky start, literally as we got on the little train next to Cathedral to tour the city of Santiago. First the commentary was given by a guide reading the names off the buildings as we drove past them and then the English ' translation' would be given about a block or two late. Then while sitting in small train cars that were glassed in you would think that you were going to pass out from the greenhouse effect and then you were nearly jolted out of your seat by a sharp turn on the cobblestone streets. I was very grateful for the 5 € tour to be over.

The next day we went to explore Finisterre and to see the coast, or at least what was visible through the thick fog. At the 'end of the world,' the lighthouse visit was nearly deafening with the foghorn blasts, but on our walk back to town over the mountain things started to clear.

The regional food sampling was somewhat appreciated, but I think after the pig's ears that Maggie has turned vegetarian. We were in luck to see two Charanga bands, fireworks and then the opening concert all for the beginning of celebrations for St. James the Apostle.

The best part of the visit was the rooftop tour of the Cathedral and then when we came down we saw the Bota fumeiro swinging over the crowds at the 11am mass.

We then took the bus to La Coruna for a tram tour, swim at the beach and to catch our flight to Seville.

One night in Lyon seeing an old friend

Experiencing Taizé in France (July 2nd-July 9th)

Having heard a lot about the community of Taizé www.taize.fr I decided while in France it was time for me to go and visit it so I took the train from Caen to Macon and then a bus to the town. I went to spend a week with the brothers and about 2000 other young people from all around the world. Each day we were invited to join in the morning, midday and evening prayers and small bible study groups. We slept in cabins or barracks, lined up at meal time for a tray on which our food was placed and helped with a small task. Most of the time we sat on the ground and spoke in English to try and communicate through the many languages that were spoken.

It took me a while to adjust to the new community life having arrived a day late and being on my own. On my first morning I was with the 10:00am cleaning team and after a motivational song of ' Let me clean' adapted to tune of ' Let it be' I was off to change garbage bags with a group of Swedish boys. They spoke a bit of English, but their gagging noises said a lot. The week was quite rainy and it wasn't until Thursday that I learned there were about 30 other Canadians there when we had a Q&A session with Brother Emil.

My favourite part were the forums in the late afternoon and for the last two days of my stay I chose to be in silence to focus more on prayer. I was not very good at staying silent, but let's just say I was silent most of the time. On the Sunday night a few friends from Spain arrived and it was a nice reunion.

Return to Normandy (June 28-July 2nd)

The small town of Courseulles-sur-Mer is a very special place to me, not only because it is part of the beach where the Canadians landed on D-day, but because I met a lot of wonderful people there during the nine months I lived and worked there in 2003. When I first arrived there in the Juno Beach Centre was only a construction site and when I worked there it was a little like my baby. It was really nice to see how much it has now grown four years later. It is still a magical place for Canadians as it is both rich in history and memory. I felt very special being able to witness one of its many stories while I was there.

Not long after the museum opened a woman brought in a small, cherished bracelet to the Centre to donate it to the exhibit. It had been given to her as a young girl during the landing by a Canadian soldier and she thought it would then be best in the museum. It had the name Chepesiuk on it and she asked if there was any way of learning more about what had happened to the man. Through the dedicated work of the director a trace of the family was found and it was learned that the Captain had since passed away. However his nephew decided to plan a trip to the Centre and to meet the woman who had been given the bracelet. I recognized the woman when I arrived and was delighted to see the reunion.

I was in Courseulles to attend my friends' Carla and Alexis' wedding. It was very beautiful ceremony followed by a lovely reception. The tireless couple were wonderful hosts and we even managed to sneak in the song ' The Saskatchewan River Pirates' amidst the french ' rock' selection.

On Sunday it was Canada day and after a morning swim with my good friends Louise and Sam I went to the Centre to help out with the childrens activities. There was face painting, colouring, story telling and even cake. After the kids left about a dozen people from the town stopped by the Centre to see me and I left feeling like Léo Gariépy.

Anniversaire a Paris

Yesterday I arrived in Paris and met my friend Mary to go Swing dancing beside the Seine. As the clock struck midnight we walked past the Notre Dame cathedral to catch the Metro back to her appartment and I thought about all of the exciting adventures I have had during my 'magic/champagne birthday year'. Now that I am 28 I will have to start thinking about 'growing up'. To start the day my friend prepared me a big breakfast of a fruit salad, ice cream and bought some fresh French croissants. I opened my sealed card from a friend in Lugo and put on my new t-shirt from my friends in Bilbao. It's exciting to have birthdays ! Thanks for all of the e-mail greetings from everyone.

Tommorrow I am travelling back to Courseulles-sur-Mer in Normandy to visit friends,to go to a wedding and to celebrate Canada day with Canadians at the Juno Beach Centre. Then the week after that I am going to Taize for the week and then back to Spain to show my parents and sisters around. The plan after that is to visit family in England and then back to Saskatoon on July 28th for my cousin's wedding.

Visiting Cantabria

After what felt like a very long bus ride I arrived in Santander and met up with my friends from Bilbao. We spent the first night in the capital and the next day travelled to the town of Comillas. For a small town there is a lot of beautiful architecture which included Gaudi´s Capricho, the University Pontificada and the Sobrellano palace. Unfortunately they were all closed the day we arrived because of the first now being a restaurant, the second is under extensive renovations and the third was being used as the decor for the shooting of a film called ´Barbykiller´.

After a walk around town we went to rest for the San Juan celebrations that were starting at midnight. St. Johns day on the 24th is celebrated with bombfires and fire works. When we arrived there was a celebration of light on the beach. I had a sip of honey orujo and jumped in the ocean for a quick swim. It is a tradition to make a wish as you jump over a fire. We chose a small one and joined a lively group of people. Soon after they decided we should start playing games and the first started a little like ´Ring around the rosy´. Everyone held hands and ran in a circle singing ´Pase mi si, pase misa, por la puerta de Alcalá, él de alante corre mucho, él de atras se quedará a limpiar el orinal con azucar y a aguaras´ At the end the circle became a variation of London bridges and once caught you were asked a question ´naranja o limón´ and depending on your answer you were put in a line for a tug of war. Crazy Spanish celebrations ! Other variations of St. John´s day celebrations I´ve heard include eating sardines and setting a plate at the table for your dog.

Random notes from Spain

Queen Elizabeth II is known as Isabela II ( other family members include Felipe, Carlos, & Guilermo)

To celebrate sports victories it is a popular tradition to go to a fountain. On the 17th of June a large crowd of ´Meringues´ ( Real Madrid fans) gathered around the Cibeles fountain to celebrate the team´s winning of La liga title. In Lugo the crowds were much smaller at the Fuente del Rey.

If you notice football players do not sing along with the Spanish anthem it is because there are no words.

Abracadabra - pata de cabra ( a la goat´s foot) is how to cast a spell in Spanish

In the June 10th 5K race the computer had my name come up as Julian Sanchez from Madrid and this mysterious person was sent an SMS with my time.

When I fill in a form my sex is ´M´ for mujer, not male and to find a washroom I look for a ´D´ for damas. The reverse is ´h´for hombre and ´C´ for cabellero.

When I was asking about how to donate my extra clothes to a charity I was told that often people leave clothes in a bag outside of the garbage bin for gypsies.

To cheer a singer at a concert you yell ´Guapo´ which means beautiful.

My last weekend in Lugo
When I get a chance in the next little while I will post some of the photos from the colourful Eucharistic procession that took place around the Cathedral in Lugo on June 17th. This procession commemorates a donation from the state for the purchase of candles to light the eucharistic inside of the church. There were bright coloured costumes, several bands, some dancers and of course some rain...

Lugo was sad to see me leave as I begin my trip to France.

Arde Lucus

It all started with a red poster that appeared one day in shop windows, bus shelters and posted along empty walls. It was hard to tell what the event was about because other than the name ´Arde Lucus´ at the top and the black silhouette of roman helmet or building at the bottom there was little other information. The first people I asked told me they thought it was an opera and then looking on the website I found a program of events along with costume and hairstyle reccomendations http://www.ardelucus.com/. I had also heard something about free cloth distribution, so I set out the next day to look into it. I found myself in a line-up (well actually two, but I made a deal with another woman to wait in one line for me, while I waited in the other for her) outside of the music house. I had a couple friends join me and eventually take over waiting while I excused myself to teach an English class. At the end of the two and a half hour wait and due the high demand we ended up with material for a Celtic Lepress costume.

The next day I met my friend Daniela to start sewing the costumes. I think the last time I had used a sewing machine was when I was about 10 years old, but luckily it is a little like riding a bike. On the first day we sewed a very simple dress and then on the second and third days we worked on the cape. We made a rather elaborate design by cutting the cloth into a half circle shape, hemming the edges, making fitted shoulders and then by adding a pointy hood (if needed the hood could also be used for a Semana Santa Nazareno outfit)

On the Friday afternoon we put on the newly sewn costumes and walked around to check out the event. Inside the roman wall banners were put up and down the streets, new statues of the cities Roman founders were put up in the main square and in front of the city hall a small wooden fort had been built. In the main square you could now walk through a small market set up in tents where you could buy bread, meat, cheese, jewellery and other trinkets, and meanwhile roman soldiers marched through the streets and a few horse drawn chariots went by. People greeted us by saying ´Ave Caesar´however since we were Celts we did not respond, luckily no one tried to take us as slaves. It was a short trip back in time because the skies opened up and it started to pour rain.

The next day the festivities continued and so did the rain. At the end of the costume parade we took shelter in a small bar at the corner of the Rosalia Park. Umbrellas did not go with the costume so we had to wait the downpour out, but lucky for us we were ´stuck´in the bar with a group of a couple bands from the parade. It was wet and quiet after that until midnight when a crowd gathered for the Queimada in front of the city hall. There were several cauldrons of burning orujo, a large man dressed in a grass costume chanting a spell over the drink and some shrieking `meigas` (witches) accompanied by gaitas (bagpipes) to liven everyone up. The program listed activities until 5am and I am sure the party continued even later, but I snuck home to bed a little earlier.

Spanish smiles

In Spain the tooth fairy is a small mouse called Pérez, or Ratoncito Pérez.

Instead coming from a cabbage patch, the stork brings Spanish babies from Paris.

The most common tea label in Spain is called ´Hornimans´

One of my English students was explaining the phrasal verb ´to try on´ and suggested that he went to the store and tried on a suitcase. What makes it funnier is that for a Spanish speaking person the most natural pronunciation of the word suit is sweet.

I still find the Spanish ´rr´ sound next to impossible to pronounce. I could probably stand in front of a mirror and pretend to be a motor for hours and still pitifully roll my double r. To help me one of my friends suggested to me that it is just like the English pronunciation of the word RRRRabit.

The surprise of my roommate David when he came one morning and saw that I had put a wanted poster for him on the kitchen door to remind him it was his turn to clean two weeks ago.

When you are in a bar and request a song at 4a.m. and the d.j. tells you it is too early to play it.

Trying to understand the cultural differences in Spain, when I ask why they do things a certain way the most common answer seems to be ´Spain is different´, a former tourism slogan. However when I start to explain some of things that we do in Canada I get the impression sometimes that they think ´Canadians are crazy´

Today I am celebrating seven months in Spain.

Madrid day 2 & 3- Everywhere but the city, well almost

The next morning in Guadalajara my friend and I got up to catch the eight o´clock bus to the small town of El Casar. I was excited to finally get a chance meet her father. The bus that drove up could probably also have been called a van and as we sat down inside the driver turned on the radio to blast Top 40 music. It was like being at a dance party, but a little too early in the morning. During the trip we seemed to take all of the narrowest, windiest roads and about an hour later, just as I was starting to feel carsick, we finally arrived. Since we were early we stopped in a bar for some breakfast. A popular morning treat is chocolate and churros. This consists of a hot chocolate, pudding-like drink that you eat with churros that are like a type of doughnut, or fried pastry that you can dip in the chocolate. It´s like having dessert first thing in the morning.

After the visit I got on another bus for Madrid. I had a small project of trying to find some Maple syrup. The day before I left I had called up the Canadian Embassy in Madrid for some help. It was strange to hear the ´Hello, Bonjour´ greeting instead of the typical ´¿qué?´ or ´what?´ when they answered the phone and after announcing my query my friendly correspondant suggested I check in the Corte Inglés department store in the gourmet food section.

On my second arrival in Madrid I made my way to the Puerto del Sol and joined a throng of tourists in the streets. It was a little strange because it seemed like the common language was now English, not Spanish and there were so many people. Before pursuing my syrup quest I stopped at the Plaza Mayor to eat the popular ´Bocadillo de Calamares´ ( a fried squid sandwich) and then went to look for the Corte Inglés. It was very nice to feel the air conditioning when I walked in because it must have been about 40C outside that day. I went up and down every aisle in the grocery part of the store and for a while thought the only thing I would be able to find was a package of Maple leaf-shaped cookies in the international food section. Finally in the baking food aisle, below the various items for cake decorating I saw two small bottles of Maple Syrup and I picked them up. Funnily enough I have since learned that Maple syrup has significant antioxidant properties,is used in a number of diets and can be found in health food shops in Lugo. To share the Canadian delicacy with others I have adapted a Maple pie recipe and have brought the small tarts to my Spanish classes. Most people suggest it tastes likes honey, however one of my roommates told me he thought it was more like cough syrup or ´jarabe´.

Back in Madrid I made a short stop to visit the open doors event at the Prado art gallery to see their new exhibit spaces in the new extension, and then caught the train to Alcalá de Henares. The nearby town is most famous for being the birthplace of the author Cervantes and for its historic university. There I met up with a couple friends and we went to visit the ´International Gathering of Living Statues.´ All along the main street mimes were posed in elaborate costumes and waited for someone to drop a coin in their hat before starting to move. It was fun to see all of the different characters, but more than anything else what caught my attention in the town were the beautiful roses that literally filled the main square both rich in variety and colour.

The Spanish day sometimes seems like it never ends and you really should try to take a siesta to try to keep up with it. Later when I arrived back in Guadalajara my friend was ready and waiting for me to go out to a concert and when we got there I ended up eating supper around midnight. The next day, or a continuation of the previous, was a blur of trains and buses as I went to meet some friends in another town/suburb of Madrid called Alcobendas. I met them for church and then we had lunch together afterwards. That night when I got back to Lugo I was very happy to see my bed.

International Museum day

Another day to celebrate, so I went to the capital to take in some museums. No sooner had I arrived in Madrid than I was at the Atocha station asking for directions on how to find the Reina Sofia museum and then on a guided tour. Just before 4:00pm I went to stand with a small group of visitors at the tour desk. Just after the hour I noticed the man behind the desk start to make enquiries asking if anyone had seen the guide. A short while later an older woman with bright red hair came walking in quickly and when she reached the entrance she turned and walked away from us. The man came running out from behind the desk calling ´Maria Jose, Maria Jose´. As they walked towards us you could hear him explaining to her that we were her group and she seemed a little surprised. As we were introduced someone asked what we would see on the tour and she replied that we were going to see some of her favourite works of art on the 2nd floor and that it was not worth going to the 4th floor because the works were too abstract for anyone to understand.

Up we went in the glass elevators to stop first at a small model of the museum where she explained its layout and her discontent with the new extension that was being constructed. The parliamentary guide evaluator side of made a small note of her lack of objectivity and neutrality, but more than anything else I was intrigued by her frankness. I had overhead an explanation to some visitors before the tour started that the museum guides were all volunteers and retired people. She had a lively presence and the men on the tour followed her quite closely. It was as if we were a group of her friends that she was showing around. We would arrive at a painting and she would start to mention the things she liked about it. It was occasionally pointed out by a visitor that the name on the display card suggested a different painter and she would say thank you, take a closer look at the card and continue.

My favourite part of the tour was her emotive description of ´Guernica´. She took time to carefully describe each character, the intensity of Picasso´s work and her memory of being six years old during the war. For group interaction while looking at one of Dali´s paintings she would ask´I am not sure what that is, does anyone know?´ At that point I also noticed that one of the men wasn´t just paying close attention to the guide and surprised me, just after viewing the Guernica mural, by opening up his bag and taking out a chocolate bar and offering it to me. Now two hours into the tour, the visitors were now her friends and they convinced her to move onto the fourth floor, at which point I sadly had to excuse myself to catch a train to meet my friend in Guadalajara.

Then no sooner had I arrived in Guadalajara than I found myself part of my friend´s Karate class, which was another adventure.

May long weekend in Galicia

Instead of having the Monday off for Victoria day I had the Thursday off for the Día de las Letras Gallegas, an annual celebration of Galician literature held on May 17th. The different regions of Spain have different ´bank holidays´ in May for saints, writers, etc. In Galicia the 17th was chosen as a day to celebrate the Galician language in 1963. That year was the centennial celebration of the first publication of Galician literature by Rosalia de Castro in 1863. I first learned about the holiday from my dance teacher who I overheard explaining that she was preparing some students to dance in the main square of Lugo on the 17th at 1:00pm with a group of 600 young people. I was intrigued and went to the tourism office for more information on the day´s events. The only available info. was a press release which the man in the office printed off for me.

On the Thursday about an hour before the dance event I started to see children in traditional dress in the streets, so I headed towards the town centre. When I arrived I saw a group of people standing around the statue of Anxel Fole, another Galician author and when I got closer I suddenly found myself part of a group on a literary walk. The poetry of María Mariño, the author selected to be recognized for 2007, was being read and sung while the group walked around the old center of Lugo. I stayed with the group for a while and then skipped out when I heard the gaita music playing. The children were lined up all around the main square with band in the centre. As they started to dance I recognized some of the Muiñeira and Jota dance steps from my classes and was almost ready to join in. I´ll have to find a costume for next year…

To be recycled or not- Styrofoam

Since I moved into my new apartment I have been trying to recycle and in the process trying to encourage my roommates to as well. When I first brought up the subject I was told that we should wait until everyone was home to have a small meeting so there wouldn´t be any confusion. There seemed to be a lot of concern about confusion. When we met we set up pails for paper, organic, miscellaneous waste, plastic/metal and glass. After a couple days I noticed there was indeed some confusion. To help I decided to make some coloured arrows to identify the containers. I chose the same colours as the plastic bins that we have in the street in front the apartment: blue for paper, green for glass, yellow for plastic and then invented orange for organic and red for garbage. I kept finding aluminum foil mixed in the paper bin, so I decided to ask about it. That is when I found out the ´paper´ issue was actually a language issue because in Spanish aluminum foil is called ´papél aluminum´ or aluminum paper. At that point we also cleared up the fact that organic products are not separated in Lugo, but they are in other parts of Galicia, so we eliminated an arrow. I think they must think I am obsessed about the environment and I tried to explain that when in doubt to opt for the miscellaneous garbage bin.

The next concern that has arisen is the question of styrofoam and on this topic one of my roommate´s and I are opposed. I stand that it is not recyclable because I have never heard of it being recyclable and David argues that it is because it often has a recycling symbol on it. I didn´t know who to ask so one day I decided to go to the city hall with a small styrofoam tray in my backpack. I wasn´t quite sure of the name in Spanish, so I thought having an example would help. At the Ayuntamiento a friendly man spoke with me for a while and then directed me to another city administration building. When the man started to describe its location I immediately said ´oh! the building with a statue of a horse and a zebra in the parking lot´. Sometimes I have a strange sense of bearings, but what is stranger yet is the placement of these statues between parked cars.

In any case my styrofoam tray and I continued on our mission and inside I took a ticket for the citizens concerns counter and waited. About 15 minutes later I got to ask my question and was sent to the third floor to the environment department. They had no idea either and gave me some coloured pamphlets and suggested I contact the company Ecoembes. I went to the library and looked at the website but it wasn´t very clear. When I got home I explained my enquiries and my roommate said he would phone, but he still hasn´t gotten around to it yet. Most people here seem to be of the opinion that because of the cost of recycling all waste is burnt regardless if it is sorted or not.

¡Ha llegado la Bombona! Crêpe making lessons

Maybe not as exciting as the arrival of my travelling backpack, but I decided the arrival of Bombona ( the gas cylinder for the stove) was a reason to celebrate or at least use up the rest of my crêpe batter. I was told yesterday I am the ´alegria de la casa´, which I think is a nice compliment. Funnily enough at the same time the expression was used to tell me that evening that there wasn´t enough salt in my cooking, that it was missing some happiness. I think my crêpes were apreciated though. I was quite entertained by the fact that I was told crêpes are in fact Galician not French. In Galicia they are called Filloas and are not usually eaten with any filling. I was told that some recipes include adding a glass of pig´s blood to the batter which I personally find more revolting than the thought of adding nutella or whipped cream inside. To each his own.

The gas for the stove ran out on the weekend when I had some friends over for crêpes. My Saturday night cooking went alright, but I noticed the flames around the burner getting a little small. Then on Sunday when I had my Portuguese friends over for a meal it did not go very well. Had I known that my friend´s husband had been in a crêpe making contest I would have never suggested the idea to them. The batter I made had a few lumps because I don´t have a mixer and my cooking technique is not perfect, but I think it was when the gas ran out that iced the cake. Added to all of this the chair he sat on at the table has a piece that is a little loose and it fell off when he sat down. I am not sure if they´ll come back for another invitation, but they can´t say the meal wasn´t entertaining.

This is not my first crêpe making mishap I think the first time I tried to make them in Valenciennes was possibly a little crazier. I invited all of the English language assistants over one night for supper and bought all of the ingredients. The fact that I had never made crêpes before never phased me because I am quite an experienced pancake maker. In any case it was good thing a few people who came knew the technique. The fun part of the evening was when the landlord arrived with a repairman to fix the stove. In the apartment we only had one common room which was the kitchen so it got a little crowded. In the end everyone was eating crêpes and all´s well that ends well. Maybe I should learn some lessons from these experiences. Crêpes anyone ?

First Porto Call

The same day I went Ria Arosa I came back to Lugo to get in another friend´s car and drive to Oporto, Portugal. For the second time in the now six months I have been in Spain I left the country.

It was a 3-4 hour drive to the city and on the way we had one short supper stop around 10pm to eat sandwiches in a grocery store parking lot in Porriño. We were parked next to the garbage bin and that´s when I knew this trip would be an adventure. In total we were seven from five different countries including Ireland, Scotland, England and Spain and we were friends from the weekly quiz night in Lugo. I am glad that Gallego is a lot like Portuguese (especially the northern dialect) because if not it probably would have taken much longer to find our hotel. Obrigado, or thank you was a very good word to know.

At breakfast the next morning a couple of the guys surprised us with the gift of matching t-shirts. Normally I might think it would be quite cheesy to all wear the same shirts, but the guys had a nice maroon colour and the girls in green with the words ´First Porto Call´ printed in the top left corner. I wonder if my sisters would like us to have a matching family t-shirt for when they come to visit Spain this summer.

As usual it was within the first hour of walking around Oporto that I saw the yellow arrows for the camino to Santiago. It feels like I have not travelled to one city in Spain since doing the camino where I have not seen them and my yellow arrow radar-like detection skills are still quite strong. After walking for a while, taking a short boat trip on the river and having lunch we stopped for our Porto wine tasting. I don´t remember much from the tour, but the two glasses of Porto wine afterwards were very tasty.

One of the most interesting things we saw in Oporto that day was the Lello bookshop. The staircase and wood carvings were as exquisite as the collection of books. We stopped for tea on the second level and had a nice rest.

Late afternoon the three craziest of the group, which included me went for a swim on the beach. Similar to my ocean dip in december the water was still freezing and the wind didn´t make you feel any warmer when you came out.

The next morning after breakfast we got back into the cars to start the drive back. We stopped first for mini-golf, next for lunch and then to play on the beach in Carmiña before getting on the highway ( or motorway since most people spoke British English) back to Spain.

Rias Baixas

On the seventh day after his hard work creating the world God stopped to rest and while doing so touched his hand to the earth and created the five rías on the North west coast of Galicia. This was one of the stories I was told on my drive to the Ría Arosa to meet my friend Teresa´s parents and to see the region she grew up. My current housemates also come from that area, so I have heard a lot about it and was excited to finally see it.

I was told there was no English translation for the word ría, but it seems it is quite similar to word estuary which might sound more familiar. The definition the on-line Collins dictionary gives is that it is a long narrow inlet of seacoast, being a former valley that was submerged by a rise in the level of the sea. Rias are found on the coasts of SW Ireland and NW Spain. The word Baixas is Gallego and I think it means low level.

As we got closer to the Ria Arosa we started to see cars with bunches of yellow flowers in the front grate above the license plate. It continues to be a tradition on the first of May to attach these yellow flowers to the front of your car or house for luck and to ward of witches who come out on the night of the first of May. I wish I had known earlier to have put some outside my door.

The first town on the coast that we drove through was Noia, but we didn´t stop because the tide was out. Legend says that this was the location where Noah´s ark settled after flood and that is where the town´s name comes from.

Some of the houses we saw were covered in bright coloured tiles and my friend explained that bathroom tiles were put on the outside of houses to help with humidity and sometimes even ship paint was used. I think a similar strategy was used in Portugal however the effect of the intricate blue and white Azulejos is quite different.

About mid-morning we stopped to see the ruins of the Baroña Castro (celtic village). It is beautifully located on the edge of the water. I was told that a Gallego version of Asterix & Obélix called ´Os Barbanzos´ is inspired from this castro.

We continued down the coast and stopped in the town of Xuño, or Juno in Spanish because I wanted to see the Spanish Juno Beach. There were no military landings here, but the scenery is well-known from the Spanish film ´Mar Adentro´ by Alejandro Aménabar.

We stopped in a few more towns and saw some beautiful views, but it wasn´t until we climbed to the top of Mount Curota I got a sense of the rías and the coast.

We stopped for a Paella lunch at her parent´s house in Puebla de Caramiñal. Looking at some of the photos in her parents house I started to understand the damage the recent development has caused to the coastal area. Less construction would be better because most of the beach has been built on and the port has almost taken over.

Despite the development the town has managed to keep a rather unusual tradition alive and on the third Sunday of September they celebrate ´Divino Nazareno´. On that day all those that have made a promise to the Nazarene Christ, which could have been to be cured from a disease, will celebrate being alive by buying coffins and carrying them through the street. If you are really grateful you will lie inside one. Another variation is to wear a purple tunic, like the Nazarene Christ for an entire year.

I have to agree that the rias are the most beautiful part of Galicia I have seen so far.

Quiz night- Take two
I co-organized a quiz with my friend Esther a week ago and here are the questions:

Once upon a fairy tale:
1. What do Hansel and Gretel find in the forest ?
2. Who is the author of Cinderella ?
3. Name the seven dwarfs.
4. What is the third thing that Jack steals from the Giant at the top of the Beanstalk?
5. What is the curse the wicked fairy gives Sleeping Beauty at her christening ?
6. What is the name of Pinnochio´s father?
7.What is the name of the dwarf who helps the Miller´s daughter spin straw into gold ?

Going Bananas:
1. The origin of the word Banana is from the Arabic word ´Banan´ what does it mean?
2. Which singer is famous for the phrase: ´Bananas is my business´?
3.What country is the largest producer of bananas ?
4. What is a cluster of bananas on the plant called?
5 .Where was the first banana split invented?
6.What are the names of the two main characters on the children´s television show: ´Bananas in Pyjamas´?
7. Who is credited with the ´discovery´ of bananas ?

Sanabria

About a month ago now I was invited to visit the region of Sanabria (Zamora) which is just outside of Galicia in Castilla y Leon. When I told people where I was going for the weekend they told me I had to see the lake. Really my plan was to meet a friend from my pilgrimmage and visit the small town San Román de Sanabria where his father was born. Like most small towns in Spain only a handful of people actually live there and the other residents are from nearby cities and occasionally visit on weekends and holidays. When I arrived I was surprised by how dull the colours and the landscape seemed to me in comparison to the green hills and dark stone houses in Galicia. For the first time this year I felt hot, dry summer heat and it reminded me of Saskatchewan in August. It´s funny how the winter can make you forget what summer feels like.

Saturday morning after a breakfast of toasted bread and olive oil we drove to see the lake. It was very quiet and still, surrounded by brown, round hills the water didn´t seem to move. The sand was soft, but the water was very cold. We sat down on a wooden walkway and looked into the lake. At my feet through the clear water I could see swarms of little fish swimming excitedly about. My friend started to read the history of the landscape to me telling me about the path of the glacier that had formed the lake showing me its traces on the rocks and the hills. A Spanish author, Miguel de Unamuno, named the lake Espejo de Soledades (mirror of solitudes) and I prefered that name to the rather boring official name Lake of Sanabria. When you look into the water you can see the clouds at your feet. I didn´t look to see my reflection. It´s a strange sensation when the world appears upside down.

We drove to the top of one of the hills and looked down at the puddle and I was told another story about a town that was supposedly submerged under the waters of the lake for not having welcomed a pilgrim on a cold, rainy night. I don´t remember all the details, but it felt like a magical place.

In the afternoon after making crêpes we went for a walk to visit a great, great, great grandfather tree behind the house and then wandered through the countryside. Just like on the days we walked together during the pilgrimmage it started to rain. It´s hardly believe that I walked accross Spain now it seems like a crazy thing to have done.

The next day we went to Puebla de Sanabria and visited a medieval castle. My favourite part was leaning over the edge in the tower because I had the sensation I was flying. Sadly I had to come back down and get in to the car to drive to the bus station and go back to Lugo.

New Neighbours

This is the view from my bedroom window in my new appartment. On the weekend I noticed three goats had arrived and I find it entertaining watching them wander about.

¡Ha llegado la mochila ! the adventures of my travelling backpack

I burst into my appartment this Wednesday announcing the good news ´la mochile ha llegado´ or the back pack has arrived because at last after about five months of travels my small backpack had decided to join me in Lugo. The rather complex story starts when I left my appartment in Ottawa at the end of the October carrying two bags. One bag was for the pilgrimmage and the second smaller bag had various items I thought would be useful for working in Spain. Flying first to Paris I left the small bag with my friend Mary in her university residence room and I planned to return and pick it up after my walk. By the time I had finished the pilgrimmage Mary had moved into a new appartment and gone home to Canada for the holidays to visit her family. Then come the end of January I had started to work in Lugo and happened to be talking about Paris to colleague of mine at the English school and learned that she had a brother living there who was planning to come visit her during the next month. It sounded like a good solution, so he met Mary in Paris and started to look into dates for his trip to Galicia. First the trip was going to be in February, then in March and then he started a new job and the trip planning was put on hold.

During this time I made friends with a girl named Cristina in one of my Spanish classes and she had a sister living in Paris, but she also had a husband who was a truck driver and travelled to France every so often to make deliveries. On Easter weekend I learned that he was travelling to the outskirts of Paris on a trip and I tried to arrange for him and my colleague´s brother to meet up. Unfortunately it was a busy weekend for everyone and it was not to be.

At the same time my friend Stephan from Bilbao was travelling to Paris and I gave him the backpack´s host phone number in case he had time and shortly after I got a call telling me the backpack was now in Bilbao.

As the story was getting more and more complex I asked my friends to ship the bag to Lugo by bus. I wasn´t so much that I needed anything from the bag because I was starting to forget what the important contents were, but I thought it would be best to try and conclude the story. I was told the bag will arrive on an Alsa bus Tuesday at 8:15pm, so I went to the bus station to wait. I thought about making a sign ´Welcome Backpack!´, but instead I sat quietly on the bench and waited. My friend Cristina came and joined me. When we saw a bus which read ´Galicia - Pais Vasco ´ we jumped up and started taking photos. As the driver went around the side of the bus opening the luggage compartments I was right beside him with my camera to take an arrival photo, but sadly there was no bag. I asked the driver if he had seen a small grey backpack and he explained that he was actually travelling to Bilbao and not arriving from the Basque country. I sat back down to wait and two other bused pulled up arriving from Madrid and Leon, and no backpack. After waiting about 45 minutes and talking with just about everyone in the bus station I decided to go home to come back the next day.

Then at last Wednesday morning around 2pm ( I am in Spain remember) I went to the station and carried my heavy little bag home. Back at the appartment I announced that we were going to have a fiesta the next day and have a special lunch to celebrate the arrival of the bag. Only one of my housemate´s showed up because the other hadn´t thought I was serious, but the two of us had a very nice meal with the little grey backpack sitting at the table with us.

What´s in a name ? or the possible perils of tongue twisters

I have recently become very fascinated by names and it all started in an English class I rather innocently started by teaching the tongue twister about Peter Piper. To make it easier for the students to say it I started to explain the meaning of the words so it would make more sense. First I explained it was about a person whose first name was Peter and whose second name was Piper and that it is common for English last names to be associated with professions. Simple enough, but in Spain everyone has two last names, so which exactly is the second name? It´s a bit of a riddle to explain the Spanish name system because your first last name is your father´s first surname which in turn was his father´s first last name and then similarily the second last name is your mother´s surname which is her father´s first name and in short the paternal name is carried over to successive generations. These two last names never change which means you will not have the same surname as your entire family, nor your spouse. Explaining that in Canada people often change their last name and eve create new names makes me wondering which is more or less confusing. I was also told that is only recently that the laws in Spain have made it possible to change your first name. This has allowed a well-known man, now woman after a sex change operation to officially go by her new name Bibiana.

At this point I thought I would describe the meaning of my last name and I explained that ´McBride´ is an Irish name meaning ´Mc¨= son of and ´Bride´= follower of St. Brigid. In similar style I was told the ´ez´ suffix means ´son of´ for example Martinez means son of Martin.

The discussion on middle names didn´t last very long because they don´t exist in Spain, but I found learning about first names quite intriguing. For example when someone tells me their first name is Nacho I would not necessarily now that their real name is Ignacio because I more immediately think what a strange idea to name your son after Mexican corn chips. When I think about it everyone in my family goes by a diminutivee,so it really shouldn´t seem so strange in Spanish it´s just I never thought about it before. As it is common to be named after your parents, so is the usage of diminutives. Here is a short list I have collected: Manuel (Lolo), Francisco ( Paco, Quico), Fernando ( Nando), Jose ( Pepe, Che), Enrique (Quique), etc. Similarily longer names are abreviated: Maria del Carmen ( Mamen) or Jose Manuel (Chema). Really the stranger naming tradition now seems to be in Cuba where parents are creating names from a combination of the father and mother´s first name and sadly ´Usnavi´ (U.S. Navy) has also become popular from ships in the port.

To conclude on a slightly unrelated but just as curious note the name of Spain comes from the word Hispania which is believed to mean ´Land of Rabbits´ and stranger yet is that I have not seen any rabbits since I have arrived.

New Recipes

Moving to a new house has meant getting a new sense of bearings and I am learning more about Lugo everyday. (meaning I only got lost twice this week trying to find my new house) I have also now determined the location of the four nearest grocery stores: Gadis, Mercadona, Froiz and Carrefour. I visited them all on Monday when I had the idea I would try making Spanokopita. It wasn´t even a Canadian recipe, for some reason thinking Greece was closer to Spain I thought it would be easier. The problem was that in my head I was thinking in Canadian terms and I have to remind myself: ¨Katie you´re not in Canada anymore´. The biggest problem was Phylo pastry which I never considered trying to make, but since I couldn´t find it I decided to use regular pastry instead. This would mean making more of an Empanada Spanokopita. The spinach was easy enough, but the Feta cheese was not. I stood in front of an amazing selection of cheeses carefully looking for the Feta. I started to have a bit of a cultural moment looking and thinking ´how is it possible that they don´t have Feta cheese ?´Phylo pastry was one thing, maple syrup is another but Feta cheese is European. Taking a second look I eventually found a small package and all was back to normal.

Then the next challenge was using the oven. The rolling pin problem was easily solved with a wine bottle, but I could not understand the oven. Usually Canadian recipes use Farenheit and ovens here use Celsius and similarily the conversion from cups to grams is not so simple, but the problem here was that all the numbers had been worn off and really a better description is that they have been painted over with black paint, but I cannot think of a reason for doing that. When one of my roommates came home he explained how to turn it on by adjusting three different dials and said to put it about half. Creative cooking at its best and the result was edible, but not what I had been expecting.

My new housemates must think I am a little crazy with all of this because I get the impression they don´t really cook.

La alegria de una casa

I think happiness smells like the cuttings of Heliotropes that were sitting on the counter in my friend Teresa´s kitchen. When I was staying at her place Iiked to get up and smell them every morning. They were like me waiting to be planted.

It is such a relief to finally have a house again. My two weeks of appartment hunting mixed in a around a week of holidays were starting to get less exciting and more suspenseful. Options I thought I had were disappearing and I spent a few days running between house visits, classes and back again. I think I made in total about fifty phone calls and visited about nine appartments. There was a little while I didn´t feel like searching anymore and I was running out of ideas of where to look, but it was starting to get more urgent to find a place. After going through newspapers, websites, shop window notices, etc. my friend found the ad and made the call for my new house.

The appartment I am now living in is on a street called Ronda das Fontiñas and the front of the building overlooks the river Rato. My two housemates are two guys studying engineering that come from small towns on the west coast of Galicia and mostly only speak Gallego. The place is quite spacious and the windows overlook a park to the back of the building. I have a bed, a table and a closet in my room and I don´t have to live out of my back pack for a while. The funny thing about my room is that the walls are the same shade of blue as my room in Saskatoon. Feel free to visit anytime before July. Mi casa es su casa.