Guest Post: Germany 4 Ways

A while back, when I was fretting that I had no idea when it came to Germany, I got the idea to ask my friend Helen to write a guest post. Helen was lovely enough to indulge me and share her experiences of Germany, the country she now calls home. Reading her post, I think I understand why for me, no one monument comes to mind as symbolizing all of Germany: because it is such a diverse country. This past weekend I also had the honour of witnessing her wedding to her husband, whom she met in Germany.

Germany has a population in the neighbourhood of 85 million people packed into a country which, land-wise, could fit into British Columbia three times. Anyone who has ever travelled in British Columbia, or just to different areas within Canada knows that where you are is different than where you come from or where you have been before. What I am saying with that is that Germany, as is Canada, can be a very different place depending on where you are. 

I grew up knowing that my German heritage was a big part of my life but I never imagined that I would be sitting here age twenty-two living in Germany, and at that, not really the Germany I grew up with – which was my grandparents’ very small hometown in Western Germany – but in Berlin, the symbol of both German unity and German disunity. In order to explain how I got here, I need to recount a bit of experience, which started sort of when I was eleven and visited Germany for the first time, but really when I came to Germany for my first time alone when I was sixteen. 

Sixteen in Koblenz. When I was sixteen I took part in an organized exchange programme which first had my German host sister, Eva, come and live with my family and me for three months, followed by me flying to Germany – alone – to live with her family in Koblenz for two months. This was my first “real” German experience. Koblenz, located at the junction of the Rhein and Mosel Rivers in Western Germany, is a gorgeous small city characterized by the intersecting rivers, a 2000 year history, and beautiful castles lining the rivers in every direction. I spent two months going to school, drinking beer on the river banks with new friends, visiting the neighbouring castles, and learning next to no German. I was sixteen, it wasn’t as important to me as Currywurst and beer. I am sure it is a bit of nostalgia speaking, but to me, Koblenz has always felt like a bit of a fairy tale town. 

Flash forward two years. I found myself taking part in a language immersion course in Kassel, a grey, cement – read: industrial until it was bombed to pieces and rebuilt in the 50s entirely of concrete - city smack in the middle of Germany, famous for a giant statue of Hercules on the hills around the town, a modern art festival, and a large Turkish population. I was living with a new host family, a lovely couple in their 70s who spoke next to no word of English and yelled at me once for using the wrong bathroom towel. Other than that, lovely people, had my Musli and coffee on the table for me every morning before I went to class, hosted my friends over for “Grilling” aka BBQing where the beer (Radeberger of course) was plentiful, along with the shots of mystery Schnapps. This Germany could not have been more different than Koblenz, which I also visited during my two month stay in Kassel. There was German speaking, Doener Kebab eating, and concrete, lots of ugly concrete buildings, which really reflected in the attitude of the people. 

In the late summer of 2009 I found myself on a plane again, this time to Freiburg and this time for a year. Armed with my university exchange acceptance and a scholarship to go with it, I landed in the small medieval city on the border of both France and Switzerland. Despite being bombed to the ground, the city rebuilt itself in its former glory (unlike some aforementioned cities) - albeit with wider streets to allow the Strassenbahn to run through it, but keeping its quaint charm of Fachwerkhaeuser and the little streams (read: mini ditches) which ran along the streets threatening (promising?) that if you fell into one of them, you would be doomed (blessed?) to marry someone from the region. I found that more than any other city I had been to, Freiburg had a deep sense of regional pride. The city belongs to Baden, they speak their form of Baeddisch (dialect) which is all very different from the neighbouring region of Wuerttemburg where they speak (gasp) Schwaebbisch, which, legitimately, no soul not born there could ever understand. Freiburg is known for its leftist political stance with hippies roaming the streets with dreadlocks and bare feet. In a protest against the new 500euro/semester tuition fee though, the hippies took to the university with all their power and occupied the largest lecture hall. For a month. Until Christmas came when they all went home.       

I suppose at this point a bit of a disclaimer is necessary. While in Kassel I met a wonderful man (a Canadian on my programme). By the time I made it to Freiburg he had made it to Berlin to study for a master’s and we started dating in early 2010. This made it quite difficult to leave Freiburg and I did so with the intention of finishing my own studies and coming back to be with him. 

So, nine months after going back to Canada I was packing up (almost) all of my early belongings to move to Berlin. Berlin is a city so far in kind and culture from any other city in which I have spent significant amounts of time. As I said earlier, it is a city where Germany’s unity and disunity meet; it is a city full of misfits, outcasts, and expats joining the flourishing tech start up scene and running from wherever they came from. It is a massive city with an even more massive past. It is a city which encompasses the term: Vergangenheitsbewaeltigung, literally: coming to terms with the past, a term coined in the post-war years originally for Germans coming to terms with the Nazi past. Now, it can be seen on every corner, east and west in this city. Look left and you see new growth, a recent building, and a young couple with a child. Look right and you see buildings falling down with remnants of bullets and shelling, a dark corner, and an old man – homeless.  

Berlin is nothing like Koblenz where I first experienced the magical Rheinland. Berlin is nothing like Kassel, despite the common history and large Turkish populations. Berlin is nothing like Freiburg, which was the essence of quaint. Berlin is nothing like the little village where my grandparents grew up, where I still find myself every few months for weddings and funerals, where the people are still puttering along in a fashion I imagine to be similar to the stories I heard in my childhood. But this is Germany. Every corner of Germany has its history, its stories, its charm, and is little like the next town down the street (especially if you ask the citizens of any of those towns).

(Photos from Helen)

Flamenco

While in Madrid, Peter and I caught a flamenco show. Despite knowing little about the genre or specific themes of flamenco, it exuded an undeniably compelling passion and was mesmerizing. The women dancers' skirts were absolutely beautiful and amazing to watch as their steps would crescendo into an almost firecracker-like explosion of steps. The male dancer was fascinating as well as you could clearly see all his footwork that the women's skirts obscured. The other thoughts I had during the performance was that the dancers had great physical endurance and sturdy shoes.

The Grouse Grind

You know the saying, you're never a tourist in your own town? As a response to this, nearly every summer I make a mental list of Vancouver things to do that I haven't ever done. I usually don't get around to the list due to other commitments, but this past Wednesday I did a big one:

My fellow hikers: Katie, Stefan and Honza.

The Grouse Grind is a hiking trail up Grouse Mountain. Nicknamed "Mother Nature's Stairmaster," the trail is 2.9km, during which you climb 853m in elevation. I consider myself to be in fairly good physical shape, but the grind was much tougher than I expected; this surprised me a bit because, well, don't tourists do it?

I was lulled into a false sense that the Grind would be easy because everyone always says that the Grouse Grind is "just a bunch of stairs." Essentially they're right, but the steps are not evenly spaced like a staircase, and it's actually pretty rugged including rocks, small boulders, and tree roots. I'm about average height (5'4"), but some points had me taking steps that were up to my hips.

I think we started out pretty fast; for the first third of the hike I got a massive head rush which left me feeling pretty dizzy. Reaching the markers, however, was super encouraging and gave me a rush of adrenaline to continue on. My head rush subsided by the half-way mark, and the trail seemed to actually get easier as we went.

Our time was 74 minutes--pretty good for a first time, I think. It was challenging, but I liked it way better than doing an elliptical or stairmaster at the gym. Though my quads burned while I was climbing it, my legs didn't ache at all the next day. I'd love to give it another try and see if I can shave some time off.

The Grouse Grind is one of those things all good Vancouverites should do at least once. The Grind might be a little more physically demanding than the average tourist bargained for, so in light of that, I wouldn't recommend this as a tourist attraction. You can still get to the top of Grouse via the Gondola. If you're visiting Vancouver and into hiking, or just in good physical shape, I would say go for it as you'll be rewarded by a stunning view of the city below once you reach the top and can get a celebratory drink.

Spanish Cuisine

After what seemed like a particularly wet June, summer has finally arrived in Vancouver. The warm, sunny weather has been wonderful, but it has had a negative effect on this little blog of mine. After spending eight-or-so hours in front of a computer at my office at work, the last thing I want to do is sit inside in front of a computer some more.

Before arriving in Spain, I knew very little about Spanish cuisine except for paella. Excited about trying new things (like octopus and sardines!), of my favourite dishes I tried (way less adventurous than the previous two), was melon with Iberian ham.

Peter and I tried this dish in Barcelona after checking out Gaudí's La Sagrada Familia and Casa Battló. The weather in Spain was hot (but fortunately not humid), so the cool melon was refreshing and I liked the combination of sweet, but not overly sugary, with the savoury ham.

As the weather in Vancouver in similarly sunny and hot, I thought I'd recreate the dish as part of dinner. The melon in Spain wasn't one I recognized, but tasted like a cross between cantaloupe and honeydew; this time I chose the former. Then I substituted the Iberian ham for Canadian prosciutto. Maybe not authentic, but delicious!

Madrid

Before leaving, I had trouble visualizing what our vacation in Spain would be like. While there may not be any one architectural feature that has come to symbolize the city, Lonely Planet travel writer Anthony Ham suggests that Plaza Mayor may be "the one image that was unmistakably Madrid."*

When we arrived at Plaza Mayor at mid-day on our first day, however, we were immediately stunned at how empty one of Madrid's premier plazas felt. At first we thought it was because of lunch. Then, the next day we went to the Prado, and even though we had bought tickets online in advance, there was no wait with other advance ticket holders. The following day we went to the Museo Reina Sofia, which houses Picasso's Guernica, and we just walked in. In fact, the whole museum was pretty tranquil; granted Guernica is many times larger than the Mona Lisa, but there was no Louvre-style crowd pushing to the front for a glimpse of the canvas. There was a primary school group sitting cross-legged in front of the painting, but otherwise the roomful of visitors was easy to navigate and I could study Picasso's work for as long as I wanted.

On our second night we decided to eat at this restaurant, La Pizarra, that looked nice and had a clever sign. We arrived about 9 o'clock. Knowing that the Spanish eat dinner later, we thought that we were early. Nevertheless, we ordered a regional wine and a few dishes to share. The cuisine was Spanish fusion and delicious. We ordered guacamole with plantain and yucca chips, curried octopus with green beans, and black rice risotto, and shared a Spanish dessert--tarta tres quesos--which is cheese cake, but not cheesecake. At the end of our meal, the chef offered us shots. We chose two Spanish herb-based liqueurs; mine tasted like anise, and Peter's tasted really like dandelion and was really strong.

We were still nearly the only ones (except one or two single people having drinks at the bar) when we were finished. As we settled, we chatted with the chef. He said that despite the worrisome economic situation in Spain, the sun still shines.

The sense of emptiness was a bit eerie, but at the same time it was cool to feel like we had the city to ourselves. I wondered if maybe I shouldn't be comparing Madrid tourism to Paris. Maybe their tourism numbers were drastically different. Paris is, after all, the number one tourist destination in the world--15.6 million people visited the city of lights last year. But Spain is the fourth most visited country by international tourist arrivals, and my superficial research suggests that Madrid is the most visited city in Spain. In the end, we concluded that thesense of emptiness was likely due to the current global economic situation.


*Anthony Ham, Lonely Planet Madrid Encounter, 44.

Madrid: A Vibrant City

Arriving in a new city under the cover of darkness always adds a flair of mystery. And such was my arrival in Madrid after nearly 24 hours of travelling (which included a nearly nine-hour layover in Amsterdam). The benefit of such an arrival is the discovery the next morning when everything is awash in daylight.

This cross marked what was once the edge of the city wall.

  

We enjoyed 1 euro cervezas on the patio of the cerveceria one languid afternoon.

Madrid's vibrant hues, and my enchantment with them, reminded me a lot of Rome. And indeed, Madrid had a certain ambiance.

Hola!

I arrive home late yesterday afternoon. I can't wait to sort through all the pictures I took and share the highlights of my trip with you!

I seem to have contracted a sore throat from the canned air on the plane though, so I've had chicken soup for lunch and downing peppermint tea and my go-to when I'm sick, Bolthouse C-Boost juice, which was 1200% your daily vitamin C per serving!

Adios!

The weather forecast for Madrid and Barcelona. The current forecast for Amsterdam seems like it might dash my plans to picnic in Vondelpark.

Thanks to everyone who played the postcard challenge. I can't wait to share some of the interesting clues and tidbits of trivia you submitted. If you played, keep your eye on your mailbox!

Tonight I'm off to meet my bestie to celebrate her 25th birthday (it's actually tomorrow, and I'm leaving the country, what a terrible friend I am, right?). Tomorrow, I'm meeting my mum for lunch before heading over to the airport.

I'll be back in two weeks. Feel free to read back if you want :)

(images via The Weather Network)

On Packing

Even though I've been looking forward to this trip for what seems like months, it suddenly feels like it's crept up on me; as in, I can't believe I'll be sitting on a plane in 48 hours from now. I have been more or less diligently checking the items left on my to-do list. Tonight I'm packing and watching Vicky Cristina Barcelona--the movie that secured Spain a spot on my list of places to travel to.

Sounds zen, but for me packing usually feels like it's a pretty frantic last-minute affair (example: I left packing for France until the night before), filled with uncertainty.

A few weeks ago Liz (on whom I have a blog crush, go check her out, it's lovely), tweeted about how she was trying to resist packing for her summer trip to her parents' Michigan cabin 39 days early. I replied, mentioning my packing procrastination and she passed on some packing wisdom:

"To me, it's almost like starting the trip itself - all that visualizing of what I'll wear, etc."

What a wonderful way of looking at it. Not surprising coming from a gal perfecting her life uniform, and who undertakes a never-ending edit.

Destination Tags

While browsing Pinterest on Monday, I came across prints by illustrator/designer Tabitha Brown. I checked out her etsy shop, The Pairabirdslove, and fell in love with this print of vintage airline luggage tags.

Since moving in together last summer, Peter and I have been rearranging the apartment he's lived in for 10 (!) years to make it feel more like our home. We still have a lot of bare wall space I'd like to fill with art. Wouldn't this colourful print (along with maybe it's American pair) be inspiring to look at? I think I'd get lost in daydreams of travelling to Sao Paulo, or Melbourne or any one of these places.

I also really like this print of Rock, Paper, Scissors and this one called The New Girl.

(illustration by Tabitha Brown)

Do You Unplug During Vacation?

When Jacky was visiting back in April, she made an interesting remark while we were packing our overnight bags for Victoria. She said she was going to do like me and leave her computer at home.

I found this an interesting comment because I hadn't consciously realized that not bringing my computer on trips in Europe was my M.O. But it's true. For the most part, I didn't bring my laptop along on my European travels. It wasn't because of some belief in living unplugged, but rather a decision based on the realities of packing for a week of travelling with just a carry-on bag. When I lived in France, I didn't have a smartphone, so being unplugged on vacation was all the easier.

When Peter and I took our anniversary trip to Seattle, I tweeted and checked social media and email occasionally, but only when there was free wifi available. That trip had a unique social media dimension with the Twitter #2DaysInSeattle.

This trip to Europe I am planning on being unplugged. I'm not bringing my laptop along (Peter will have his iPad), and as I expect free wifi to be rare, I don't think I will be using my iPhone much beyond taking the occasional Instagram photo, if that.


What are your social media and internet habits when you travel? Do you unplug? Do you feel strongly about taking a break from the computer and/or internet?

P.S.: There are still 5 days to leave a comment to receive a postcard.

(illustration by Tabitha Brown via Pinterest, available as a print from her etsy shop)

Dispatch from Barcelona

If you know me, or you've been reading the blog, then you'll know Peter is currently on tour in Europe with Siskiyou. Yesterday he called me from Barcelona, where they had just finished playing their set at the Primavera Sound Festival. He said it was an incredible experience playing to thousands of people, and having a few hundred of them sing along. He told me we were going to have an awesome time in Barcelona. Can't wait. Only one more week 'til I leave.

Update: Jorge Navarro who saw the Barcelona Primavera Sound show posted some photos of Siskiyou. Peter looked pretty bad ass.

(Photo by Siskiyou)

Fog of Travel

The countdown till take off is now in single digits (if you want a postcard, the postcard challenge is still open). This weekend I'll be thinking of getting the last few checks on my to-do list: travel medical insurance, museum tickets (I'm thinking Reina Sofia in Madrid, Picasso museum in Barcelona, and Van Gogh and Rijksmuseum in Amsterdam... thoughts? Recommendations?), exchanging my dollars into euros. But I can't help but feel I'm forgetting something...

I've felt that my thoughts at work these last couple weeks leading up to my vacation have been a bit foggy. I'm not sure if it's staring at a computer so long, or that I've got a lot of my mind, including general work and life stresses in the back of my mind. I've also been getting low-grade headaches. When I notice my brain getting on the fritz, I try to escape for a quick walk around the block. I'm hoping that this is just a sign that my vacation is much needed and that picnicking and lounging in parks and at the beach will be enough to reset me. A recently published study suggests that visiting parks allows the "deeper thinking part of the brain" to relax, something it doesn't get to do in an urban setting.

On Doing Long-Distance

Having dated a touring musician for over five years (!), one question I have frequently by people wondering how I am handling the time apart while he's on tour been asked is if I miss him. The short answer is yes; the long answer includes the explanation that it's really not so bad.

I'm not sure if people imagine that while he's off touring that I am sitting at home mopey. I promise, I'm not.

In university, I considered tours as blessings in disguise as they allowed me to focus on school. In my last year, he went on two six-week tours in the fall and spring; the latter allowed me to hibernate to finish and defend my thesis without feeling guilty about having to focus on school so much.

No longer having school to throw myself into, I have two other ways I typically cope with being apart. First, I follow the tour. I write the tour stops in my agenda so I can refer to them easily. I find comfort in knowing where he is ton a certain day. When I was in France, for example, it felt like with every tour stop he was getting ever so much closer to me. Second, Peter has for the most part always been in bands whose music I genuinely like. When I listen to his band's recordings on which he's played, I feel closer to him in a way, which in turn I again find comforting.


(Map pinning me in Vancouver and him in London)

Spain on the Brain

I woke this morning to grey skies over Vancouver. So I thought I would share some photos from my friend Stefan's 2008 trip to Barcelona:

Remember to participate in the postcard challenge if you want some Spanish (or Dutch) snail mail love from me.

(Photos: Stefan Brown)

Spain: The Undiscovered Country

I leave for my trip to Europe in just under three weeks now. Until recently, however, I was more excited about the Amsterdam leg of our trip, which felt a little strange to me. As I have already been, I looked forward to hanging out with Peter in Amsterdam, walking alongside the canals and picnicking in Vondelpark or Oosterpark.

Then I realized I had experienced this before. When Peter and I began planning our trip to Spain, we immediately thought of Madrid and Barcelona, and then my mind went more or less blank after that. The Eiffel Tower has come to symbolize not just Paris, but all of France; the Coliseum that of Rome; and Tower Bridge or Big Ben those of London. Yet when I think of Spain (or Germany, still), no one landmark comes to mind. Then, when I read the following passage, it all kind of made sense to me:

It's true that Spain'scapital doesn't have the immediate cachet of Rome, Paris or even that other city up the road, Barcelona. Its architecture is beautiful, but there's no Colosseum, no Eiffel Tower, no Gaudi-inspired zaniness to photograph and tell your friends back home, 'this is Madrid'. But this city is an idea, a way of living for the moment that can be hard to resist.

-- Anthony Ham, "Madrid Encounter," Lonely Planet, 7. 

Now, only a few weeks away, my excitement for Spain is building as I talk to friends who have been there and our plans for our trip come together. Ernest Hemingway had considered "The Undiscovered Country" before finally settling on "For Whom the Bell Tolls" as the title for his novel set during the Spanish Civil War.* I feel the former is an apt description for Spain.

***

Remember to participate in the postcard challenge if you want some Spanish (or Dutch) snail mail love from me.

*Allen Josephs, For Whom the Bell Tolls: Ernest Hemingway's Undiscovered Country, (New York: Twayne Publishers, 1994), xix.

Postcard Challenge II

Peter left for Europe with Siskiyou today. If you're in Europe (or Ottawa or Montréal), you can check out their tour dates here. In only a little more than three weeks, I too, will make the trip across the pond.

While I lived in Europe, I loved sending and receiving snail mail, including my Where Am I? Trivia Postcard Challenge. So, if you'll indulge me, and want to play along, I'd love to reinvent it. I would scour for clues in books and on the internet. For each destination I travelled to, I would post between 3 and 5 clues. Sometimes each clue would have its own individual answer, but all were related to the specific country or city I was travelling to. Often, I would draw my inspiration for clues from a place's history, geography, or things the destination was well-known for (e.g. chocolate and beer for Belgium).This time, I thought I would reverse the roles.  

If you would like a postcard form Madrid, Barcelona, or Amsterdam, simply leave a comment with a trivia-esque fact about one of these cities (or Spain or the Netherlands more generally) before 6:00pm PDT June 8, 2012. 

This contest is open to all readers, so please be sure to leave an email address in your comment (so I can contact you for your mailing address). I will draw for winners the evening before I leave. Comments will be moderated so that the clues are not visible until after the contest has closed. This way, later commenters cannot simply recycle previous commenters' clues. If you get an error message when trying to post your comment, please email me and let me know as I have had trouble with moderated Blogger comments in the past.

Bonne chance! Or, buena suerte and veel succes!

The Train in Spain!

Rolls Mainly on the Plain

About a month ago Peter and I started seriously considering our transportation options between Madrid and Barcelona: train, plane, or automobile? We were priced out of the latter option, leaving us to choose between the train and plane.

We chose the train for a few reasons:

1. Though I will only have a suitcase and shoulder bag, Peter will be travelling with his bass, pedal board, and suitcase. It seemed easier to manage several pieces of luggage on the train, especially given the fragile nature of his bass. Discount airlines also charge for each checked pieces of luggage, so cost factored in when we weighed the two modes.
2. When we calculated the time between the two modes of transport, train won yet again. To take the plane we would have to arrive early to check our luggage, security, etc. The airport Ryan Air flies into in Barcelona is located outside the city, so there was the added time involved in getting into the city itself. The flight was also mid-day, so it would have cost us a day in either Madrid or Barcelona. The AVE train leaves from within the city of Madrid and pulls into Barcelona two-and-a-half hours later.
3. While I like the bird's-eye-view of the world below that a window seat on an air plane offers, I also like to watch the world going by the window of the train. I don't know what the view will be like, but the landscape between Lyon and Toulouse was one of my favourite to lose myself in. 

I was a bit unsure of myself in navigating the Renfe website. On the surface it seems less user friendly than the SNCF website. I found this Trip Advisor guide to buying Renfe tickets helpful and humourous. As the author writes:

The website is a bit surreal. It is like Alice in Wonderland, where nothing seems to be what it really is. Even if you are on the English page, you will find some items in Spanish. Sometimes the website will send you to a completely Spanish page! However if you persevere you may be able to save some money by getting the web discounts.

 But following the guide, and double checking those occasional Spanish words with Google Translate, it was really quite easy to buy the tickets online. I even scored them for almost €40 cheaper than when I looked into buying them in April!

The countdown to Europe is now less than one month! Stay tuned for an announcement on Wednesday.

Joyeuse fête des mères, maman!

In the week leading up to Mother's Day, the Globe & Mail featured pieces on various aspects of Mother's Day, including gift ideas, stories about motherhood, facing Mother's Day when struggling with infertility, and, to my shock and disgust, an article about how many mothers do not like the gifts their children give them.

Like many others, I'm sure, I tend to think that like Valentine's Day, Mother's and Father's Day are holidays manufactured by Hallmark. However, as a commenter on the Globe & Mail article wrote, what is so wrong about teaching children to celebrate and appreciate their parents? It's not about the gifts; it's about taking a moment to show gratitude for everything our mums do for us 365 days a year.

I was so excited that my mum was able to come visit me in Europe after I finished teaching in France, and to share her first trip to Europe. It was exhilarating to finish teaching and board a London-bound plane that same day to meet up with her.

Thank for everything mum! I hope we can go on more trips together soon!

Vancouver: Visitor's Eye View

After our weekend trip to Victoria, it was back to Vancouver, and back to work for me. I felt bad that I was leaving Jacky to visit my city mostly by herself; although when I visited my friend Dominic in last May, I didn't at all mind loitering around London by myself, and took the opportunity to check out some of that city's great museums.

Vancouver's weather did not care that I was hosting a guest and was its typical grey, rainy self during Jacky's first two days here. The first day, our mutual friend Josh gave her the compulsory tour of the city, and I met them for drinks after work.  Jacky had the Sea Wall slated for the next day, and ever the determined, she persisted despite the rain. On the third day, to my great relief, the sun rose so Jacky could see Vancouver at its best.

It was really neat to meet up with Jacky at the end of each day and hear about what she had seen and done. As her camera seemed to be on the fritz, I lent her mine. I thought I'd share some of the photos she snapped: 

View of Science World looking North across False Creek. 

Colourful boats on False Creek.
View of the Burrard Street Bridge looking West across False Creek.

This killer whale mural has existed for almost as long as I can remember. I would be so sad to ever see it go if the building it's painted on ever gets redeveloped.

It was so much fun having Jacky visit. By the end of the week, Jacky knew as much about Vancouver's idiosyncrasies as any life-long Vancouverite, and would have fit right in. I hope I get to play host again soon.

Raincity

Rain showers are not something that restrict themselves to April in Vancouver, or cease with the bloom of May flowers. Despite having had what seems like the driest autumn and winter I can recall--having grown up here--I worried about whether Jacky would get any sunshine during her visit. Vancouver's more than 1100mm average annual rainfall has earned the city the nickname Raincity. In springtime, it's wise to pack both your umbrella and sunglasses when heading out for the day.

On the subject umbrellas, I once overheard a girl talking about the unofficial "Umbrella System," whereby nobody actually buys umbrellas; instead, there exists an intricate system of using umbrellas one finds or acquires. This girl, however, found herself to be "inputting into this system a lot more often than receiving." I'm not sure if this system is unique to this very rainy city, but I feel it exists and that I've unconsciously been abiding by it nearly my entire life.

I can't recall how I acquired my favourite geometric umbrella, it seems to have simply appeared in my house.  After years of faithful service, I found and purchased another red/blue/cream geometric umbrella to take its place. In fact, I have an umbrella that I bought in Rome for 5 euros when we were washed out Christmas Eve that I'm trying to input into the system by organically losing it.

Victoria! Victoria!

The view from the ferry en route to Victoria.

After meeting Jacky at the airport in Bellingham and whisking her to Canada to spend her first evening in Vancouver, we set sail for Victoria (and saw a pod of orcas!).  Though we decided to go to Victoria because logistically it didn't work out to go to Seattle, Victoria is no consolation prize.  Victoria is a perfect weekend getaway from Vancouver. Anecdotally, I have even heard that visitors prefer it to Vancouver.

Victoria is smaller and has a distinctly different vibe than Vancouver.  We did the necessary Victoria things to do: walked to the legislature, passing by the Empress, and walked back along the inner harbour, before heading to the Bard & Banker for a bite, the special Phillips Scotch ale, and to catch the game.

The next day we met Kristen (who is now at law school at UVic) and Alex for brunch at Rebar, explored Fan Tan Alley and Chinatown, and browsed Victoria's many independent shops.

Not having been to Victoria in two years, it was nice to getaway for the weekend.  Geographically, Victoria is not all that far away, but the fact that you have take a ferry (or fly) to get there makes it seem (psychologically) that further away than you are and can slip into a vacation state of mind faster. 

French (Re)Connection

Jacky overlooking the wake of the ferry on the way to Victoria.  We saw orcas!

And just like that, Jacky is gone.  One week went by fast.  I had such a good time playing host to her.

Despite not having seen each other for almost a year,we immediately reconnected.  By the end of the week, Jacky was so well-oriented to Vancouver that she fit right in.  I'm sad that she's had to go back to her real life in D.C., but I guess I'll just have to return the visit!

It Really Is a Small World After All

I am not the type to ask for people to take photos of me. As a result, there is relatively little photographic evidence of my existence. Usually I am the one taking the photo. In fact, there are more photos of Peter from trips we've taken together than there are of me. I noticed this as I reviewed the photos of our road trip to San Francisco after we'd returned. As a result, I have made a conscious effort to ask for photos to be taken of me. (If you're a facebook friend of mine, you'll notice how the majority of the photos of me were taken in Europe--when I apparently surrounded myself with more picture-taking-inclined friends.)

All of this is to say that the above two photos of Jacky and I, are two of the few that I have of us during our travels together in Europe.  There are actually no photos of us in the same frame.  Here we are sitting across from each other at Café Kadijk in Amsterdam enjoying rijsttafel, a Dutch take on Indonesian food.  Jacky as you may remember, if you have been reading this blog, was my travel partner to Amsterdam, Berlin, and Prague.

The last time I saw Jacky was almost a year ago.  It was a sunny, warm day in mid-May and we had decided to meet at la Grande Poste in Saint Étienne so that we could ship the books we had accumulated back home.  My friend Paloma, whom I visited in Toulouse where she lives with her husband, had told me about how there is a special rate in France to post books.  My box of books came just under the weight limit, but Jacky's did not.  She had the unfortunate task of having to choose what to ship and what would stay behind.  I stayed to help her, but then when we weighed her box a second time it was still too heavy to get the special rate.  Having committed to meeting a collègue of mine for coffee, I couldn't stay to help her cull a second time.  We casually said goodbye and parted ways.

And that was the last thing we said to each other.  We hadn't realised that that was goodbye.  That afternoon, Jacky was going to Lyon, before going on to Paris (to fly to Montréal and then bus to the USA).  At some point, Jacky realised that was goodbye and sent me a touching text.  I responded, but I don't know if she got it as by the time I did, she would likely have been on her transatlantic flight (I later discovered upon arriving in Montréal that Orange pay-as-you-go phones don't work in North America). 


But tomorrow, we'll be reunited as Jacky is coming to visit!

A Dam in the River Amstel

Yesterday evening, Peter and I bought our flights for Barcelona-Amsterdam, two months before our travel date.

Amsterdam was named very literally for the fact that a dam was built on the river Amstel circa the year 1200.  The city is criss-crossed by 165 canals, which total over 75km of waterway.  The majority of these canals are lined by railings to which hundreds of bikes are locked.  Bicycles, which can be seen all across the city, are inextricably linked to Amsterdam; in 2006 there were approximately 465 000 bicycles in Amsterdam.

Peter has been to the Netherlands before while touring with Siskiou, but he has not ever really had the time to visit. As I have already been to Amsterdam, I would like to give priority to the things Peter wants to do and see.  Peter would like to wander about the city, eat friets, and go to a particular bar he liked that he had stopped in while on tour.

One of the things I would like to do in Amsterdam is go on a bike tour.  Neither Peter nor I are very experienced cyclists--in fact, Peter had forgotten how to ride a bike until he re-learned this last summer!  Another thing that makes me nervous is that Europeans tend to not wear helmets when they ride.  I would be interested in going on some practice rides so that we can get more comfortable riding.  This city bike tour (offered by the same company with which I have taken free walking tours of Amsterdam, Berlin, and Prague) looks good, if only we were in Amsterdam on a Saturday or Sunday.  I would be especially interested in riding by the De Gooyer Windmill, as I have never seen one and they seem very Dutch.

Sitting next to this painting in a bar in Amsterdam is the closest I have been to a Dutch windmill.

The other thing I would like to do while in Amsterdam is to have a picnic in either Oosterpark or Vondelpark--something that it was much too cold to do when I visited last year in March--and go on a canal boat ride either the first night we are there or the next morning.

Other than that, we are considering whether to visit the Rijksmuseum and Van Gogh Museum, both of which I have visited but wouldn't mind going to again as they were both so amazing.  We have also tossed around the idea of taking a day trip to Utrecht--a town Peter found very pretty.

Have you been to the Netherlands before? Do you have any recommendations on how we should spend our two-and-a-half days in Amsterdam?  Have you been to any other museums in Amsterdam?  I'm particularly curious about the Anne Frank House and Rembrandthuis.