It's The End of the Year, as we know it. . . .

. . . . and I feel fine.

Packing and moving day! Woah! (Note: not moving to Canada, but into a friend's apartment for a week and a bit until I head off to central/eastern Europe with Mish.)
So that's fun. . . . (inte). (Here is something of what my apt. looks like! Yikestown!)





In the process, I am giving, selling, donating (trying not to throw), eating, and fretting over all my temporary belongings.

I said to a friend at work yesterday, "Isn't it so weird that in a month and a bit, my current life won't exist anymore." Now, I realize this is the kid of pot-induced statement one might make while eating entire bags of potato chips, but this was at 13.00 at work. It is weird. I wonder what it does to you, completely uprooting, and shifting into a new 'path' of life. I did it when I moved here, but there is a difference this time.


When I moved here, I was alone. It was agiant step, and when I landed, I did not know a soul here. I took the bus from the airport with all my suitcases, barely knowing where to go.
I had so much time to write and think, and contemplate, and so much time to walk around alone.

This time, it’s a crazy whirlwind, as I previously alluded to. I’m stepping back into a life where there are always people (family included, I am not saying I am miss popularity 2011), things to do, places to work, responsibilities, fun engagements, shows, etc. Compared to my relative solitude here, when I get home, it’s a different pace of life.
Does one just snap back into old patterns of lifestyle? Of course it’s only been a year, and I surely have not dramatically changed in a year, and I know that my Sweden life,’ is not necessarily what I want out of life, hence part of the reason to return home.
Bah. Someone just tell me to shut up.

Otherwise, I’m already thinking of where I can go next. Living in a foreign place certainly has perks, ups and downs, exciting moments, and moments of WTF.

Students have now mostly heard through the grapevine that some teachers will not be back. Of course there are students I’ll miss, but I also think it’s good for the giant sentimentalist in me to not get too sappy about anything, because life goes on, and every connection with a person that changes you for the better is never lost.

I forget who said ‘I am a part of all that I have seen,’ or something like that, but it’s true. This ‘journey’ into Sweden was certainly not all roses and butterflies, (read: the absolute and total DARKNESS of the winter; people who snarl and stare; people who push innocent little Canadians) but it is a part of me, and I do not regret coming here. Would I ever come back? Sure, who knows? But very soon, I will close the door on this chapter, and immerse myself in the familiarity of home. Until I get bitten by the urge to throw myself into something new (which, knowing me, will not be very long!)

(Note: this blog is almost finished. I'll write about my upcoming trips, and maybe conclude with a few final thoughts. If you've read through the long-haul, you can collect your prize this summer. Congrats!)

P.S Here are some photos from the second IES camp I went to, in Karlstad.
We built rafts, and then paddled down the river for 4.5 hours.
We patrolled students as they tried to sneak around at night, and got to do zip lining courses. We also took a hike and saw a dead cow in a stream, and the decomposing carcase of a moose. Sick.)





And here is the photo of the dead cow. Sorry cow, I don't mean to disrespect your memory, but. . . here we are.

Next Up: The Craziest Month of my Life

I got back from camp IES, a camp in Gävle, which is north of Stockholm. Above is one of the hot tubs we got to warm up in, instead of being at school.
It was great to experience the real beauty of Sweden, and to get to do something outside of the classroom with students from all over Sweden. They threw axes at trees, we did a high wire course, did team building activities that were not lame, did some rock-climbing, and I ate delicious veggie burgers. I even get to go again next week to a different camp in another supposedly beautiful part of Sweden.

There are less than three weeks of school left, and it's really starting to hit me how I am really packing up my life (literally) and will not be in this apartment forever. (so tears being shed over that).

There's new apartment waiting for me in Ottawa, so it's actually a new chapter, in another sense.

My next few weeks look a little something like this:

-week 21: three day camp (new location)
-week 22: move out of apartment
long weekend trip to Bruges and Brussels
farewell BBQ
week 23: last week of school, packing up office, and IES life
flight to Berlin, where I meet M.B and we visit Dresden, Prague, Munich, Vienna, Zagreb/Croatia, Budapest, back to Berlin, fly back to Sweden on June 30th, re-back my life, fly to Canada on the 2nd of July, move in to the new place, start camp the 4th go to multiple Bluesfest shows, turn 23, and accompany a friend to a wedding.

hahahah I know I can do it, because I enjoy life most when I'm busy, but I think my body and brain will be like, 'why are you doing this to us?'

I'm going to miss Sweden (no, really). I'll miss some people in Borås, but the town itself can kiss my Canadian ass.
I will also miss the godis, the beauty, and. . . . .being able to get bus tickets through text messages!

Here's a photo of the lake our camp was at:

borås: where the sun is always shining????

In a month from now I will be in either Berlin or Dresden! A month after that, I will be back in Ottawa, in a new apartment.

I will be living at Bluesfest, working at a job I love (famous last words) and stuffing as much poutine as I can into this body.

Next week I'm going to a wilderness-leadership camp with students, which I'm so excited for. It's in the NORTH of Sweden, so. . . we'll see how that goes!

I also did a 21 km run-walk through the mountains of B-town last weekend. It was honestly the toughest physical activity I have EVER done, but the team I ran wish pushed each other in such a fun way. The best part was creatively 'bursting through' each km mark.

Today in Swedish class the teacher asked how long we were staying in Sweden for. She found out my answer and asked, 'Annnnd you're learning Swedish, why?'
I told her, 'Jag är en loser,' which is Swenglish at its finest. Full disclosure: I go for the social aspect. This is how bleak it's gotten.

It also stays bright out until about 10 here. It's so bright I sleep with a mask.

But enough about me. How are you? Did you have a satisfying yet nutritional meal tonight?

I have a sneaking fear that students might read this blog. . . . so I've included a tracker to see where the reads are coming from!

Brandon, I'm getting a lot of activity from Toronto.

Feminism!

London Called

I'm not sure what I did to the weather Gods, but of the last twenty days of my life, only ONE day had rain. How amazing this is is not lost on me!
After my go-go gadget trip of constant sight-seeing and food consumption, I have returned to normal (read: sitting in my apartment staring at either my phone or my fridge.)

After a crazy Friday night (speaking to my mother for hours about our respective days at school and watching Finding Neverland) I am preparing for an equally crazy Saturday night. I will probably eat tacos, listen to Tina Fey read her audiobook (which I have already read) and perhaps knit my giant blue thing.
BUT one week ago, my life was not this ‘crazy.’ I was out in Edinburgh, sharing my dance moves and witty remarks with the people of Scotland. And watching the hockey game.

I really loved Britain. Such friendly people, delicious chips (fries), crisps (chips), and cherry coke were all consumed while there. They know how to please a lady.

Also, in kind of a hilarious turn of events, I leave Sweden only to enter my hostel room and find four half-naked male Swedes. They sort of say hello (barely) and I run to my top bunk to read Bridget Jones’ Diary and avoid eye-contact. After a few seconds, I put my Swedish to the test, and eavesdrop. Eventually, I decipher the word ‘flickan’ which means 'the girl.' Being that I am the only girl in the room, my Nancy Drew deduction skills lead me to the realisation that they have the balls to be talking about ME in Swedish, probably assuming I’m a uni-lingual American. The nerve!

(Actually, I am way more excited that my knowing some Swedish has actually proved useful outside of Sweden once in my life, so I’m not really that mad about the rudeness.)
I listen for the next 25 minutes. Eventually, they start debating over which one of them will ask me if it’s ok to turn off the lights. ‘You do it, Benny.’’ ‘No way, I don’t want to, you do it Anders.’’ ‘It’s Kalle’s turn!’ this goes on for three minutes. Finally, in a dramatic fashion, I put my book down and say, ‘Sure, you can turns the lights off. I’m done reading.’ Now, the looks on their faces are imprinted in my mind in the category of : fuck you, Swedes. They are speechless. I offer a concession: I live in Sweden, I tell them, and I understood you. Goodnight.
The next day, you better believe they were f-ing friendly. One even said, ‘So. . . you understood us?’ ‘Yep.’ ‘You know we were just joking when we were talking about you, right?’ ‘Oh. . . (deadpan) yeah.’
Anyways, they turned out to be decent. One of them works in Borås. We clearly bonded over our mutual hatred of it. I spoke to them in broken Swedish. They slept wearing essentially nothing.
When I had to leave at 4 am the next morning, you better believe I made a little more noise than I needed. Labrosse: 2. Swedes: 0

London was crazy with the Royal Wedding, but I ignored it as best I could. Sweden actually came up again over the trip. I was getting cheap tickets to a musical one night, and then man selling me the ticket at the ticketbooth looked at my credit card and said: ‘You don’t really sound Swedish.’ I explained I just lived there for now. He asked me how it was. A bit boring, I said. He agreed, saying he’d once been to a really small town, where there was one pub that stayed open till maybe 2. He went to support his football club. His team was playing Elsborg. He was in Borås. Boy did we have a laugh when I told him that’s where I live. I consider that man to be one of the best friends I’ve made this year.

In the interest of time (I know no one is still reading, anyways) I will just say that I absolutely loved Edinburgh. Such friendly and warm people, despite the cool climate.

Again, here are some photos of the goodtimes I had! I’ll be back, for sure.



Tower Bridge (Actually, I always thought this was London Bridge. Boy did I feel silly when I found out I was wrong)


Fantastic and incredibly moving play. I want to live this close to live theatre.


The ''globe''. Well, the closest I will ever get to the globe.

Needs no caption.

T.S Eliot's office! Part of the nerdy literary tour I joined! amazing!


Inside Churchill's Underground War Rooms. This was part of the map room. My dream is maps this large.

Fun fun fun musical!


Afternoon tea. How British. (and delicious)


Tourist photo! Also, notice the rain jacket. THIS was the rain day.


Edin at night!


The castle.


Dolly the sheep! Rotating!

The first part of Arthur's Seat. Believe you me, the other side is STEEP.


I'm king of the world! Yes, King.



Irnbru! The soft drink that outsells coke. . . in Edinburgh.
Loved it!

''Home'' - photos de Paris

After what can only be described as an amazing eleven days, I embrace the ability to lie on my couch-bed for hours.

It was a fantastic trip, and for now, I will let a select few pictures and my ever-so-witty (not) comments do the talking. Highlights were the fries (chips) in the U.K, cadbury nutella, The Children's Hour (the best play I've ever seen), Montmartre, the Sewer museum (I was probably born as a sewer rat) and the weather. Well, I'm sure there was more. If Megan reads this, Scabby Nose was surely a plus.

I know, I know, I'm a lucky son of a bitch for getting to travel this much. But, I have possibly eaten my weight in food, so there's some poetic justice after all.



Bonjour Paris! Bonjour Arche de Triomphe! Salut Champs Élysées! I was a pro at getting strangers to take my photo for me. Downside: sometimes they contain other people in the photos. Sometimes they were just awful.



Roller-hockey players. . in Paris? One was clearly a Sens fan (the one wearing the Sens jersey). My Canadian pride wanted to put on roller blades and school them. Instead, I sneakily took a photo.



On top of Paris, sommet de la tour Eiffel. :) Another stranger photo! I'm outgoing now. (and yes, that is a Marché frais bag. Hot off the streets of Paris.)



Pour mon ami Brandon, who clearly belongs in Paris.




Les égouts! History of Paris's sewers, in the sewers. I really didn't mind the smell.


Me voici au Moulin Rouge. C'était mon film préféré pendant mon adolescence.
J'adore Montmarte. (Not pictured: the plastic grocery bad I carried for the duration of my trip. Later to be mocked.)


Amélie! Au restaurant!


Jim.



''. . . Wilde is on mine'' (Covered in kisses)



Street art in Paris. Artistic, deep, wonderful.






French puns! If you don't speak French, this is the moment you should be kicking yourself, as this is truly a kick-ass pun. This was a bookstore.





. . . and I think I'll post London and Edinburgh pictures later!
Except for this sweet one of me immediately after having climbed Arthur's Seat up the most indirect and dangerous route, only to later discover a much more reasonable path. As you can see by this photo, not many people make it to the top. . . . this is why I am so happy.

(winning)

I'm off!

Borås - Göteborg - London- Paris -London - Glasgow - Edinburgh - Gothenburg - Borås

HAPPINESS

The Beautiful Swedish Sky

There's only one thing I have to say: the colours of the sky in Sweden are incredible. At least thirty times this year I've looked up and thought: wow.

The blues and pinks and the way it fades from the horizon to the top of the sky. Pictures don't do it justice. It really is fantastic.

Thanks for that, Sweden.

I live in a garbage house

Det finns 6 skoldagar till jag ska åker till Stor Britanien för resan.

Loosely (very loosely) translated, that should say something about six more school days until I'll be in the U.K. My plan so far is to fly into London, and eventually end up in Edinburgh. I'm pretty excited, and it does feel surreal, because I've always wanted to see London and much else of the U.K, but I always put it off, maybe because I feel like I want to wait for that 'perfect moment.'

It's the same with Paris. I'm dying to go, but the timing is never perfect. It's always too short, too out of the way, or too something else. Maybe I'm afraid I've built it up too much, kind of like how I feel about the U.K. Essentially, taking English Lit at Ottawa U, almost everything we focused on has roots in the U.K. I want to see it all, everything I've read about. Clearly, in ten days, I'll have to settle for the Cliffs Notes version.

Nothing is less and more fun at the same time than marking essays from students who have other mother tongues other than English. The awkward phrases that come up keep it interesting.

In apartment news, I officially released my apartment, which means people are starting to come see it. Well, they WERE going to start today, apparently. I got a phone call from a woman who only spoke Swedish, and I had to explain that , no, she could not come today. I don't know how to say 'shit pit' or 'there is garbage in every imaginable corner' in Swedish, so I settled for, 'Come tomorrow, I must clean this night. Yes, tomorrow please.' Well, it probably sounded much worse.
Swedish lessons: thank you for teaching me the word clean, but not garbage.

Goodnight my three blog friends, good night.