For family/friends (Mishy) who don't have the timewaster also known as bookface,
here is the link to the photos I have posted.
https://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2359346&id=121501242&l=36d79bb547
If you re-paste that in a new window, it SHOULD show you some of the photos, which include:
me with food
me in the sun
me with food and in the sun.
Only around 8 more weeks till the next vacay!
Saturday, February 26, 2011
Friday, February 25, 2011
Back in Black(ness)
Dear loyal followers in Canada, the U.S, and the world over,
after a week travelling around Italy, we have returned to Borås.
The week was spent meeting new people, seeing beautiful things, sleeping on buses, eating delicious things, and remembering that I am, after all, only twenty three years old, and my heart is in travelling.
In the upcoming months I'll try to hit Copenhagen, Oslo, Belgium, fucking Bruges, Paris, much of the U.K, and central/southern/whatever it's classified Europe (Prague, Dresden, Munich, Budapest? etc etc). Eyes on the prize.
Also, it's a great possibility that I can make it home for Bluesfest, which would keep the streak alive and well.
In other news, something delicious in Sweden keeping me going is Risifrutti. It is tapioca pudding with a side compartment for different flavours of jam. I work tirelessly to never exceed one per day, which sometimes feels like an insurmountable feat, let me tell you.
Aussi, je regarde le film Amélie! Comment j'ai passé tout ce temps sans l'avoir vu, je n'ai aucune idée! Mais, c'est fantastique, et c'est bien aussi car j'essaye d'améliorer mon francais. (French pun, what what).
Ok, c'est tout pour maintenant.
Salut
after a week travelling around Italy, we have returned to Borås.
The week was spent meeting new people, seeing beautiful things, sleeping on buses, eating delicious things, and remembering that I am, after all, only twenty three years old, and my heart is in travelling.
In the upcoming months I'll try to hit Copenhagen, Oslo, Belgium, fucking Bruges, Paris, much of the U.K, and central/southern/whatever it's classified Europe (Prague, Dresden, Munich, Budapest? etc etc). Eyes on the prize.
Also, it's a great possibility that I can make it home for Bluesfest, which would keep the streak alive and well.
In other news, something delicious in Sweden keeping me going is Risifrutti. It is tapioca pudding with a side compartment for different flavours of jam. I work tirelessly to never exceed one per day, which sometimes feels like an insurmountable feat, let me tell you.
Aussi, je regarde le film Amélie! Comment j'ai passé tout ce temps sans l'avoir vu, je n'ai aucune idée! Mais, c'est fantastique, et c'est bien aussi car j'essaye d'améliorer mon francais. (French pun, what what).
Ok, c'est tout pour maintenant.
Salut
Friday, February 11, 2011
Derailed On the Edge of Italia
Break time! Five short weeks after going back to school, we get a break. I am definitely not complaining.
I'll be headed down to Sicily and wherever else the wind takes me/us. Nothing booked beyond the first night, which means the expectations are unknown.
Today there was a small epiphany moment at school. What I love about teaching is that you get to interact with so many people everyday. Speaking to students from all over the world is by far one of my favorites things about being at the school I am. Kids who are twelve have incredible life stories and such unique perspectives on life. A far cry from only knowing the country of Carp.
Anyways, the epiphany moment came when I was speaking to some students in grade nine I don't teach. They were asking me about Canada and French, and then one of the girls looks at me and says, 'So, why are you a French teacher?' Then I paused for a second, and asked her what she meant. She continued, 'You know, was it always your dream job to be teaching French?'
There are a few reasons why this is still sticking out in my brain. First, it was probably the last thing I expected to be asked. Second, I obviously didn't have any semblance of a satisfying answer. I mean, of course I didn't dream of it, but I said that I shifted the conversation to teaching English. I do love English and teaching English because I love people and communication. That's part of the truth. English is just so objective. Reading a book or a poem or seeing an image is never the same for two people. Taking something from inside you and putting it out into the world in an attempt to connect, or share, or preserve. . . is life, as far as I'm concerned. Is it my dream job? Well, no.
Anyways, this is just rambling. I'm probably catching the sickness that's been passing through our school. Basically, what I do love about teaching is that there is an x factor. You can't predict a day at school, and young people should never be underestimated. They always have the ability completely stop you in your tracks, and derail you for a moment.
I'll be headed down to Sicily and wherever else the wind takes me/us. Nothing booked beyond the first night, which means the expectations are unknown.
Today there was a small epiphany moment at school. What I love about teaching is that you get to interact with so many people everyday. Speaking to students from all over the world is by far one of my favorites things about being at the school I am. Kids who are twelve have incredible life stories and such unique perspectives on life. A far cry from only knowing the country of Carp.
Anyways, the epiphany moment came when I was speaking to some students in grade nine I don't teach. They were asking me about Canada and French, and then one of the girls looks at me and says, 'So, why are you a French teacher?' Then I paused for a second, and asked her what she meant. She continued, 'You know, was it always your dream job to be teaching French?'
There are a few reasons why this is still sticking out in my brain. First, it was probably the last thing I expected to be asked. Second, I obviously didn't have any semblance of a satisfying answer. I mean, of course I didn't dream of it, but I said that I shifted the conversation to teaching English. I do love English and teaching English because I love people and communication. That's part of the truth. English is just so objective. Reading a book or a poem or seeing an image is never the same for two people. Taking something from inside you and putting it out into the world in an attempt to connect, or share, or preserve. . . is life, as far as I'm concerned. Is it my dream job? Well, no.
Anyways, this is just rambling. I'm probably catching the sickness that's been passing through our school. Basically, what I do love about teaching is that there is an x factor. You can't predict a day at school, and young people should never be underestimated. They always have the ability completely stop you in your tracks, and derail you for a moment.
Monday, February 7, 2011
Beautiful Swedes
How many people can say they've been a room of a seventy ish people and known for a fact that every other person is without argument more attractive? It really is worth a try!
I think I can firmly say that Swedish people are just made of superior physical genes:
blonde, tall, stylish, tall, blonde. Okay, they aren't all blonde, but MANY are still tall, or at least attractive.
The stereotype, although not 100% accurate, is pretty damn close to being true, at least in Borås.
Sometimes I look around at my dwarfish self and laugh. Unreal!
Take me back to ugly Canada, please, where the people are friendly and significantly less movie-star esque!
I think I can firmly say that Swedish people are just made of superior physical genes:
blonde, tall, stylish, tall, blonde. Okay, they aren't all blonde, but MANY are still tall, or at least attractive.
The stereotype, although not 100% accurate, is pretty damn close to being true, at least in Borås.
Sometimes I look around at my dwarfish self and laugh. Unreal!
Take me back to ugly Canada, please, where the people are friendly and significantly less movie-star esque!
Sunday, January 30, 2011
All's Quiet on the Western Front
"It's Always Sunny in Borås" could very well be the name of the new reality based T.V program centered around my life. In the past two weeks, there have been AT LEAST six sunny days! Also, fans of the show will note that my apartment is as live-able as Frank and Charlie's! I did clean a little last weekend, and will perhaps do a bit today. Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps.
Well, our staff headed to Stockholm for an 'All Staff' day. Stockholm's sweet.
Next weekend is a big one! A friend and I are going to see Iron + Wine in Gothenburg Friday night, and I\m staying for the Gothenburg International Film Festival on Saturday. I'm seeing a documentary first, and then Blue Valentine with Ryan Gosling and Michelle Williams. The GIFF is apparently the biggest in Scandinavia (whatever that means) and being the movie-lover that I am, I'm quite excited.
The weekend after that, it's 'Sportslov,' which translates to 'Sport Break' I think. It's a week off we get to do sports. No, really. Another friend and I are heading to Trapani, Sicilly for a week! It's about 15 degrees right now, and I bet it's always sunny there, also. We're going to try and leave Sicilly for a bit and get up to Venice or Florence, or other Italian cities. I'd definitely go back to Rome. The only sport I'll be taking part in is the sport of over-consumption. Oh, Italian food, I am coming! Gnocchi, and pizza, and wine, oh my!
So, that's about it. Two weeks of school, and then: Italian Relaxation Vacation. Not too shabby at all.
Det här är ett fotto att Trapani. (I didn't google translate that,so it may have been butchered!)
Well, our staff headed to Stockholm for an 'All Staff' day. Stockholm's sweet.
Next weekend is a big one! A friend and I are going to see Iron + Wine in Gothenburg Friday night, and I\m staying for the Gothenburg International Film Festival on Saturday. I'm seeing a documentary first, and then Blue Valentine with Ryan Gosling and Michelle Williams. The GIFF is apparently the biggest in Scandinavia (whatever that means) and being the movie-lover that I am, I'm quite excited.
The weekend after that, it's 'Sportslov,' which translates to 'Sport Break' I think. It's a week off we get to do sports. No, really. Another friend and I are heading to Trapani, Sicilly for a week! It's about 15 degrees right now, and I bet it's always sunny there, also. We're going to try and leave Sicilly for a bit and get up to Venice or Florence, or other Italian cities. I'd definitely go back to Rome. The only sport I'll be taking part in is the sport of over-consumption. Oh, Italian food, I am coming! Gnocchi, and pizza, and wine, oh my!
So, that's about it. Two weeks of school, and then: Italian Relaxation Vacation. Not too shabby at all.
Det här är ett fotto att Trapani. (I didn't google translate that,so it may have been butchered!)
Thursday, January 20, 2011
S.F.I
Swedish for Immigrants!
Such a blunt name. I wonder if we have the equivalent in Canada? English/Francais for/pour immigrants. Obviously it would have to be in both official languages, n'est-ce-pas? Anyways, it is so strange to be in a class full of adults from all over the world. The nerd inside me wants to be tested. Cool it, nerdlington, all in good time. Thankfully, I'm not in this course alone. There are five international teachers, and thankfully I only cracked up laughing once, silently. I am the biggest teacher hypocrite, for sure. As soon as we got our books, I raced to complete as many pages as possible, as quickly as possible. Nerd!
Mais, not much else to report. I have both bags of BBQ chips lying empty near by bed, which is a fatal mistake. Every time I see the orange and white goodness, I pine for the crisp taste of Humpty Dumpty. I did eat some delicious indian popcorn today, whatever that means, but it was no H.D.
Oh! I am going to Sicilly in about three weeks for our Sport break. Yes, sport break. A break created to allow children to enjoy sports, I believe. Will I be sporting? Well, I will be sporting a bathing suit by the Mediterranean sea. . . . yes, it's pretty amazing to be able to take off to Italy for a week, I know.
And that's all. What an enthralling life I lead, here in the darkness. . . .
Such a blunt name. I wonder if we have the equivalent in Canada? English/Francais for/pour immigrants. Obviously it would have to be in both official languages, n'est-ce-pas? Anyways, it is so strange to be in a class full of adults from all over the world. The nerd inside me wants to be tested. Cool it, nerdlington, all in good time. Thankfully, I'm not in this course alone. There are five international teachers, and thankfully I only cracked up laughing once, silently. I am the biggest teacher hypocrite, for sure. As soon as we got our books, I raced to complete as many pages as possible, as quickly as possible. Nerd!
Mais, not much else to report. I have both bags of BBQ chips lying empty near by bed, which is a fatal mistake. Every time I see the orange and white goodness, I pine for the crisp taste of Humpty Dumpty. I did eat some delicious indian popcorn today, whatever that means, but it was no H.D.
Oh! I am going to Sicilly in about three weeks for our Sport break. Yes, sport break. A break created to allow children to enjoy sports, I believe. Will I be sporting? Well, I will be sporting a bathing suit by the Mediterranean sea. . . . yes, it's pretty amazing to be able to take off to Italy for a week, I know.
And that's all. What an enthralling life I lead, here in the darkness. . . .
Sunday, January 16, 2011
Swedish discovery #1: Fika
Fika
If you type the word ’fika’ into a translating program, the first entry that pops up is ’coffee,’ but that doesn’t really do it justice. Fika is more than coffee, it is lifestyle.
The subsequent entry for fika is ’hanker’ the verb, which is defined as ‘to have a restless or incessant longing (often fol. by after, for, or an infinitive)’ on dictionary.com. ‘Hanker’ is often used in film or tv shows, semi-comically, when someone professes a ‘hankering for a spankering,’ or, ‘a hankering for some ice cream.’
I suppose my understanding of fika lies somewhere in between those two definitions. More than just coffee, fika is an incessant longing to re-energize oneself in the company of good food, good friends, and of course, good coffee. Swedes attempt to fulfil this longing daily.
Having been in Sweden for a little over five months, I am still discovering new complexities and rules about fika. For instance, I mistakenly held the belief that fika was enjoyed once a day. Boy, was I wrong. Typically, and now I am no expert, there is first and foremost morning fika, which occurs around 10 or 11 o’clock, depending on your work and wake-up schedule.
Follow this up with the 3 o’clock fika, where that jolt of sugar and caffeine will propel you to undertake the rest of your day with a little extra ‘pizzazz,’ perhaps.
And how could I forget after-dinner fika? Now, I had good reason for not knowing about this fika until recently. My night-time rituals leave much to be desired. Dinner for one, followed by The Daily Show and Colbert Report, a little bit of reading, and bed. No coffee. No company. No after-dinner fika.
It would be preposterous to think of people who fit in more than three fikas per day, but I image it’s been done.
I can’t seem to remember when I first was introduced to the term fika. In English, it does have a bit of a strange ring to it, but then again, so do many words. I image a colleague said something about fika, to which us non-Swedes must have replied something along the lines of, ‘fika what?’
Initially, one draws comparisons to our North American watered down version: the coffee break. Fika is not a coffee break.
A coffee break, as I know it, consists of sitting down with a cup of coffee, perhaps with a coworker, for oh, five or ten minutes. I myself have never actually been on one of these coffee breaks, although I am sure they exist. Again, as far as I know, a coffee break does not center around a delicious spread of pastries and sweets, but of course those do exist in Canada. I suppose fika is comparable to meeting up with friends for coffee. They seem deceptively similar, although they are not the same thing.
Fika is something of a cultural right. Grown men and women alike have fika. Teenagers have fika. Girls and boys have fika. There are cafés everywhere devoted to fika. During certain rooms, no seats are available due to the large number of people enjoying fika. People take fika at work, at home, in town. I wonder if there is a place where fika is not ‘taken.’
The use of the verb ‘to take’ may seem odd at first. Perhaps it’s an inaccurate translation from Swedish to English. The more appropriate verb is certainly ‘to have,’ or even ‘to get.’ ‘Would you like to have fika with me?’ one could ask, although it would kind of be a rhetorical question. Are you Swedish? Then you take fika. ‘Let’s go take a fika,’ I often hear. Or, ‘we’re going to take fika now.’
So as I’ve spent the above paragraphs dancing around what fika actually is, I will now attempt to flesh it out a little. The first part of fika is the beverage. One is not limited to coffee, as there is an array of other delicious temptations. Hot chocolate served in a 20oz mug, topped with cream and chocolate, cappuncinos, lates, cola drinks, water, . . . all are present in a typical fika place.
And. . . the treats. Man, are there treats. The amount of goodies in any given fika place puts the standard 10 items at Starbucks to shave. There is ‘semla’ a bread-type pastries with with almond pasta and cream, ‘princess cake’ which is a kind of marzipan encrusted pastry, frog pastries, cookies, cinnamon buns, sandwiches with shrimp, salads with shrimp, cheese, sandwiches with egg, and I’m sure I’m missing many others. Do people really eat these sweets? I can answer with a resounding YES! As a self-professed sweet tooth, I can safely say that here, my craving for sweets is modest at best. Although I cannot generalize, Swedes seem to have unbelievable cravings for baked goods, regardless of who they are.
Simply put, fika is great. How can you not love a tradition that allows people to stop what they are doing, sit down, and catch-up with family and friends. Workaholics may not hold this same opinion, but fika is sweet, no pun intended. It’s like stopping for coffee at grandma’s house, you make time for it, not because you must, but because it’s a part of who you are, of who we are as humans. It’s a pause in the time to appreciate each other, and show that by spending time together. Don’t get me wrong, I am not in the daily fika club. I cannot indulge in pastries that often, knowing that although they are filled with goodness, they are also filled with far too many calories. (As a side note, surprisingly, people are NOT generally fat or large in Sweden. It will take me another five months here to figure that one out).
So, there you go: an amateur attempt to de-mystify and explain a little bit about fika. Pictures will be included to do what my words cannot!
If you type the word ’fika’ into a translating program, the first entry that pops up is ’coffee,’ but that doesn’t really do it justice. Fika is more than coffee, it is lifestyle.
The subsequent entry for fika is ’hanker’ the verb, which is defined as ‘to have a restless or incessant longing (often fol. by after, for, or an infinitive)’ on dictionary.com. ‘Hanker’ is often used in film or tv shows, semi-comically, when someone professes a ‘hankering for a spankering,’ or, ‘a hankering for some ice cream.’
I suppose my understanding of fika lies somewhere in between those two definitions. More than just coffee, fika is an incessant longing to re-energize oneself in the company of good food, good friends, and of course, good coffee. Swedes attempt to fulfil this longing daily.
Having been in Sweden for a little over five months, I am still discovering new complexities and rules about fika. For instance, I mistakenly held the belief that fika was enjoyed once a day. Boy, was I wrong. Typically, and now I am no expert, there is first and foremost morning fika, which occurs around 10 or 11 o’clock, depending on your work and wake-up schedule.
Follow this up with the 3 o’clock fika, where that jolt of sugar and caffeine will propel you to undertake the rest of your day with a little extra ‘pizzazz,’ perhaps.
And how could I forget after-dinner fika? Now, I had good reason for not knowing about this fika until recently. My night-time rituals leave much to be desired. Dinner for one, followed by The Daily Show and Colbert Report, a little bit of reading, and bed. No coffee. No company. No after-dinner fika.
It would be preposterous to think of people who fit in more than three fikas per day, but I image it’s been done.
I can’t seem to remember when I first was introduced to the term fika. In English, it does have a bit of a strange ring to it, but then again, so do many words. I image a colleague said something about fika, to which us non-Swedes must have replied something along the lines of, ‘fika what?’
Initially, one draws comparisons to our North American watered down version: the coffee break. Fika is not a coffee break.
A coffee break, as I know it, consists of sitting down with a cup of coffee, perhaps with a coworker, for oh, five or ten minutes. I myself have never actually been on one of these coffee breaks, although I am sure they exist. Again, as far as I know, a coffee break does not center around a delicious spread of pastries and sweets, but of course those do exist in Canada. I suppose fika is comparable to meeting up with friends for coffee. They seem deceptively similar, although they are not the same thing.
Fika is something of a cultural right. Grown men and women alike have fika. Teenagers have fika. Girls and boys have fika. There are cafés everywhere devoted to fika. During certain rooms, no seats are available due to the large number of people enjoying fika. People take fika at work, at home, in town. I wonder if there is a place where fika is not ‘taken.’
The use of the verb ‘to take’ may seem odd at first. Perhaps it’s an inaccurate translation from Swedish to English. The more appropriate verb is certainly ‘to have,’ or even ‘to get.’ ‘Would you like to have fika with me?’ one could ask, although it would kind of be a rhetorical question. Are you Swedish? Then you take fika. ‘Let’s go take a fika,’ I often hear. Or, ‘we’re going to take fika now.’
So as I’ve spent the above paragraphs dancing around what fika actually is, I will now attempt to flesh it out a little. The first part of fika is the beverage. One is not limited to coffee, as there is an array of other delicious temptations. Hot chocolate served in a 20oz mug, topped with cream and chocolate, cappuncinos, lates, cola drinks, water, . . . all are present in a typical fika place.
And. . . the treats. Man, are there treats. The amount of goodies in any given fika place puts the standard 10 items at Starbucks to shave. There is ‘semla’ a bread-type pastries with with almond pasta and cream, ‘princess cake’ which is a kind of marzipan encrusted pastry, frog pastries, cookies, cinnamon buns, sandwiches with shrimp, salads with shrimp, cheese, sandwiches with egg, and I’m sure I’m missing many others. Do people really eat these sweets? I can answer with a resounding YES! As a self-professed sweet tooth, I can safely say that here, my craving for sweets is modest at best. Although I cannot generalize, Swedes seem to have unbelievable cravings for baked goods, regardless of who they are.
Simply put, fika is great. How can you not love a tradition that allows people to stop what they are doing, sit down, and catch-up with family and friends. Workaholics may not hold this same opinion, but fika is sweet, no pun intended. It’s like stopping for coffee at grandma’s house, you make time for it, not because you must, but because it’s a part of who you are, of who we are as humans. It’s a pause in the time to appreciate each other, and show that by spending time together. Don’t get me wrong, I am not in the daily fika club. I cannot indulge in pastries that often, knowing that although they are filled with goodness, they are also filled with far too many calories. (As a side note, surprisingly, people are NOT generally fat or large in Sweden. It will take me another five months here to figure that one out).
So, there you go: an amateur attempt to de-mystify and explain a little bit about fika. Pictures will be included to do what my words cannot!
Sunday, January 9, 2011
Jet lag, what a drag.
oh hey, Borås. . . .
Upwards and onwards with Renblog, now that I have more free time than I know what to do with! I have returned to Borås, more or less in one piece.
Many delays caused by a lost passenger and a lot of snow in TO could not stop the numerous flights from landing me at Landvetter. . . . unfortunately. Being overly positive is overrated!
As I write this as 4pm, whatever traces of the sun that feebly showed up for work today have retreated, and it is essentially pitch black. Essentially, I have not seen the sun since my return to Sweden. In Canada, I was constantly struck by the sunshine, often asking my mom if it's ''always this sunny here?!''
Last night I think I feel asleep by 530 a.m, (after watching the entire 2nd LOTR!), woke up again at 9, slept from 1030-12, forced myself out of bed, then lay on my bed, watching t.v for hours. Got a few groceries (super stoked about these pear-Popsicles) and will now try to prepare for tomorrow's lessons: deux classes de francais, et une classe d'anglais. Will I sleep tonight? Let's hope!
I can't put into words how great it was to be home with my family, friends, Jangles, our hot tub, and general friendliness. I won't harp much on the past, but say I am looking forward to upcoming trips to Paris, the U.K, Germany, Prague and other East-ish European cities, and then a summer at home.
Upwards and onwards with Renblog, now that I have more free time than I know what to do with! I have returned to Borås, more or less in one piece.
Many delays caused by a lost passenger and a lot of snow in TO could not stop the numerous flights from landing me at Landvetter. . . . unfortunately. Being overly positive is overrated!
As I write this as 4pm, whatever traces of the sun that feebly showed up for work today have retreated, and it is essentially pitch black. Essentially, I have not seen the sun since my return to Sweden. In Canada, I was constantly struck by the sunshine, often asking my mom if it's ''always this sunny here?!''
Last night I think I feel asleep by 530 a.m, (after watching the entire 2nd LOTR!), woke up again at 9, slept from 1030-12, forced myself out of bed, then lay on my bed, watching t.v for hours. Got a few groceries (super stoked about these pear-Popsicles) and will now try to prepare for tomorrow's lessons: deux classes de francais, et une classe d'anglais. Will I sleep tonight? Let's hope!
I can't put into words how great it was to be home with my family, friends, Jangles, our hot tub, and general friendliness. I won't harp much on the past, but say I am looking forward to upcoming trips to Paris, the U.K, Germany, Prague and other East-ish European cities, and then a summer at home.
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