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.

Living Easter

While Spain has some slightly strange rituals for Holy week which include dramatic street processions and re-enactments in which religious statues and displays are carried through the streets by robed figures (one might describe as Klu Klux Klan-like with their peculiar pointy hoods) I missed out on the show. Instead I joined some friends from my Taize trip to experience Easter in a number of small towns in the province of Burgos. We joined a group of about 40 young people in the town of Santo Domingo de Silos, a town known for its beautiful monastery and recently a hit cd made from recordings of the monks singing gregorian chants. We were there to participate in a project organized by Christians without borders which was to help nearby small towns which no longer had priests to celebrate Easter masses. Half the group went to a town called Santibañez and the other half to Quintanilla del Coco. I joined the latter group because I was intrigued by the name. The word ´coco´ has many meanings in Spanish which include coconut, the name of Grover from Sesame street in Spanish, a type of strange person and a type of insect. In our group we had two priests and my town´s group had a lively priest from Columbia which added another cultural dynamic to the celebrations.

If the idea was that we would share our faith with the town I think in the end it was the reverse. Arriving in the town I was absolutely delighted to meet a little old man who seemed to only speak in riddles and tongue twisters, and then when he came to mass he was almost another person arriving very solemnly and impecably dressed. If not by the detailed artwork in the church it was the reverance of the townspeople that showed us its importance in the town.

It was a very intense experience that I shared with some wonderful people. We had themed presentations in the morning, brief pre-mass preparation meetings, smalll groups, communal meals and a bit of tourism when there was time. Of those four days I want to share my favourite anecdotes.

First was trying to carry out my small task in mass which was to ring the bells. Oddly enough I think ´campana´ was one of my first Spanish words which you cannot help but learn when you work in the Peace Tower. When we got to the church the first thing I did was climb to the top of the bell tower. The small stone steps twisted and turned up to the top. To make the bells ring you had to give the rope a short, strong pull and then I realized there was the problem that from the top of the bell tower there would be no way to know where they were in the mass. That was when I noticed a rope going through a small hole in the floor and then when I went back down the stairs I saw the rope conveniently located at the back of the church. When it came time for the ´Gloria´ it wasn´t so much the bells you heard ringing, but rather the barking all of the dogs in the town. For the next mass I was given a small bell to ring inside the church for the ´Gloria´. Another simple task except that while I was ringing the bell it suddenly stopped and the handle became loose. I quickly found the small bolt inside the bell and twisted it back into place to continue to the ringing.

The townspeople treated us to cake, cookies, a thick chocolate drink and then cheese and meat trays on Easter Sunday. There is no Easter rabbit or eggs in Spain, not even an Easter bell like they have in France. In some ways Easter is like New Years and that was type of party we had after the Easter Vigil with lots of music, games and Champagne.

The most magical moment was the Easter Vigil mass which my group celebrated in another small town called Castroceniza. It is a town almost lost in the countryside and made up of mostly abandoned houses. About ten people came to the mass and as we walked up to the church on the top of a hill on the edge of town there was the most beautiful sky of stars that decorated the backdrop of the church that was lit by a small fire. Before we got started one of guys came out with a small head light and announced ´I am the miner´ and he got in place to light the book for the priest to read. It was simple mass in a small, cold church but it was full of life and it felt like Easter.

Adventures in Asturias

As the bus drove accross the border I could barely see the sign ´Principado de Asturias´ because of the white out conditions. The quiet rain had become blowing snow that painted the mountains white and I started wondering how many sweaters I had packed. My first destination was Oviedo, the capital of the neighbour Spanish region I planned to explore. Using the word ´planned´ is a little overstated because it was more of an early morning decision for my Semana Santa, Holy week or pre-Easter holidays. It is a time of year known as ´Operacion salida´ as almost everyone leaves or exits the city to go on holidays in the South. That is one of the reasons I headed North, or rather East. When I left, I was mildly concerned that the youth hostel was full, but I figured if I arrived early I would be able to fnd a bed for the night.

My strategy for shopping for accomodation is to circle the transportation stations and the main tourist sites in the city centre. While doing this I wandered onto a quiet side street and found a small pensione run by a family. It was perfect for me except for the lack of heating, but I am getting a little used to that now.

Next stop was the tourism office which is usually in the main square of the city centre, but with the medieval design of the streets in the old city it was a little hard to find. To adapt my North American sense of logic which instinctively reasons with square parallel streets I pick a landmark and try to radiate from it and then go back to it again when I am lost. I picked San Francisco park as my landmark and went from there. At this point it was only raining a little bit and I had hopes it would clear.

Tourism offices make me excited with all the coloured pamphlets and I usually leave them quite well-informed and carrying a collection souvenir papers and maps. While I was waiting to speak to an information officer I saw a curious pamphlet for a festival, and sure enough I was in town for the last theatre performance. To me it was a perfect find; free theatre about small town life in Asturias in the 1800s. One small catch was that some of it was in Asturiano or ´Bable´ as the regional dialect is called, but the singing, dancing and gaita (bagpipe) music made up for it.

The next morning I had lots to see so I got up and left the pension early. The night before the family had kindly offered to put my umbrella in the kitchen to dry, but unfortunately in the morninng the door was locked and no one was up. It was still pouring rain, but I figured I would tough it out with my rain jacket. Shortly after I was on a bus going to visit two of the pre-roman churches that are in the mountains on the edge of town. I was the only one on the bus, so I sat at the front to enjoy the view and have the bus driver tell me where to get off.

He asked me where I was from and I said ´Canadá´. In Spanish the word it has an accent at the end, which indicates the word stress and that is something I am still not very good at, especially when it is a word I often use in English and somehow he understood ´Canarias´ or the Canary Islands. Once that was corrected he asked me if it was a rich country and I said ´yes´. That question made me think of a conversation I had had a day previous about the idea that I should be treated in a certain way because I came from a rich country and I wondered if he was thinking that. Our conversation continued to be confused when I told him I was working in Lugo, which apparently is also the name of a small town near Oviedo making it strange that I did not know the bus stop. Then he asked me about why I did not have an umbrella and I explained. When we got the stop he insisted that I take his small black umbrella and that I could leave it with the bus driver on the way back. He told me his name was ´Jésus´ and I thought to myself that won´t be too hard to remember. Getting off the bus I felt thrilled by his spontaneous generosity and full of energy for my rainy hike up to the churches. (It´s so easy to write reported speech in English, unfortunately it is not so easy in Spanish)

After the tour I raced back into town for the Palm Sunday procession which I found by following the sound of gaitas. Just like in France, instead of having free palm leaves inside the church, there are people in the streets who sell bush branches for the mass.

Following that I went to find the folk song performance that a friendly woman sitting next to me at theatre the night before had told me about. Well it turned out to be another authentic experience, maybe even too authentic. I would re-name the event ´Asturian Idol´ because it was actually a competition in which mostly seniors were competing, singing traditional songs. I got to hear many variations of the powerful ´Tonada´ song which is a loud form of singing in which the singer sings or yells over top of an accompanying gaita. It sounded like the singing could have originated from people calling to each other from one mountain to the next. At intermission I decided it was time for me to pick up my umbrella and to catch the bus to Ribadesella.

Over the next few days I visited the beautiful towns of Ribadesella, Llanes, Covadonga and Conga de Onis before catching the bus to meet some friends in Burgos.

A change of plans

The family and I have broken up, or at least that is the feeling I am left with. I am not exactly clear what happened, a break down in communication and an abrupt decision that it would be best if I move out and as soon as possible. Perhaps it was not intended to be so soon, as I have recently been told that Spanish have a very direct way of speaking, but when the first thing I was asked Sunday morning was how soon I could get my bags ready I started packing. I would have liked to have talked about things a little and I am a little sad that things ended the way they did.

I find in general I am overally negative about things and I want to focus more on the positive of this situation and say that despite this incident I have had a really good week. One of the teachers I work with more than opened the doors to her house to me and I have really enjoyed staying with her and her family. It is such a delight to eat supper without the presence of the t.v. and to have people interested in trying my ´canadian´ cooking. In the end it will all work out for the best and now I have a week off for the ´Semana Santa´ to explore other parts of Spain and then I will start house hunting. As usual the Spanish do things different and have their Easter holiday before Easter.

Further Gallego investigations:

To pursue my immersion of the Galician culture I have recently joined a traditional Galician dance class at the local community centre and taken a basket making workshop. Since the dance class started in September I have to really concentrate in the class for both the dance steps and the language, but at least the class is given in Spanish and not Gallego.

I was told recently that children don´t like learning Gallego in school and so I have asked a few people about that. It seems to be a bit of a political topic and has made for some interesting English class discussions. The Galician language highlights the divisions within the region of Galicia, as different variations are spoken in the different provinces, and it also highlights a bit of an urban and rural divide as Gallego is spoken more often in the country than in the city. To give you a bit of background, during the Franco regime the language was banned and since then it had been given a grammar and has been brought into the school system. In some schools all lessons are given in Gallego and in others it is a weekly language class. Here in Lugo many people speak Gallego at home, at work and all municipal documents are printed only in the Galician language. I am told the language is similar to the Portuguese spoken in northern Portugal and I am slowly getting better at understanding it. Some of the reasons children don´t like learning Gallego in school are because it is different than the Gallego they speak at home, it is similar and easy to confuse with Spanish and because the grammar rules are continuously being updated and modified. I am quite impressed at the amount of people that speak the language considering it was really not that long ago it was banned. I am told that this is because Lugo is one of the more traditional parts of Galicia. The region is made up of four provinces: A Coruña to the northwest, Lugo in the northeast, Ourense in the southeast and Pontevedra in the southwest. In my discussions I have learned that people from Pontevedra are often referred to as Portuguese, from Lugo as Lugoslavos and from Coruña as Turkish. I have not yet found out the reason for the last. Most people here consider the Corunian citizens as stuck-up and that they have invented their own language mixing both Gallego and Spanish, and that they generally prefer to speak Spanish. With all this there continues to be a Galician separatism movement with a white flag with a blue diagonal stripe and a red star, and apparently an anthem as well.

In high school we used to joke about studying basket making, but now having worked quite hard to make two baskets it´s not so funny any more. I didn´t realize it was so hard and that it would take me over nine hours to make my first basket. A couple weekends ago I walked out to a workshop to learn how to make traditional baskets. There was a very nice, patient man who helped a group of about ten of us weave and shape ´Bimbeo´ in Gallego, or wicker in English into baskets. I found the first day very long, but the second day was quite satisfying to see my baskets finally assembled after all of the work. I felt like little Red Riding hood when I left carrying my basket, walking through the trees, along the river back into Lugo.

My most recent trip was last Saturday to A Coruña for the day with a couple of British students from my Spanish class at the university. I felt like a country girl in the big city and it was a little strange to speak English all day. We visited a fort, the tower and the body museum. One of the unusual things about the city was the pirate theme. I am not sure why skulls and cross-bones were displayed in various parts of the city, maybe it´s part of the Turkish mystery...

Postcard travelling

Last Saturday I got on the bus to Ribadeo because I saw a beautiful postcard of the town in the bus station and I decided I wanted to go there. The day was bright, sunny and perfect for an adventure. For most of the ride going there the bus twisted and turned following the winding path of a river through the mountains towards the coast. I enjoy riding the bus and day dreaming. I thought about the concert I had attended the night previous. It was beautiful concert by the group called ´Batuko Tabanka´ as part of a series of events organized around International Women´s day. It was a simple,yet powerful performance of a group of local African women singing songs while drumming on leather cushions and while they played, they took turns getting up and dancing in front of the group. I couldn´t help but feel how beautiful it was to be a woman watching them.

Arriving in Ribadeo I was a little disappointed to learn that the beaches I saw on the postcards were not next to the town, but rather in the surrounding area (approx. 10km away) and the short story is you need a car to get there which I did not have. I did figure out a way that I could have gotten there using three different types of transportation, but since I only had six hours I decided to explore the town instead.

First I walked along the river to the lighthouse overlooking the ocean for lunch. Then I wandered back into town to look around and I found the old part of town curiously consisted of a labyrinth of small narrow streets. The map from the tourism office had a number of red dots marking points of interest and little else. I found most of the streets were not even marked on the map and they strangely sloped upwards and downwards interchangeably. I found myself wondering how people accessed their houses because often the streets were green with algae from the rain and quite difficult to climb.

On one corner I saw a house with a for sale sign. I was very intrigued by the building that admittedly was in very bad shape, but had a lot of character. I thought about the idea buying the house overlooking the port. It was more of a romantic idea than anything else, but the plants growing off of the balcony and the broken shutters made me want to take a look inside. I watched the house for a while and as I did an older woman wearing a pale pink dress made her way up the steep street towards it. She was carrying what looked like a pail of water and when she arrived at the front of the house she stopped for a few minutes to watch the people strolling along the boardwalk below and then continued to the back of the house. I imagined she was going to feed some chickens or cats, but she kept looking around as she walked. When she stepped back out into the street she stopped a moment to step into the bushes and then continued her descent the same way she arrived pausing a few moments for the view.

I liked a how Cala lilies seemed to grow wild and how the streets were quiet. Looking up at the town from the water´s edge I saw five cats perched on a stone railing. They posed and stretched in the sun just below another railing with the remains of statues of roman goddesses. I had to smile at the scene curtained by blowing clothes hung out to dry because on another balcony I saw the shadow of the head of a black dog watching them. When I looked accross the river I saw the region of Asturias and it felt like it was another world.

To add to the mysteriousness and quaintness of the town on the steps of the townhall in the main square there is a life-size silver statue of a marquis walking down the steps. He is wearing bright coloured clothing with one arm awkwardly raised above his head and I guess his statue is there to remember the building used to be his residence until he was assasinated there in 1809.

My time was up and so I walked back to the bus station to catch my ride back to Lugo.

Quiz Night

Last Thursday it was my turn to prepare the questions for the weekly Quiz night at the local Irish pub. A number of English teachers and English students in Lugo meet and test their knowledge. Should your team win there are also prizes from the pub. I thought I would share my Quiz with you.

Category 1 - Not quite a Shakespearean baseball game (When the question is a quote you need to identify the play and the character)

1. ´To be or not to be, -- that is the question´
2. On what Shakespeare play is the 1960 musical ´West Side Story´ based?
3. ´Out damned spot ! out, I say !
4. How many plays did Shakespeare write?
5. ´What´s in a name? That which we call a rose by any other word would smell as sweet.´
6. In what country does the story of Hamlet take place ?
7. ´A horse ! a horse! my kingdom for a horse!´
8. Who is the ´shrew´ in the Taming of the Shrew ?
9. ´Beware the ides of March´
10. On what day was Shakespeare believed to have been born and known to have died ?

Category two- Well-known Canadianisms:

1. Where did the first Europeans to settle in Canada come from ?
2. Joe Shuster & Jerome Siegel created this famous comic book character in 1938.
3. What are Canada´s two national sports?
4. Sir Frederick Banting was awarded the Nobel-Prize in 1923 for the discovery of this medical treatment.
5. The bear at the London zoo which inspired A.A. Milne to create the character ´Winnie the Pooh´is named after which Canadian city?
6. What code name was given to the beach where the Canadians landed in Normandy on D-day?
7. This Canadian singer is considered to have the biggest selling album of all time for a female artist.
8. Who is the highest scoring hockey player in history?
9. What is the mascot of the Quebec city winter carnival ?
10. Which Canadian city will host the 2010 winter olympics?

Category 3- People in your neighbourhood (if you live in Lugo) Identify the name and location of the following statues.

Feeling a little more Lucense

Now crossing the two month mark in Lugo and four months in Spain I am feeling a little less on vacation. Every so often I have moments when I realize Spain may not be the country I first imagined. I would like to correct the statement ´the rain in Spain stays mainly on the plain´ and say it stays mainly in Galicia. I crave the sunshine that only seems to peak out from behind the clouds on rare occasions. I am also going through vegetable withdrawal and I believe that one cannot live on meat alone though it seems like some people here do. I think if I am offered another strange part of the pig to eat I will become a vegetarian. To counter this carnivorous movement I have been using the Canadian food guide for a couple of English lessons now as a point of discussion.

I am starting to appreciate now how in Canada we have more space to live in, real houses with yards and how women have more of a sense of freedom and independance. Aside from feeling a little homesick I am still challenged by the language, delighted by the friendliness of the people and intrigued by the bizarre and interesting festivals, so I haven´t bought my return ticket yet. One small puzzling difference between the cultures that I recently encountered while trying to help one of the boys with his math homework was that the Spanish write out their long form division differently and I was unable to explain the example in the workbook, but I could get the same answer.

While teaching English I have had some good lessons and some not so good lessons, which has made for an all-round learning experience. For one of my better lessons I had students describing pictures from a Simpsons comic book I borrowed from the library and I have also had a lot of luck with the card game ´Go Fish.´ The game is fun, pratical and with different themed cards you can also expand the student´s vocabulary. While explaining the game to my beginner class in Spanish there was a bit of confusion because they first thought it was a match-making game. I also had an entertaining moment in another class when a man arrived and told me he forgot his carpet at home. That´s how I learned the Spanish word ´Carpeta´ for binder.

To deal with some of the discipline issues I have had with the boys in the family I am living with I have set up a star reward system. Now rather than being forced to speak English they are motivated, maybe a little bribed to do an English activity with me for a star. When they get five stars they can get a pack of football trading cards, football ´Kracks´ or Pokemon ´Bonx.´ I have found some nice picture books at the library of which the older boy can make simple descriptions and the younger boy can answer vocabulary questions. I am trying to make the language learning as natural as possible. I encourage them to tell me to ´be quiet´ or ´to go away´, and at the playground it was easy to teach the words ´push´ and ´in the middle´ while on the merry-go-round and playing Monkey in the middle. Unfortunately our playground trip did not end so well because we had to go home due to the boys spitting at each other and because the rain turned to hail. I used to think that I would like to have kids one day, but I am now having serious doubts.

While in Spain I am trying to live a little a la espagnole and to enjoy life, so I have tried out a couple Yoga and Capoiera classes and most recently Kayaking. The city offers free recreational activities on Friday and Saturday nights, but most start at 11pm and go until 2am. I have only been to a few because I find the time table a little insane.

I had one small tourist detour last week with my language exchange partner where I was taken to visit an archeological site near the town of Villadonga. On the top of a hill you can see the remains of a Celtic Castro or village. When we first got there I saw a sign that read ´Non pisen os muros´ which I mistakenly translated as do not piss on the walls rather than to not walk on them. Needless to say I still have a lot to learn.