An Island and a strike...

I apologize for my current lack of presence in the blogasphyre.   However, the last two weeks have been very busy with sharing our findings with my lovely parents who thought they would take a jaunt overseas for a visit. We have been showing them all of the marvels of Barcelona, and finding a few previously undiscovered hidden gems along the way. For example; we finally made it to the market located on the infamous La Rambla street which is described in all the guide books as... well.. not awesome for young blonde girls. Turns out... they lied.

La Boquaria market is definitely something that should not be missed. The one Euro fresh squeezed juices, literally in ever single imaginable flavor, are beyond description. There are little restaurants located throughout the market if you care to stop for a bite to eat. I have to admit that fish markets here are far more appealing here in Spain than they were in Greece. Mostly because they smell fresh and not overly fishy, but not being ogled at by every single man, women in Greece are not commonly found in the fish markets, doesn't hurt either. So if you're ever in Barcelona, don't let all the guide books and internet sites lead you astray from La Rambla. Yes, you need a heightened sense of self awareness and to walk with purpose with your belongings in front of you,  but you'll manage just fine, and will miss out if you don't pony up to taking on new territory.

We spent three days on the Catalan island Mallorca, or Majorca. Staying in a quaint sea-side hotel at Puerto do Soller made for picturesque evenings, and sunny mornings. So sunny in fact that I even have a sun burn on my chest fully equipped with a stripe left behind by my bag. A day in Palma, the 'big' city on the island, made for an interesting walk, custom made street jewelry,  music and dancing, and the best ice cream on the face of the earth. Cherrymania is everything and more you want out of an ice cream.  With cherry cream circled with fresh, real cherry syrup, none of that maraschino crap, accompanied by chunks of dark chocolate and decorated with a generous amount of fresh juicy cherries, I don't think I will ever taste an ice cream as wonderful as Cherrymania.

  While I thoroughly enjoy having a unique name, my childhood self was always disappointed by all those named artifacts found in gift shops. You know, magnets, water bottles, pens/pencils, bracelets, all with the most common English names already inscribed on them like they were just waiting there for you to find them. Yes, they were never waiting for me. On the odd occasion I would find one with 'Brynn' on it, but sadly not the way I spell my Bryn. So when a young Korean couple appeared to be making hand written custom silver wire necklaces I was overly thrilled.

This delicate beauty cost me 4 Euros, but I easily would have paid 20 for it for my childhood self.
Another perk, and sometimes disadvantage, of traveling with my marathon running mother is that she likes to walk.... A LOT. So naturally one of days was spent hiking and walking to several towns on Mallorca. She estimated that we walked 14-16 Km that day.      But it was worth it to really see the island. The sunburn on my chest may bag to differ, but it's collateral damage bound to accompany the true discovery of a tropical place.

Back in Barcelona now for only two days of teaching. There is a general strike tomorrow that people of all backgrounds will attend. Even if we were to come to the school we would find virtually no teachers and very few students. However the lack of transportation workers would prevent us from making the trip. So tomorrow will be a walking/ relaxing day. I'm interested in what will transpire in Barcelona tomorrow, and while I understand the complications that could transpire, I wish I could be a fly on the wall in order to better understand what the Spanish people are fighting for.

My 24th birthday will be one spent flying to another new place this Saturday as we begin Easter break. Eleven days of adventure throughout Southern Spain and Portugal sounds like a nice way to begin a new year.

 For now, I miss you...
xoxo
B

Xocolat con churros... :(

So Brianne and I made the trip to a highly recommended, meaning recommended in all of our books as well as every googlable site, churros cafe. We had both been told that churros and chocolate is amazing many times. Sadly, if I was writing a guide book, I'd mention skipping that experience entirely. First of all churros are basically the same as they are at festivals in Alberta, only less good. The chocolate looks amazing, it's thick creamy and smells fantastic. But, it tastes awful. It has a consistency close to pudding, yet tastes like creamy cocoa. It's not sweet at all. Neither Brianne or I came even close to forcing ourselves to finish it. You also get about a cup of this chocolate. I cannot imagine eating the whole thing with a spoon even if it actually tasted good. So we won’t be trying that again. Helado on the other hand is a must repeat. Over and over again. And in all honestly, this was the first thing we tried and didn't enjoy, so I think we are doing alright.

This week made for a less eventful but still interesting week at the school. There are a couple things I keep forgetting to mention. Silly thing, but mentionable all the same. Both Brianne and I enjoy the occasional Staples perusal at home, and frequently browse the office supply related section at Chapters back home. Yes, we are big nerds and love school supplies. But get this. Binders here, come with either 2 or 4 rings. Paper is also made with the matching number of holes. Therefore... nothing fits into our non-Spanish binders. The paper size is also slightly larger, leaving our binders looking like they were shrunk in a binder washing machine as the edges poke out tauntingly. They also have those clear shiny sheet protectors here. They too naturally fit the customary size here leaving our binders close to useless. Now while this is hardly something to complain about, it's something this foreign teacher noticed. The students also each have a scribbler which they call a notebook. Its about 1 inch maybe 1.5 inches thick. And get this... they use it for every subject. All their notes go into this one scribbler. You can tell they write a lot. . .

Something Brianne and I have noticed in the casual environment that is our school, is how expletory language is commonly used. Now I really don't know any Spanish curses, but the children curse in English commonly, as do the teachers. They even curse at each other. And unlike schools back home, no one reacts to the use of this language. It's almost like they recognise that they are just words and there is nothing taboo about their integration into common speech. This is something I'm not sure my Canadian trained brain will ever really get used to.

We also attended a celebratory teacher lunch this week. We were told to bring something to contribute. This posed a problem as we only have ONE hotplate to cook on, one frying pan, and one pot with no lid. So we decided to make rice crispy squares. An easy task until finding marshmallows was next to impossible. So with our tray in hand we attending the lunch which was in no way a potluck. It had clearly been catered by someone and we were the only ones who brought something in addition to what was already provided. To further our displacement, no one knew what this weird rice thing was that we brought, but they all tried it anyway. We also had a long pleasant chat with the only teacher in the school under the age of 45. Julian is the technology teacher at the school and doesn't look a day over 27. It was nice to have a conversation with someone closer to our age, and we were informed of many differences between Canadian and Spanish education. Most of which I include in my Inquiry project, but for those simply following my blog; teacher training here is only one year, there are no sports teams, extra-curricular clubs or elective/ option courses offered at this school other than music. There is also no band program. Sad Face. Brianne noticed several of the other teachers at this lunch staring in our direction while we talked to Julian, which leads me to another point.

Staring isn't really inappropriate here. Brianne and I get starred at all the time. Now I don't mean stare until you make awkward eye contact then look away. I mean full blown, I must look like a crazy person wearing my underwear on the outside of my clothes, starring. And this staring isn't ceased with awkward eye contact. No, No, it continues for extended minutes of time.5, 10, 15 if we are on the train. YUP, super awkward for us, apparently not for them.

I also had many pleasant conversations with some of my ESO 1 kids this week. I'm working with them in small groups to improve their conversation skills. So naturally, I wanted to know all about them. I prefaced my class with the indication that I may be very different as a teacher to those that the students were used to. I mentioned this while sitting cross legged on the teacher desk, an attempt on my part to present myself as on the same level as them, both physically and emotionally. Now anyone who knows me knows my teaching practice is centered around respect, creativity, engagement and relevant subject mater. So the fact that the kids call their teachers by their first names here is perfect for me as I have my students at home do the same things. Now I'm not sure if the kids I worked with were excited to be with me, interested in something new, or just haddn't had a teacher take the time to try to get to know them, but these students absolutely loved telling me their stories and aspirations. They later told me that my asking them what they wanted to be when they grew up wasn't something their teachers had ever pondered outloud. This made me sad, as I feel, both for myself and the benefit of my students, that I need to know my kids in order to make their lessons engaging, to show that I really do care, and to simply connect to them as individuals. That 14 year old girl who just got dumped by her boyfriend and is having a breakdown over it really is going to get over it and date, and break up with, several other boys in her future. But for right now, her heart-break is the hardest thing she's ever known, and the largest pain she's felt. So why wouldn't I treat her like I understand what she is feeling and let her know that her emotions are real and appropriate for her situation. I don't just want to know my students, I need to know them.

It was a pretty good week of teaching here in Barcelona. Only a few more days till I get a little slice of home when my parents arrive for a visit. Until next time...

xoxo B

A Strike, and Inspiration

Hello world,


Tonight I write to you snuggled up under the tight embrace of warm covers, sipping relaxing fruit flavoured tea in an effort to sooth the tickle in my throat. Brianne and I came down with a rather unpleasant cold on Thursday, which made our regular getting up at 5am to get to our school for 8 am rather un-enjoyable. But colds aside, I managed to have a very interesting week. Beginning on Wednesday, we were met with a student strike upon arriving at the school. Due to the economic crisis in Spain, education has received numerous cuts to public education. The students and staff informed me that last week there was a high school student strike in Vallencia that became quite violent due to police reaction. On Wednesday students from all over Barcelona and surrounding areas gathered at Placa Catalunya in the heart of Barcelona to not only protest the lack of funding being provided for their educations, but also to protest the violence committed against their peers the previous week. As interesting as this protest sounded I had to use my good judgement and decided not to attend the protest as it is illegal for foreigners to do so in Spain. Upon looking into the details of the cutbacks to education, I was proud of the students, as were their teachers, who chose to participate in the protest and have their voices heard. The 2nd year Baxillerat students at IES all attended the protest leaving me with an empty classroom but a satisfied mind, knowing these young people had been taught to stand up for what they know to be true.

I had a rather moving experience with another group of 2nd year Baxillerat students this week. We were having a conversation about a story read in class. The story featured two young waitresses, one who was ravishing, the other who was, well, not. The unattractive girl longed for the love or even acknowledgement of a man, while the beautiful girl received gifts and dates from men every day. When a drunk man kisses the unattractive girl she transforms into a new, confident person because she feels that somebody loves her. Sadly when the man returns apologizing for his drunken actions, she returns to her depressed self longing for companionship. The conversation that followed the reading of this story was one of considered thoughts and educated minds. The girls in this group, some who were and some who weren't in relationships, were confident that desire for a relationship was not their only ambition in life. These young women were confident in themselves and have wonderful ambitions to create their lives with. While I've really only just begun to get to know these students, I was mystified to learn how together and strong these young women are. As a young woman myself, I know the importance of instilling confidence in children from an early age. As a teacher I try to find ways constantly, every day to instill confidence in each of my students. While these girls were filling the room with their opinions of life and the beautiful mystery that is this world, I could picture their mothers. What strong mothers these girls must have to have created such wonderfully apt daughters. Mothers who clearly nurtured their children from the beginning of their lives, but also knew when to make their babies learn to walk on their own two feet. These girls and their mothers who danced in my head reminded me of my mother, her strength, her compassion, her creativity and her soul. These girls must have mothers like mine. They must.

This conversation also reminded me of someone I truly love and identify with completely. Sarah Kay. Sarah is a brilliant spoken word artist who is wise beyond her adolescent years. She's the one who inspired me to finally make that piece of paper and turn it into poetry. I've attached Sarah's TED talk in which she performs her work "If I should have a daughter." These girls reminded me of Sarah and her wonderful words.

 

Enjoy her words, cherish her message.

xoxo

B

Paris; The Land of Too Much Pastry, Not Enough Stomach...

Bonjour mes amis!

I am back in Barcelona after spending the most wonderful week in the city of lights, or as I like to say, the land of too much pastry not enough stomach, i.e. Paris. This was a whirlwind of a week, full of excitement, anticipation, laughter and learning. I wish I had been able to blog about my falling in love with Paris whilst it was happening, but sadly, wifi is not easily found in Paris. So here goes.

Day one:

Brianne and I arrived in Paris at about 5:30 pm last Wednesday. While the Vuelling flight was only an hour and a half, it left us tired. With full on backpacking pack strapped to my back we sent out for a way to make it from the Orly airport into Paris. Now remember all the wonderful opportunities I encountered in Barcelona, well Paris had its fair share. We bought our Orlyval train tickets, 11 Euro, jumped on what we thought was the train going in the right direction, but found ourselves confused when every, and I mean every passenger got off the train at the second terminal. This posed a bit of a dilemma. After making our way down to the Orly SUD terminal we manned up and asked en Francais, where to go. Unfortunately this left us walking through the entire terminal to get back on the train we had gotten off. Brianne had packed a duffle bag, so this journey was slightly less enjoyable for her. Once on the train again, I got out the trusty metro map to see where we had to catch the train to take us to our hostel. Well that 11 Euro ticket required us to switch trains 4 times, but it eventually got us to Port du Bagnolet. From here it was a saddening 5 blocks to our hostel. However once we arrived, we were greeted by a three person room, and now roommate in sight. The hostel wasn't luxurious by any means, but it was pretty much what I expected due to other past travel accommodations. This whole experience however, was new to Brianne, and possibly one she may choose not to repeat. But she got through the communal showers, and lack of personal bathroom like a champ!

As we were both very tired we determined that groceries and bed time were both within close proximity. So we hit up the local market for some snacks and easy dinner options. If you didn't know, Paris is super ballsy when it comes to prices. Meaning, you're expected to pay 4 Euro, that's like $5.40, for a can of Coke... Dibs out! So with our cart filled with crackers, cookies, juice, and French ichiban noodles, we were set for any monetary setbacks Paris might throw our way.

We ended up having a roommate after all when we got home. A Japanese girl, on route to doing aid work similar to my work with Habitat for Humanity, only building schools in France and Togo. It was invigorating to meet someone who had such similar values. As we settled in for the night I began to keep a journal in an effort to not forget the most important moments. I made the mistake of not bringing a book, so the spare pages of my day planner turned out to be a much needed friend. While our bunk beds reminded me of Caraway Camp, and living in residence, I was excited for the days ahead. This is what I came here for. A change of scenery, to see the world, and to experience culture in every way possible.

Day 2:

Brianne and I woke up with invigorated minds, excited for our day at the Louvre. We began with the hostels breakfast. A feast of natural yoghurt, orange juice, baguette, ham, cheese, corn flakes and jam. I know it doesn't sound so bad, but after six consecutive breakfasts of bread, bread, and more bread, bread get's pretty boring. But little did that matter. We were in Paris after all! So with appetites suppressed, but minds still hungry, we set out for the Louvre.

Now I must comment on the Metro system in Paris, as it frequently comes up in my journeys around Barcelona.

Pros of the Paris Metro

SUPER easy to navigate. None of that multiple trains stopping sometimes at one stop, but not always weirdness.

VERY, and I mean very regular! Literally never more than minutes apart.

Very diverse musical entertainment. We heard a singer, a violinist, a guitar player, and a saxophonist, and harmonica, accordion.

And lastly, extremely thorough. It literally goes everywhere.

Now for the Cons

Extremely dirty. So dirty in fact, there are two smells. The better of the two smells like this banana flavored liquid medicine I took when I was maybe 4 or 5. You know the one mom, I don't remember what I was taking it for, but it was so gross that you had to motivate me by giving me those little punch out cardboard bugs. Yup the better smell smells like that. Sweet and sticky, yet utterly repulsive at the same time.

The second smell is that out an outhouse. Now this isn't just any outhouse. Brianne and I characterize this outhouse as one that has reached its holding capacity, and then was placed in a small greenhouse which had been given 24 hour exposure to constant sunlight for several centuries. Yup it was that bad.

Sadly there were also a lot of homeless people living in the metro stations. As they were not monitored by those employed by the Paris Metropolitan, it made a viable option to seek refuge from the cool Parisian nights. While these people never once bothered anyone from what we could see, it was still unnerving to see them struggling so dearly.

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Alright, so on to the Louvre. Now everyone says you cannot do the entire Louvre in one day. So to me, that pretty much sounds like a Challenge. Let me tell you, having done about 75% of the Louvre, it's not the sheer size that is unattainable, it's the maze-like structural floor plan, with all its twists and turns that leaves you completely disoriented, and repeating things you've already marvelled at. That being said, we did manage to see everything we really wanted to. We got to hang out with Mona and chill in Napoleon's house. It was also a perk that we managed to get into the Louvre for free when we asked for student tickets, and the lady gave us the European Union fee student rate. We did feel like the lady in that IKEA add when she saved so much money she felt like she was getting away with something too good to be true and starts yelling at her husband 'START THE CAR!!! START THE CAR!!!" All in all, it was pretty interesting. The one thing that truly shocked me was the utter grandeur of some of the paintings. While they were marvellous in every sense of the word, I couldn't help but wonder how an artist painted a work that was over 50 times their size. I still have no answers.

With sore feet and hungry belly's we went to make our way out of the Louvre in search of Las du falafel. A falafel house in the Jewish quarter with exception and well deserved trip advisor ratings. Now something unexpected about the Louvre is that there is a shopping mall, basically embedded underneath the ground. These shops, including and Apple outlet where we tried to use the internet for free to no avail as French keyboards are WHACK, come the crux of the upside down pyramid, where there happens to be a Marriage Frères tea store. This eased Brianne's sore toes only long enough to realize that the Louvre had stolen her favorite scarf. From here we ventured around the area retracing our steps, and believe it or not, but mostly do because it happened, Brianne was elated to find that some lovely soul had turned it into the lost and found. So with scarf wrapped boldly around her neck we began our trek for the famous falafel house.

Now this was quite the trek, and our tummies were grumbling, but upon finding this little hole in the wall we consumed the most wonderful falafel either of us had ever tasted. And it was cheap too!! It was soooo good that we went back the Next day; a theme which you will see is one of reoccurrence for Brianne and I in Paris. Having only used half of the afternoon due to our punctual departure from the hostel, we chose to wander down Champs D' Elyssee and found the Arc de Triamphe. Let’s just say its way cooler than the one in Barcelona.

From here we figured "When in Paris" and continued our walk down to the most Parisian monument of all, Le Tour Eiffel. Now it was a very foggy day, my curls had fallen out and Brianne's glasses were speckled with tiny water droplets, so we decided to save the grand experience of gallivanting to the top of the tower for a sunnier afternoon. This being said, we still managed to take some wonderful photos.

With our eyes full of wonder we managed to wander down the park and into the streets where we eventually decided it was time for a cup of noodles while putting our overworked feet up, back at the hostel.

Day 3:

This day began in a way one would typically be unappreciative of, our roommate felt the need to get up at 5 am to pack for her next excursion, and however, Brianne and I kept our chins up. We were going to Versailles today. After the ritual bread, bread and more bread breakfast, we made our way to the metro and began our journey to the Chateau Versailles. This journey was of course stopped when we realized we may not have gotten the right train ticket, and being good, honest Canadians, we weren't going to try our luck, so we asked a nice lady at one of the train stops if we needed a new ticket. Turns out it was a good thing, as we did need a slightly more expensive ticket. Back on board we continued our journey. Upon reaching the Chateau I realized two things. This really was a Palace, and cobblestones are good for no-one, no matter how practical your footwear is. This place was utterly amazing. From the intimate details to the history I felt I was directly in the middle of, Versailles is a place where my history books truly came alive, and all those hours studying for my IB exams in high school soaked up the reward of being where it really happened.

We met a lovely English girl who was studying education in Madrid on our walk through the gargantuous gardens. It was wonderful and puzzling all at once as we compared notes on our education program and hers. She too thought it was weird that we finished our practical experience a semester before we graduated, and understood our thirst to experience education in another world first hand. After all she did move from England to Madrid to complete her studies.

Like I said earlier we found our way back from some much needed falafel. From here we wandered the streets of the Jewish and Latin quarters searching for the best looking bakery to try my first ever macaroon. Now let me tell you, this experience was one all in its self. Almost as good as the entirety that is Versailles only centered with a buttery chocolate filling, wrapped with decadent light, chewy brownie on crack tasking pastry. Eating my chocolate macaroon was like biting into a cloud filled with everything good in the world and hugged by Aphrodite herself. Oh my Pop is all I have to say. A saying I sometimes use instead of Oh my God, as my Grandfather who passed away in the 3rd year of my undergrad was deemed Pop, and has proved to me on several occasions that he's the man in my Sky keeping me safe.

Day 4:

Today was our day for more Latin Quarter wandering, Ile de Cite wandering and Shakespeare himself. We began our venture to the Notre Dame Cathedral. This experience of wonderful history was topped off with a live mass happening before our eyes, and a poster for a concert of Bach organ music and Gregorian Chant saying "C'est Soir!" Brianne and I being the music devotees that we are, decided then and there that we must see this concert, and therefore needed to coach our sleepy feet into allowing us to stay out until the concert doors opened at 8:00 pm. So the wandering began as planned in pursuit of finding Shakespeare.... & Company.

This is a book shop where Hemmingway spent a great deal of time. It looks exactly how an old European bookshop should, with books stacked in every nook and cranny the eye can find. While it’s busy with avid seekers of culture through literature, scanning the shelves with my fingers and eyes sent me back to tenth grade when I discovered the pure magic that is the Rutherford Library at the University of Alberta. Every spine revealing hints of stories to be read, places to be discovered and love to be shared. Brianne and I spent close to an hour searching for the books we would remember buying and keep for the rest of our lives. A certain impressionistic book cover spoke to me several times while I searched in wonder of this great place. For some reason, regardless of the 28 Euro cost, my fingers kept finding the rough, unfinished pages of ‘The Girl in the Blue Beret.” Figuring that it was destined to be, I had the book stamped by Shakespeare & Company upon my purchase. I couldn’t wait to get into the tale of an American aviator rediscovering his journey home from France after being shot down in the Second World War.

Brianne and I, now hungry, found ourselves browsing through the many restaurants in the Latin quarter. After seeing so many plat du jours, we settled for ‘Le Bistro 30” for a 10 Euro lunch that was possibly the best French food we had ever had. Beginning with French Onion Soup, followed by our choice of dill and salmon Taglitelle, and sealing the deal with a wonderful crème caramel. This meal was so divine, and rewardingly inexpensive, we came back for round two on our second last day. After lunch we wandered the streets, looking at beautiful buildings, and endearing pastry shops. Now macaroons are very expensive, 1-2 Euros for each toonie sized slice of pure and utter heaven, but by my grandfather’s good graces we found a lovely bakery, Paul, which sold us 12 for 8.50. A STEAL!!

So with our books, our macaroons, and other little trinkets we picked up, we managed to stay out and keep our feet from falling off long enough to attend a glorious concert at the Notre Dame Cathedral.  The concert was fantastic. And the venue made it even more special. Knowing that many of the composers who dance on the pages of my history books, and created music like the magic from Cinderella’s fairy god mothers’ wand, out of thin air, made the experience overwhelmingly brilliant. It was like I could taste the music. Every sweet and sour.

Day 5:

Our mission for day five was both a visit to the Sacre Coeur basilica, and an afternoon spent marvelling at the works of Monet, Manet and Van Gough, at the Musee d’Orsay. Unfortunately we weren’t able to take any photographs inside the basilica so appropriately named Sacred heart. But we were able to watch/ attend the mass that was being held that beautiful Sunday morning. While walking down the steps of the basilica we snapped some much needed memories, while boldly navigating the pushy ‘artists’ as they say, wanting to sell us handmade bracelets of embroidery thread. It was a short walk, back to the metro line where we scouted our route to Musee d’Orsay. Here we spent hours basking in the glory of great impressionist painters. I, like my dear, and immensely educated friend Jamie Meyers- Riczu who demanded I see this gallery, found the creations at Orsay more intricate and relatable than many of the works in the grand Louvre. Again, I felt the artists’ histories coming alive as the brush strokes and blending of colours took me back to those distant years.

We chose a to go lunch of drink, sandwich and desert on the steps of the museum. Let me tell you, smoke salmon and brie make one amazing sandwich. As we ventured on, we took the rest of the day to enjoy the little things Paris had to offer, lovely streets, pretty shops, fantastic sites everywhere you look. We stumbled upon another church having mass, it was Sunday, and even the churches not known for their beauty here are far more beautiful than any I’ve seen in Canada.

Day 6:

Brianne and I were on a quest to find Pandora charms to purchase in memory of our superb friendship and our trip to Paris. Fortunately, we were able to find some at Galleries Lafayette, a fancy department store we had been told to see. It was also very close to the Opera House which we visited the day before. After choosing which charms would best suit our experience, I picked a tea cup, and no, Pandora doesn’t make an Eiffel tower charm. Absolutely retarded, they would make millions instantly, I know. We made our way down to the Gourmet food market which was on our list. Now imagine a place like SunTerra. Now imagine SunTerra on crack, only crack that actually makes all things amazing and has no miserable repercussions. That is the Lafayette food market. It was amazing. We purchased many a thing here. Mostly to take home.

Following this trip we thought we needed to see the big guy one last time, and take advantage of the sun. So we made our way via metro to the tower one more time. Stood in line for an hour before riding the lift to the second level, the top was closed. Sad face…. Kind of. Anyone who knows me well enough knows I’m terrified, and I mean terrified of heights. However, I am also not one to turn down something I may only get to do once in my life. So we went as far up as we could. And was it amazing. Of course!

Hungry as can be we went back for a late lunch to le Bistro 30. It was just as wonderful as the first time, and gave our feet some necessary recovery time. From here we decided we needed to find locks to lock to the bridge of love locks over the sien, just behind Notre Dame. If you’re standing on the mainland side of the bridge looking at Notre Dame across the way, count till you find the 18^th fence post, and right in the middle you’ll find a small lock displaying ‘Bryndan + Jason. Jan 18.’ The beauty of this bridge with all its locks displaying memories of love so pure and kind, is a Parisian experience in its own right. Breathe taking. After some further wandering we met up with friends Mark and Holly, Brianne’s former Saxophone teachers who are now living and studying in Paris. They took us to a local crepery where we enjoyed the most amazing crepes I’ve ever had. I wish Apple would make an App that would allow you to upload photos of glorious food, and then users could open the App and lick their iPhone and taste the delicacies in the photos. Ok I’ll admit it, not the most hygienic of ideas… but you know you’ve wanted to try some of the things I’ve shared with you.

Dinner was followed by the consumption of lovely cervesas at the Great Canadian pub. A local pub Holly and Mark frequent. We met up with many of their school friends also studying music here in Paris. It was nice to be able to talk to people whose interests lay parallel with yours.

Day 7:

After staying out with Mark and Holly till the metro stopped running, we took the option on sleeping in a little at the hostel. Bread-fast was served till 11 so this was totally reasonable. Once we packed and locked up our bags, now heavier with goodies, we departed for probably my favorite sight in Paris, the Pierre Lachaise Cemetery.  This grand cemetery houses some of the most brilliant people known in history. In particular, some of the most influential artists in my life.  With my paper napkin list and a photo of the cemetery’s map, we set out to say hello to those utterly brilliant people. I visited Rossini, well kind of, he’s not there anymore as he is back in Italy, on the eve of his 220^th birthday, and thanked him for the music that inspired me to sing. I visited Isadora Duncan, whose remains were in the crematorium, and thanked her for the guidance she gave me while learning how to express myself through contemporary dance, and her teaching me to love every inch of the earth. I visited Chopin, Bellini, Oscar Wilde, Jim Morrison and Poulenc, and with every embrace I felt more grounded to the earth and yet perfectly released by the beauty of the universe. This was my favorite place in Paris. I could have spent hours wandering the final houses of beloved souls.

Sadly, there was a plane ticket with my name on it in my bag, and a sleepy best friend looking forward to a wonderful sushi, yes sushi, lunch prior to our saying adieu to Paris.

It was the trip of a life time. However hopefully not the only one in mine. After all, Jason has to come see our love locked to the bridge.

Xoxo

B

Time for a heart to heart

So tonight I write to tell of a whirlwind of a week. Brianne and I are tired and taking advantage of the lack of early rising tomorrow will require. Some may say a Friday night spent sleeping in a city full of life is boring, most of the time I'd agree, but for now, it's necessary. We're doing Parc Guell tomorrow. As for this week. We began with a trip to the beach. For those of you who read my last post, that's pronounced *B-EEEEEE-CH* It was here where we discovered that every shopping mall in Barcelona is exactly the same. Now I mean exactly. Right down to the same 15 stores. In case you missed it, there's a mall on the BEEEEEECH. Just a  tip. If you're looking for interesting clothing and artisans shops, stick to the winding side streets in Gracia, Born, and around La Rambla. You'll get your fix. Port Vell houses hundreds of sailing ships. It's a nice walk if you're a "long walks on the beach" kind of gal. And at low season, you won't be scrambling to avoid strangers in your photos.

Brianne and I did a lot of wondering this week. This wandering began with no real intentions, but lead us to some wonderful places. For example the Arc de Triamf.

While this was on the list to see, as it is pretty darn cool, our finding it when we did was entirely unintentional. As it was the day before valentines day, we were on the hunt for something clearly farmore important then hundred year achitecture. The Xocolat Museum. Yeah that's right. It's a museum. of Chocolate. Full of wonderful chocolate art work surrounded by the history of chocolate in Europe and in particular, Spain.

Yeah, that's a chocolate Tin Tin, a scene from the Pixar movie UP, and of course, our tickets were chocolate. DUH. It was Legen.... wait for it.... Dary.

As for the rest of our week, we had a few low key days working on our school work. Yes I still have to do homework while I'm here. It's pretty incredible here, but you weren't thinking they weren't going to make me work a little? We also were met with the interesting situation that was teaching a grade 12 English class that we had not met yet, my ourselves as our associate teacher was ill. While this was not a situation one would normally have found themselves in a school back home. It ended up being one of those moments where you have to make hard fast decisions. We chose to go for it, partially because we didn't know what the alternative was, the principal of the school doesn't speak a word of English, and while my Spanish is getting us by, it's really not that awesome, and secondly because we came prepared with a presentation, and figured, When in Rome...

All the students we've worked with this week have been overly excited to have us in their classrooms. Although some of their questions have been rather funny:

Do you love Justin Beiber?... NO

Do you lock your doors in Canada:... Yes

Do you leave the house when it snows?... Yes always.

(to this they were shocked as they don't go to school when it rains, let alone snows.)

We also had the pleasure of meeting the music teacher finally. Turns out the school has a 40 memeber boys choir. I can't put my intense enthusiasm into words. I'm pumped.

Brianne and I have booked our trip to Paris for next week, as the travel lords have proven to be on our sides. Next week has multiple holidays off from school. Paris here we come. I'm looking forward to spending countless hours at the Louvre, walking back through time.

We've made friends with the Donair shop owner across the street from the school. He speaks a little English, but more importantly, makes a mean donair, for pretty much pennies. Maybe when we get back from Paris I'll take a photo... "Canadian girls eat mean Donairs!" I can see the facebook post now.

Brianne and I were blessed with the delivery of actually warm weather the past two days. It would have almost been bikini weather back home. In order to celebrate and praise the weather gods, we made our way to Placa Catalunya today, to indulge ourselves in the glory that is Helado. (Gelato) And of course to make the experience authentic, we ate it whilst sitting on the steps to the Barcelona Cathedral listening to Spanish Flamenco guitar street music.

Yup. My Life Sucks.

xoxo

B

Buenas Noches Amigos,

So today was a day filled with muchos exitement. While we were a little sleepy this morning, once we got ourselves out of the apartment and to the cafe for a cafe con leche and a warm pastry, we were ready to take on the challenge of seeing Sagrada Familia. We planned which metro/tram/funacular/ blah blah blah underground vehicles that move you from one place to another, and thought we were in for a smooth ride. Well if there is anything I've learned while travelling by the subway system here in Barcelona, it's that you will come across confusion every time. Today at our local station of El Putxet we were greated by the out of order ticket validation booths. Meaning... they were just open ( normally one must put in a ticket purchased at a kiosk, and the nice little machine will stamp it and then give it back to you and allow you through the gates by opening the doors for you) So, like every other person in the station we just proceeded through the gates and down into the earth to ride that L7 train. We got off the L7 at Placa Molina as planned and then walked to the parallel station of Sant Gervasi to get on the L6 going to Placa Catalunya. Brianne and I stopped at the Provenca station where we were to transfer to another parallel station to take the L5 to the Sant Pau station. HOWEVER..... upon trying to leave the Provenca station to get the that parallel station the now not so nice gate machines wouldn't let us out because our tickets were not validated to have gotten on the train in the first place. We took the tickets to the machine that you purchase tickets from, and it said we now needed to pay 50.00 Euros in order to leave.... HA NO! Due to Brianne's quick thinking we remembered that one does not need to validate their ticket at Placa Catalunya station... SOOOOOOO back on the L6 we go to Placa Catalunya, walk out the gates that do not need validation just to walk back through them and getting our cards stamped. Then back on the L6 back to Provenca station and finally to that parallel station and taking the L5 to Saint Pau. Like I said, we have now come to accept that there will be... opportunities as we would have said at the Calgary Science School... when taking the train.


Once we got off the train at Saint Pau we were a littler turned around, and in a less nice area from what we'd experienced of Barcelona thus far. After a little wandering we came across the remarkable Hospital De La Santa Creu Sant Pau. This hospital is under restoration for a school class of 200 medical students and 80 researchers to attend in September 2012. While there is a more modern part that houses most patients currently admitted into the hospital, the parts that are not under construction remain partially operational. Of course with the intention that the whole hospital will become operational post reconstruction. Here are some photos to help emmerse you in our adventure.

It's a pretty remarkable palce. See my Facebook album for more photographs.

From Sant Pau we made our way to avenigua de Gaudi, and strolled down the street leading to none other than Sagrada Familia. This temple is pretty insane. How one could even begin to imagine the design of this place is beyond me. And I've seen the wonders in Greece. The level of intellectual intensity put into the design of this building is truly remarkable. While we chose to only view the outside of Sagrada on this visit - my parents are coming to visit around my birthday and I know they will want to see the whole thing. So we are saving out 15 Euros to experience the entire adventure that is Sagrada Familia - we were, and are both still completely in awe of Gaudi. I really cannot tell you about it. You have to see it. So here you go.

As you can see one side is very gothic, while the other is completely different and has a sandstone kind of resemblance. Both equally wonderful, yet one would think they were different buildings.  Utterly incredible. While I love Canada, and am incredibly proud and happy to be an Canadian citizen, when I visit places around the world I cannot help but be jealous of the stories and histories of places older than my own. Like I say;

The World Is Rich, And I Can't Imagine Not Knowing It...

xoxo B