Katherine with a K

Surviving my first year in Germany.

2012-01-24T00:52:00.000-08:00

Well. Today is my 365th day in Germany. The past year can only be described as a rollercoaster. There was the fun in getting here, finding an apartment, settling into said apartment. Then there was the 3 month hassle of plumbing issues with said apartment.

And though it’s been a rollercoaster ride and at times it felt like those fun stand up ones and others one that takes you thru the loops backwards, I don’t regret my decision to upheave my Vancouver life for the lands of Bavaria one bit.

Things I’m glad I enjoyed

- My dog having the time of her life living in Germany. Seriously. It’s like doggy paradise. She gets to go everywhere from restaurants to electronic shopping. Watching her adjust to being a German city dog has entertained me for hours on end. After a year, she’s even figured out that the automatic escalator is not akin to the gas chamber!

- Having an amazing, and I mean AMAZING social circle. In a year’s time, I have no shortage of friends or social activities to choose from. Without them, I’d be curled up into a ball under my bed afraid to expose myself to the big bad german world

- Exploring anything within 500km of me. Coming from Canada, where if you drive 500km, you’re still in the same province, I enjoy the fact that if I drive 500km East, West or South I can be in several different countries. And by several, it’s probably like 8 or 9.

- I have the BEST and I mean best hairdresser. I’ve never loved my hair so much. And to think, it’s only taken me 38 and 11/12 years! (it’s the small things we have to appreciate)

Things that have pushed me to the edge

- German bureaucracy. Seriously. I don’t know where this country got the myth of efficiency, but it couldn't be further from the truth.

- The Franconian mentality. I live in a part of Bavaria that’s called Franconia. The best I can surmise it is a region that wanted to be it’s own region, but instead is part of another. In Canada, the closest we have is Quebec. They don’t want to be part of Canada, but grudgingly accept it. Franconia is like that, except 1/100th of the size and they (arguably) speak the same language. Even Germans call the Franconians cold and unfriendly. Most of my neighbors appear to be from Franconia because

- As an auslander (foreigner), I MUST be responsible for all of what’s wrong in Germany. And I’m lucky. At least I’m not a visible minority! And as long as I don’t open my mouth, I could be from around here. But as the only auslander in my building, I’m responsible for all that goes wrong. Storage locker break in and bike stolen? It must somehow lead back to me. Animal waste in the garden? Again, my fault (well, at least my dog’s, I like indoor plumbing too much). Those 5 cats that troll the garden? They’re franconian and would NEVER shit in the garden.

- “not my fault, not my problem, not my job” seriously. If there was ever a motto for Germany, it would be that. It’s amazing the deflection and shirking of responsibility that happens around here. I never considered myself a die hard capitalist, but I’m convinced this attitude is a remnant of socialism.

So, after a year can I say I “like” living in Germany? That’s a loaded question. I like 6 weeks vacation, I like living in Europe, I like that I can almost add a 4th language to my repertoire, I like my friends and I love that I can buy a bottle of prosecco for 1 euro. However, I despise the shirking of responsibility, the figuring out which hoops to jump thru (which, even if you know the language is a hassle), being verbally assaulted by people’s opinions because they’re having a bad day and even though you understand 90% of what they say, there’s no way you can verbalize a sarcastic, witty response back. I’m starting to learn there’s a REASON prosecco is 1 euro a bottle (because it helps after a bad day and considering the amount of bad days….)

A year ago, people would ask me “so, how long do you plan to stay in german” and my standard response was “well, indefinitely!”. After each month that passes, I now find myself saying “well, who knows, there are other places I’d like to try living and the sooner, the better!”

Even though the past year has been far tougher than I could ever bargain for, it’s given me a lot to be thankful for. Like the fact that I have a much tougher skin. A few weeks ago someone called me “a bloody cow” for daring to open my car door on the street. I smiled at them, gave them the finger and went on my merry way while they steamed off.

A friend of mine inspired me this morning and wrote me an email saying how she just listened to the Christina Aguilera song “fighter” and if she replaced one of the words to Germany, it was a perfect analogy. I completely concur. So thank you Germany.

'Cause GERMANY makes me that much stronger

Makes me work a little bit harder

GERMANY makes me that much wiser

So thanks for making me a fighter

Made me learn a little bit faster

Made my skin a little bit thicker

Makes me that much smarter

So thanks, GERMANY, for making me a fighter

When the transit system is called “vag” the possibilities are endless…

2012-01-19T03:40:00.000-08:00

A van with instructions to "service vag"

Nurnberg has a reasonably good transportation system. There are trams, subways and buses to zip you all around the city. The system is called VAG. I didn’t think anything about it until a friend said it out loud. Like all good things, I like to have fun with it. My dearest friend B and I would exchange texts whenever one of us was on the vag. Highlights include:

“there’s a crazy man riding the vag today”

“the vag is hot and sweaty today”

“the vag is difficult to operate”

As you can imagine, the possibilities are really endless. I really think they should hire me to help them with their ad campaigns. For instance, for the nightliner bus, I might use “no matter how much you’ve had to drink, the vag goes all night long” or “after your night at the bar, ride in the comfort of the vag”.

Obviously English speakers find the double meaning hilarious, but what’s unintentionally hysterical is that ‘v’ in german is actually pronounced like ‘f’ which means it’s pronounced “fag” in German and opens up a whole new realm of possibilities!

The vag website (vag.de) even has a merchandise shop available where they have a t-shirt that with a print that says “Ich Liebe Vag” (I love vag) unfortunately, they only have children’s sizes.

The best part is now, that I’ve shared my vag jokes and stories, more friends are getting into it! Just the other day, one of my girlfriends took a photo of a “vag service” van with a guy smoking. (Once you service the vag, you need a cigarette) It adds humor to an otherwise grey and dull day where humour is low. So thank you B & C (you can arm wrestle in Portland as to who came up with “vag” first) for introducing me to the vag. I promise, I’ll make you proud and keep the vag flame burning!

Camels and Christmas Markets

2012-01-18T06:00:00.000-08:00

The firepit and quaintness of the medieval market

Last month, the mothership landed for a 3 week visit. One of the many places we went was to a Christmas market. Well, by the end of 3 weeks, it would up being like 15 christmas markets.

One of the first Christmas markets we went to was a medieval one at a castle. Only things that were historically relevant were sold. So basically, you could buy pelts and chainmail outfits. I have to say though, it was quite quaint. There were little firepits to keep warm, handmade candy, large chunks of meat grilled on a stick and flute music. Oh, and camels.

Where the camels come in, I’m not quite sure. Last time I saw a camel it was in Israel and that seemed reasonably appropriate since it was near a desert. What camels were doing at a Christmas market in Germany is beyond me, but there they were! And for a few euros a ride, you could ride one. Because I grew up as a city girl, I’m greatly fascinated by animals. So I just had to ride a camel! The first time I met a camel, I found him rather stinky and the second time confirmed it. He was rather warm beneath my thighs though (god, that sounds so dirty…)

My ride!

After my ride, I posed for a photo op with said camel. My mom wasn’t as excited by the camel as I was and she certainly wasn’t up for riding one. Nonetheless, I got her to pose with one. Now, when I posed with the camel, I got all up next to him and hugged him. My mom wasn’t feeling it. She had heard all about how camels spit so she didn’t trust him one bit. I should also mention she’s hesitant to approach the camel because he well… just urinated and missed her feet by inches. Nonetheless, I’m egging her on to approach the camel for a photo op. She’s cautiously approaching him when I realize that the entire area where we’re standing has just turned into a medieval German theatre production complete with actors and lights. And at that exact moment, I snap the picture. And what a picture it is. After taking the picture, I realize that my mom and the camel are giving each other what can only be described as the BEST side eye! The way they appear to both be sizing each other up is just priceless.

My ride and I (note the smile on both of our faces...)

The Mothership, on stage, side eyeing the camel (complete with cigarette in hand and camel onlooker!)

The fireworks war zone

2012-01-02T02:44:00.000-08:00

Happy New Year! This past month has been a flurry of activity. The mothership landed for a 3 week visit and I was busy whisking her around to Paris, Austria and Prague. I definitely have a backload of stories, but first, my story of how I brought in 2012!

I’ve never been a fan of New Year’s eve. All those hopped up expectations of the year ahead, overpriced drinks, too much drunkenness and Auld Lang Syne. Seriously. Is there a more depressing song? I blame that song and too much alcohol for almost always crying on new years eve (what? I’m a girl. It’s what we do)

So this year, when trying to firm up New Year’s eve plans, I wanted to avoid anything that would involve that atrocious song with the atrocious lyrics of “let old friends be forgot”, smoochy couples and anything that would remind me of how could life “can” be if you live somewhere normal. So I went to Berlin with my (only) single girlfriend.

All I knew about New Year’s eve in Berlin is that it’s big. As in biggest party in Europe big. I’m not a fan of clubs on New Years eve and I’m even less of a fan of crowds. But I didn’t have any expectations. If living in Germany for the past year has taught me anything, it’s to roll with the punches (preferably repeatedly)

The celebration in Berlin gathers around the Brandenburg gate. One of the gates that separated East Berlin from the West during the Cold War. It then extends a couple of kilometers in what’s called the “party mile” C and I went early on New Year’s eve to figure out the best strategy of how to approach said mile. We thought we had a solid plan but it involved walking, a subway, a massively confusing transfer at the Berlin main train station, another train and another subway (all this and the distance was only 2km from our hotel) So we decided to walk there from our hotel. However, our plans were thwarted since we couldn’t access any of the entrance gates from our side of Berlin. So we improvised.

We ended up at what’s normally a little cafe. They hired a dj and were selling inexpensive prosecco. How can you go wrong?

Coming from Canada, the land of over alcohol regulation, I’m constantly amazed at the fact that public drinking is not only not frowned upon but totally ok and expected. I’m learning that at any such large festivities, bars , restaurants and cafes have drinks/alcohol you can buy “to go”. Also, I’m familiar with the New Year’s tradition of launching fireworks. Though “safety first” is not exactly my middle name, I feel like the excessive public drinking, fireworks and confined spaces is not a good combination. Call me crazy.

At the risk of sounding offensive, I honestly felt like I was in a war zone. There was shrapnel everywhere and the noise was amazingly loud. If I believed in reincarnation, I’d be inclined to think I was reincarnated from a soldier killed in battle, I was that petrified/paranoid of the close proximity to the fireworks. I was convinced I was going to get one in the eye or a lit one land on my head (and since it’s taken me 38 years to learn to like my hair, I didn’t want to risk a Michael Jackson-Pepsi commercial incident).

Thankfully, there were plenty of souvenirs selling hats. Because subtlety and I aren’t acquainted, I went for the most suitable option: a metal replica army helmet. Excessive to some, yes, but, it was perfect for the task at hand. In more ways than one.

Did people laugh at me? Hell yeah. Was I protected against fire and shrapnel? An even bigger hell yeah! There were a few things I wasn’t prepared for though with my choice of headwear. The annoyingly loud noise of people knocking on my helmet and the fact it could be considered a weapon.

At one point in the evening, a man in the crowded cafe made a beeline for me and said “I love your hat! It brings back such memories, I’m a fighter!” me “a fighter? A fighter of what” him “A Libyan freedom fighter” and then he attempted to kiss me on the lips. And knocked his head on the metal brim of my protective headwear. Helmet bonus points: keeping strange men from kissing you on the lips unexpectedly.

I quickly learned that the metal brim of my headwear was coming in handy. Though I seemed to miss the actual bell of midnight (there was no countdown and fireworks had been going all night) I realized it was midnight when random people came up to kiss me. Or rather, try to kiss me. I’m pretty sure there are a dozen people out there with a cut across the brim of their nose from the metal edge of my headwear. What? Celebrate 2012 with a bang and a few scars I say!

Looking back, the complete disregard for safety of the fireworks shouldn’t have surprised me. Sure, it’s taboo to jay walk, but driving on the autobahn 200+ km/h is fine. But I was honestly in awe of the absolute shit show the streets were. I mean you have more than two million people crowded in the streets of Berlin and the things were going off every meter. On sidewalks, streets, top of cars, you name it. Usually they were launched out of bottles. So that’s an extra safety feature, flying glass on top of rockets. Also, what’s ironic is that given the surroundings, you’d think that people would be a little sensitive to noises that pretty much simulates bombs. Yeah I know the war ended more than a half century ago, but the fact that bombs likely landed within meters of the celebrations wasn’t lost on me. Thankfully, I felt safe in my headwear.

Oh Germany!

2011-12-21T04:34:00.000-08:00

I'm not entirely sure what the caption is, but in my world, the right is the "before" Deutsche Bahn experience and the left is the "after"

My mom has been visiting for the past couple of weeks and I have been more than insanely busy taking her on a whirlwind tour of Europe. Even though she was born in Belgium, she’s never been to Europe before. Since it’s taken her 60 years to get back to the continent she was born on, I thought it only proper to show her a good time. So far, we’ve been to Paris and Austria (more on that when I'm not deleriously exhausted). Christmas weekend is Prague. I’m exhausted, but it’s for a good cause.

Knowing the issues that I’ve had so far, my mom is sympathetic, but sees Germany thru the eyes of a tourist. She sees the clean streets, the recycling and the on time trains. I think a lot of the times she thinks I exaggerate how cumbersome life can be here. Of course, if there are no problems, there is no cumbersome-ness. Lucky for me, I walk into all sorts of problems.

Take for instance, my first work trip. I work for a global company and had to go to Asia last July. My itinerary involved a train to Frankfurt then flights to Asia. When I checked over my itinerary the day before I left, I thought that the train times looked off. After all, I suspected it would take more than an hour for the train to travel the 400km to Frankfurt. When I called the travel agent to verify the train times, they told me “oh, the train times are ficticious, it’s up to you to check the actual times” Cool! Thankfully I called, because this info was not going to be volunteered otherwise.

For my return trip, there was a change in flights, because of that, I needed a new train ticket number. When I got to Frankfurt and tried the number, it didn’t work. I went to the office and no one could figure it out. They told me to get on the train and the ticket checker would let me know if there was an issue. Because it’s me and I have the best German luck, there was an issue. No one could find that a ticket was ever issued to me. They took down my info and said they’d write a letter if they could find the ticket. Again, because of my luck, they couldn’t find said ticket.

For the past 5 months, I’ve been communicating with the travel agent and forwarding all of the lovely Deutsche Bahn letters which I don’t understand. Today, the travel agent called me in a panic saying that Deutsche Bahn was a week away from launching legal action. Against me. For lack of ticket. WHAT THE (*)@(*()&*(&*()@_)@?????? I (calmly) stated my case to the travel agent telling them that this was their problem, and not mine. The ticket had already been paid and I was following their instructions. She wasn’t buying it so I had to step up my bitch. I’m starting to learn that stepping up the bitch is the only way to getting anywhere here when there’s a problem. I generally try to pull the calm, sane card, but it gets me nowhere here.

I’m not complaining, but this country is bringing the cynic me to the forefront. At this stage, I’m starting to look at each new problem as a challenge on how quickly I can get it solved. So far, I’m not doing very good. Dining Room chairs? 2 months. Plumbing? 3 months. Train ticket? 5 months and counting.

My mom constantly reminds me that no place is perfect or without it's problems and I get that. I really do. And I get that there can be mixups like this anywhere in the world. And to be fair, all of these things might be my karma for killing one too many flies or having a smooth(ish) life for a couple of years. I just don't get how an arduous business trip lands me on the verge of being a German criminal?????

The official start to the Christmas season

2011-11-25T07:58:00.001-08:00

One thing I can say about Germany, is that you can't miss a holiday. If it's a big holiday, there's bound to be a lead up to it. And the lead up to the holiday is as exciting (if not more) than the actual holiday itself. A few weeks ago, I wrote about the leadup to carnivale. Well, Christmas is no different.

Today, in Nurnberg, advent gets kicked off with the largest Christmas market in Germany. The Christkindlesmarkt is proclaimed open by the Christmas Angel. From what I can find, the angel is always a woman (unlike the proclamation of carnivale season) The Christmas angel is elected every two years and must meet the following requirements:

They should, if possible, have been born in Nuremberg, but in any case should have lived here for a long time. They must be over 16 and no older than 19 years. They must be at least 160 centimetres tall, have a very good head for heights and an ability to withstand bad weather.

The Christmas Angel term lasts two years and once they're down to the semifinals, their pictures are in the papers and the public gets an input on voting for their favorite. However, unlike North American pagents, there's no swimsuit or evening gown fashion show, but a quiz on Nurnberg history.

The Christmas Angel does the usual pageant queen duties, like visit old people and kids. And proclaim the Christmas market open. Also, last year's Christmas Angel opens the Chicago Christmas market and she has to deliver her proclamation in English.

I think it's cute to have a Christmas Angel, and kudos to Germany for not sexualising the Angel. Because you know if it was in North America she'd be strutting around in bra, panties and wings. But I really think the outfit it a bit much. But then again, maybe the outfit and wig are cleverly crafted to "withstand bad weather".......

The 2009/10 Angel

An 80's Angel

Lessons in hair management

2011-11-23T02:16:00.001-08:00

(the peak of my awkward years- some things DO get better with age)

One of the hardest things about moving elsewhere is finding new people to keep up the grooming regime. I’m not one of those girls that need regular manicures, pedicure, whatevercures, but hair management is something that as a half Portuguese woman, requires religious maintenance. For me, that means eyebrows and the hair on my head.
Who doesn’t look back at their awkward years and cringe, but I’d argue that as a half Portuguese woman, I may have had it rougher than less hairy ethnicities. From the age of about 10, my mom decided to shear my mane, much like a sheep. I say shear, because that’s pretty much what it felt like. I don’t know if it’s because conditioner (or crème rinse as my early memories recall) wasn’t invented or if somehow my mother wasn’t aware of it in 1983, but every hair shampoo was equivalent to medieval torture. You see, even then, I had enough hair on my head to make half a dozen middle aged white men jealous. And well, washing without conditioner left my head one.big.tangled.mess. After one too many episodes of combing out my hair and loads of tears, my mom ran out of patience (not that she had a lot to start with) and had me sheared. And so I spent my awkward years being confused as a boy (until I discovered Jodi Watley sized earrings- to me, my earrings compensated the lack of feminity my hair had)

To make matters worse, my Portuguese genes blessed me with the mono brow. My father used to tell me as a child how lucky I was to have thick eyebrows. “Look at Brooke Shields” he’d say, “she has thick eyebrows and is beautiful”. Brooke Shields, I was not. I’m pretty sure that even though she had thick ones, she had TWO eyebrows, a feature my eyebrows were sorely lacking.

And so at the ripe old age of 18, I started the all-important career of eyebrow grooming, or the “welcome to the world of two eyebrows” as I like to call it. In the 20 years of getting my eyebrows done, I’ve learned a thing or two about eyebrows and have tried almost every technique of hair removal. For instance:

My ex landlord was going to electrolysis school and needed a “practice” patient. My mom volunteered me for role (thanks, mom) before I started, she sat me down and told me how a needle filled with electric current was going to remove my hair and (allegedly) it wouldn’t grow back. She also told me that that your nerve centers for pain was located toward the center of my body. The only reason I recall this is because when she stuck the electric needle over the bridge of my nose, I remember thinking “hmm…. You could be right”. I don’t recommend anything that involves electricity. Electrolysis included.

Having been to India five times for business trips, and knowing that many Indian women suffer the same fate as me, I figured threading was worth a shot. I mean, how painful could a piece of twisted cotton thread be, right? A lot it turns out. You see, threading works on the same principle as a weed wacker. In essence, they’re both doing the same job. A lady stands above you with a piece of twisted cotton thread and hopes for the best to graze a few of your eyebrows hairs while leaving your skin intact. Some people swear by threading, but to me, it’s just mowing the lawn, not plucking out the weeds by the roots. And anything that painfully annoying should be permanent. And threading is not.

My preferred method of eyebrow grooming is the wax. But I’ve learned over the years that there’s a lot to be careful of when choosing an eyebrow waxer. Having a lot of um… eyebrow real estate, I want the right landscaper. I don’t want someone who is going to turn my eyebrows into a Mickey Mouse topiary. Over the years, I’ve had my fill of over eager eyebrow groomers and let me tell you, there’s nothing worse than a bad eyebrow job. Waiting for them to grow back in is a long and painful experience. Pluck a few too many hairs and you end up with a perpetually surprised look for a couple of months.

When I left Vancouver, I had a standing every 3 week appointment with my eyebrow lady. I paid for the service a year in advance and I stayed with her for 4 years. Jane gave me the perfect arch. I miss Jane’s arch. Here in Nurnberg, I’m still auditioning eyebrow groomers. So far I’ve tried three. Two were mediocre and one gave me what I like to call “German stripper eyebrows”. There’s a trend in young German ladies to be too tanned, a crystal rhinestone applique on a tooth, 3 pairs of fake eyelashes, too straight hair and German stripper eyebrows. Too thin, no shaped eyebrows with a whole lot of pencil fill in. It’s not a look I can pull off, nor am I eager to. When I complained about my German stripper eyebrows, friends were all curious and no one claimed to notice the stripper-ness of them. I guess it’s that the eyebrow shape is in the eye of the beholder. But in the meantime, my search for the perfect arch continues… again.

Wanted: co-driver

2011-11-23T02:02:00.001-08:00

The more I mull over my post about the independant woman's conundrum, the more refined I get to the ubiquitous “what are you looking for in a relationship” question. It's a loaded question, once you get beyond the chemistry and attraction, what are you looking for? Friends of mine have openly admitted to wanting the knight in shining armour to step in, take over and "fix" their lives, but for a zillion reasons, that's just not me. So, at tail end of my 30’s and a divorce behind me, I think I can finally express it (I was always a late bloomer)

I think it can best be described using the clichéd “life is a highway”, road trip, etc… analogy. If life is a long road trip, I’m looking for someone to share the driving. Sure, I can drive alone, but then I’d need to make more rest stops and sometimes I’d have to have the music blaring and my windows rolled down hoping the cold air could keep me awake. Sure, it’s “possible” but not desirable.

I’m not looking for a chauffeur nor am I looking to be a taxi driver. I don’t want a gong show ski road trip with 5 male friends hotboxing me in with their flatulence (fact- this happened on a 10 hour road trip to me in my 20’s) Just someone to share the driving and split the cost of gas. Is that too much to ask? I hope not, since it took me this long to figure it out in the first place!

And since I've put it out there, I'd rather be making the road trip in a convertible, there's room for less baggage that way ;)

The token foreigner

2011-11-17T01:39:00.001-08:00

Sometimes I think that the only reason I was recruited over here was to be the token foreigner in my department. I work for an international company and since my department is fairly new, I’m now the first foreigner. A lot of times I think that they wouldn’t have cared what my knowledge or experience is, as long as I was a foreigner. The fact that I work in outdoor clothing and I’m from Canada, it makes it even more credible to them. Because I’m from Canada and it’s cold, I must know about cold weather clothes (the fact that I had seven years experience for an outdoor company adds credibility, but that’s beside the point)

My collegues can now brag they are an international department. It’s weird though, feeling like this novelty. I was talking to a friend and comparing it to kids getting a puppy and forgetting that puppies need maintenance and training. It feels weird to compare myself as a puppy and to think that I need maintenance, but let me break it down and explain myself. It’s fun to have me around to have as the new foreigner, but it’s not so much fun to do the work it takes to have a foreigner around.

I “get” that I live and work in Germany, but one of the selling features was that I was going to work for an international company in another country that works in English. The job description and everything I was told was that English was necessary and German was a bonus. I didn’t want the added stress of working in a new country and culture in a language I can count to ten in.

But because I’m the first foreigner in my department, my collegues aren’t used to speaking English 8 hours a day and I’m not used to being the high maintenance puppy. During my first six months, I was reluctant to bring it up at all. But then, I realized that a lot of stuff was forgotten to be passed along to this token foreigner and I was getting frustruated. I brought this topic up and everyone was apologetic and made a conscious effort to speak English. No one MEANS to forget to take the puppy out, it’s just an adjustment to have a new puppy. I get that.

And though I’m super thankful because I have mad German skills for being here ten months (it’s like an 8 hour language lesson everyday!), it’s getting on ten months and it’s getting old. I talk to other foreigners in other departments (who are not their department’s token foreigner) and most of them have had the opposite experience. I’m not used to being a novelty and needing to have people go out of their way for me. And even though it kills me, I have gotten better at asking to switch to English in meetings.

The more I go thru this experience, the more I have respect for immigrants. If I think about my family, immigrating to Canada from Portugal and Belgium fifty years ago (via East Germany and Russia) I can only imagine how hard it was to come to another country and live entirely in another language.

So I’m conflicted. In a way, I feel like a princess coming over here and expecting my collegues to speak in English, but at the same time, the language we’re meant to work in is in English! And the novelty of being the department puppy is wearing off.

Elf elf elf elf

2011-11-15T04:02:00.001-08:00

No, Christmas didn’t come early this year! But (with the help of a great host) I went to Cologne for elf elf elf elf. Elf means eleven and each year on November 11th at 11:11am while the UK, US and Canada celebrate remembrance day and those that fought in wars, people in Koln celebrate the official start of carnival season. This year, I had the extra bonus to be there in 2011.

The proclamation of Carnivale season in Cologne is announced by a young virgin, prince and farmer. Ironically, these are all men (even the young virgin) and they pay for their privileges. The major carnival festivities don’t start until February, but I guess it’s kind of a big deal because they need to get in a practice session three months ahead of time.

Carnival is like it is in Brazil, New Orleans and other places. Except in Germany there’s no samba dancers or beads thrown at you. Instead, you celebrate dressed in a costume (clowns and corny costumes are best) and bags of sweets get thrown at you. Cologne is Germany’s biggest carnival and has about 1.5 million visitors.

Like Oktoberfest, Germans take their partying and their drinking seriously. By the time we got to the main party areas at about 1pm, there was a whole lot of drunkness, cheesy costumes and sidewalks and streets filled with broken glass. It reminded me of being at a cheesy Halloween party, except on the street and in broad daylight in the shadow of a 700 year old church!

Also like all good German parties, this was about the drink and like Germany, it’s about beer. Specifically the Kölsch beer. I can’t tell you how it tastes because beer and I still haven’t made up since our 20 year old fall out, but I hear it’s tasty and less hoppy than other beer.

Here are some pics of the elf elf elf experience...

The Beautiful Cologne Dome

Middle aged men in Flamingo costumes...

and a discoball, as a helmet... of course!

Just because I don't drink beer doesn't mean I can't peel the lid off a wine!

The famous Koelsch beer

Slowly making my way to the top of Germany's most wanted

2011-11-04T04:25:00.000-07:00

When I lived in Canada, I felt like I lived on the "right" side of the law. I was generally a decent citizen and didn't have a lot of run ins with the law or most people.

Living in Germany it seems, is another story. Here, in my every day life, I feel pretty bad ass. At first, it annoyed and upset me that I'd get randomly told off. Now, I sort of embrace it.

When I moved into my place 7 months ago, I had to do a lot of drilling (one of the features of German apartments is that they come bare to the walls of any closets, storage, appliances, fixtures and usually kitchens- though I lucked out with the latter) Because I work and live alone, my only drilling options were in the evening. Because it involved shelving, I tried to do it when I could wrangle a friend over to check my levelness. Cut to me drilling. At 7pm. And being told off by my neighbor. oooook, and I'm supposed to drill when? (not on sundays. can't make noise on sundays)

Then, there was the cat owning neighbor (it should be noted that he was sporting black finger and toe nail polish) who yelled at me because he thought my dog was going to KILL his cat. The fact that his cat is bigger than my dog and that his cat is too dumb to walk away from my dog is besides the fact.

After that, came an email from my landlord asking me not to let said dog do her business on the lawn. He had clearly mistaken the half dead ferns in the frront yard for the English Gardens in Munich. This time, I put my foot down. I told him I always pick up after said dog and until people picked up after said cats, my dog was going to keep going. If push came to shove, I wasn't beyond requesting a dna test on any animal residue found. Thankfully, he didn't take me up on it and all has been quiet.

Two weeks ago, I got a letter with a grainy black and white picture of myself and a request to pay 25 euros. It was not unlike those pictures they take of you when you ride a roller coaster at an amusement park and they secretly take a picture of you on the ride and try to sell it to you on your way out. Though my German is hardly fluent, I realized it was a dreaded speeding ticket.

It's been about ten years since I got a speeding a ticket. I've only been pulled over about four times in my life: 2 driving in the US and 2 driving in Canada. In my very limited expertise, Canadian police are much more gentle since both times I got off with warnings (my ex boyfriend used to claim that nervously shaking while handing over my drivers license probably helped). The 2 I got in the US, I never paid. To be fair, they sent me notices to come down to California and Washington state, but I never showed up. I hear that they could potentially arrest you for an outstanding speeding ticket, but I hope, unlike murder, there is a statute of limitations. We'll see.

So when the 25 euro grainy picture showed up, I figured it was a small price to pay for never having paid a speeding ticket before. I thought to take a picture of 25 euros and send it to the Bavarian police, but I'm pretty sure they wouldn't find it as funny as I did.

A week later, a second grainy 25 euro picture of myself shows up. This one was taken in the morning on my way to work and it appears I was singing judging by the open mouth and look on my face.

Great. I was now officially a bad ass. speeding tickets and causing domestic disturbances in my building. Those damn Canadians. By now, I had embraced it and started pressing my luck. When below mentioned Halloween party was kyboshed by the cops, I got cocky. Yes, this late 30's previously quietly living Canadian dressed as Betty Boop sashayed up to 2 Bavarian police officers and said in broken German/English "You know what's criminal? Not dancing past midnight, but the fact I called the taxi company 3 times and they won't come because I don't speak good German". The expression on his face was priceless. Sort of like "WTF" meets "oh lord, another drunk Canadian". The universe came to his rescue though. While he was debating how to best answer my question, he turned and said "look, it's right there" as it turned the corner. Would I ever have confronted a cop like that before? Hell to the no. But now that I'm a badass??? It just may become a habit...

Dance your heart out* (*367 days a year)

2011-11-02T01:41:00.000-07:00

For the past two years, I have gone out to Halloween parties. In of itself, going to a Halloween party is not remarkable, but the past two parties I’ve gone to have been shut down by the police. If you were a teenager, this wouldn’t be a remarkable experience, but when it happens in your late 30’s, it’s pretty comical.

To say the parties were shutdown for two different reasons, would be an understatement. The party I went to last year was held by a friend and he easily had 150 people in his house and a professional DJ in the basement. It was like something out of an 80’s teen flick. I’d never seen anything like it before. House packed to the rafters with people and pretty much everyone dressed up. I distinctly remember someone saying “Oh look, those guys dressed as VPD (Vancouver police department) look so REAL” and I replied “That’s cause they are!” I can’t help but feel bad for police at a costume party. The fact that the party went on until 2am before being shutdown by the police was a miracle. I’m pretty sure the neighbors were either deaf, ran grow ops or were in gangs for not having called sooner.

This year, was my first experience at a German Halloween party. The English group that meets in Nurnberg had a party scheduled for a local bar in town. I know that Halloween is still pretty “new” in Germany and it’s only in the past few years that kids have started trick or treating. I thought that since it was going to be a large group of ex-pats, dressing up in costume was expected. I was wrong. There was probably only a dozen or so people in costumes and those that were, were mostly only dressed in zombie like makeup. I’ve since learned that “most” germans love the dark side of Halloween. Sure, in North America there are more than your share of ghosts, zombie and Frankenstein costumes, but we try to mix it up.

I (uncreatively) dressed up as Betty Boop. I made the costume a few years ago and it’s not hard to get my hair Betty Boop’d. Also, I was too lazy to think up anything else. Earlier in the day, we were considering what my friend C should wear. Due to her amazing red hair, I had a great idea that she should dress as Jessica Rabbit from Who framed Roger Rabbit. The fact that she wasn’t really familiar with the character seemed unimportant to me. I told her to just walk around and say “I’m not bad, I’m just drawn that way” she’d be fine.

We spent the afternoon whipping up her sexy red dress and gloves. 8 hours later, she was turned into an incredible Jessica Rabbit. It. Looked. Awesome. The hair, the makeup, the dress!!!! So off we went, Betty Boop and Jessica Rabbit. Our first strange looks came from the taxi driver. Looking back, he probably thought we were hookers. I did tell him in broken German that this was for Halloween and not our normal dresses. He giggled under his breath.

C and I got to the bar and quickly realized we were a) not the only ones dressed up b) the only ones not attempting “ghoulishness” and c) no one would recognize us and would in fact think we were hookers. To alleviate our discomfort, we quickly had a shot.

I got into a conversation with a German (my opening line was “Did you dress up as Keanu Reeves?”- he looked similar to him and had the whole sweatshirt and jeans casual look going on) We got into why Halloween wasn’t so big in Germany. November 1st is a holiday in Germany- all saints day. “Perfect” I said “All the more reason to celebrate!”. “But you see, in Germany, it’s illegal to dance past midnight” he replied.

For a minute, I thought he was joking and was trying to attempt some reference to another cheesy 80’s movie- Footloose, where dancing was forbidden. But, no.

It turns out that there are 8 days a year in Bavaria where dancing is forbidden. Though I grew up Catholic in an especially Catholic area of Canada, I’ve never heard of any dancing bans. We ate fish on good Friday and went to mass at school on the holidays and called it a day. Dance your heart out whenever you want!

But not in Bavaria. I’ve since done some research ( a) to prove it exists and b) to prove to my friend’s German boyfriend it exists) Because I’m relying on google translation for my research, I’m not 100% clear why this archaic law exists. From what I can tell, it started in the era of National Socialism in 1939 before the start of WWII. It then eased during WWII because it was importan for the soliders to be entertained. It was then renewed in 1941 but each state has different regulations on what they adopt. For instance, you can’t dance in any state on good Friday. But you can dance in Bavaria on Christmas eve between 2pm and midnight. You can’t dance at all in Bavaria on Easter weekend from Holy Thursday to Holy Saturday. In Berlin, you can dance on good Friday, but only from 4am to 9pm.

It’s so bizarre, that you’d think this is one of those old laws that no one follows and certainly no one enforces. WRONG! At around 12:45am, the Polizei diligently showed up and shut the party down. No dancing. No loud music. It’s bizarre to understand and I’m baffled that this exists. The fact that it’s a quietly accepted law and there’s no real basis for why it’s wrong, makes it even more strange. But alas, it is what it is, and you can dance your heart out, 357 days a year!

You fest, We fest, Let's Oktoberfest!

2011-10-25T05:52:00.000-07:00

Last month, I went to Oktoberfest. It's taken me a month to write about because, there's honestly a lot to process about Oktoberfest!

Living in Bavaria, and so near to Munich, taking part in Oktoberfest seemed a no brainer. I tagged along with my friend S (and fellow Vancouverite!) and her boyfriend M one fine Saturday afternoon. M used to work in Munich and part of his job used to be to entertain people during Oktoberfest. He was literally, the walking Wikipedia of Oktoberfest. Suffice to say, that thanks to them, I had the BEST first timer experience you could have.

First stop was at the Sheraton, S & M were staying overnight there. While they were checking in, I met this hottie in the glass case of the lobby. I decided he was coming home with me. I also bought one for S&M. I named them Hans and Franz. The lady behind the front desk did look at me oddly when I requested 2 male ducks (they had females but weren’t nearly as sexy as Hans & Franz) I had to tell her they were going to be brothers and not a couple.

It’s hard to beat Hans' sexiness

With Hans in tow, we headed to the Theresenwiese, basically the “fair grounds” where Oktoberfest is held. It was 2pm on a Saturday afternoon. In my first five minutes, I saw these people laying on the grass. It could be they were taking a nap, but I’m pretty sure they weren’t. Also, I saw a girl get rushed on a gurney with an IV in her arm. I’m pretty sure it had something to do with the beer they served…

Theresenwiese

not napping...

Now, people make reservations a year in advance to get into the tents. And if you don’t have reservations, you have to be in the tents at the crack of dawn. However, M is a superstar and knows people. So bearing gifts, S&M and I got into a tent thru the backdoor, like rockstars. I was impressed.

The tents are massive and loud. Almost everyone is dressed up in lederhosen and drindls. In the center there is an oompa band and they play “ein prosit” about every 10 minutes. If you only drink when they play “ein prosit” you’ll be on the floor in an hour.

At Oktoberfest, each tent only sells the beer of the Keller (or the brewery) that owns the tent. Beer comes in one liter “mas” and the beer is about 7% alcohol. Crazy tourists think that they have drank only 3 beer, but that’s really 3 litres of beer. It goes without saying that the washroom lineups are massive.

Even though I’m a Canadian living in Bavaria, I haven’t been able to stomach beer since an incident involving sleeman’s and bubblegum when I was 20. So I was prepared to only be a spectator at Oktoberfest. Again, because M is a rockstar, the waitress friend of his managed to smuggle me in a bottle of prosecco. So I drank Prosecco from a mas.

The Germans take their beer drinking very seriously. Oktoberfest is basically a time where you sit. And drink. It’s too loud to have a real conversation. But they did think ahead and thought 6 hours of straight drinking might get old so they worked in some exercise. A mas cup easily weighs 2 lbs. So every time you take a sip, you’re burning calories and strengthening your biceps. Since it’s too loud to talk, you just sing. The Germans may complain a lot in real life, but get them drunk and they sing. Far better than the English if you ask me. Get them drunk and they just pick fights!

At this point, Hans was feeling neglected and thirsty so he got it on the action. Unfortunately, he overdid it a bit…

The man (cause you know it was) who invented the mas was smart to make it out of glass. You see, there is a lot of cleavage around thanks to the girlies in their drindls. As a matter of fact, it’s no small feat of defying gravity to get those babies up and out (I failed- even Victoria’s secret best is no match for the dirndl bra, noted for next year) The glass bottom of the mas cup also doubles as a magnifying glass. If you’re a guy and you’re smart, you sit yourself opposite a girl with nice cleavage and you drink. Every time you take a sip, her cleavage is magnified in the bottom of your glass. As a result, every time I had a sip of my prosecco, I saw S’s cleavage. I’d show you a picture, but I’m pretty sure she’d kill me.

You’d think that Oktoberfest is a beer celebration and you’d be wrong. It’s in fact a wedding reception. The fact that the wedding reception is 17 days long and has been celebrated for 200 years is beside the point. There is lots of Oktoberfest food to be sampled, the most famous being “hahnchen” or roast chicken, but I was too busy people watching and drinking prosecco to take part in any of that.

The evening ended with me taking the train back to Nurnberg and this was arguably the best crowd watching if uncomfortable 2 hours I spent. I’ve never seen a train so full in my life. I was standing in the compartment between the two trains with 30 of my new closest drunk friends. At one stop, a young fellow couldn’t take it and stopped to vomit at the stop. He clearly took too long, because the train left without him. One couple was standing so close to each other, they decided they may as well make out. Despite the fact I was 20 years older than them, I think they may have wanted me in on the action. Or at least that’s the impression I got every the guy tried to grab the girl's breast and mistakenly (or drunkenly) tried to reach for mine.

I’m still reeling from my Oktoberfest experience and I still don’t get the point of dressing up and drinking. I guess it’s sort of like Halloween except everyone’s wearing the same costume. I do recommend it though as a once in a lifetime experience, but be careful, don’t fall asleep napping on the hill, rumour has it your wallet has a high chance of getting stolen during your nap!

Why I traded this for that

2011-10-24T07:35:00.000-07:00

Before- Last year, my commute to work was 10 minutes and looked like this

This year, my commute is 40 minutes and looks like this

9 months ago, I moved from Vancouver, Canada (we like to call it a world class city since we hosted the Olympics even though we riot the city when we lose big hockey games) to Nurnberg, Germany (famous for cookies and WWII trials). My commute went from a 10 minute drive involving a bridge and ocean inlet and views of mountains. Now, my commute is a full half an hour longer (to be fair it is usually 30 minutes, but because of never ending German road work is 40 minutes) and involves driving thru garlicland (the literal translation) and being stuck behind tractors.

While I was stuck behind a tractor this morning (I had time to kill since he was only going 10 km/h) I got to thinking… “how was it again that I traded in that for this?” add to the mix a tough settling in phase and I was going to start to look crazy by arguing with myself. In my car. On the way to work. Behind a tractor. But then it hit me. No not the tractor! The reason I moved here. I WANTED A CHALLENGE. Sure, I came from a world class city that was beautiful and had a decent job with a great company but after 7 years of feeling “comfortable” I decided I needed to shake it up. There was nothing WRONG with my life nor was I running from the law anything and to be fair a lot of people thought I was crazy for leaving it. But I was stagnant. And I wanted to be stagnant no more.

If I did the math, it seemed like a perfectly logical move. Stagnant at work, stagnant in my personal life, no financial or relationship ties and a big world class company comes calling for my skills and moves me (and my dog Lucy) across the world.

So yeah, some things are and have been 100 times more difficult than I could have ever imagined, but at the end of the day, I got what I wanted. A challenge. So who am I to complain… right? Then again, I do live in Germany which is essentially the birth of complaining so if I didn’t have something to complain about, there’d be something wrong with me!

The Great Cockblock

2011-10-18T01:20:00.000-07:00

When people ask me what life is like in Germany, it’s hard to put it into words. There’s no ONE thing that makes me want to pull out my hair and sometimes life here can be pleasant. But if I had to sum it up, it’s that daily life is one. Big. Cockblock. For those unfamiliar with the term, wikipedia defines cockblocking as:

"To cockblock is to prevent another person, intentionally or inadvertently, from having sexual intercourse with a third party. A cockblock, or cockblocker is a person who engages in such obstruction or intervention. According to an article by a freelance writer, Joshua Bernstein, in the New York Press, cockblocking is a "foul act in which someone interferes with another’s attempt at finding happiness inside someone’s pants."

It's kind of like a road block, but not for roads. After thinking about it, I think the cockblock is the perfect metaphor for life in Germany and I’ve even broken it down into different types:

The language cockblock-

First and foremost. This is obvious. If you can’t understand what’s going on, that’s an instant cockblock. To be fair, I did expect this to happen and it obviously happens daily. I get language cockblocked at work (though this one really isn’t necessary because we are supposed to work in English, but people forget) cockblocked by mail, phone calls, newspapers, you name it. After nine months, I accept this cockblock, that’s just part of life in another country.

The bureaucratic cockblock-

Hands down, this is one of the most frustrating things about living in German. Heck, even the Germans complain about the bureaucratic cockblock (just maybe in different words…)

Example 1- my collegue’s computer died. In order for her to get a new one, she had to find a form no one knew where to find, get said form signed by 4 varying levels of managers and wait. That was 6 weeks ago. It turned out it was the wrong form (where no one knew where to find) and now she has to repeat the process.

Example 2- My famous plumbing experience. In order to get workers to come, the hausmeister had to call the project management company, they then sent out a guy to do an estimate, the guy reported back to the project management company, the project management company told the insurance company, the insurance company approved each repair and told the project management company, the project management company called the contractor, the contractor called the hausmeister, the hausmeister called the landlord, the landlord called me. Now, this process had to be done for 6 different workers. I’m still not ok with the fact it took 3 months, but I understand.

Example 3- I had to get a form signed by work. I needed to get pictures done, my manager to sign it and some lackey in some office to sign the paperwork. Now, of course there was no procedure that told me the order of preference they wanted these down. So I found myself at the lackey’s office 3 different times. Instead of him telling me, get picture, fill in form, get manager to sign, see me at the beginning, it was a guessing game.

Example 4- Cancelling contracts. German rules around contracts are extremely bizarre. If someone (ie a telemarketer) were to call you, you could unwittingly get into a contract (especially if you’re dealing with said language cockblock) But getting OUT of a contract in Germany is a whole thing onto itself. In order to cancel most contracts, you need 3 months written notice (there’s even a website- www.abo.de which has preprinted forms ready and tips on how to do it) If it’s a YEARLY contract, you have a window of about a month to send in your 3 month written notice. I’ve heard nothing but cockblock stories about contract cancellations and I’m dreading my first one.

Example 5- Though I hear this is a lot better than ten years ago, in Bavaria, they still mix the whole church and state thing. This is great for holidays, we get 12 of them a year, but you can’t do much on the holidays. Nothing’s allowed to be open. Nor are stores allowed to be open on Sundays or after 8pm. Home from a late night of work and out of groceries? You’re cockblocked.

The physical cockblock-

This sounds bizarre especially for such a first world country and I still can’t understand why it is, but it somehow is. There exists a sort of physical cockblock in this country. I’ve described this to German collegues and friends and though no one was consciously away of it, they eagerly agree it exists. Case in point:

When there is a sidewalk and a group of people are walking, they will walk in a line across the width of the sidewalk. Courtesy would indicate that if you are 4 or 5 abreast on the sidewalk and a person is heading your way, you part to let them pass. Not here. You’ll get pushed off the sidewalk. I call it sidewalk mafia mentality. It’s the same deal for elevators and trains, courtesy indicates let people off, before letting people in. Not here. S/he who is the pushiest wins.

After nine months of the physical cockblock, I’ve stopped being mad. It’s obviously not part of the culture and if people aren’t aware of this, it’s hard to be mad for something that’s not inherent. But it still annoys the shit out of me!

On their own, none of these is a dealbreaker and hardly the end of the world. However, dealing with cockblocks daily is just part of every day life here. The next time I’m at a bar and I see a guy get cockblocked, I might raise my glass to him. I know what it’s like, if in a different way!

Fun with German!

2011-10-17T03:37:00.000-07:00

It’s been nearly 9 months now that I’ve been living in Germany and my German is starting to improve. Don’t get me wrong, I can hardly have a conversation in German, but I can make appointments in German- on the phone, without humiliating myself and I don’t break out in a cold sweat at the grocery store when they ask me one of the 5 different ways of either “Is that all?” and “do you need a bag”.

Despite my noticeable improvements, I still sound like a 4 year old and I do primarily live in the now. Not because I read some 70’s hippie book of living in the now, but because my verb conjugating skills only extend to the present tense.

Like when I learned Spanish, I’m finding German vocabulary “fairly” reasonable to learn. Even if I’ve never heard the word before, I can make a reasonable assumption of what it means, a lot of the nouns seem to be similar to either English or French or have a root from another German word. Sentence structure has been my enemy though. The sentence structure is not at all like any language I know and the fact that two verbs can (mostly) not be together is weird. One verb seems to always be at the end. It’s like when they were developing the language, they decided that the listener should pay full attention to the speaker and wait til the end of the sentence to know it’s meaning. Why else would you have a verb at the end? Makes no sense!

Speaking of whomever developed the German language, I do know they must have had a bit of a sense of humour, because some of the words are cute. Herewith, are some of my favorite German words I’ve crossed paths withs….

German Word               English Word                        Literal Translation

Auspuf                           exhaust pipe                          out puff

Handshuhe                    Glove                                     hand shoe (not exactly rocket science!)

Krankenschwester        Nurse                                    sick sister

Operlipbart                     Mustache                            Over lip beard

Brustwarze                      nipples                                breast warts (more creepy than cute!)

Then there are just instance where there might not be a literal translation, but it’s wrong. Case in point, the picture above. I knew that saft was juice, but when I saw dick saft? Well, it was just creepy. I’ve since discovered that dick is thick. And so, it’s thick juice. But still, it seemed far more perverted at first glance!

The independent women’s conundrum

2011-10-11T04:26:00.000-07:00

Recently, I was having a conversation with a single guy friend of mine who was saying that it was harder than ever to figure out women these days and argued that a generation or two ago, it was easier, because men and women had more clearly defined roles. It’s true, back in the days of my grandparents, men were expected to be the providers and women the caretakers. Then came my mother’s generation and the women’s revolution. Women started breaking away from tradition and hung up their apron strings (at least during the day) for jobs. Thanks to the hard work of the women of my mother’s generation, I grew up believing I could be and do anything I wanted thanks to the cracking of the old glass ceiling and equal opportunity laws.

Perhaps because I was a product of a single parent home, I grew up believing that I didn’t “need” a man for anything. My example was my mother who raised 3 kids, worked all day and would rewire the vacuum when sparks came out of the old plug and knew how to install a dimmer switch.

Enter my adult dating life. I’ve been dating since I was 18 and to say I haven’t been successful is an understatement. Could it be because I don't “need” someone, this vibe is somehow picked up by everyone I’ve dated? Interestingly, when I was an emotional basket case in my 20’s, this somehow seemed more attractive to guys. Were they the wrong guys? Or was it just that because men haven’t (arguably) gone thru such a major role shift, that they still think their place is that of the role of provider?

There’s a lot being written these days about modern men and they are struggling to find their place. Before, being a middle aged white guy was the dream. You would almost be assured a good job (white or blue collar), have a nice home in the suburb with a stay at home wife and 2.2 kids. Us women have embraced our role shift of the past 40 years, but have men?

For most of my adult life, I’ve lived independently and felt fairly proud of myself for doing it all “without the help of a man”. However, what I’m starting to realize at the ripe age of 38, is that just because I CAN do it alone, doesn’t mean I WANT to do it alone. For me, moving to Europe was my eureka moment. I had moved several times and set up apartments before, but this time, it really hit me. It.is.really.hard.to.do.it.alone. And suddenly, I realized how with a partner, dragging ikea furniture up 3 flights of stairs, calling help lines and hanging up pictures could be at least a little bit easier. Sure, I didn’t NEED someone, but god, wouldn’t it be damn nice to have someone help you with that damn ikea cabinet you just dragged up three flights of stairs only to watch the box break from the top of the stairs and see all that chipboard go sliding back down to the bottom…

I’m not looking at this shift of belief as “giving in” or going back to tradition. There’s no way I want to be barefoot and pregnant wearing an apron and greeting my man with a manhattan and a kiss when he walks in the door, but I am willing to relinquish some of my…independence. God, did I just write that? Giving up the independence that was so hard won? Ok, maybe not give up independence so much as share. Maybe the ideal modern relationship isn’t so much based on traditional roles but more like a business negotiation. Maybe these days, once you get past all the lust and wooing it goes a little something like this:

Partner 1: “ok, so I hate dishes, but I’ll cook”

Partner 2: “Perfect, I hate cooking. How about laundry”

Partner 1 “I’m good with laundry, if you look after car maintenance”

And so on and so forth… It’s hardly a romantic approach, but I can go on and say how I think romance is dead anyways. I am of course focusing on the practical approach to things. Us independent women may gag at Hollywood romance movies and though we don’t “need” someone who can argue that having someone you look forward to coming home to is a great feeling.

All I know is that for me, moving halfway across the world has softened up my views on being the strong independent female, and yes, I CAN do it alone, but god, it would be so much better to have someone around who in addition to being a great companion can install a dimmer switch.

Heaven is a place on earth...

2011-10-09T06:43:00.000-07:00

Last month, one of my best girl friends, J, was in Italy for trade shows. Since she was there, we decided to meet up and do a mini vacation together. Since hearing about it ten years ago, Cinque Terre has been a dream destination of mine. Surprisingly, Cinque Terre is "relatively" untouched. It's a UN heritage protected zone and since the write wrote about Cinque Terre a few years ago, it has gotten a lot more popular, though it still has kept it's charm. In Cinque Terre there's not a single chain restaurant or hotel. All of them appear to be small locally owned places. I had high expectations of Cinque Terre and I'm happy to report, it lived up to them.

J and I are unconvential tourists, so of course, we did it unconventionally. Typically, most people start at the first town from La Spezia: Riomaggiore and make their way to Monterosso. But the distances are so short between the towns that by train it takes no more than 20 minutes from Monterosso to Riomaggiore and you can even hike in between the towns. Though hiking between the towns sounds cute and charming (and mostly is) unless you want to feel like a donkey, opt for leaving your luggage at a home base, between the heat, steepness of some of the terrain and incredible views, lugging luggage is going to be the last thing on your mind.

For the first two nights, we stayed just outside the five lands up in the hills above Framura. We stayed at a family run small b&b above the hills of Framura.

Each of the towns has their own charm. For instance, Mannarola is best for beaching. Most of the town is along the ocean and for less than 10 euros, you can rent a chair and umbrella and spend a day on the medditeranean.

Vernazza, is the most commercial of the town and probably the easiest accesible. You can walk from the train station to the harbour in no time and pass thru all the shops (Vernazza has the best shopping)

We didn't make it to the middle town: Corniglia, for a number of reasons. We ran out of time and it was the hardest to access. The trail between Manarola and Corniglia (the easiest way to get to Corniglia) was washed out and we didn't want to spend the effort to find another way to get there!

Manarola had the biggest harbour, but the town felt a bit disjointed. The town was divided into upper and lower parts but we enjoyed some good eats along the lower parts near the harbour where there were some amazing sunsets!

For 3 nights, we rented an apartment in Riomaggiore. It was high on the hills above town (read- lots of stairs up) had 2 balconies and a tremendous view of the medditeranean.

On our last night in Riomaggiore, we experienced quite possibly one of the more random sights... it was an end of season street party in front of the train station and the town put on a foam party. Having never been to a rave before, this was a new experience for me. So when I was all the sub 10 year olds playing in the foam, I was the first adult to join in. Many other adults, happily followed me and there we were. In the middle of one of the most beautiful places on earth, throwing foam (and having foam thrown at us) by 8 years olds.

It was a sad place to leave and a month later, J and I still envy the feelings of peace and beauty we had!

tips:

DO
* Book your hotels ahead. There aren't many of them and they book quickly.
* Have dinner at Pie de Ma in Riomaggiore. Every night there is a chef's menu and the sunsets from the cliff are amazing.
* Hike the trails. The most strenuous one is from Monterosso to Vernazza (though if you do it from Vernazza you avoid crazy narrow steep stairs that will make you feel like a donkey)

DON'T
* Don't go in July and August unless you find great comfort in crowds. One day in Riomaggiore, a cruise ship day tour was in town and I got a feel for what it was like and all I can say is: DON'T DO IT!
* As charming as it sounds, leave the luggage behind. With such easy access, stay at one or two spots and travel between them.

The Vernazza Harbour

Monterroso al Mare from the water

Doing the hike from Vernazza to Monterosso. The hiking boots are

because of this sign! We wanted to be ironic and hike in dresses. But we're still practical, so we had proper footwear!

The view of Vernazza on the hike to Monterosso

Along the hike was this cute old man playing tunes on his sax

The view of Monterosso halfway thru the hike

After our hike, some much needed beach time

The hills above Monterosso

the foam party in Riomaggiore

Just too phallic for words...

then the adults joined in.

One of the prettier and easier hikes. From Riomaggiore to Manarolo on the Via Del Amore (way of love)

A gorgeous stop on the hike for a capuccino or gelato

On The Via Del Amore, couples come to "seal" their love. All of those things hanging on the rail are locks. Couple come to seal their love with locks. The cynic in me wonders if they come back and cut the locks off if the love doesn't work out...

It's true that things happen in 3's!

2011-09-30T01:11:00.000-07:00

Things have been quiet in the writing world. NOT because I haven't had anything to write about! There's been a ton going on! From an amazing trip to Cinque Terre, a spontaneous girls weekend to the Bodensee to swinging on trees and ropes in the forest. But logistics have stopped me from doing this as my computer died a couple of weeks ago. It started out like a normal day, but then my computer would turn itself off. Then, I would turn it back on. And it would turn itself back off. This went on for a day, and the next day, she decided not to come back on at all. And then I did what all modern women do when their computer dies: I panicked. My pictures! my videos! And so I set on a search of how to recover my data. I almost resigned myself to it being a lost cause and then, like a needle in a haystack, I found a great shop with customer service (I say needle in a haystack, because Germany is not exactly known for it's outstanding customer service!)

I asked helpful guy if they fixed computers (they didn't) and when I explained myself (in English, because charades weren't going to happen) he explained to me that there is this device that you can help with this. Long story short, you extract hard drive from your computer, connect it to this device, connect it to a power source and then to a usb to your new computer and voila, data can be gotten. I was amazed that it was that simple and cost only 20 euro and even more amazed that he volunteered this info! Poor guy didn't know what hit him when I thanked him about 30 times in a row!!! It was all I could do to hold myself back and not hug him!

It wasn't exactly in my budget to buy a new computer, mostly because galavanting thru Europe on weekends isn't the easiest on the wallet, but because this is my 3rd electronic device in as many weeks to bite the bullet. First, was my cappucino machine (aka morning saviour), then my camera in Italy and now my laptop. It's ironic that they all died within 3 weeks of each other, but even more so since they were all gifts from my ex husband, so it's appropriate that they went down in flames in such a short time much like my marriage to him!

Finding solace in Dr.Seuss

2011-09-01T02:18:00.000-07:00

To my knowledge, I have never read any Dr. Seuss books as a kid. You see, I grew up in the French part of Canada and spent all of my primary school years in French school. To be fair, Dr. Seuss was probably available in French, I just never knew about it. Then again, I was a pretty nerdy kid. When I was old enough to read on my own, I read books about astronomy and the history of math. I do remember lots of Richard Scarry books though.

Even know I may not have read any Dr. Seuss books, I have crossed paths with excerpts from them. After all, you’d have had to live under a rock to have not heard of him growing up in North America. I do remember hearing about “Oh, the places you’ll go” but honestly had no idea what it was about. Then the other day, I looked it up. And it’s genius! Is this mandatory reading for kids? If not, it should be! How one can capture the story of the ups and downs of life in such a light spirit (let alone colorful words and rhyming) is absolute.bloody.genius.

I get that it’s main purpose was to entertain and inspire children, but is it wrong for me, at the ripe old age of 38, having never read Dr. Seuss to now find inspiration in it?

On “you can do anything”

You have brains in your head.
You have feet in your shoes.
You can steer yourself any direction you choose.

You’re on your own. And you know what you know. And YOU are the guy who’ll decide where to go.

You won’t lag behind, because you’ll have the speed. You’ll pass the whole gang and you’ll soon take the lead. Wherever you fly, you’ll be best of the best. Wherever you go, you will top all the rest.

On doubt

You’ll look up and down streets. Look’em over with care. About some you will say, “I don’t choose to go there.” With your head full of brains and your shoes full of feet, you’re too smart to go down a not-so-good street.

And you may not find any you’ll want to go down. In that case, of course, you’ll head straight out of town. It’s opener there in the wide open air.

You will come to a place where the streets are not marked. Some windows are lighted. But mostly they’re darked. A place you could sprain both your elbow and chin! Do you dare to stay out? Do you dare to go in? How much can you lose? How much can you win?

And if you go in, should you turn left or right…or right-and-three-quarters? Or, maybe, not quite? Or go around back and sneak in from behind? Simple it’s not, I’m afraid you will find, for a mind-maker-upper to make up his mind.

On life’s disapointments

I’m sorry to say so but, sadly, it’s true that Bang-ups and Hang-ups can happen to you.

You can get all hung up in a prickle-ly perch. And your gang will fly on. You’ll be left in a Lurch.

You’ll come down from the Lurch with an unpleasant bump. And the chances are, then, that you’ll be in a Slump.

And when you’re in a Slump, you’re not in for much fun. Un-slumping yourself is not easily done.

You’ll get mixed up, of course, as you already know. You’ll get mixed up with many strange birds as you go. So be sure when you step. Step with care and great tact and remember that Life’s a Great Balancing Act. Just never forget to be dexterous and deft. And never mix up your right foot with your left.

On loneliness

Except when they don’t. Because, sometimes, they won’t.

I’m afraid that some times you’ll play lonely games too. Games you can’t win ‘cause you’ll play against you.

All Alone!

Whether you like it or not, Alone will be something you’ll be quite a lot.

And when you’re alone, there’s a very good chance you’ll meet things that scare you right out of your pants. There are some, down the road between hither and yon, that can scare you so much you won’t want to go on.

But on you will go though the weather be foul. On you will go though your enemies prowl. On you will go though the Hakken-Kraks howl. Onward up many a frightening creek, though your arms may get sore and your sneakers may leak. On and on you will hike. And I know you’ll hike far and face up to your problems whatever they are.

Dr Seuss, I may have never come across the path of your literary genius until now, but thank you. Thank you for writing such an inspiring and realistic tale of life. Life is about ups and downs. And we always make it thru anything, with a little humour.

Your mountain is waiting.

So…get on your way!

How to recognize your future ex husband...

2011-08-27T07:35:00.000-07:00

And in most random book titles.... I came across an article while surfing the internet last week talking about "how to recognize your future ex-husband" Of course it had me piqued for a number of reasons, most obviously now that I'm divorced and have tried my hand at dating, I realize I still have some fears to deal with.

You see, the man I married was pretty much the definition of narcissist. In a sentence "It is difficult to recognize a narcissist because he (or she) spends all of his time acting, protecting his ego by presenting to the world a mask a false image of himself. "

After 2 years, I feel great about myself and wouldn't look back. But for the first year, I pretty much beat myself up everyday with things like "I should have known better" and though I'm much more gentle on myself and as cliche as it is, I still fear I won't be able to recognize the signs if faced with a similar situation.

This is where the book comes in. The article I read basically sums it up to the things you rationalize while dating. Of course it seems obvious, but how many of us are blinded in the moment? We'll see what else the book goes into and if it has any gems of info, but at the very least, it'll make great coffee table fodder when my girlfriends come over!

Is there a middle ground?

2011-08-27T07:09:00.000-07:00

One of the things I've been making myself try to do since moving here is to force myself to go out and socialize. By anyone's definition, I'm outgoing but oxymoronically, but I'm really, really awkward and going out and talking to new people. If there's already a connection thru friends of friends, it's easier for me cause we have a starting point. But to blankly go out and socialize? I'd rather eat eggplant.

But in order to go out and expand my social circle, I force myself out to various English Stammtisch's (where fellow ex pats get together and mingle) I've been so overcome approaching an entire group of people that I don't know that I've actually gone to them and then walked away out of fear! It brings me back to being the new girl in school constantly as a kid and trying to make new friends. I guess there's some things we'll never get over!

One of the things I'm most uncomfortable with is small talk. The whole "where are you from? what do you do? nice weather we're having" I'd rather people share their stories, debates, whatever. So I should have known better when I was recently complaining to friends that one of the things I disliked about the stammtisch's and meeting new people was the small talk. I should have known Murphy was going to bite me in the ass. He's bitten me in the ass a number of times, like when I told an ex boyfriend that if India was the last place on earth, I didn't want to go. Well, 5 trips for me to India later, ex boyfriend hasn't gone!

It started out innocently enough. My friend A (who is hyper social and making me work thru this fear of meeting strangers) approached a table and started talking to them. Since she broke the ice, I felt more comfortable joining in. Then I got to talking to an Israeli fellow, and if he knew what small talk was, he wasn't letting on. I had mentioned I'd gone to Israel before so thought that would be a good common ground. Well, it turns out he was a missile designer and for two hours he gave me his take about peace (or lack thereof) in the middle east. Don't get me wrong, certainly I'm not opposed to political conversations, but this was getting heavy. Ever try to discuss the Israel/Palestine crisis with an Israeli missile designer?

Why is it that small talk, like dating, there doesn't seem to be any middle ground?

Germany, throw a girl a bone.

2011-08-18T03:18:00.000-07:00

Well, Deutschland. You and I have been intimate now for 7 months. Ours has not been an easy relationship. I met you with an open mind and had no preconceptions of how you would be to live with. Sometimes, I think you’re just playing tricks on me. Like the time I was locked in the dark bathroom stall at work facing my one and only fear of claustrophobia or the one where I couldn’t figure out how to make my German car go in reverse, open the gastank or the trunk. I know that you have an odd sense of humor. What else can explain those two dots over your vowels that make words unpronounceable? Other times, I think you’ve just been cruel to me. I mean really? A plumbing issue that’s lasted over 3 months in a language I don’t understand. I’m starting to be convinced that I must have seriously offended German plumbers in a former life and I’m paying for it in this life.

As a foreigner, I’ve accepted your bizarre rules. Like the fact that I can’t wash my car or grocery shop on Sundays but I CAN pick berries, visit prostitutes and gamble. I do struggle with the fact that a lot of your rules are unwritten and that I’m somehow meant to just “know” these things.

I can’t help but feel like the crazy one in the room since all your fellow countrymen all seem to ask me “Why are you here?” when they find out I’m from Canada and for the first time, I’m starting to wonder myself.

Germany, I am accepting of your faults and hope you will be of mine, but I’m starting to ask myself, “if you didn’t want me here, why did you pick me to move here”. I know I got a tattoo a few years ago to reinforce my belief of “What doesn’t kill me, makes me stronger” but do you really need to test out my theory every day of the year?

I do thank you for giving me great friends, because without them, I would have melted down (and I also would have less of a liver) You see, they’ve known you a lot longer than me and so they’ve learned how to live with you and provide me with meaningful advice.

But how about we let bygones be bygones and we put the past behind. I still have high hopes for you Deutschland and I still believe in you. But I’d really, really, REALLY like it if we could make things just a tad easier. I don’t mean lay out the red carpet for me or anything, but I’d sure love it if everyday of my life you didn’t test my evergrowing patience and make things just a little bit smoother. So can we agree to put our differences aside and maybe you can let me co-exist quietly and a little bit more hassle free alongside you? Deal?

German efficiency: 0 Ongoing frustration: 1

2011-08-15T11:43:00.000-07:00

I should have known it was too good to be true. Though I've only lived in Germany 7 months, I've figured out that nothing is as simple as it seems. In North America, we hear constantly how Germany is one of the last bastions of efficiency. And I still say, lies! lies! and lies!

It's been 3 months since the pipe burst inside my bathroom wall and the plumbers came to make a one meter tall by half a meter wide hole in my bathroom. When that happened, the plumber explained to me (in German and charades) what would need to happen. It involved about 5 different workers coming and doing their part and everyone thought it would be finished within 2 weeks. Flash foward 3 months: they had to take the kitchen out for 3 weeks, dry the walls for 2 weeks and then there was no activity for about a month. A month after the walls were dry, some clown came by to look at the wall and make an estimate. Nothing again for 3 weeks. 3 weeks later, the same clown came back to look at the hole and make an estimate. Then nothing. Then, FINALLY after me flipping out on my landlord (who said to me and I quote... "if you're sick of the hole drape a towel over it!") and any worker that would come by, someone made an appointment to come back for 2 days and fix this once and for all.

The day came today. I was skeptical, but excited. Finally, Helmutt (after 3 months I figured I should name it!) got shut. I was excited. Even though the workers showed up at 7am the day after I got back from Asia and jetlagged, I sucked it up. After 6 hours of the workers being here, they told me the job couldn't be finished because one of the clowns ordered the wrong tiles! Of course he did. Why would I expect this to be fixed within the year? I should have known better...

The (un)glamorous life of business travel

2011-08-07T01:25:00.001-07:00

I'm supposed to be in shanghai right now, but instead, I'm stuck in Ho chi Minh city. I heard about typhoon mufia so checked the reports before bed and all looked well. My flight was at the ungodly hour of 730, which meant I had to get up at 4:30am. I checked the airline and airport website before leaving the hotel and everything still looked to be on track for departure.

I was a little apprehensive since mufia was meant to be the biggest typhoon in HISTORY! But before I went to bed last night, they said it had calmed down and the brunt of it was going to miss shanghai.

I've never been afraid of flying, I credit it to my first experience on a plane: I was 6 years old and my grandmother had taken me to (then) Yugoslavia for a month. On the way home, a piece of satellite cracked or broke the cockpit windshield and the plane started decompressing and the emergency masks came down. I still remember my grandmother putting the mask on me and everyone crying and praying on the plane. We made an emergency landing in London and I remember feeling like my world had ended because on the way off the plane, my favorite doll blew away (6 year olds and their priorities you know )

Since then I've been lucky, my flight experiences have been less dramatic. The closest I've come in all these years and dozens of flights was being in a propeller plane thru a thunderstorm in south India. I believe it was also the first and last time I prayed!

I love that I get to travel for work and still pinch myself that it's been a perk for the last 8 years. But to say work travel is glamourous, is a big myth (almost in the same proportions of saying Germany is efficient!) crowded airports, swine flu outbreaks where laser thermometers are randomly pointed at your forehead, hotels that take hours to figure out light switches and seeing your life flash before your eyes on an Indian road one too many times are just part of the fun and part of the job.

Even through missed flights, crazy traffic, stressful meetings and 150% humidity, I still love travelling for work and love that it's a perk. But glamourous, it is not!

Why your clothes about to get a whole lot more expensive

2011-08-05T08:22:00.001-07:00

Clothing has been made in china since the late 70's or so. However, until 10 years ago there was quota on all clothing being made and shipped to any country that was part of the WTO. Quota was set by each country that imported clothing from china. Each factory wanting to produce clothing for the 1st world would request quota and quota became a commodity. Manufacturers would sell their extra quota or buy leftover quota from their competitors. As a result quota was operated on the basic supply and demand system of economics. When I started in the garment business back in 1999, us quota for cotton woven pants (the most valued commodity) was priced in the neighborhood of us $3.00 per pant. If you consider that the total wholesale cost of an "average" pair of pants leaving the factory was in the $10 range, quota played a big part of the total garment cost.

Then, in 2001, the WTO deemed quota unfair and the floodgates opened. Clothing manufacturing in china took off. Like a bullet train. People couldn't build factories fast enough and retailers couldn't place orders fast enough. In the past 10 years china has become the world's closet.

But in the past 10 years, a funny thing happened. Factory owners were getting rich, workers, though paid little, were able to send money home to their families and give their children an education. In that time, workers started realizing that they could walk across the street and make iPods for more money. So to entice new workers, factories had to keep increasing wages. Then the cost of every day goods like food started to get more expensive and workers started striking to make more money and factories had to give in or lose their workforce and now after ten years of this and the cost of labour is going up. And up. In the past year alone, wages for the average Chinese clothing worker have gone up about 30%.

And now that we have all become reliant on cheap disposable clothing, these increases have become hard to swallow. They have been great for China and arguably for the Chinese worker (though they make what we consider a pittance, workers are still able to send home a third of their wages home to their family in often rural areas)

As the labour costs of China have gone up, retailers have begun looking elsewhere: Thailand, Indonesia and Vietnam. So in the past 5 years clothing manufacturing in these countries has also taken off. The wages in these countries are still lower than china's, but because growth has been faster in these countries, wages have had to rise faster. From Vietnam (where I'm travelling for work right now) they're experiencing double digit inflation and the government has had to raise the unemployment rate 3 months ahead of schedule.

Clothing, unlike most other things for the past 15 years has been coming down in price because of cheap labour, but now that the clothing industry is slowly running out of "cheap" labour our days of disposable clothing may not be far behind.

Some in the industry think that with all these price increases, it just may come full circle. Now that the manufacturing countries are gaining a middle class, they'll change into consumers and the consumer countries will turn back into the manufacturing companies. That may be a bit drastic (for now) considering the average textile worker in china makes just over $100 us/month, but food for thought....

Little mangosteen, oh how much I love thee.

2011-08-03T07:29:00.000-07:00

The first time I met a mangosteen was in Thailand. I was fascinated by this oddly shaped little thing with a cute top. When it was cut open for me, I was a bit freaked out by this thing that looked liked a baseball shaped eggplant but looked like a garlic bulb on the inside and I was very reluctant to try it (as much as I love food, I get freaked out, sweaty and clammy when forced to try new foods. It was honestly less scary to jump out of a plane then me having to try new foods) I was hesitant but it was a business lunch and I wasn't going to walk into another opportunity to humilate myself so I did. And it was amazing! It may look like a bulb of garlic but it tasted like deliciousness. It sort of had the texture of a lychee but was a thousand times more delicious.

Because the mangosteen is quite elusive (due to the fact it's not sprayed, it has really strict import rules into the western world) of course I wanted it more. Kinda like the forbidden fruit. Literally. So whenever I'm in Asia, I always have one eye on the open street markets out for these mangosteens. And when found, I've been known to buy an obscene quantity and gorge on them for dinner. What? they're high in antioxidants and good for me!!!

So imagine my surprise when they showed up at my business lunch today. It was like I won the lottery! My eyes lit up and I could see or hear nothing else. focus. on. the. mangosteen. I tried really hard to hold back and not eat them all (I did a good job, but I think everyone was kind of afraid to get in between me and the mangosteen)

So little mangosteen, I love you. You're quite possibly the best fruit I've ever tasted.

Why did the foreigner cross the road?

2011-08-01T05:29:00.000-07:00

I've been temporarily let out of Germany and I'm in Asia for two weeks on business: One week Ho Chi Min City and one week Shanghai. I'm considering it a bit of a luxury to only have to deal with a 6 hour time change (rather than the usual 16 hours from North America) and to only have to be in 2 cities in 2 weeks. My previous work trips have been known to include 4 countries in 9 days.

A collegue gave me a strict set of instructions last year before my first visit: cross at the zebra stripes, walk slowly and at a consistent pace and look straight ahead. Don't look left or right and whatever you do, don't flinch. When he gave me those instructions, I laughed. After all, I grew up in Montreal and consider myself a professional j-walker. I've been to India 5 times and saw the craziness that is traffic (though you couldn't be a pedestrian in India due to the lack of sidewalks and sharing the space with cows!) Yeah right I thought. Surely, it's nothing. Man, was I wrong.

Of all the crazy things I've done in my life, and there have been a lot, from jumping out of a plane, white water rafting class IV rapids in costa rica, paragliding off a mountain and getting a tatoo in Argentina, none have been as scary as crossing the street in Vietnam. No, really.

I stick to the rule of crossing only at zebra stripes or traffic lights. And even then, it's really, really hard not to flinch. To have a car or motorcycle barelling ahead of you and to just keep going not knowing how agile they are, well, it's nerve racking. The motorcyclists are use to this and have it down to an art. I've had motorcycles come within 2 inches of me, literally! The most important rule to follow is to walk at a consistent pace. This way, motorists can gauge your speed and you won't mess up their system. Flinch, and your toes (or worse) will get hit.

I've scoured youtube for the best example of what it's really like. Some of the videos that people have posted aren't nearly as bad as what it's REALLY like. But the video above is a pretty accurate example of what it's really like. I've never been somewhere where I really had to analyze if I REALLY wanted to cross the street!

Half a year in

2011-07-24T11:43:00.000-07:00

6 months ago today, I got on a plane at yvr and left friends, family, a comfortable job and a country I knew behind for a blind leap of faith. Unlike my last major move, this one wasn't for love, but for a job. I'm long over the jet lag, but it's still goint to take a long time to get over the culture shock!

These past 6 months have been a ride. In a lot of ways, it's like relearning most of what you know. I'll never forget 5 months ago, when I got my new (to me) car and I couldn't figure out how to put the thing in reverse. Or how to open the trunk. Or how to open the gas tank. sigh.

And then the panic that I would feel when I would go into stores and they'd say something to me. Most of the time it was something along the lines of "Can I help you" but if they didn't say it in the only way that I understood, I was clueless. Well, after 6 months, my palms have stopped sweating when people talk to me. I still don't fully understand what they say, but the panic has subsided.

In these 6 months, I've also had to deal with a major plumbing issue (YES, the hole is still there- it celebrated it's two month anniversary last week), working in a mostly German environment (though we work in English, all my collegues are German and unintentionally forget to switch to English thereby keeping me out of the loop on some subjects) and seemlingly constant minor health issues (it seems like I'm allergic to every plant/tree/bush Germany can grow)

But through all of this, I have made an amazing circle of friends in such a short time and I'm so grateful. For without them, there would be a whole lot more tears, empty wine bottles and charades.

For this journey at least, failure is not an option.

When life hands you wasserschaden, head to Tuscany!

2011-06-16T04:09:00.000-07:00

It all started with the dining room chairs. I had ordered them 2 months prior and was eagerly awaiting their arrival. It was the LAST thing I needed to complete my place! After nearly 6 months of transitioning (getting rid of old stuff, moving here, setting up, getting new stuff) the dining room chairs were the last step.

I dragged A with me to the store and we picked them up and carried them up to my place. We opened up the box and my face fell! Instead of the modern white moulded chairs with chrome legs and faux leather built in seat cushion it was this black leather and black/white heathered monstrosity.

I enlisted A’s German boyfriend to help. The next day he got on the phone to them and explained the situation. Long story short, yes, they gave me the wrong ones and I had paid in full for them, but they don’t know when the right ones are coming. And so they sit, in boxes in my hallway.

Since then, my place has been in chaos. Or, as the Germans call it “ein katastrof” the damage from the broken pipe is worse than they thought and so after a handful of workers have come and inspected the situation, I have walls ripped up, no stove or oven, pipes and dryers all set up in my house. When I came home the other day, I just stood in my apartment in shock. How? Why? Really??? I was so happy to be settled in and now I was living in a construction zone! After having a little cry (after dealing with relocating, I thought I was done the stressful stuff) I convinced myself it wasn’t the end of the world. Emailed my landlord and started negotiating for compensation (German tenancy laws are great that way)

And then, from nowhere, a silver lining appeared…

A girlfriend emailed me looking for a road trip partner to Tuscany. She had a free place to stay but no one to go with. Did I want to join? UMMMMM… YEAH! So instead of dealing with fans, landlords, moisture, mould, no stove (always a great diet plan- no stove = eating salads every night) I’m leaving it all behind for 5 nights in Tuscany. Ahhhhhhh…..

The start of beerfestival season

2011-06-10T02:33:00.000-07:00

As almost anyone knows, Germans love their beer. And so do Canadians. So it's not without irony that this Canadian, living in Bavaria does not drink beer. It's not that I don't drink alcohol, I socially engage in wine and other cocktails, but beer turns my stomach. literally. The smell, the carbonation, everything about it. But I love a good party more than I dislike beer and so with that, I'm going to my very first beer festival.

From now until the end of September, there are literally hundreds of beer festivals. Every town and every neighborhood have their own little (or big beer fests) The biggest (and most touristy) being Oktoberfest in Munich.

My first foray into beer festing, will be the Erlanger Bergkirchweih. My friends have given me an idea of what to expect and given the descriptions, I'll want to stay sober for it. The Erlanger Bergkirchweih is one of the biggest beerfests. I've been told that it's basically Oktoberfest without the tourists. It seems like it's the kitschy-ist of the kitsch without irony.

To get into the spirit of things, my girlfriends and I have decided to get proper beer fest "outfits". So earlier this week, we went shopping. Specifically drindl and lederhosen shopping. The best part about this is that here, these are not "costumes" but are actual outfits still worn regularly at such beer fests. So, we bought our outfits at a regular department store and man, it did NOT let us down. I did have my heart set on a drindl, but sadly my body shape was not meant to be dirdnl-ed. It seems that I'm heavily lacking in the top department to make a dirdl proud. And so, I settled for a kitschy pair of brown lederhosen complete with suspenders and checkered shirt. The thought of wearing leather pants in June seems daunting, but thankfully the weather is calling for cooler temps.

I can't wait to get dressed up in my leather outfit, eat gigantic pretzels, surrounded by oompa bands, cheesy 70's band tributes, amazing people watching and drunken Germans. It's sure to be a highlight of the summer. I just hope that I give my lederhosen a lot more coolness than this guy!

Der, Die, Das oh how I hate you.

2011-06-05T10:26:00.000-07:00

Well, it was 4 months last week since I've been in Germany. I've been making a "bit" of progress on the language front. I've had a couple more German classes and we're now on the highly dreaded "der, die, das". Being able to speak French, I get that some languages have a (non-sensical) masculine and feminine distinguishment of nouns. In french, the garbage is feminine and the book is masculine. It makes no sense. But since I learned it and was schooled in it as a kid, the distinction becomes second nature. But now in my (ahem) late 30's, and picking up a 4th language, it's a lot harder. Add to the fact that German has the added "bonus" of a "neutral" article. Good lord. And of course, there is no rhyme or reason to why things have der, die or das.

So far, my German has been on a need to know basis. If I need to know something, I look it up and practice it before I have to say it. This works particularly well in stores where the request is simple and I won't be left staring blankly after their response. I've been particularly sucessful with "Haben Sie?" (Do you have...) I've learned a lot of words this way; like rauchmelder (smoke alarm), reiningungsprodukte (cleaning products and a ridiculous mouthful) and knochen (bones- what? I have a dog!)

I'm getting to a point though where I have a repertoire of a few (very few) sentences. Because they're the only ones I know, I say them all the time and so am starting to be "believable". The issue with this though is that people assume since you know these words, you must know more and so they babble on and on at full machine gun speed. And I'm left staring blankly. I go with the hope I can recognize a word, body language, hand signal, ANYTHING that will make me understand what they say. My usual response is "I'm sorry, I only speak a little German" and theirs is usually "ahhh but you speak so good". Yeah. When you say the same 10 sentences over and over again, they start to roll off the tongue.

Since my German is so basic, I only know the present tense for everything. It's interesting really. It's like I have no past or no future. only now. I can only (sort of) tell you what I'm doing. Not what I've done or will be doing. In principle, it's not a bad place to be, but I can't help but feel like a 3 year old trapped in a late 30's body.

Plumbing Drama

2011-05-30T08:53:00.000-07:00

Last week, randomly, 2 men showed up at my house wanting to have a look around because there was a puddle of water in the garage and they were trying to find the source of it. As it turns out, the source of it was behind my bathroom wall.

My first reaction was panic. From what I know of German tenancy laws, they're strange and I was half expecting to pay for the repairs (any damage deemed your fault, from regular wear and tear etc.... needs to be paid from the tenant) After some research and assurances from friends, I'm not responsible and don't have to pay for the leak.

They came back again the other day to do more investigating. It turns out the damage is worse than they thought and have to break apart 3 walls, put in a new toilet and retile. That's the short story. The real story took about 3 hours, a lot of charades and an iphone app.

You see, so far, I only have about 4 classes worth of German and I talk the equivalent (and sound) like a 4 year old child. Sure, I can say "Hi, How are you?" "My name is Katherine, I have a dog, I live in Nuremberg" "My cat is sitting in the drawer" (don't ask- I don't even have a cat!) as well as my phone number and very few other basics. However, plumbing vocabulary is NOT within my repertoire of basic German. And English was not in the plumbers repertoire. And so, we resorted to charades and an iphone app. The charades were a given, but the iphone app was genius. When, after lots of charading, I still wasn't getting what they were saying. Plumber #1 spoke some German into his iphone and his phone said back to me "the experts are coming on Monday". It was genius. I kinda feel like it's cruel and unusual punishment to have to tackle plumbing German only 4 months in, but whaddya do?

The nice thing about the toilets in Germany is that all of the plumbing is built into the wall, so it looks nice and clean. The bad thing about toilets in Germany is that they're built into the wall so when you have a leak the whole wall needs to come apart (witness exhibit a in the picture above) to make matters more interesting, my walls are entirely tiled so how they're going to make it look normal again with matching tiles is beyond me. And my German doesn't extend to asking. All I know is that my bathroom will be a disaster for 10 days and after that, things are supposed to return to normal. I think. That's what the iphone app claimed anyhow!

Pleasantville

2011-05-20T02:10:00.000-07:00

Recently, some friends asked me how I was liking Germany so far and what I thought were the good (and not so good things) about my past 4 months in Germany. There are definitely lots of great things (cost of living, autobahn driving, work/life balance etc…) and some extremely challenging things (traffic, the language, the atrocity that is my pollen allergies, cost of health care etc…) but the best way to FULLY describe my German experience so far is to say it’s like the movie Pleasantville.

You see, living in Germany is almost like a throwback to the 1950’s but with some current day elements. For instance, the crime rate is extremely low and trust level extremely high. My neighbors leave their bikes unlocked, entire cases of beer in the garage next to their car and the doctor sends me a bill every few months knowing that it will eventually be paid. In the world of North America, this would be unheard of: the bikes and beer would be stolen and the doctor won’t look at you until you prove your medical coverage.

Also, the fact that this country is still fairly religious and church bells go off several times a day and of course the nothing open Sundays. I remember growing up as a kid in Montreal hearing some church bells, but I also remember them being banned because they were too bothersome.

People still call each other “frau” and “herr” in everyday conversation (the equivalent of Mr and Mrs) to be fair, this tradition seems to be mainly prevalent in the older crowd.

Despite all this, it’s still as modern a culture as everyone else and every ex pat I know has adapted to living in Pleasantville Germany quite well. People swear that they love that the shops aren’t open on Sundays (I still grocery shop on Saturdays looking like I’m preparing for a nuclear war knowing I can’t get anything the next day) In a way, it’s refreshing to have all of the modernities of life, without any of the headaches like worrying about crime rates and homelessness but I can’t help that it also feels a smidge naïve. I’m sure this isn’t the same for all cities in Germany, but that’s what Nurnberg feels like. It’s like a trip back in time… to a kinder, gentler and less hectic place. But it definitely takes some getting used to!

Things my mother taught me

2011-05-10T02:32:00.000-07:00

I was thinking back, and I “think” this is the first mother’s day I was away from my mom. My mom and I are really close and I missed her this mother’s day. But instead of focusing on the missing her part, I looked back at some of the things she taught me. My mom was a bit unconventional to say the least, but now that in my late 30’s and can envision motherhood, I really admire that. Here are just few of the (mostly) unconventional things she taught me…
- In a pinch, white toothpaste makes a great hole filler in walls (we moved a lot!)

- Table manners and table etiquette are important. I used to hate that she used to set out full cloth napkins and wine glasses for my juice when I was a kid, but appreciate it now!

- Embrace your dreams, whatever they may be. As a teen, I used to think my mom’s “oh that’s nice honey, as long as that makes you happy” attitude to my career choices was nonchalance. I used to joke that it didn’t matter if I told her I’d become a hooker or doctor, she’d have the same response. I now know she really meant “follow your dreams”

- If you have fear, don’t let it show. My mom and I lived alone for a long time and between the 2 of us, we became really resourceful and self-reliant. I was always amazed that my mom could rewire the vacuum or hang a ceiling lamp. If it blew up, she’d turn off the fuse and start again til she got it right. When I was a teen and we caught a robber in our house, I was afraid to sleep in my bed the rest of the time we lived in that place. If she was afraid, she never showed it.

- Mayonnaise makes a great hair conditioner for dry hair. Egg whites and honey a great face mask in a hurry.

- Map reading is over rated. We would drive from Ontario to Florida every year. It was a 24 hour drive thru most of the Eastern US. Damned if my mom could read a map. Every time we made a stop, we managed to make a detour thru pretty much every ghetto from Detroit to Jacksonville. Somehow we made our way again and got to our destination every time though.

There are countless things that have been ingrained into who I am, but I'm thankful for all the life lessons that have been, are and will continue to be. I love you mom and I miss you!

My part time job

2011-05-05T03:49:00.000-07:00

Living in Germany has it’s challenges, but after over 3 months, I’m starting to get into the groove of things. For instance, I don’t break out into a cold sweat when someone starts talking to me in German (though, I’ve still only had 3 lessons because my German teacher has been rediscovering her Brazilian roots for the past month). Though the length and amount of traffic lights here still (and will always) drive me insane, I’m learning to accept it. And the biggest thing? I can drive a few places without my gps!

However, one thing that consumes a lot of my time, is dealing with my garbage. I don’t mean the theoretical “emotional garbage”, I mean the actual waste that I generate. Thankfully, I live alone, so I don’t generate a terrible amount of garbage, but the time it takes me to deal with my garbage is almost worthy of a part time job.

It’s not that I’m not used to recycling. In Canada, we’ve had this concept for a while and it was pretty easy: blue bag = everything recyclable, cans, bottles, paper, etc… garbage= everything else. Straightforward right?

In the "let's make things as complicated as we possibly can" world that is Germany, dealing with my garbage involves this:

- collecting bio waste (ie compost)
- regular garbage
- glass
- plastics
- paper
Pretty normal right? What’s not normal is that all of these things have to be collected separately and brought to different places. For instance, regular garbage & bio waste goes in the common bin downstairs. Glass has to be taken to bins down the street and sorted into brown, clear and green. Plastics have to be collected and put out in a common place (at the neighbors building) twice a week. Oh, and speaking of plastics, you have to put them into city issued yellow bags. When the bags run out, you can’t just go and buy more, you have to go to a special city run place (which is of course only open during work hours) and buy more. Paper gets it’s own bin (I’m lucky, also downstairs) It’s exhausting to figure out. I feel like I’m constantly taking out garbage! And to make matters worse, I just found out Germany is introducing a 6th dynamic: an orange bin. This bin is meant for “valuable recyclables” like old frying pans or broken toys. Great, this is now going to add a dimension of mystery to my garbage collection, what’s going to be considered a valuable? All I have to say is thank god I live alone, this would turn into a full time job if you had a family!

Spargel, Spargel everywhere

2011-05-02T10:18:00.000-07:00

When I was interviewing for the job I now have, I did some research on Nurnberg and if it was a city I thought I could live in. Surprisingly, according to wikipedia, the stats are pretty comparable to Vancouver. Population: Nurnberg 503,000 Vancouver 578,000. So I thought it wouldn't be too much like living in a "small town". And for the most part, it's not. There's a good selection of international restaurants (including more thai restaurants per capita in the Western world!), a few decent bars and I can pretty much get a hold of anything I need.

However, the proximity to the "country side" here is as close as the wilderness was to Vancouver. The city is surrounded by farm fields. My office faces endless fields of canola (or rapeseed as it's called here, but I find canola a much better word) My drive to work each day is like driving thru a salad. Literally. There's the red lettuce field, the green lettuce field, the rucola field, the green onion field (the most random, cause it actually smells like green onions when you drive by) and the garlic field. Oh, and the endless spargel fields.

Spargel is white asparagus. A delicacy in North America, but literally everywhere here that it starts to turn your stomach. My friends had warned me that when it was spargel season you'd know, because it'd be EVERYWHERE. And let me tell you, they weren't exagerating! On my way to work, there's at least a dozen signs advertising "frisher spargel". Every meal at the cafeteria has a spargel component and hell, even my local big box hardware/home reno store store sells it (they also sell wine, but I digress...)

I've researched this obsession with spargel and all I've come up with is that Germany produces 61% of the world's white asparagus. The reason it's white is because the fields are covered with sheets to protect it from the sun. No sun = no photosynthesis = white rather than green (good thing I paid attention in science class! ;) )

It's impossible NOT to get sick of spargel. It's practically being shoved down your throat!

Italian Road trip

2011-04-21T12:13:00.000-07:00

One of the things I was looking forward to about living in Europe, was all the endless possibilities to discover and travel around Europe. Other than a few visits to my friend in Frankfurt and a trip my grandmother took me on when I was 6, I haven't seen Europe.

This weekend being the first long weekend since I've been here, I've planned a trip to head out and explore. It was hard deciding where to go first. The great thing about Nuremberg is that there are endless places to go within a 4 hour drive.
In the end, I decided to go to the Dolomites and do some hiking and exploring. This picture is what sold me:

It seems quintesential "europe": cute village, amazing mountains and rolling hills. I'm going with a girlfriend and my dog. We're looking forward to exploring, hiking, cappucinos on patios (and maybe getting hit on by cute Italian men) and delicious food.

One of the things I always like to check out when going to a new area, is a spa or massage. Thai massages in Thailand, Ayurvedic massages in India, hot springs in Costa Rica and a painful massage in China are some memorable adventures. When I looked into spa treatments in the Dolomites, I came across this:

"this" is a hay bath famous in South Tyrolia. A hay bath is meant to be relaxing, rejuvenating and can help some skin issues. And all I can think of is "ick." Not only do I have a wicked grass allergy that would surely give me hives, leaking eyes and nose, but I can't imagine this being relaxing (histamine overload aside) wouldn't it be itchy as hell? Part of me is tempted to overload on the anti-histamines and try it out of curiosity, but I fear I'll be picking hay bits out for days!

The first major language slip up

2011-04-19T12:10:00.000-07:00

It was bound to happen. When you learn a new language, you're bound to somehow make a food of yourself. I remember being in Bolivia in 2000, learning Spanish and was finally feeling comfortable enough to order a meal. I was so impressed with myself that I made it almost all the way thru. And then, when the waiter asked me something I didn't know, I just smiled and nodded. I figured that would get me thru. It turned out he was asking me which part of the chicken I wanted. oh. The breast. But I had no clue how to say breast, so, in a panic, I pointed at mine. Well, it made Mr. Bolivian waiter's day. I've never seen a waiter laugh so hard in my life. Lesson learned, I'll never forget "pechuga" as long as I live. But I thought that was all behind me. I. was. wrong.

After over two months in Germany, I've picked up some German (my daily work is in English, though my collegues are all German and speak it regularly) but I still dread talking on the phone and avoid it at all costs. At least in person, if anything goes wrong, there's always charades to resort to. But the time had come for me to buck up and talk on the phone in German. I called the doctor's office to see if I could change my appointment to an earlier time. Turns out, I hadn't properly thought thru what I was going to say. What I meant to say was "I would like to come earlier". I managed "I would like to come" and stopped. I realized, I had NO clue what the world for earlier was!!!!! ooops.

I was really, really hoping that the sentence didn't have the same connotation in German than in English, but when I told my collegue what I said, she killed herself laughing. That could explain why the receptionist put me immediately on hold for a few minutes....

Frank the Pilates teacher

2011-04-10T10:46:00.000-07:00

Because the past few months have been so hectic, I haven’t had time to keep up my regular exercise regime. Now that I’m finally settled in, I’m tackling getting back into shape.
Since gyms generally overwhelm me, I tried looking around for pilates classes. Last night was my first class.

I was a little overwhelmed going to a pilates class since I haven’t been in about 3 months and a lot overwhelmed that the class was going to be in German. At the beginning of class, I awkwardly told the teacher (in my Geman which sounds like a 2 year olds) that I’m new and only speak a bit of German. He asked me where I was from and said “Canada”. And that’s when the fun started.

For the most part, following along in Geman wasn’t to bad. After all, I could look at the instructor or the other students. At one point, I thought he said something like “pretend you’re eating a lemon”. I just figured maybe it was a German figure of speech or I misheard. I was wrong. He came around and demonstrated what “pretend you’re eating a lemon” was and so I tried hard not to burst out laughing.

While we were doing some sort of dry humping the ground move, he decided to get the class engaged and start a discussion on Canadian singers and having the class blurt out all famous singers from Canada. While dry humping the mat. Yeah.

Then, while we were doing some thighmaster move, he decided to starting singing, in full, Celine Dion’s “My heart will go on”. I told him that though Celine Dion is Canadian, us Canadians are more than happy to give her away.

Oddly enough, I did appreciate his odd sense of humor and his “Pilates Polizei” cracks. It made the fact I hadn’t worked out in 3 months seem less painful.

There are 10 more classes to go. I hope as hell that Frank the pilates teacher Canadian trivia doesn’t go for 10 more classes….

German Efficiency and other myths

2011-04-06T04:04:00.000-07:00

If you’re like me, you’ve probably heard mention about how (generally) Germany is a modern and efficient country. My German grandmother (god rest her soul) used to go on and on (& on) about how things were so much better and made more sense in Germany than in Canada. Well, now that I’ve had a few months experience I share my thoughts on this.

For the most part, I’m convinced that this “German Efficiency” is a myth. I realize this is a sweeping generalization and depends on personal experience, but I’m convinced that Germany has hired a fantastic PR firm to send this message out to the rest of the world. While some things make sense, some things are utterly ridiculous.

My main beef with German efficiency is the traffic lights. I’m truly amazed at how many traffic lights there are and the length of them. Because I’m ridiculous, I’ve taken to timing them and tracking the distance between each traffic light (don’t judge- it gives me something to do other than going postal while waiting in traffic) The average length of a traffic light is a minute and about twenty seconds. The average distance between each traffic light is about 500m. Probably just a little bit longer and a little bit closer together than most major city. No big deal. The frustration starts to happen when you realize that the lights are not timed. In most places in North America, you can usually count on a “green wave” that is, if you drive the speed limit you can “usually” catch most of the lights green. In Nurnberg, it appears to be the opposite. You wait your almost minute and a half, drive 500 meters only to get the next red light. And on. And on. It’s even more ridiculous because the amount of stop lights is baffling. When there is no intersection: stop light. When there’s a pedestrian crossing; stop light (no, NOT a pedestrian controlled light) The street I drive on to get to the autobahn (and drive 200 km/h!) has about a dozen traffic lights. So I spend a lot of time waiting in traffic. Well, there's not really traffic, I guess the lights are that long to wait for enough of us to gather to wait for a traffic light)

Another thing that amazes me, is how traditional and religious (again, GENERALLY) the state where I live (Bavaria) is. For instance, though you can visit a (legal) prostitute and gamble on Sundays, you can’t go grocery shopping. Why? Because Sunday is the state designated “family” day and it’s against the law for grocery stores etc… to open. Until 2003, shops were legally mandated to be open only until 6pm weekdays and until 1pm on Saturday. Though my work is an exception, women delaying marriage and family for careers still seems to be a rarity.

Speaking of shopping, there are a lot of cool shops on my street. Little unique handcraft shops that make everything from baby clothes, to custom printed bags to purses and dog treats. I would love to check them out. However, so far, that’s proved impossible. Though these shops are located on a really quiet residential street, most of the shops open only until 5. And not on weekends. One of the stores is even only open on Mondays. And only between 3-6pm. They even have a sign up that they’ll be on holidays for the entire month of may! (I guess they need a holiday since their work hours are so stressful?!?) So the times when most residents could ACTUALLY go and support our local shops, it’s nearly impossible. I. just. Don’t. understand.

Another example I’ve found is doctors. The doctor I’ve found so far is male. However, as soon as I made any mention of any female issues, he interrupted me and told me I had to go to a “female” doctor that specialized in “female” needs.

Don’t get me wrong. My experience so far hasn’t been terrible. It’s just been “interesting”. Sure meetings start on time and you’re frowned upon if you’re late, but jay walk across a street and you’ll all but get told off (another typical German trait- passive aggression. No one will likely ever say anything to you, but you’ll get eye rolls and dirty looks)

Life in Germany is very much about “following the rules” and question nothing. If there’s a rule on something, it must be followed. There doesn’t seem to be a rule on queuing though. Go to any store and try to form a line to wait and pay and people look at you like you’re crazy. It seems to be a free for all, whoever can get to the front wins sort of motto when it comes to lining up.

So far, I’ve managed with the rules but it hasn’t been easy. My personality naturally wants to question everything and follow only the rules that suit me. I suspect this will land me in trouble someday. In the meantime, I just smile when I get dirty looks when I jay walk!

It's all fun and games until the naked German passes out on you!

2011-03-31T03:41:00.001-07:00

Back in April of 2004, I visited my good friend J in Frankfurt. This was way before I had any notions that I’d be living in Germany and as it turns out, we now live 150km apart down the A3 (one of the many speed free autobahns… Driving 160 km/h plus *legally* on a highway will never get old…)

During my visit, J was a great hostess and we were able to tour around the Rhine and head to Paris for a few days. One of the places she took me to was a German sauna. Honestly, I can’t remember how it was described to me anymore, but even if I did, nothing would have prepared me for what I was about to experience…

A german sauna, therme, bath is usually attached to a large swimming facility. In my limited experience with them, there seems to be a “family” side and an “adult only” option. The family side usually has waterslides, hot tubs, swimming pools and would be like most similar facilities in North America. The adult side however, is another story.

The adult side usually has steam baths, saunas, whirlpools and the like, but the big difference is, you’re naked. I’m far from conservative and have been to Vancouver’s nude beach usually once per summer. But the thought of casually hanging out with my friend and her boyfriend- naked, seemed a bit disconcerting. But when in rome…
So off we went, disrobed and I tried really hard not to look anywhere below eye level when maintaining conversation. The sauna was cool and there were dozens of hot tubs, steam baths and sauna buildings. Each sauna was in a free standing building outside and would have certain let’s call them “aromatherapy events” at certain times. On a board outside the sauna, a time and scent were advertised. We went into pine I believe. The details are fuzzy because what happened afterwards is what stays in my memory.

A “saunamaster” comes in at the set time and runs the show. Literally. A little tanned man walks into the sauna wearing only a towel. He proceeds to mention what will be happening in the next 20 minutes. In German of course, so I have no clue about any of it. After getting everyone “hyped” up if you will, he starts. He sprays some oil onto the rocks and then some water. He then proceeds to whip off his towel and whirl it above his head to circulate the hot, scented air. With me, there are about 40 hot, sweaty (and largely overweight) Germans. Since I’m a wimp for any extreme temperatures, about ¾ of the way thru, I have to excuse myself because I feel like I’m gonna pass out. My friends tell me that I would be breaking the “rule” of the sauna and I can’t do that. I try to sweat it out (literally) for a few more minutes but I just can’t. I leave the sauna and will deal with the repercussions of 40 hot, sweaty, naked, overweight Germans later.
I sit on the bench outside, wait for my friends and try to cool off. As I left the sauna, an older man followed me out. He sat on the bench beside me. He was maybe mid 50’s, skinny oh and naked. A few minutes into my cool off, skinny naked man faints on me. Right. On. My. Lap. There I sit. Outside the sauna. In Germany. Not knowing. A word. Of German. With a passed out naked man on my lap. Great. Just Great. Now What? Imagine the look of surprise on my friends faces when they saw me sitting there. Thankfully, sauna master guy was behind them and came and rescued me. Thankfully, a passed out man is pretty self explanatory and I didn’t have to say anything. And my friends and I? Well, the jokes are endless, but we now say “It’s all fun and games until the naked German man passes out on you”.

The Marriage Trainer

2011-03-21T13:00:00.000-07:00

There are some things that some people inexplicable seem to have over other people. Take for instance, one of my childhood friends, struck by lightning twice already or the girl I know whose boyfriend has worn a good amount of money on the lottery three times. Over the years, I've discovered my "thing". Well, 2 things actually. The first, a friend of mine nicknamed, parkma. I can pretty much go anywhere and find a parking spot right where I need to. Usually, with time still left on the meter. It happens so often, that if I actually have to drive around the block to find a spot, I'm annoyed. The second, is equally random, but with just as much of a success rate.

The amount of people that I've dated for 3 months or longer since I was 18 I can count on one hand. Well, ok. Maybe 2. There have been many who by my choice or theirs, never made it to 3 months. But 3 months seem to be the tipping point. You see, the majority of people who I've dated for 3 months or more have gone on to marry the next girl they dated after me. About 4 ex boyfriends ago, I noticed this trend. About 3 ex boyfriends ago, it stopped being funny. About 3 ex boyfriends ago, it became so ironic and obvious that one of my best friends suggested I turn it into a business (a tempting thought, but like some of my other great ideas, I never followed through)

It started with P, my high school sweetheart and until recently, the best guy I ever dated. The next girl he dated after me? married. 2 kids. After that, there was a several year "I'm in my 20's hiatus". Then there was B. Actually, I don't know if B ever married the girl after me, but I do know that his basement suite got ruined by a mudslide and tree (oops!) Then came W. Marriage. And last I heard, a kid. The kicker was B. He lived in the states and was married twice before. SWORE up and down that there would NEVER be a third. A few months after our year together, came number 3. And baby. There's a couple of more examples too and most recently, C. A few months with me, less than 6 months with a new girl and BAM. marriage.

It's not like I have found guys out there who are craving marriage. I'd say most of them were neutral to opposed to marriage. And don't get me wrong, I don't think there's anything special about my company that turns them onto marriage. It just seems to be fluke. That's happened more often than not!

Flash forward 2 years

2011-03-13T13:29:00.001-07:00

2 years ago today, my marriage officially ended. Well, I mean by ended the man I married walked out. At the time, I had no clue how I was going to survive. Though I had managed to overcome a lot of challenges before, I thought everything was behind me and it was all smooth sailing. It was hands down one of the most devastating experiences of my life.

2 years later, I honestly forget I was married. I forget the anxiety I experienced in those first few weeks and months. The shame I felt for having a failed marriage and not "knowing better"
I've stopped worrying that more secrets will rear their ugly head and I can fully claim I'm over it and have been for at least a year.

What's amazing to me now though, is how much has changed in those 2 years. What I once thought of the lowest point in my life was hands down the best thing to have happened to me! Not only am I free of the narcissist jerk that was once consumed my life with his highs, lows and addictions but my life has truly taken off.

I look back on the past 2 years with awe. I've been to Thailand, chile, Argentina, china, Vietnam, Germany and backpacking thru the Yukon which alone has been a whirlwind. I've learned a lot about myself and relationships and have even found a healthy dose of self confidence.

As I sit here and type this from nurnberg, I'm thankful I was able to take advantage of the opportunity to live and work abroad, because had I still been married, I probably wouldn't have been able to.

It had taken me a lot to get down that aisle and when I did, I thought I knew what fate had in store for me. I was wrong, I couldn't have been more wrong. But I'm glad and thrilled to admit I was wrong.

In Canada, we just eat pancakes...

2011-03-04T04:07:00.000-08:00

I have to be honest and say that I didn't know that Germany was still a (mostly) religious country. Of course, I heard a lot of church bells during my visit but never really clued in to just how much religious holidays were celebrated.

As it happens, Ash Wednesday (or the start of lent) is this coming Wednesday. If I remember correctly (never did pay much attention in catholic school....) this means you are supposed to give something up for six weeks until Easter. But like all good catholics, before you give something up, you go out with a bang. Hence, Carnival. Or mardi gras etc...

While Louisiana has mardi gras with it's beads, alcohol and partying, Brazil has parades of samba dancers in crazy costumes and partying in the streets. Well, Germany has it's own version. And arguably, a little eccentric.

Though, it's not as common in Nuremberg, I met a friend for lunch today from Dusseldorf who tells me that the celebrations kick off with 'old women's day' or Altbweiben Fasching. This was started about 150 years ago when the women got tired of the men having all the fun celebrating Karneval that they revolted. The traditional tradition is to dress up like a witch carrying scissors and cut off the tie (or kiss) any man that you see. The modern tradition is to dress up, start drinking shnapps at 9am, carry scissors and cut off the tie (or kiss) any man that you see. In Dusseldorf and Koln it's so common that even supermarket cashiers take part. This sounds like something I'm going to have to enroll my sister in law in and partake next year! ;)

The next big celebration, is rosenmontag (or rose monday) That day, there are huge parades with bands, floatds, candy, clowns and donuts. I don't really get the last part, but I can attest to it. I've seen more than one clown selling donuts. I'm not sure what the donut and clown co-relation is and I haven't been able to find out.

All of this craziness (and donuts) ends on Ash Wednesday, when Germans go back to being their serious selves and are meant to give up something for lent for 6 weeks. And to think? In Canada, we just eat pancakes....

Germany, a month in

2011-02-20T09:19:00.000-08:00

Hard to believe, it’s coming up on my one month anniversary of being in Germany! As I reflect on my first month of getting used to life in a new country, some things are easier to get used to than others…

The good-

The cost of living

Coming from Vancouver, where rents are some of the highest in North America, I’m amazed at how reasonable rents are! Definitely depends on area, income etc… but for the most parts, rents are very reasonable. The same goes for groceries, car insurance, furniture and well, pretty much everything. Except electronics.

My job-

So far, I’m really enjoying my job. Or well, learning about my job. Haven’t actually started actual projects yet, but soon. I love that though I work for a massive company, they’re super open minded, eager to hear my opinion and are open to change. It’s really refreshing and the opportunities and benefits are great. After my 7th month, employees are eligible for commuting expenses. Essentially, you get paid to get to work.

Driving on the autobahn-

For a speed freak like me, driving without speed limits is heavenly. Not ALL autobahns are speed free, but happily, one of them on my way to work is. I love flooring the Kia rental.

The Ex-pat support system

One of the things I was most concerned about, was having to rebuild a social circle and make new friends. Every week, I’m in awe of the people that genuinely offer their help and friendship and will go out of their way to help you. Moving here alone wasn’t easy, but already knowing I know a couple of people I can count on is priceless.

The price you see is the price you pay-

I love that whatever I shop for, whether it’s groceries, a new stereo, furniture or a cell phone contract, the price you see is the price you pay. No hidden fees are taxes. I could get used to this.

Dog friendly-

Other than grocery stores and some restaurants, I can pretty much take Lucy any where. We’ve been shopping to Ikea, on the underground, department stores, you name it.

The bad-

German radio-

I thought Vancouver radio stations were bad for repeating music. I was wrong. I’m convinced that German radio rotates about 20 songs. One of them randomly includes Israel Kamakawiwo'ole's version of “Somewhere over the rainbow” It’s not unusual to hear the song 10 times a day (on various radio stations) The good thing, is they don’t seem to play Justin Beiber, however, that’s negated by their apparent infatuation with all songs Nickelback.

Sundays-

I’m not sure I can ever get used to the fact that NOTHING is open on Sundays. Bavaria, the state that I live in, is apparently very religious. Therefore Sundays are considered “family days”. Grocery stores, shops, pharmacies, you name it. It’s all closed on Sundays. You can’t even wash your car on Sundays. Strongly going against the “everything’s closed so you can go to church and hang out with your family” point, casinos are open. And there are more casinos in Nurnberg than there are Starbucks in Vancouver!

Traffic lights.

There are an amazing amount of traffic lights in Nurnberg. Not only are they amazing in sheer volume (sometimes there’s a light where there’s no intersection) but they’re amazing in length. The other day I timed one of them (as I’d been waiting so long) and the red was almost a minute and a half. The green 15 seconds. It truly defies logic.

The language-

Though I feel like I have a slight upper hand in the fact that my grandmother was German and am at least familiar with the sound of the language. But jesus, every day that I learn a new word and have hope that I’ll one day be able to learn it, someone will say something or I’ll read something and I’m convinced there’s no hope I’ll ever learn it!

The strange…

When you rent a place, you almost always have to bring your own kitchen. Most places come stripped bare and the tenant has to provide things like light fixtures, bathroom cupboards, closets and even the kitchen sink.

As many modern furniture places as there are (and there are zillions) decent shower curtain hooks don’t exist. There are only clear plastic ones or white plastic ones.
I’m sure there will be a ton of new adventures and experiences in the coming months. I have to say, so far so good. But man, is life ever exhausting!

An almond infection

2011-02-07T07:58:00.000-08:00

Each year, around my birthday, I get some sort of throat issue. It’s so predictable, that if I was stuck on an island, without any calendar, I’d know that it was February. I remember so many birthdays were I had a fever, was so sick I couldn’t eat dinner at my favourite restaurant or that time a few years ago when I got laryngitis as a birthday gift.
This year, seems to be no different. It started out as most sore throats do and last night, when eating solid foods wasn’t an option anymore (since the pain brought tears to my eyes) I decided it was time for medical intervention. And so began my first German doctor’s visit.

The receptionist and doctor spoke perfect English so I managed to get everything across. He quickly looked down my throat and concurred that it was a really bad case of tonsilits. However, I also learned that the German word for tonsils is “madeln” which happens to be the same word for almonds. In other words, my almonds are infected.

A few bouts of birthday tonsillitis ago, I developed an allergy to penicillin. I broke out in a rash all over my body and thought I had chicken pox. That was sexy. I even had to cancel a date with a cute guy because of my “rash”. So I made sure to mention my allergy to Dr. German. I’m “pretty sure” he was joking when he said “Well, we try this, this should be ok with your pencillin allergy”. He was, after all, laughing. So, here’s hoping I don’t

Week 1 of German life

2011-02-05T10:53:00.000-08:00

So this week was my 'real' week of German life. Real as in starting work (or, rather attending meetings and training as I'm still waiting for my work permit), grocery shopping, banking etc...

Considering, things went not too badly. I survived my first drive on the autobahn (and enjoyed taking the rental 150km/h on the speed free autobahn) and first week on the job. I have the rental car for only a month so one of the next things on the agenda is buying a car. One of my least favorite tasks at the best of times. Now I have to do it in German!

The biggest challenge though is going to be WHEN to buy a car. Why? Well, I'm not really sure when you're meant to get anything done in this country. Normal work hours are 8 or 9 ish to 5 or 6 ish. Most shops (including car dealerships) close at 6 on weekdays and are only open til noon on saturdays. And forget Sundays. The entire country (including grocery stores) is shut on Sundays. So, that leaves me 3 hours a week to shop for cars.

For the most part, I've been getting along ok. Though I know only about 10 words of German, people are helpful and even if they don't speak English, we manage somehow with broken english, German and charades. I took that for granted today when I went shopping. I started getting stuff for my new apartment and started stocking up on cleaning supplies. None of the brands were familiar to me and my 10 words of German doesn't extend to cleaning products. So I stood in the aisle and stared. In the end, I just picked out one of everything in the nicest packaging. I have no idea what I ended up with. Though I suspect the blue liquid is windex. Everything else, will be a surprise!

A dog's life in Nuremberg

2011-01-29T07:11:00.000-08:00

One of the funniest things of the past week, has been watching Lucy get used to German life.

Bringing her over was definitely one of my biggest fears and the thought of her being in a kennel for 15 hours made me break out in a cold sweat. This is after all a dog who’s never spent an hour in a kennel and who cowers at the noise of trucks on the street.

I was advised against drugging her so went with the natural alternative my vet recommended. It didn’t really calm her per se since she was playing Frisbee and wrestling with J right until she had to go in the kennel. Once she was put in the kennel and wheeled away by the luggage crew, I almost started crying. My poor girl, in the cargo hold of the plane for 15 hours!

When I picked her up at the luggage caroussel in Nuremberg 15 hours later, she looked a little shaken up but was no worse for wear: I was thrilled!

Since then, it’s been a grand adventure for her. Every morning we’ve gone for long walks along the river or in the moat of the castle.

One of the great things about Germany is how dog friendly it is. Dogs can pretty much go anywhere except for groceries stores and most restaurants (I say most because some let dogs in as long as they sit quietly under the table)

Cue the first grand adventure. We went to a huge electronics store to buy a blow dryer. It didn’t occur to me that she’d never been on an escalator before. She locked up all 4’s and stood in front of it and looked at me with an “are you nuts” look on her face. She very hesitantly stepped on to it but everytime we’d walk past it, would lock up all 4’s like one of those shopping carts you take past the parking lot.

Next day, time to find the closest pet store. There didn’t seem to be one directly in the city, and I don’t have the loaner car yet so we took the subway. Dogs are also allowed on the subway here (and need a special ticket) so off we went on the subway. With more escalators. The escalator was still the enemy but she managed. Then came the subway, with the gap between the platform and train, the noises, the announcement and the movement (oh and the drunk German guy who kept talking to her in German)

It’s been funny to watch her get used to German life. So far, she’s in heaven. Hour and a half long walks every day along the river, snow, sticks and now she gets to go almost everywhere I go.

Starting Monday, there’s a dog walker coming to walk her everyday to alleviate some pressure off me while I get used to the new job and commute.

Nuremberg could just be Lucy’s heaven!

Moving to Germany!

2011-01-27T07:41:00.000-08:00

After months of planning, thinking and saying goodbye, the day had come for me to get on the plane and make the biggest move of my life: to Nuremberg, Germany.

Saying goodbye was hard. Conciously leaving your friends, family, co-workers and newly met guy of my dreams behind was emotional. For a fleeting moment, I wondered why on earth I was making this move when I was leaving a pretty good life behind, but as much as I was going to miss friends, family, co-worker, guy of my dreams, I knew this was something I had to do.

So after an emotional and tearful weekend of goodbyes, I was on the plane. With Lucy and 3 suitcases of my earthly possesions.

We got picked up by the relocation consultant. One of the things that makes this move bearable is that I get essentially a "personal assistant" for 6 months. The relocation consultant's job is to find me a place to live, do all of the work permit/tax card/registration running around, help me buy a car and basically help me get settled into life.

After dropping off Lucy and my baggage, it was time to look at the first apartment. Talk about no time for jet lag to set in or to pine for the life you left behind! Tuesday was packed full with apartment viewings, picking out health insurance, personal insurance, dog insurance (Germans sure like their insurance! There's even glass insurance) and town hall registration.

My head is still reeling from all that's going on, but after 3 days, I "may" have found a place to live. It's a cute 1 bedroom apartment in a great residential neighborhood walking distance to the old city and the castle. fingers crossed!

Moving day

2011-01-05T10:23:00.000-08:00

As I type, there are 3 men loading all of my worldly possesions into a moving truck. As exciting as this new prospect is, there is something quite melancholy to see all your life's possesions be packed away not to be seen for months. I've been in this place for just over 6 years which is amazingly, the longest I've been in any one home. As many times as I've moved, I've only had movers once. These movers have been hired to not only load my stuff but pack it. It is a little odd to see 3 burly guys pack your nighties away, but other than that, I'm enjoying my post on the couch watching as they work.

For the first time during this experience, I've experienced fear. Well, more like scared shitless. I'm giving up absolutely everything/everyone I know for a new life in Germany. Thing is, my life here is/was pretty good. No complaints. Good job, good family, good social circle, the works. But when this opportunity came along, I know I couldn't pass it up. Yes, it'll do wonders for my career, but the experience of living and working overseas is something I've wanted to experience. Thing is, doing it (alone nonetheless) is one hell of a nerve wracking experience! I have no doubt this will be an amazing experience and I'm not getting cold feet. But there is something to be said for abandoning everything you know when it's not that bad to begin with....

Pinch me, 2010

2010-12-31T05:49:00.000-08:00

It's the last day of 2010. To say that 2010 has been an adventurous year would be an understatement! After a rough few years, 2010 has really made the rough times "worth it".

It started out fairly uneventfully, but then spring came and I went to my first girl guide camp. Then I found out I was chosen to go on the NOLS month long backpacking and whitewater canoeing adventure. A work trip to Vietnam that was memorable, being headhunted by one of the world's leading sports companies, a whirlwind "go see" trip to Germany, and here I am finishing the year in Florida with a great guy (damn you Murphy and your laws!)

As cheesy as it sounds, I feel like I've had it all this year. And I don't want to take a hint of advantage of it and want to appreciate it every step along the way.

Less than a month from now, I'll be living in Germany starting another adventure and chapter of my life. Well, 2010, you've proved to be amazing. 2011, you have big shoes to fill!

Landing a new job, the 2010 way.

2010-12-06T18:10:00.000-08:00

Next month, I'll be moving to Germany. Three months ago, I'd have called you insane for even suggesting such wildness. Though I've spent a lot of 2010 figuring out "what next?" I never would have imagined a transatlantic move in my future. But now, the contract is signed, the movers are scheduled and I'm super excited to be starting this new chapter in my life.

What's more incredible, is that I didn't go looking for this opportunity, it came looking for me! Never in a million years did I imagine that when I signed up for LinkedIn, did I think it would lead me to a job. With an amazing and leading world renown company no less! But a very incomplete profile and being part of a relevant industry group led the recruiter to me and here I am, the most exciting opportunity of my life!

When it's meant to be...

2010-11-22T21:12:00.000-08:00

It's funny, 3 months ago, if you told me I was going to move overseas, I would have killed myself laughing. However, in the strange ways that life works, I'll be moving to Germany in 2 months. Even though I've signed my contract and given notice at work, it still doesn't seem real.

It's not very often you change your job and home at the same time. Never mind doing it halfway around the world. Needless to say, there are things a ton of things to do and think about. Remarkably, it's not nearly as hard as I would have imagined. I say this with a large caveat though... it's not as hard when you get help. Because I've signed on with an awesome company, I'm offered a relocation package that will make transitioning to my new life a whole lot easier. Like movers. That will come and pack all my stuff and unpack at the other end. And a relocation person. Quite possibly, the best thing ever offered. I have an assigned relocation person that will help me survive in my new surroundings. Her job is to show me around the area, set up appointments for apartments, help me buy a car, set me up with a bank account and almost anything else I need to manage my new life in a foreign land. This service, is worth it's weight in gold. I couldn't imagine manoevering thru this without a support person.

I feel like there's more I should be doing right now. But so far, I have to say, it's been smooth. Things I thought would be difficult, like selling my car or getting out of cell phone contracts, have been ridiculously easy (the cell phone contract got transfered within an hour of being posted on craigslist and I've sold the car to a friend at a really good price in exchange for keeping it until I leave) I guess it's all testament to the fact that when something is meant to be, it will be. It'll happen.

Still, it's hard to accept this is my life and this is happening. I'm in awe, but I love it and cherish it!

New adventures

2010-11-15T12:05:00.000-08:00

2010 has been a hell of a year. And in a good way. If anyone told me back in January, how my 2010 would turn out, I’d have slapped them silly.

It started out quietly enough, but after the adventures and excitement of my previous 2 years, it was much appreciated. The first big thing to have happened was of course my Yukon adventure. The next big thing that happened, was (I think) partially due to my Yukon adventure.

You see, when I was in the Yukon, I spent some time reflecting on life and thinking about which direction I was going to take it in. Part of that process was thinking of things I’d still like to experience in life. On that list was live and work overseas. I didn’t really have a plan as to what that would look like, but I thought I’d throw it on the list and figure it out later.

Well, 2 weeks later, the universe appeared to have figured it out for me. Less than 2 weeks later, I was on a work trip to Asia and received an email from an inhouse recruiter at Adidas. They were looking for someone with experience in the outdoor industry. Once I got more information, the job description was exactly what I was qualified for. And so, after 2 months of interviews and a quick trip to Herzogenerauch, Germany, the job was offered to me and the contract is signed.

I’m absolutely scared to death. New job, new place, new country. But it feels right. The timing in my life is perfect for this and I had no doubts on accepting the job. But it’s a big change.

I have a few fears like “will I ever be able to learn German?” Though I had a German grandmother and my mom speaks German, growing in a multicultured family meant streamlining languages and we didn’t get taught German. I do know some things like “excuse me, do you have an electrical outlet” and “this is a tablecloth” but I’m pretty sure that won’t get me very far.

I also fear developing a sudden love of euro pop and crocs. Thankfully, with the internet, I should be safe in avoiding those.
I’m sure I’ll have a ton of stories as I get ready for this new adventure, so stay tuned!!

Putting it out to the Universe

2010-11-02T22:56:00.000-07:00

2010 has been an adventure. Thankfully NOT in the way 2009 was an adventure. Albeit 2009 was a necessary adventure to get me to where I am now, I'm thrilled to be finally emotionally balanced and not embarrasing myself by taking trapeze classes or wandering the world to find myself or buying every shoe invented by mankind to make myself feel beter (they were all fun in their own way, but really? Am I ever going to strut around in 6" black patent Louboutins anytime soon?)

And so came 2010. I started to breathe a little easier and think about the nasty "D" word I had to deal with during 2009.

The highlight thus far for sure was my NOLS Leadership course in the Yukon. During that amazing experience, I had a chance to finally sit back and reflect on some of what I want in life. Or at least, some of what I hope to experience. I called it my "wish list" (bucket list is for old people and cheezy Jack Nicholson movies). I wrote a few things and "put it out to the universe". I'm not religious and I wouldn't even call myself spiritual. My mom raised us with a deeply ingrained philosophy of "if it's meant to be, it'll be" and so I stand by that.

Well, it seems like at least one of the things just might be meant to be. I don't want to jinx anything quite yet, but one of those things is almost sure to happen. I should know for sure next week :) More details then!

Guest post on a mentor's blog!

2010-09-21T11:59:00.000-07:00

I was recently asked by a mentor (and friend) to write a piece for her blog on my Yukon experience. Nancy was my very awesome money coach for a time (until she moved to the NWT, good for her, not so much for me or my bank account...) Nancy regularly posts money philosophy questions on her blog and one day I commented about how since I've been back from the Yukon I've been re-evaluating my life and how much "stuff" is required to live and find happiness. I was truly honored to be asked to write the piece. Here's the link.

Yukon backcountry is a money coach

The Post Summer Blahs

2010-09-16T20:45:00.000-07:00

It's less than a week to go until the official end of summer and I'm already feeling the post summer blahs. To be fair, I've only just got over my jet lag from my recent trip and I'm still processing my monthlong Yukon adventure. But still. I can feel the post summer blahs starting to take effect. It's either that or the fact that I'm not used to sitting still anymore. Considering it's been two and a half years since my life has been this "quiet". Either scenario is likely.

The great thing about being an adult is that the post summer blahs start a little bit later than when we were kids. For me, I could distinctly remember the summer blahs setting in a few days before school started. Yes, there was the excitement of new school clothes and school supplies but once those were all ready to go and the sun was still shining but the nights were getting shorter and colder, you could feel that the end of summer was imminent. And it felt.... blah.

At least as an adult, we get to postpone the summer blahs a few weeks. But still... it's an awkward feeling, isn't it?

Backpacking- Part 2

2010-09-12T22:51:00.000-07:00

I made it thru week 1. No small feat. By this point we seem to have walked endless miles and have gone up (and back down) what feels like a million feet of elevation. I haven't showered or used toilet paper in a week. Oddly enough, none of this bothers me. Partly because I know everyone else is in the same boat and partially because I'm too exhausted to care.

So far, I've learned a lot about myself. One thing of which is that when I do something, I do it all the way. Until this trip (I'm embarassed to say) I hadn't been backpack camping. To make matters worse, I believe I told an ex-boyfriend once that "if hell froze over" I wasn't going to backpacking. Incidentally, I said the same thing when he mentioned wanting to go to India, as Murphy and his law have it, I've been there 5 times. I'm pretty sure I must be insane to have never backpacked before and do a 2 week long trip as my first outing. go big or go home. That's me.

Because this trip is a course, specifically a leadership course, there are classes every day. In addition, we gather around and talk about our goals and challenges. Hands down my biggest goal (and challenge) is to just make it through the backpacking. If I do this, it will be the biggest accomplishment I'll have achieved so far. Thinking about the other challenges I've managed to conquer in the past few years, I think that no mountain or heavy pack will stand in my way.

Though the hikes are physically challenging, they don't kill me. I may be the slowest going uphill, but I manage to find comfort in my slow but very steady pace. I manage to accept that this isn't a race and stop apologizing for being at the back of the pack.

I start to find my groove, I might be the slowest hiker, but everyone in my tent group looks forward to my cooking shifts. I become the backcountry baker extraordinaire! Pizza, pies, cinammon buns, you name it!

Eventually, it becomes my day to be leader of the day. I'm going to have to lead a group of 4 other students that are a hell of a lot better than me at hiking! Not intimidating at all.... right?

One of the many things my mentor/instructor instills in me is to keep being me, as a leader. ie I don't need a lobotomy or act like Stalin to be an effective leader. She claims that anyone can be taught to read a map but natural leadership, self awareness and the ability to build culture within a group (so she claims I bring...) are not things easily taught. To say I'm insecure about this new role, is an understatement. I hid my insecurities well and get our group there in one piece. In the end, I delegated where I needed too and overall kept the group in good spirits. wow!

My newfound confidence slips by day 12. Clearly, someone must want me dead. Why else would you explain that I have to hike up 1700ft of elevation before the effect of my coffee sinks in? By the end of the day, there are 2 puffy cushions where my kneecaps used to be and I'm convinced I'll freeze to death since it starts to snow. It's early August, I should be sitting on my deck sipping raspberry mojitos, not worrying about hypothermia. What point was I trying to prove again???

The last day of the hiking portion, I find my groove again. There's light at the end of the tunnel!!!! I'm not at the back of the pack anymore. I'm now at the front. Still with my slow and steady pace. by the time I get to camp, I'm ecstatic. I'm so proud I managed to finish this. In the end, it was 109km of backpacking gaining 17,000ft of elevation with a 47lb pack. Besides the obvious sense of accomplishment, I feel tough as nails! Along the way, I've even picked up some self confidence and leadership skills. All this and we're only halfway thru this adventure!

4 countries, 6 days

2010-08-31T23:01:00.000-07:00

Ever since I stepped on my first plane at the age of 7, which, incidentally, had to make an emergency landing because a piece of satellite crashed into the windshield causing the plane to decompress, but I digress... I love flying.

Whenever I knew I was getting on a plane to go somewhere, I'd be so excited I couldn't sleep the night before.

I also love my job. I love it for a lot of reasons, one of which is that a couple of times a year, I get to travel for work. Work has taken me to places I would have never imagined: India (5 times... a place I said I would never go to!), Israel, Hong Kong, China and Thailand. Though I've done at least 2 business trips a year for the last 6 years, I still get excited to go away.

As anyone that's ever traveled for work knows, it's hardly a party. The days are long, busy and travel (especially thru random small indian airports) can be frustrating. But that doesn't deter me. I still get excited at the fact that work pays for me to go overseas and represent them.

This trip is particularly short; all of 6 days. But in those 6 days, my collegue and I will be hitting up 4 countries: Hong Kong, China, Vietnam and Taiwan. That's a new record, even for me. I'm excited to go to Vietnam and Taiwan despite they're only 2 nights and 1 night respectively.

I did however, get warned that crossing roads in Hanoi requires nerves of steel. That should be interesting....

NOLS Yukon- Part I- Week 1 of Backpacking

2010-08-28T20:54:00.000-07:00

The morning after meeting our instructors, all 14 students headed to the NOLS warehouse. This was the official first day of the course. Before setting off, we had to pack our food rations and get our gear all setup. Though I'd never backpacked before, I knew that weight was obviously an issue and I'd have to forgo some of life's luxuries. Me and the word travelling light have never really been friends, but in the past few years, with so many trips under my belt, I thought I had a good handle on what "travelling light" meant. Clearly, I was wrong. Though we were going to be backpacking for 2 weeks, I was instructed to pack: rain pants, hiking pants, long johns, pants to wear around camp, a t-shirt, a warm fleece, wind shell, 2 pair of socks, 2 pair of underwear and a rain jacket. That's it. The motto goes "Ounces equals pounds and pounds equals pain". But I had so many questions like "What about deodorant". Deodorant, I was told, had to be foresakened. I had just accepted the fact that toilet paper wasn't going to be in my future for a month (a source of great anxiety) and now I had to accept the fact that I was going to be deodorant-less too???? I think not. And so, I accepted the deodorant as my 2oz of "luxury" item and brought it along.

Once we got seperated into our tent groups, we got all of our group food and gear and seperated it all out. Final pack weight for the road? 47lbs. Life on my back for the next two weeks equaled 47lbs. This brings new meaning to the word minimalism.

We got to our trailhead late the first night. The agenda for the morning was set: first class at 9am.

Our first class was on how to go to the bathroom in the woods. The most important factors were to be at least 200ft from camp and any sources of water (to avoid human waste contaminating water sources) Our instructor taught a graphic course on all of the "natural" toilet paper options. Rocks, moss, leaves and pinecones were all presented. Never in a million years did I think that a pine cone would be a valid substitute for toilet paper. I was wrong and I'll never look at pine cones the same again. Additionally, in order to avoid bears, we'd have to be heading out to our bathroom spots in groups of at least 3. I was nervous. I was convinced that I was going to have performance anxiety and would not be going to the bathroom anytime soon. This was all way too much.

After class ended, we got split up into our hiking groups and headed off. First order of the day? Hike up 2000ft on an old mining cart trail, with my new 47lb elephant.

Made it thru the hike. My 2 tentmates are awesome. We're all trying to settle into this new world of backpacking. We quickly learn the importance of flat tent camp spots. I wonder why they make everything for backpacking so... slippery. Tent floor + thermarest + sleeping bags are all made of slippery fabrics. This seems like a bad idea. I feel like an oiled up caterpillar trying to squirm across a greased surface. The logistics of this combined with an incline do not bode well. Luckily, my tent mates are in the same situation and we go into hysterics about this. So much so that we disturb the other tent groups. Whoops.

I'm unclear as to why they call what we're doing "hiking". Hiking to me means following some trail or having an end destination. We have neither of those. I'm told this is normal. I suggest the official name for this be called "wandering" as this seems much more accurate.

By day 3, I'm convinced that if the "wanders" don't kill me, surely the mosquitos will. Still don't quite grasp the concept of going up a mountain only to come back down again and going to a lake that looks just like the last lake. However, I'm here to keep an open mind.

I had visions of all of our food being dehydrated muck that I wouldn't be able to stand. I was pleasantly surprised to discover that we had a fair amount of normal things. Staples like oats, flour, rice, spices, etc... We're given some recipes and suggestions on what to make. I just might be in my element now and make homemade pizza over a single burner stove in the rain. I'm starting to earn my hardcore points now. However, because of said rain, my feet are cold and wet and are quickly approaching hypothermia. The instructor notices this and helps solve my issue, by taking my cold, wet feet onto his chest to keep them warm. Who knew?

It's the last day before the re-ration. We have to be at a certain spot by a certain point to get our new food for the week. In order to get there though, we have to hike about 12km. On the map this doesn't look terrible. No elevation gain, no problem. What the map didn't show though was the bushes. For 10 hours, we bushwhack. And cross rivers. About 8 times. About 10 minutes before we get to our destination, I attempt to cross over a large fallen log. I get stuck and my foot sinks about 10 inches into mud. I want to die. Right here, right now, on this log. I have a quiet cry behind my sunglasses and pray no one sees me. What was I thinking? I may have made it 7 days with mosquitos, gnats, hiking up and down scree, crossing rivers all with my 47lb elephant. I may have a tatoo on my body that says "What doesn't kill me makes me stronger" and I sure am putting it to the test right now...

Day 1 of my Yukon adventure!

2010-07-26T22:50:00.000-07:00

I'm sitting in the gold rush saloon reflecting back on my first day and enjoying my last glass of wine for the next month.

25 years ago, my mom's boyfriend at the time, sent me to camp. His motives were to mainly be rid of me and my 13 year old attitude and angst. I had no idea what I was getting into or what it all involved. Imagine my surprise that among other things, it involved a 10 day canoe trip. Being the guy he was, he set me up with all my gear. I was the only person on that camp bus with their own paddle. A birds eye birch panel at that. I had never stepped foot in a canoe. Here I was with my own paddle!

When I got off the camp bus, the counsellors didn't know what to make of me. I showed up in a matching outfit, earrings, hair done with my own paddle.

The experience was one of the best in my life and it was the catalyst for me to enjoy a lifetime of outdoor pursuits. (and no, I haven't given up earrings!)

Today, was my Yukon trip orientation. Picking up clues from 25 years ago, I left the earrings and makeup at home. When I got here earlier this afternoon, I had an intense moment of "oh my god, I can't do this" thankfully, I breathed through it and it passed.

I met my 14 other classmates and 3 instructors. Oddly enough, one of the girls (19 if she's lucky) showed up with earrings. Well, if you can call a giant paperclip, zipper pull and bulldog clip earrings- they were in her ears)

I feel a smidge less intimidated. No one else seems to have done a trip as big as this before. As a matter if fact, most of the other students seemed shocked and so intimidated to even ask questions.

One of my first questions was the lack of toilet paper. It turns out we'll be practicing a modified bidet method: a squirt bottle. After the orientation, me and a girl a thousand times more brash than me went to the store for the perfect water bottle. Small, light, with a squeeze lid. After all, you don't want to use your regular water bottle for fear of cross contamination!

Tomorrow is gear check an rationing. Then we drive to our trail head and camp. The "real work begins Wednesday. We'll be backpacking through the Wheaton river valley until august 10th. Then we come back into town, switch for our canoe gear and paddle the highland river. I can finally say that after 3 months of getting myself worked up, I'm excited!!!

The Fashion Anti-Christ

2010-07-22T22:28:00.000-07:00

In 4 short days, I'll be in the Yukon for a month. For the past 3 months, I've been getting into shape, learning about myself, and experiencing every emotion from excitement to fear to anxiety. As of tonight, all my gear is packed and ready to go. The packing list that the school sent me is easily 12 pages long. I'm still not sure how one goes about wearing 3 pair of underwear, one pair of pants, 2 t-shrits and a pair of shorts for 30 days. It's also hard to imagine wearing a puff jacket and long johns and sleeping in a -15C sleeping bag when all of the weather reports I find suggest that the temperature will only go as low as 7C. But the kicker, the biggest kicker of them all? crocs..

Since their introduction into this world, I've cringed at crocs. Their oversized bulkiness, their primary colors, their overall FUGNESS. I'm all about things with function and I "get" that crocs float, are lightweight and are great for boating/padding. Fine. Then that's where they shall be worn. Is it acceptable for them to be worn as casualwear walking down the street? Hell to the no. When I got a facebook invite to join the group "I don't care how comfortable you are, you look like a dumbass in those crocs" I eagerly signed up.

So imagine my panic and anxiety, when crocs were listed on my packing list "must bring" as a lightweight shoe option. It was almost as bad as discovering that, for the next month, I won't be using toilet paper, but instead will be using "nature's toilet paper" (which happens to be smooth stones, sticks, spruce cones, leaves, moss and snow- incidentally I'm allergic to trees... but let's not go there) I wasn't sure how I was going to tackle this bit of information (the crocs, the toilet paper, I'll deal with later- I'm thinking that smuggling contraband toilet paper might just be necessary)

And then, like a beacon of hope, an email from one of my best girlfriends showed up in my inbox. Until then, I suffered silently. I let no one know my dilemma. So when I got her email, I almost cried. Native Shoes are made from the same lightweight floatable (incidentally, environmentally unfriendly pvc) material but have some style infused into them. I was excited. I could pull this off! Look, floating, light shoes that won't make me look like a German tourist! There was hope.

A few weeks ago, I set out on a mission to get myself a pair. I thought of how I'd be the envy of the group. Well, it turns out all of the main street hipsters threw a wrench into my vision. There's not a pair to be found in the city. Or online. Or thru bribery. I went into the Main Street Shop (Anti-Social) and innocently enquired about my saviours. The cantankerous owner of the shop (maybe that's why it's called Anti-Social?) barked at me without even looking up at me. No hope of getting any until August. At the earliest. All hope was lost.

I tried to find SOME way of justifying wearing crocs. What if I don't get red ones (red crocs seems to be the international symbol of "I'm a German tourist") What if I disguise them? What if there's no photographic evidence, maybe it wouldn't have happened? I just couldn't do it. What's worse, is that my instructions are that said shoes must fit with a pair of socks. Because I insisted on geting the cushiest, comfiest socks, my socks add about 2 shoe sizes to my feet. Wow. This was going to be a sexy look.

I went into the crocs store on Robson (trying not to pass out from the off-gasing of the pvc fumes) and tried not to panic. It was hard. The first rack I almost walked into was high heeled crocs. I can't even justify that with a sarcastic comment, so I won't. I settled on a cute(ish) pair of crocs that can pass as boat shoes. If you squint and ignore the matte plastic sheen of the pvc and whiteout the "crocs" logo, they don't look so bad. But with hiking socks? Well, maybe if I don't mention to anyone on my trip that I went to fashion school, I won't get arrested by the fashion police...

Fear of the unknown

2010-07-11T18:59:00.000-07:00

Two weeks tomorrow marks the official start of my Yukon Grand Adventure . In the past 3 months that I found out I was chosen for this course (from a work sponsored program) I've gone through a lot of emotions: excitement, nervousness, anxiety and fear. I'm not even sure how I've managed to find time for these emotions since pretty much all I've been doing is training for this trip. I know that this trip will be a one of a lifetime adventure for me, and even though I haven't even left yet, I've learned a lot about myself.

I realize that one of my greatest fears in life is a fear of the unknown. My ex used to call me a control freak and after some soul searching while getting ready for this adventure, I'm happy to learn, that's not accurate at all. I don't need to be in control of a situation nor do I need things to go "my way". I admit though, that I do like to be prepared and have an idea of what to expect when doing something. Ironic, really, considering that a lot of the things I do are pretty spontaneous. However, I`ve figured out that even in spontaneous situations, I have a pretty good idea of what to expect.

What I do know about this adventure, is that it`s 30 days long, involves backpacking, whitewater canoeing and carrying a backpack so heavy that anyone I`ve talked to that`s backpacked laughed at (an 85L pack with an average weight of 60lbs) and that, is pretty much all I know about what I`ll be doing for a month. Needless to say, with my new admission of fear of the unknown, I`m scared shitless.

I have no doubt that all will end well and I`ll come back with some amazing stories (I`ve even started a pool at work where collegues can try to guess the cockamammy adventures I might find myself in) but until I get on that trail, my mind is going to run wild with possibilities. Possibilities like:

What will my fellow students be like? It seems like I might be by far the oldest student as the average age of the students is 18-25.
Have I prepared enough? Or am I going to realize partway thru I'm ridiculously out of shape and can't handle it (so far, my practice hikes are with a 40lb pack)
Am I completely off my rocker for even signing up for doing this. All signs point to yes: I've never even backpack camped, what made me think it'd be a good idea to do it for a month???
Will I have the right equipment? Everything they've suggested seems to assume it will be freezing in the Yukon. All information I've found suggests the temperature should be between 5 and 20C. However, they're insistent I bring a sleeping bag rated to -15C. Considering I bake when I sleep and weight is of the utmost importance (a bag this warm is MASSIVE) I question this.
Am I going to be able to stand not washing my hair for 30 days. I know there will be lakes to swim in and surely they'll be freezing, but how often will we find them?
Will I be able to survive without toilet paper for a month. I can't believe this is even a possibility. After I was accepted and read through the boatload of information (that still didn't tell me much) I read the part about the "no toilet paper" rule. I almost died. I never even considered this an option. Of course, I knew to be ready for the woods etc... but no toilet paper? Instead, we're to use "nature's toilet paper" which includes smooth stones, spruce cones, moss, leaves and snow. First off, I'm allergic to trees so I'm pretty sure that cancels out that option. I can't say I've ever looked at a rock and thought "now that is the PERFECT shape for ass wiping". Honestly, the toilet practices are the single thing that gives me the most anxiety. I'm really not sure how this is going to shake out (for lack of a better word)

I have no doubt that this will build character and I'll probably come out of it with a lot of blood, sweat and tears (and hopefully no meltdowns- I get emotional if I'm over tired) Never in my life have I faced such a physically daunting task, nor have I ever faced something this big where I really don't have much clue what to expect. Wish me luck.

World tour- 2010

2010-06-30T00:11:00.000-07:00

Be careful what you wish for. I've learned this over the years. I've learned that that guy Murphy and his laws exist for a reason. I love to travel. I always have. It doesn't matter that my first time on a plane at the age of 6, a piece of sattelite broke the cockpit window, the plane decompressed and had to make an emergency landing in London, England (the flight was from Llubjana to Montreal). Ever since, I've had the travel bug.

I love that my job involves international travel. Usually, twice a year, I get to go on a plane and work in some pretty random places: be it India, Israel or industrial towns in China. Even though I've travelled a ton, I still get excited going to the airport. However, after 2009, I was determined to "pace" my travel a little. 2009 was a busy travel year even for me! Looking back, I spent most of 2009 either packing or unpacking, jet lagged or getting over jet lag.

It started with a trip to Cozumel, Mexico in January, after that a business trip to China in April, another business trip to China and Thailand (with a week for pleasure added on) in June, China again in September, and finally Chile and Argentina in November. Add to that the stress of through a divorce and being a bridesmaid in my brother's wedding to the mix and you have what was an insane year.

So this year, I was determined that 2010 be a lot "calmer". And it was looking pretty good... until now! So far this year, I've only had one trip to Asia in April. Then I added this exciting (albeit unexpected) trip to the Yukon. And another business trip which I expected. As it turns out, I get back from the Yukon and 5 days later hope on a plane and head to Hong Kong, China and Taiwan. I was already wondering how I was going to survive the shock of going from zero civilization to Hong Kong when my middle brother announced he's getting married. This September. In Scotland. I understand their urgency (visas etc...) and since our family is tiny, I really want to (and will be) there for him. As it turns out, I'll get back from Hong Kong and 48 hours later, hop back onto a plane to head to Scotland. When did life become this hectic? and exciting? and most of all, how did I become such a world traveller?!?!?! Despite a full passport, it continues to baffle (and amaze) me....

The conundrum of where your clothes are made

2010-06-17T14:31:00.000-07:00

I’ll always be thankful for a number of things. No matter how bad some days get or how sorry I’ll feel for myself at times, I know that in the global scope of things, I really have nothing to complain about. I’m thankful that I’ll always have food to eat, running water and that as much as I’d love to earn more money, I’m galaxies away from making $0.22 per hour. Most of my perspective has come thru travelling and mostly from work travel. I work in the clothing business and visit factories overseas a couple of times a year.

If you’ve ever stepped foot in a clothing factory, it’s not a pleasant place to be. Between the constant noise and humming of the machinery, to the dust from all the textiles to the heat of the steaming equipment, it’s a good setting to develop a headache pretty quickly. Add to that a steamy 3rd world location off the beaten path and it becomes downright torturous. My visits typically consist of visiting with factory managers and merchandisers and involve very little time on the factory floor. But the times I do spend on the factory floor, I’ve felt close to fainting and am grateful for the cold glass of water and air conditioning at the end of my day. Unfortunately, the workers don’t get the same luxury.

For the most part, clothing manufacturing is done by women (exception being India where there are still a majority of male sewers) Sewing a garment is not something that typically requires a lot of skill. You may not know how to sew a pair of jeans or a t-shirt, but when it comes down to mass production work, you don’t really need to. Each part of the garment is broken down into single operations. A pair of jeans may easily pass thru the hands of 30 different workers. One to sew the back pocket, one to sew the zipper, one to sew the belt loops etc… Imagine the monotony of sitting at a sewing machine, day in, day out, sewing only a zipper or belt loops. Imagine doing that in the heat of the summer when humidity is 95% and the outside temperature is in the upper 30’s Celcius. And now, imagine your paycheque… Depending on the country, you can expect to make the equivalent of $0.50-$1.00 per hour. Some countries and areas are more and some, sadly less. For instance, in Bangladesh, as of 2008, you could expect to make $0.22 an hour as an apparel factory worker.

Sadly, most of us have become addicted to cheap, affordable, disposable goods. I get asked a lot why there aren’t more factories in Canada and why more things aren’t made in Canada. To say it’s a complex matter, is an understatement. Say for instance, those new cotton pants you bought. You look at the label, and it’s made in China. In order for that pant to be made in Canada, the fabric would have to be purchased. Sadly, Canada doesn’t have any cotton fields. Chances are, you’d have to buy that fabric from somewhere else. Likely from China, or if you were lucky and found that there are still places that make fabric in the US, from the US. In order to bring that fabric to Canada, the government is going to charge you duties. It doesn’t matter that there aren’t any textile mills left in Canada, but the government is still going to charge you 20% duty on that fabric. Now it comes time to cut and sew that fabric into pants. Assuming you’ve found a factory that is still around and has the machinery you need and still has staff. In BC, the minimum wage is $8 per hour. Would you sit at a machine all day to sew for $8 per hour? Yeah, neither would I. So, in order to actually get workers, Canadian manufacturers typically pay in the $12 per hour range (give or take and this is a very broad generalization) If you consider that labour is the typically the most expensive component of a garment, there is a 10 times premium to making that garment in Canada. If that pant cost $3 to make in China, it would mean it would cost about $30 to make in Canada. If you factor in retail markup, licensing etc…. that EASILY tacks on $60 to the retail price of a garment. If you’ve just paid $50 for those made in China pants, would you be willing to pay $110 for those same pants in Canada?

Essentially, the 3rd world has become a pool of cheap labour, and how can we support that, right? Well, if you think of it this way… the worker that’s sitting down at that machine in China, making $1 per hour sewing your pants? Well, if she weren’t doing that, she’d likely still be in her home village, working on her parents farm struggling for the entire family to get by. Their home would likely not have indoor heating or plumbing nor could they afford for any of the girls to go to school (priority still goes to men) This girl, and millions like her, leave their home villages around the age of 18 to go work “in the city” they travel thousands of miles away from home to get work in a factory so they can support their families back home (and build up a savings for themselves) Factories have set up dormitories and provide food for the workers. This isn’t just for the apparel business, but pretty much for anything made in China. The workers will work “in the city” typically until their mid 20’s. After which they return home, marry and have kids. Until that time, they are able to send home somewhere around half of their income to their families. To be fair, not a great life. However, if us “westerners” weren’t addicted to our cheap consumer goods, there would be no demand for the goods nor their labour.

Ironically, there since there has been such a demand for consumer goods in the last 10 years, it’s putting upward pressure on the cost of labour. Recently, there have been strikes and protests about the low wages in Southern China. So much so that companies who make cars and electronics have boosted pay by almost double. This will undoubtedly affect other areas of manufacturing and the cost of your jeans will go up. Is it a bad thing? In my opinion, no. Pay the workers a living wage allowing them to support themselves and their family, seems fair. However, because people have gotten used to paying $50 for their pants, are they now going to want to pay $60 or $70? I’m sure some retailers will think not and then manufacture their goods in a country where the cost of production is cheaper, like the $0.22 per hour Bangladeshi factories.

After all these years in the garment industry, I’m still torn on what’s “right” and what’s “wrong” It’s not as cut and dry as I once thought. Anyone would agree that sweatshops are bad, and in my experience, I’ve only come across one place that would be considered a sweatshop (thankfully a place that no one I’ve ever worked with has used!) Most large brands (Nike, Levi’s, Banana Republic etc…) have independent auditors to make sure that all of their vendors abide by certain codes of conduct. This is a checkpoint to make sure that workers basic human and safety rights are looked after (ie no child labour, no locked doors, no “excessive” overtimes etc…) and once that’s met, who’s to say what’s right and what’s wrong? To me, obviously $1.00 per hour seems like slave labour, but if a worker earns that and is more than what they’d normally earn and can send money home, is that wrong?

One thing that is wrong to me is when brands, companies etc… go from country to country in search of cheaper and cheaper labor. So if you start noticing that more and more of your clothing is Made in Cambodia, or Vietnam or Bangladesh, you’ll know that the workers in China were successful in getting a raise…

Can't start a fire without a spark

2010-05-17T20:36:00.000-07:00

I was never very good at dating. I could never figure out all of the little nuances, games, flirtations that so many other girls have dialed. My theory's always been that if I can't be great at something, why do it at all. With that theory in mind, I just don't even bother with the dating games and just try to be myself. It's not a theory I would recommend per se, as I've dated a number of guys in the past year and I still continue to date.

The thing that amazes me most about dating is the fact that someone can go from 60 to 0 in the matter of a day. Most of the time, I don't clue in to the moment (thing, act etc...) where something turned. Until recently. I don't think it could have been more obvious.

I had gone on a few dates with this guy. He seemed nice enough, called me almost every day, text messaged me daily and seemed interested to my untrained eye. Then I got a text message.

The text message said that it turned out we had a few friends in common. To make a long story short, the friends were my ex brother and sister in law. After I recovered from the shock (what were the chances?) I wasn't too worried, after all, there shouldn't be any reason this should be an issue. I can't say I didn't leave the family amicably because when D walked out, I never heard from his family again. After mulling it over, I wasn't too bothered.

I saw M the next night and we laughed about the commonality and I thought that was it. Since it had been our 6th or so date, we almost kissed when we said goodnight. I say almost, because just as we were about to kiss, he started laughing. That hardly does wonders for a girl's ego, but there he was laughing in a very awkward way. I left his place with an uncomfortable feeling. Then the next day, I got an email saying that he didn't feel there was any spark or chemistry with me. Yep. This is my dating life. If nothing else, great fodder for stories!

12 weeks to get into the shape of my life

2010-05-04T21:32:00.000-07:00

In exactly 84 days, I'll be in the Yukon starting my epic journey of backpacking and canoeing. I've already received a zillion documents from what I can expect (60-70km of hiking with a 60lb pack on my back), to how I should be prepared (workouts 3-5 times per week) to an intense packing list of stuff to bring (a mosquito hat!)

Now that this is very "real" and I have a deadline, I'm concentrating my efforts into getting into the shape of my life. I like to think that I'm already in reasonably good shape, but in the last year, I've definately enjoyed good food and wine more than I have the intense workouts that I used to.

Partially because I'm clumsy, and partially because I have the stiffest/tightest muscles known to man, I usually end up hurting myself if I do a gym workout or any kind of non-stretching focus classes. As much as my body NEEDS yoga, it's not gonna satisfy my cardio or muscle building needs. In my constant quest of finding the perfect workout that I won't hate, get bored of and can afford, I found the Dailey Method.

The Dailey Method has been the perfect mix of stretching, strengthening and for lack of a better word, sheer torture. It's a one hour class of core conditioning, strengthening and stretching. If I had to sum it up, it's like a Pilates class on crack. Yes, there's a lot of ab work, but I've never done a Pilates class that makes me sweat like the Dailey Method. During class, my legs shake, I feel muscles in my butt that I never knew existed and at times, I'm convinced that death wouldn't be as painful as holding a stomach crunch position for more than a minute straight. The next day, I feel like someone's punched me in the gut. But the thing is (and I'm showing my masochist side here...) it feels good. And as much as it hurts doing it, the next day I (mostly) feel great. I'm convinced that the Dailey Method is going to be an important part in helping me get in shape for my Grand Adventure. Well, at least until I'm ready to start practicing hikes with a 60lb pack on my back...

Adventure of a lifetime...

2010-04-21T16:48:00.000-07:00

I’ve experienced a fair number of crazy things in my lifetime. Some of them self induced (paragliding, trapeze lessons, drum lessons, getting a tattoo) some of them not (having been to 24 schools between Kindergarten and high school graduation, having Bell’s palsy as a kid, having a piece of satellite break the cockpit window and needing to make an emergency landing the first time I ever went on a plane just to name a few)

So it’s safe to say, that I like a life of adventure. That’s not to say that I don’t crave stability. I do. I’ve now been at the same job for over 6 years, the same apartment for just about 5 years and relationships? Well, that’s a work in progress. A few years ago, at this point in my life, I thought I’d be thinking about having a family and house of my own. An adventure in it’s own right, for sure, but I certainly would have never predicted the adventure I’m about to embark on.

I work for a fantastic company that’s always treated me great. I’ve always felt fortunate to have the work/life balance that I’ve experienced the past 6 years. My company has a program where they sponsor a couple of people per year to attend the National Outdoor Leadership School. I’m not sure how many applicants apply, but I do know it’s a very prestigious thing to be selected. Last month, on a bit of a whim, I decided to apply. Imagine my surprise (joy, and honor) when I was actually selected to go. For one month at the end of July, I’m going to be in the absolute middle of nowhere (somewhere in the Yukon) on the expedition of a lifetime.

The expedition starts with a two week hike. That’s right. Two weeks of backpack wilderness camping/hiking. It’s then followed by two weeks of white water canoeing. And no, I’ve never backpack camped in my life. I applied for the program to have something to push myself for. The past couple of years have pushed me emotionally, but it’s time to challenge myself physically.

The last time I did something remotely close to this was when I was 13. Well, it certainly wasn’t my decision, nor did I embrace it, but more than 20 years later, I realize how valuable it was. My mom’s boyfriend at the time, Jim, decided he was tired of my 13 year old attitude and sarcasm. So, in order for him and my mom to have a bit of a peaceful summer, I got sent to summer camp. I was used to growing up and spending my summers in the city so I didn’t have the first clue about camp. I got sent to camp for a month, and in that month, there was a 10 day canoe trip component. I’d never stepped foot in a canoe, how was I going to sit in one for 10 days? Jim outfitted me with everything I needed and then some. I got sent to camp with my own paddle, camping dishes, hiking boots you name it. I showed up for the camp bus in my matching outfit with matching earrings and my own paddle. It’s safe to say, I got laughed at.

All of the counselors oohed and aahhed over my paddle. I must be serious if I got sent to camp with my own paddle. Though I didn’t embrace the idea of camp, when I’m pushed into a “sink or swim” situation, I know how to pull it together. The first week of camp was spent teaching us how to prepare for our 10 day canoe trip. Our trip was going to be in Temagami and was going to involve over 70km of paddling. Once we took off, I was excited to see what my fancy paddle could do. To sum up, that 10 day canoe trip and month long camp changed my life. They opened me to the world of the outdoors and my lifelong appreciation for it.

Over 20 years later, I find myself with a similar opportunity. One month, 2 weeks in a canoe and a whole lot of blood, sweat and tears. I’m scared to death. What if I don’t make it? What if I’m the weakest one in the class? But aside from the physical challenge, I want to be able to push myself mentally as well. The past couple of years have made me realize that somewhere along the line in my adult life, I forgot to get some self confidence. Something as life changing as this, is bound to find me some. Wish me luck.

The art of flirting

2010-03-31T16:42:00.000-07:00

Flirting is an art. And just like any art, it’s subjective. Hard to judge if someone is good, bad or indifferent at it. An art, which I’m convinced, I’m TERRIBLE at. How am I convinced? A few weeks ago, I was at a bar with friends. A guy came up to my girlfriend and I and asked us to talk to his friend (I know, I know…) apparently his friend had just been dumped by his girlfriend and we were recruited to cheer him up. In exchange for our services, we’d be bought a drink.

The guy did genuinely look depressed. He was sitting in a suit at the edge of the bar practically crying into his gin and tonic. It didn’t get more depressing for him than this. Enter my friend (blonde, pretty, the works) she smiles at him flirtatiously and we both say “hi” she with that little extra twinkle in her eye (note- she is attached) Some mild exchange continues and then she says to him “I love your suit, I love a guy in a suit, soooooo sexy” that talked him off the edge a bit and he actually smiled. Wow. Is this what flirting was? I’m so lost. I thought that just randomly going up and talking to someone was flirting enough. Clearly. I. was wrong.

Genuinely feeling sorry for the guy (he really was in rough shape) I tried to prod the situation a bit. What did he do? What brought him here? Etc… then I just turned and told him “look, clearly whatever it is you’re upset about is serious. But I’m telling you, no girl/guy/job/whatever is worth being that upset over. You look like you’re about to step off the edge. Yes, life sucks sometimes, but we can make it through” I’m pretty sure that right there sealed my “F” in flirting. He then opened up and told me about this girl in Japan he was seeing and broke his heart, blah blah blah… I sincerely told him I was sorry for him. But if it made him feel any better, a year ago that day, my husband (at the time) walked out. Yes, he also happened to be the biggest douche in the world and a lot of the past year was crazy, but here I was out with friends (albeit a year later) with a smile on my face. Surely if I could do it, he could. Oddly enough, this cheered him up. Basically, I made him feel better by my crappy story. It made me feel better that though I was a failure at flirting, I could at least cheer someone up.

Flash forward a few weeks later… I host a dinner party at my place and invite a fellow over who I’ve met once and curious to get to know. There’s chatting and I’m attempting to flirt. I suspect there’s some flirting back. A comment here about my meticulously grommed eyebrows, a touchy tap on the shoulder on the way to the washroom, decent eye contact, you get the idea. I was trying to make it seem like I was flirting back. Did I deliver? Who knows! I guess I’ll wait to see if he calls, or do I call him? Oh god. That brings on a whole other game!!!!

Life lists

2010-03-28T20:25:00.000-07:00

When I went to South America late last year, I met up with a friend of a good friend of mine in Mendoza. We were both traveling through South America alone so appreciated the company for a few days of someone who spoke English. It’s amazing the things you get to talking about with someone you don’t know that well over bottles of Malbec on the beautiful sidewalk patios of Mendoza. My time in Mendoza is one of the fondest memories of my trip. Not just for the daily philosophical conversations over wine, but for the peacefulness I encountered and adventures which included paragliding and getting a tattoo hungover, 2 hours before I had to leave for the airport to make my way back home. But I digress….

One of the many conversations that were had between him and I were life lists. Yes, life lists, bucket lists, whatever you want to call them, seem to be all the rage these days, but it’s something most of us, at least informally, have contemplated. I’ve always had ideas of things that would be on my life list but I have to say, most of them involved trying something adventurous (going skydiving) or going to a specific place (overwater bungalow in Tahiti). When comparing our life lists, I realized how item specific my list was. Though his had a ton of adventurous things, there was a lot of things money couldn’t buy on his list. Such as being a parent, getting married etc… He also told me that he had written his down, if only to remember things that were, for at least a time, significant enough to contemplate. I’m still new to the concept of idea to written thing, so I was sceptical. And, while I was at it, thought that I’d add some non-material things to my list.

It was such a perfect time to contemplate such things since my trip to South America was to celebrate the fact that I survived such a turbulent (albeit short) marriage and my time in South America was to be introspective and get some rest. So I wrote. And wrote. And I was surprised that I ended up with over 50 things on my list and over half of them were “experience” based rather than an activity/place/adventure.

I have to say, I surprised myself at some of my answers (feeling good about my body, become fluent in Spanish, be in love with someone who is in love with me back). A lot of the items I can control (owning an original piece of art, volunteering in a 3rd world country for an extended period of time, having one year income in savings) And a lot of them are up to fate (having a balanced relationship, being a parent)

To not lose sight though, I also wrote a list of things I’ve already done to appreciate everything I’ve experienced so far. I have no idea whether I’ll get to experience even half of the items on the list, but it sure was a great experience to think about it and get it all down! Now, if only I could stop adding to the list…

Why online dating is bad for the ego…

2010-03-25T14:59:00.000-07:00

Dating is never easy. Anyone that says they love dating must be lying or a masochist. Dating before there were online dating sites wasn’t fun, but I’m convinced with the onset of online dating, things are even worse.
For starters before online dating, the only way you’d know if someone was interested in you, there had to be some face to face (or at least phone to phone) interaction. Then, presuming there was mutual interest, a date would ensue. Repeat until one or both parties were bored and then there would be a conversation about ending things.

These days, with online dating, the whole face to face thing is eliminated. Thereby making the process very cold and anonomys. Online dating is a virtual dating catalogue. Flip the pages until you find an item you like. For the most part, I think men are better at accepting rejection than women are. For most of our life, we’ve been used to having to fend men off. I don’t mean in an arrogant, cocky way, but from high school on, boys are the ones that primarily show interest and us women are the decision makers of whether we’ll accept or not. Sure, some girls have defied that and instigated asking the guys out, but I’m sure you’ll agree, it’s been the guys for the majority of our lives. So with this very unused muscle of rejection, we’re introduced with online dating.

I’ve signed up with eharmony. I’ve heard and tried some other dating sites over the years, but eharmony seemed like it would weed out at least some of the flakes out there. And, besides, all those tv commercials couldn’t be wrong, could they? I should mention that the point of me signing up wasn’t to find marriage or co-habitation anytime soon, but it would be nice to have someone to hang with on some weekends and who might even humor my like of foreign movies (and I’d even be willing to watch a hockey game or two in exchange). Unlike other sites, eharmony sends you matches, you can’t randomly search or view everyone. There is apparently some loose science to it based on a very intensive questionnaire you fill in. So, a few months ago, I signed up, and I waited. And waited…

Then I discovered that there’s a little feature on eharmony called “closed”. Matches have a few options once they view you: do nothing, send you multiple choice questions or “close” you. Closing someone means that you’re not even interested in getting to know that person for whatever reason. When you close someone, there are several (reasonable) choices: they don’t have pics posted, they live too far away, the age difference is too large, you’re pursuing another relationship and other. My problem lays with other. It turns out that in just over 3 months, I’ve been “closed” nearly 500 times. On average, I’ve been sent about 5 matches a day (some a few more, quite often less). That’s right, I’ve been shut down 500 times. My little unused rejection muscle is suddenly being overworked! The best part about “other” is I have no idea what I’m doing wrong! I like to think that my pictures captured the essence of what I looked like in a variety of settings (travel, activities etc…) and my write up gave an accurate glimpse of my interests and what I’m like. Granted, I’m not the most photogenic person, but I hardly look like Cruella DeVille! I’ve been shut down by guys I wouldn’t look twice at and guys who, when I read their profile thought we had a lot in common.

I hardly have an abundance of self esteem, but I do know that I’d be considered a pretty damn good catch: I’m gainfully employed, well traveled and have a brain I like to use, but it seems like over 95% of the guys out there aren’t even interested in giving me the time of day! Well, if nothing else, at least my rejection muscle is getting exercised. Maybe a little too much, I think it’s time to give it a break…

Never say never

2010-03-21T21:38:00.000-07:00

Years ago, an ex-boyfriend and I were talking about trips we’d like to take. He mentioned that he’d like to go to India. My reply to his revelation was something along the lines of “if India is the last place on earth, I don’t think I would want to go”. It just never occurred to me as a place to take a vacation or visit. To me, I’d rather be surrounded by beautiful beaches or amazing waterfalls.

After breaking up with him, I changed jobs and my new job came with the opportunity to travel. Imagine my surprise when my first trip was to India! (Life never ceases to be ironic) Though it had never been a draw for me to go before, I jump at the opportunity to go anywhere and go with an open mind.

I landed in Bombay (or Mumbai as it’s now officially called though all the locals still refer to it as Bombay) at 3am on October 27, 2005. After travelling nearly 24 hours, I walked out of the airport and nearly all of my senses were attacked at once! My glasses fogged up, the air smelled like a landfill and I was being yelled at and accosted by people from every which way offering me hotels, taxis and to take my bags. It was like a foreshadowing of things to come of my time spent in India.

It was my first business trip and only my 2nd time travelling alone (the first being to Bolivia in 2000) I don’t get intimidated easily, so I wasn’t all that afraid. When I walked out of the airport (If you don’t have a plane ticket, you’re not allowed to go into the airport, this is checked by security guards at the entrance verifying you have a ticket) I was to meet someone who I met once for about 2 minutes. There was no sight of him. After 10 minutes of manoeuvring the crowd and avoiding everyone accosted me, I went to the rep of the hotel I was staying in. They checked my reservation and it was made for the next night. I had no room. Luckily, they were able to find me a room and accommodate me.

A few hours later, I woke up in my room at the Hyatt. The room was amazing. Beautiful marble floors, modern décor and a comfy bed with enough pillows for a small village. The cost of hotel rooms in Bombay is astounding. The cost of that room was over US$300. The cost of rooms in Bombay was second only to Paris and London. And, because nothing works fast in India, the demand of hotel rooms far exceeded the supply, hence the prices.

The first thing I did after waking up was open the bedroom curtains to see what view I had. I think I figured out why all international flights landed and took off in the wee (dark) hours of the morning. Before me, was the largest slum in the world. As far as the eye can see, all you could see were huts made of cardboard with kids playing with chickens in the dry mud barefoot. I was shocked.

I knew that there was a large amount of poverty in India and because I had been to Bolivia before, thought I was prepared for it. As many places as I’ve been to since, nothing can prepare you for the poverty in India, specifically Bombay.

The city is about 600 sq km, or about the size of San Francisco. It’s the 2nd most populated city in the world. Officially, the population is somewhere around 14 million (but likely closer to double that) Getting from the airport to downtown (about 20km) can easily take 2 hours (even 3 in rush hour)

A condo in Juhu beach (an upscale trendy area with lots of Bollywood types) can easily run in the US$500K. Cover at the disco at the Marriott is US$25. Yet, there is by far more poverty here than any other place I’ve been to. In Bombay, I’ve seen a woman bathe her child in an open sewer, seen lepers on the street begging for money and a 4 year old girl weaving in and out of traffic selling bootlegged English books.

I have never felt such guilt in all my travels than the time I’ve spent in Bombay. While I have a nice comfortable life, there are millions (just in that city) with no access to running water, entire families sleeping in a cardboard shack on the side of the road and kids who will never be able to go to school. The only thing separating me between that lady bathing her kid in the sewer is fate. And, in the 5 times I’ve been to Bombay, I’ve never been more thankful of my life.

10 Dream Trips

2010-03-19T17:06:00.000-07:00

While I was driving to work today in an anti-histamine induced haze, I got to thinking about all the places I’d rather be. Well, at least anywhere with non-pollenating trees that have been making my life hell lately! I’ve been lucky enough to travel a ton over the past 10 years. Even luckier is that I get to travel for work. Maybe it’s because I’ve traveled so much that to me, staying in a generic hotel room is a soulless and boring as it gets. So everytime I go away for pleasure, I try to find the most unique (and cheap) accommodations I can.

Because of this strategy, I’ve stayed at some pretty cool places!
An eco lodge on a white sand beach in Mexico,
the most luxurious lodge you could imagine that you get to by rafting in/out,
a couple of very jumpy nights in an actual treehouse,
a posada in Argentina on an olive plantation,
a restored lodge in an old fishing village in India
and an amazing place in Thailand with my own semi-private pool

However, anyone that knows me, knows I’m constantly researching new places for new adventures. Who knows if I’ll ever get to them all, but here are some amazing dream trips:

Haad Tien resort- Koh Tao Thailand

This place has it’s own 350m amazing white sand beach, it’s on a nature preserve and has some amazing simple but luxurious bungalows. It’s totally private yet close enough to the local town. Koh Tao is one of the smaller islands in the Phang Nga Bay and supposed to not be as touristy as Koh Samui or the gong show that is Phuket (well, not all of Phuket is a gong show, only Patong) Koh Tao is known for world renown diving and has some hiking and rock climbing too. For me, this would be more of a mellow place to snorkel, get massages (Thai Massages are awesome!), go for bikes/hikes and hopefully go there with someone you’re romantic with. If you’ve never been to Thailand, be sure to do a cooking class or two. So easy and you’ll cook better than your local Thai place in a day or two!

Amazon Tupana Jungle Lodge- near Manaus Brazil

Next February, my mom is turning 60. I told her to pick somewhere on the map (within reason) and I’d make her dream trip happen. She shocked me when she said her dream trip would be to the Amazon in Brazil. In researching places, I came upon this place. To get here, you have to get to Manaus which is the nearest large town to the Amazon. They pick you up and take you to the lodge in motorized canoes (ie no paddling required) You can do accommodations alone, or they have 2-4 night packages that include hikes, fishing trips, river tours (where you can see pink dolphins, caimans, monkeys etc…) The 4 night package has a “jungle survival” package where you build a tent out of materials found in the jungle. Not quite sure mom’s ready for that yet though!
Hotel Mawimbi,Holbox, Mexico

After 3 times in Mexico (Playa Del Carmen, Tulum and Cozumel) I don’t really feel the need to see more of Mexico (especially the likes of Puerto Vallarta, Mazatlan etc…) but this place seems incredible! To get there, you fly into Cancun (which is usually cheap) take a bus to Chiquila and take a ferry to Holbox (pronounced Whole-bosh) On Holbox, there are no atms or cars. There are however cabs. But the cabs are golf carts! Holbox is still relatively untouristy and will likely never have massive resorts since it’s tiny. The main draw here is the beach and a relaxed vacation. Again, an ideal place for scuba divers because at certain times of year, nurse sharks are in the waters. I picture myself here in a hammock on the beach lounging in the shade with a great book and margarita in hand. If you don’t scuba dive, it’s probably not the most active vacation, though as a non-scuba diver myself, I’m sure I’d find ways to keep busy by snorkeling, kayaking or hiring a sailboat.

Four Seasons Tented Camp, Golden Triangle area, Thailand

Truly a once in a lifetime experience, this place looks beyond incredible. This place involves luxiourous accommodations in the middle of nowhere, gourmet meals, massages and elephant trekking. It doesn’t get more unique than this. Located in Northern Thailand’s Golden Triangle area (where Thailand, Laos and Burma meet), you’re in the middle of the jungle (which, from my time in Costa Rica is really noisy!) The accommodations are super luxurious tents with jungle views and a huge outdoor deck. Though it’s all inclusive, it’s not in the “wear a bracelet and eat a buffet way”. Your meals, drinks, elephant trekking and massages are included. Of course, this comes at a price! For a 2 night all inclusive stay it’ll set you back about $2000 (Canadian) so you might have to take out a loan!

Le Taha’a island resort, Taha’a island Poynesia Le Taha'a

One of my ultimate must do before I die trips is to stay in an overwater Bungalow in the South Pacific. I picked Tahaa’a island as my dream desitnation because it produces 25 tons of vanilla a year. Anyone that knows me knows a) I love to bake and b) base a lot of my trips on food. Oh, and I love orchids too. And vanilla is an orchid! Taha’a island is pretty remote and pretty rugged. Yet the acccomodations are totally luxurious. Probably not a place to visit on your own because it looks too damn romantic! You wouldn’t even need to leave your room. Ever! You have the beautiful green ocean right off your room. Heaven!

Sayari Camp Serengeti, Tanzania

Another once in a lifetime trip would be a trip to the Serengeti. I picked Sayari as a dream place because it claims to be off the tourist track but there is still some off road driving allowed in spots. Imagine being in the absolute middle of nowhere and seeing hippos, lions, leopard and elephants? And amazing Serengeti sunsets? I picked this place too because it has the perfect mix of luxury in natural surroundings. Looks incredible! One day….

Eden Lodge

Madagascar would be an amazing place to visit. There are entire species of animals which only exist in Madagascar. The Eden lodge is powered on solar energy (therefore lessens the guilt a bit from the carbon emissions of getting there) Again, the draw of this place is the isolation of it, but still somewhat luxurious accommodations. All of the bungalows are beachfront and since it’s solar powered, there is no air conditioning. The only cooling is the ocean breeze. This seems like an amazing place to go after hiking through all of the rain forests in Madagascar!

Chica Brava Surf Camp, San Juan del Sur, Nicaragua

Since I took a surf in Oregon a few years ago, I’m hooked on surfing. Then I took private classes in Costa Rica and I got hooked on WARM water surfing. Now, it just seems like pure torture to me to surf cold water. The last time I surfed, it was my first time getting up on a hard board (a feat of which I’m quite proud!) So, I’m sure that another intense camp would improve me that much more! Chica Brava is a surf camp in Southern Nicaragua about 30 minutes north of the Costa Rican border. The waters are warm and the surf is consistent. What’s better is that this is a place a girl can go on her own since it’s an all girl surf camp. The accommodations are hardly luxurious, but it would be an amazing experience to build up surf skills!

The Spa Koh Chang Resort, Koh Chang, Thailand

Koh Chang is the 2nd largest island in Thailand and 85% of the island is protected rainforest. It’s only opened up to tourism since 2000 and as yet, 2/3 of the tourists are Thai. This means that the presence of tuk tuk’s, tailors and lady-boys is probably less (in Patong, I once heard a lady-boy solicit himself by saying “you wanna get F&)(*(@ by lady-boy- words NO ONE should have to hear!) I picked the Spa because I’d love to do a vacation that focuses on relaxation. I usually have a ridiculously hard time relaxing on vacation and want to experience everything, whether it’s paragliding off a mountain, or waterfall rapelling. Staying somewhere like this resort, would force me to relax. It wouldn’t be that hard since they fill your time with yoga and massage. They also offer health/detox and fasting plans but I have way too little self disclipline to attempt that on a vacation. This could very luckly be part of my next Thailand trip.

Private Mountain Casitas, Boracay, Philippines

Since Hong Kong seems to be my second home as of late (in 2009, I went there 3 times for work) One time, I’d like to tack on a visit to the Philippines since airfare from Hong Kong to Philippines is inexpensive. This seems like the perfect place to destress. Borcay is arguably, one of the 10 best beaches in the world. Boracay is a great place for any beach activities like diving, sailing and a great place to try kiteboarding or skimboarding. I picked private mountain, because, well it’s private! And once you brave the uphill walk to get there, you’re blessed with incredible views of the beach.

I’d love to think that I’ll get to all of these places in this lifetime. To me, traveling is always a catalyst for great memories and great stories! There’s nothing quite like the adrenaline rush of running off the side of a mountain (Mendoza, Argentina) getting robbed on Christmas Day (Samana, Dominican) or being questioned for 3 hours by Israeli security (Frankfurt, Germany) Well, there’s my list, time to start knocking off a few of the items!

Adventures on El Al

2010-03-18T18:21:00.000-07:00

Recently, there seems to always be something on the news about how the Ben Gurion airport in Tel Aviv is the safest airport in the world. The security people in charge, make no bones that they racial profile and ask you a slew of questions. I can testify to that!

Flashback to May 2007. I had a work trip that took me to India for a week, then I had to continue onto Israel for a week. I flew from Delhi to Frankfurt and had a 15 hour middle of the day layover. As much as I've travelled and as excited I get about airports, 15 hours is too much for anyone! Luckily, I knew my way around Frankfurt, so I thought I'd take the train into the city and wander around. After a train ride into the city only to realize that the entire city was shutdown for a national holiday, I trained it right back to the airport. After looking at every single item in the duty free shop, I wandered back to the lounge and killed about 12 hours.

3 hours before my El Al flight was due to leave, I thought I'd at least change scenery and wander down to the gate. El Al is supposedly the safest airline in the world. They were the first to institute locked cockpit doors and are known to have armed air marshalls on each of their flights. Though I was already through one security check, I had to go through another one just to get into the gate area of El Al. Once I got to the El Al counter, I got my boarding pass, and had to go through yet another x-ray for my hand luggage. Once I thought I was finally done all of the x-rays, I was greeted by another plain clothes agent who greeted me in Hebrew. The extend of my Hebrew starts and stops with "Shalom" so it's safe to say we didn't exactly have a lengthy conversation. From there, he asked me a bunch of pretty normal questions (in English) "Where are you going?" "Who are you travelling with" etc... Then he welcomed me into a gated little seated area. I knew he wasn't going to ask me how my trip was and how I was doing, so I got nervous. I tend to get nervous in any situation with authority. The one time I was pulled over for speeding, I'm pretty sure the reason I got off without a warning was because I was shaking when I gave the police officer my license!

From there, the questioning grew intense. Who was I visiting (a factory) ? Did I have a boyfriend (yes)? Was I married (no!) ? What race was my boyfriend (White)? Why am I alone (because?)? Why don't I have a business card of the people I'm meeting (hadn't met them yet) and on and one. He wanted to check emails, names of my boss, names of factories in India, you name it. From there, we went into the curtained area where a very intimidating fellow was to go through all of my luggage for explosives. When I say everything, I mean everything! from the crumbs at the bottom of my purse, to the pages in my book, it all went through the explosives machine. My heart was pounding. During my 15 hour layover, I managed to come down with a brutal cold. During my interrogation, I wasn't allowed to go to the washroom and had to be in the company of the security guys the whole time. Though I had nothing to hide, I was so nervous, I started fumbling! I think I even made light of this by saying "geez, this is so nerve wracking, I had no idea" to which my security companion said "well, if you had nothing to hide, you wouldn't be nervous".

2 hours into this ordeal, a lady walks into the room and says to me "strip search" and points to a curtained off area. I don't know if it was nerves, the cold, no sleep or what, but I just started crying. No control. Just tears coming out. I thought I was in for full strip search. I loved my job and I loved that I got to travel, but this? This was beyond any job description! Luckily, my new friend just wanted a heavy pat down, rather than strip search. Tears stopped. I felt better again. By now, my hand luggage failed to show any explosives. The end was almost near. Half an hour before take off, I was cleared to go on the plane.

I should mention that the whole time I was being questioned, it was totally visible to all of the other passengers. I should also mention, I was the only passenger selected for this in depth screening. I get on the plane, sit in my comfy business class seat and everyone gets on the plane and starts glaring at me. Right before they shut the door, my security friend comes up to me and says "Ms. Correia, did you have beer in your suitcase" I confirmed I did (I was buying some to bring home) and thought that they'd just take it away. He said to me "It's no problem, we've just packed it in a seperate box so it doesn't explode in your suitcase, when you get to Tel Aviv, look for a small box with your name on it"

The irony of this is priceless. I guess they're so concerned about ANY explosives, they didn't even want the beer to explode. And, you can imagine, when I got to Tel Aviv to pick up said box, the looks I got from the other passengers. Here's the girl that was detained the whole time, what's in her box? surely they wandered.

Once I got into Israel, it was a beautiful and safe country. It's no wonder it's safe if it takes that much to get into the country!

rrrrraaaaww....

2010-03-14T05:18:00.000-07:00

You gotta love targeted ads. Even though, on facebook, I have my year of birth and marital status hidden, they somehow still manage to target ads. One of the latest ads I keep seeing is an ad for what must be a dating site. The ad, which keeps showing up in my facebook profile says "new dating site for classy cougars like you". Well, I guess I should be honoured that at least they call me classy.

I'm not sure what's worse, the fact that a website for "cougars" exists, or the fact I'm considered a cougar! *sigh*

Vanishing Act

2010-03-08T20:05:00.000-08:00

It looks like not much has changed in the 5 years since my last tour on the dating scene. And though I can't say there's comfort in that, there is a certain element of comedy (though maybe comedy in the way Shakespeare meant it as opposed to Mr. Bean)

The story always seems to go like this: boy meets girl, boy likes girl and calls her constantly. Girl is unsure and overwhelmed but proceeding with caution. This game continues for a few weeks, months etc... and as soon as girl slightly relents and shows interest back, boy vanishes.

The part that's comical about this is that it's happened to me more than once. I used to think it was all about me. Was I not pretty enough? Was it something I said? Didn't say? Should I have shown more interest? Less? Now, I just laugh. I know enough that it's happened to pretty much every person who has ever been single. Likely more than once. What annoys the hell out of me though, is that the other person doesn't think that a quick little "geez, you know, I've changed my mind, not interested anymore" or something similar would go a long way in the respect and admiration category as opposed to the slinky douche category.

p.s. though the pic above has nothing to do with the post, it's the best stain remover ever!

Awkward. Dating with a dog.

2010-03-02T22:05:00.000-08:00

I love my dog. I've had her since she was 8 weeks old. She's a Jack Russell/Schnauzer. When I got her, I knew that because of her breed, she'd be a handful to raise. Well, a handful is an understatement. In the past 4 and a bit years since I've had her, I've experienced every up and down there is in a dog owner's world: joy (the amazing tricks and intelligence she has), fear (eating a bottle of vitamin E pills, falling down a 50ft cliff) anger (you can't find a more stubborn breed) and comfort (there's no better feeling than coming home to her) and now: embarasment.

You see, my dog has a very unnatural love of males. Electricians, plummers, my brothers, friends, you name it. This has now extended to males I date. If I meet a guy, I make sure I tell him about my dog. I mention her many neuroses, as well as all her quirks that make her fun. However, nothing can quite prepare anyone for a night over.

Four years ago when I got her, I tried to crate train her. However, the incessant crying all night got to me after a few nights. In a moment of weakness (and extreme tiredness) I relented and she jumped into bed. I've been trying to get her out ever since!

I've tried every tactic known to man. Bribes, comfy dog beds, angora blankets, anything to make not my bed more comfortable than my bed. Nothing's worked! I even hired a dog psychologist to address this (and some of her other issues) For the past few months, I've been reasonably sucessful. Lucy is now the proud owner (and sleeper) of her very own dog bed!

I've been super encouraged that this new turn of events will help any future relationships. However, I recently had someone stay over and all my training went to hell! The night before (and night after) she was the perfect angel. Sleeping away in her bed. I even had the bedroom door open. The night this someone stayed over, she just sat beside him and stared at him (like he was a raw steak I might add) I locked her out of the bedroom but she wouldn't stop crying at the door and using her paw to scratch at the door. All. Night. I assured my someone that this wasn't normal (anymore) I don't think he bought it. I can just hear him now talking to his friends "cool girl, crazy dog". I wonder if I'll ever hear from him again...

Night over Manaus

2010-02-21T13:17:00.000-08:00

Exactly a year from now, is my mom's 60th birthday. She's always wanted to travel, but my step dad isn't a fan of getting on a plane (something about not sitting still or smoking for more than an hour!) So, since my mom does me the favour of watching my dog while I'm at work each day as well as when I go on business trips or try to find myself in other parts of the world, I'm taking her away for her big celebration!

I asked her where she was interested in going. Because I have airmiles, I gave her a rough idea of physical limitations of where we could fly. I figure for her first big trip away (asides Europe) she'd pick somewhere "safe" like Mexico or Hawaii. She surprised me when she told me her dream trip was to go to the Amazon!

So, planning begins! Air Canada handily flies into Sao Paulo. Since she wants to experience a bit of everything, I've done some research and have come up with a very vague itinerary. Sao Paulo, Praio de Forte (a beach town) Igazu falls (in Argentina), Rio, and Manaus, a city that's the gateway to the Amazon. In order for her to get the full experience, I've looked up some eco lodges that boat you in/out from Manaus. They range between 3-5 nights and one of the ones I looked up, you even spent one night in a hammock (that you build) sleeping in the jungle. I'm not sure if my mom's gonna be up for quite that much adventure! I do remember her massive paranoia of any bugs and creatures! I'll never forget the time in florida when she ran into a preying mantis in the shower. I've never heard screams that loud! I only hope that my obsessive planning will live up to her expectations!

Victim of marketing

2010-02-14T13:17:00.000-08:00

When I'm browsing through the liquor store, looking for a new bottle of wine to try, I look at a number of factors: country, grape, price and looks. Not necessarily in that order. I would much rather buy a bottle that I know is good, but if I'm going blindly, any of those single items can lead me to try it.

Case in point. I was looking to stock up the wine rack and pick out some I knew were good, and went blindly on some others. I bought one bottle purely on looks. The label was pretty and the name was cool. The name? Bitch. How can I not love a wine with a title like that? and with a pretty pink label and cap, I was sold. Bitch is a South Australian Grenache with an alcohol content of 15.5%. So I was expecting a big flavorful wine. My disapointment started right when I poured it into a glass. It was light in color and almost opaque. I poured my girlfriend a glass and we tried our first sip. eeew. weak, watery and unflavorful. What a disapointment! I should know better, the prettier the wine bottle, the worse the wine. What a disapointing bitch!

Unleashing my inner drummer

2010-02-04T19:33:00.000-08:00

When my marriage ended, early last year, I went on a subconcious quest to do as many cockamanie things as I could. One of the first things I did, was take a trapeze swinging class. That ended after only 1 session. I had full intentions of doing it for fun, but when I discovered that my trapeze mates were 3 13 years olds who were 2 steps away from auditioning for Cirque de Soleil, I slinked away with my bleeding toe.

Since then, I've had boudoir pictures taken, made out with a guy 10 years younger than me in a pool in Thailand (he was Spanish and cute, like I had any chance of resisting?), went on a 3 week trip to South America where I went paragliding and finished the trip with a tatoo 2 hours before my flight home.

So, it makes perfect sense that I continue on this cockamamie adventure. What started out as distractions to help me forget what happened, make me feel desirable and alive, seems to be continuing. So, tomorrow, as an early birthday present to myself, I'm taking drum lessons. I've secretly always wanted to be the cool chick in a rock band banging away on the drums. I have no illusions that I'll be any good, let alone in a band. But somehow, it's fitting that now that I'm comfortable in my own skin (after going thru such hell) that I at least slightly attempt to pursue this. I just hope the instructor doesn't laugh me out of the studio!

In my mind, I'll be the hot (tatooed) edgy chick. A la Sheila E. More likely, I'll end up looking like Animal from the muppets! I have confirmed with the instructor that it is a private lesson, so I know I won't be showed up by any 13 year old Melissa Auf Der Mer want to be's. Thank god. It was all I could do to pick up my ego (& bleeding toe) out of the circus gym that day after trapeze class...

Two date kitty

2010-01-30T19:53:00.000-08:00

I'm going on a 2nd date tomorrow. We went on our first date two weeks ago and I didn't have a lot of expectations as we had to reschedule a few times. On our first date, I was pleasantly surprised. He was super cute, fun and nice. And, he seemed into me. Always a good start. I seem to make a good first date. Of the dates I've been on, even if I wasn't interested in them, a 2nd date could be expected. However, I'm starting to notice a lack of interest past date 2. I think the 2nd dates I've been interested have gone well, but they never seem to materialize into 3rd dates. I'm trying not to take it personally because there are so many variables at play: where someone is in their life, work, better offers, or even maybe, just maybe, I got too comfortable on that 2nd date and my big mouth said something it shouldn't. One day I'd love to get an honest guys opinions on this topic. In the meantime, I trudge along in mystery. God, this dating thing is confusing! But for now, onto date #2 with cute boy. Wish me luck.

The sun never shines in China

2010-01-29T08:36:00.000-08:00

I've been to China 5 times in the past 2 years. In the 5 times I've been, I've never seen the sun shine. I've been various times of year (April, August, February) And every time I go, it never ceases to amaze me that I never see the sun. It's like the communist government ordered it that way. Grey skies, to match the grey buildings to match the grey roads. China is the very model of efficiency. It's economy has grown a minimum of 8% for most of the past 10 years. What amazes me about the country (of the industrial areas I've seen) is the efficiency. It's the ultimate model of "there's a task at hand, get it done". Everything is very efficient, yet without a hint of emotion. Workers at the factories are androgenous and just doing what they do, with blank expressions on their faces.

The lack of emotion and color in industrial China fascinates me. I've been to India an equal number of times (albeit for greater lengths of time) and whereas India is the opposite in it's colorfulness in the saris of the female workers, or the jasmine scent of the flower braids in their hair, China is grey. Very grey. There's so much more to be said of all I've learned and seen in China, but the lack of color never ceases to amaze me...

Ode to my Christian Louboutins (or why I need a shoe intervention)

2010-01-25T04:30:00.000-08:00

I'm in Hong Kong for work (I still pinch myself at the fact I have a job that pays me to get on a plane a couple of times a year). In the past year, I've been to Hong Kong for work 4 times. By being here so often, I've come to know what's a tourist trap (temple street market, Nathan road), what's unique (Cheung Chau Island) and where the good places to shop are (Rise commercial center, granville road)

For the most part, Hong Kong is not unlike most large North American cities. It is however, the definition of super consumerism. You literally can't walk anywhere without bumping into a short or restaurant. For the most part, I'm not drawn to shopping in Hong Kong. For clothes, it's either high end designer or cheap knock off. Or at least that's my excuse, because clothes shopping in HK exacerbates my already poor body image ("top that fit you???? No fit, you too fat" For the record- I'm a north american size 8, HARDLY plus size) So while my size 2 collegue shops for clothes, I look down. And down I've come to learn, is where it's at: SHOES!

Black ones, red ones, flat ones, stillettos, short boots, tall boots, HK has them all! In my past few HK visit, I've come home with no less than 2 pair per trip (and that was exercising a lot of self control) However, packing for this trip made me realize my closet has run out of space for even one more.

It's rough being an urban multi faceted woman you know. Because of my hobbies, I need way more footwear than the average girl (that's my excuse) For the sporty me, I have rock climbing shoes, cross country ski boots, downhill ski boots, winter hiking boots and 2 pair of summer hikers. For the fashiony me, I have black stilettos, red stilettos and every imaginable color and heel shape possible. For the practical me, I have flat shoes and boots to go with everything.

The last pair of HK shoes I returned with were the lovely Christian Louboutins beauties in the pic. They called to me (I swear!) I saw them in the Mong Kok shop (the only pair) and it was lust at first sight! Like the glass slipper that the prince brought to Cinderella, they fit perfectly. They are the epitome of sexy. 5" of black patent, red soled sexy. To me, perfection of design. Way too perfect to sit in a box in a closet waiting to be commissioned into service once or twice a year. So, in order to give them the admiration and worship they deserve, I've proudly displayed them on the shelf in my bedroom. They're one of the first things I see in the morning, and one of the last before I go to sleep. They have yet to see concrete, or step foot outside of the carpeted haven of my apartment. For all of their beauty and sexiness, they lack comfort. Because of their 5" height and my size 6.5 feet, I feel like I'm going to topple over in them (and I'm used to heels!) so, like a good sports car owner who lets their beauty sit in the driveway, the bookshelf in my bedroom might be my Louboutins fate. Oh, but they're so sexy!

Ladies, Man up!

2010-01-23T00:05:00.000-08:00

In this 21st century, it seems that we aren't shy to draw on the knowledge of "experts". Whether it's a life coach, relationship counsellor, career counsellor or spending $300 on a session with a dog Psychologist (like I did a few weeks ago, but that's another story) And why not, if you can pay someone to get you that extra distance in your career or get you past your commitment issues (or get your dog to stop being a jerk), I'm all for it. Hell, I pay an eyebrow "expert" $20 every 3 weeks to meticulously maintain my eyebrows for a reason!

However, I'm torn on the idea of a dating expert. That's right, for $650 (to start...) you can pay this guy to coach you through dating. He doesn't exactly say what training he has to make him a dating expert, but does coach both men and women. He promises that his approach is "unique, highly personalized, scientifically-based, hands-on, and the most effective way to take charge of your social life."

I find it curious that the notion of a dating coach even exists. You see, to me dating isn't exactly a science (although some of the people I've dated in the past have been about as boring as reading a science textbook...) Furthermore, I've found that the more effort you put into dating (unlike a career, education, training your dog), the less likely you are to succeed.

Mick gives insightful advice such as :

The point of first dates is:
•To evoke a connection and positive emotions. You want to see how you feel around that guy. That’s it.

•For you to be asked out on another date. If you’re like most women who want a guy who that takes charge and leads, that’s the only way you’ll know if he’s that kind of guy.

•Allow the conversation to naturally unfold. Focus on him, let him do the talking. The more he talks, the more information you’ll have to determine if he fits your bill. And of course, you should contribute to the conversation. But again, focus on him.

Before even going on the first date, he suggests a pre-date "warm up". Once there, he suggests things that you shoudn't take about and avoiding “interview style questioning” as it can make the conversation one sided and imply that you are "superior" to your date.

His theory, is that we are our own matchmaker and with some of his skills in place, we can take on the dating world and build a happy, healthy relationship. I do agree that if you're happy with yourself, generally pleased with life and have some self confidence (I'm still learning that last one), you'll naturally attract people of a similar mindframe.

Would I even dream of spending $650 to build up some self confidence to talk to a guy on the street, go on a date with him and make sure I'm fully focusing on only him while asking insightful questions (without seeming like I'm interviewing him)???? Nah, I think I'd rather be myself, act natural and if things go wrong, laugh about it with my friends over wine. Call me old fashioned...

Salentein reserve Malbec 2007 = delicious

2010-01-17T14:24:00.000-08:00

Last month, I was in South America for a trip I called my divorcemoon (in short- since marriages are celebrated with a honeymoon, divorces should get a divorcemoon) While in Mendoza, Argentina, I discovered a ton of wines and learned a lot about Malbec. Last night I (with the help of friends) opened one of the bottles I brought back.

The winery is called Salentein and it's in the Uco Valley near Mendoza (in the shadows of the Andes) The wine that I brought back was a 2007 reserve Malbec. After drinking many types of Malbecs in Argentina, I've learned that I prefer an oaked Malbec. The oak aging tends to make a smoother Malbec. Using French versus Amercian oak is even smoother. The longer the time the wine is in oak, the better the flavor. The amount of time in oak varies from a few months to a maximum of about 18. The Salentein reserve Malbec has been aged in French oak for 14 months. This wine was so unbelievably smooth and delicious. I can't remember exactly how much it was at the winery, but it was definately less than CDN$15. I know BC liquor stores doesn't carry it and I have yet to scour the private liquor stores to see if it's available. But if you like a smooth, full bodied red and are able to find this, I fully recommend!

Plenty of fish, but are there any worth keeping?

2010-01-15T18:14:00.000-08:00

So one of my first forrays into the dating world was to try this online dating thing. Afterall, whenever people hear you're single, the first thing they seem to tell you is how "so and so" met their girlfriend/boyfriend/husband/wife blah blah blah on such and such dating website. So I thought, why not? Plenty of fish is free so what have I got to lose?

There may be plenty of fish, but most of them you want to throw back. In my very unscientific experiment, it goes like this:

80% of the guys won't get back to you
10% are just downright odd
10% are worth getting to know

* editors note- My figures have been rounded up for ease of convenience.

I wrote what I thought was a fairly accurate description of myself with accurate pictures. In my profile, I indicate that I have a dog, a sense of humor (so I think), my interests, music I like (ie Franz Ferdinand) , my love of Foreign movies (I love you Almodovar) and my overall "down to earthness". I thought between the pics and write up, it would convey the fact that I was a pretty good catch (sorry, couldn't resist!) Or, my friends and family have been lying to me for years!

With my newfound confidence, I started emailing some guys who I thought were cute and seemed interesting in html. Nada. What's worse? On this plenty of fish (or as regulars call it: p.o.f) you can see when someone's read and (horror!) deleted your message. So after 10 or so "read" and "deleted" messages, my ego couldn't take it anymore so I took the passive approach: let them find me.

Well, to be fair, some guys did email me. Here are some of the lowlights...

one guy emailed me with this message "my GF thinks ur hot?"
Awesome. well, at least someone thinks I'm hot! but your girlfriend? dude, wrong website!

One verbose fellow thought my Franz Ferdinand reference was relating to the 15th century emperor. (ummm..yeah, appreciate the history but no...) he also told me that layoffs in the public sector might mean a change in address for him (he was from the island) suggesting what? he could be my roommate? I'm sorry, but if the words "moreover" "estimation" and "Deweyian" appear in our first communication, we're probably not gonna get along.

and my personal favorite? the guy who wrote If you like to be serenaded by your favorite love balads and treated like a lady, I will keep you smiling. I'm sure most girls would think it's awfully sweet and adorable, but really? When I picture myself dating, do I picture someguy sitting there belting out Luther Vandross tunes? ah. no! (but it would make me laugh..sadly, I don't think he was kidding)

There are plenty more, but those are the highlights. It hasn't all been in vain though. I had the BEST and wittiest exchange with one fellow. The back and forth emails had me smiling. We met to make sure the chemistry felt right. To me, it did. That led to witty text messaging and a 2nd date. Will there be a third? I don't know, but I'm hoping so. I'm afraid of that damn fish pond!