May I Present

Hey readers-

So, I'm back in Canada, but I still have opinions. I also have stories. I want to keep writing and apparently others want to keep reading.

But, I cannot continue writing Italian Adventures when I'm not longer in Italy, so may I present my new blog: The Surrian Life.

Because what could be more fun than reading about Adventures in Surrey? I know everyone wonders what life in Surrey is like. I'm here to expose it.

Read it. Bookmark it. Love it.

Because I'm a people pleaser

I'm back in Vancouver. After a uneventful trip home, in which I had no seatmates on either of my flights and an awesome personal television on the 9 hour flight, I've returned to Surrey and ponder the rest of my life.

For those that care, I watched three movies on the plane. "Nick and Norah's infinite playlist," which was a cute movie. "Pineapple Express" was not good at all and I was peeved I missed out on sleep to watch that crap. Finally I saw "Wall-E" which was cute and a pretty good social commentary from the good people at Disney/Pixar.

As for my blogging future, I'm not sure where I'm going with it. I want to keep writing and both my mom and Kim have told me they want to keep reading something.

Stay tuned to this space for some kind of future announcement I guess.

"if you're not willing to be changed by a place, there's no point in going."

“And now, the end is near
And so I face, the final curtain
My friends, I’ll say it clear
I’ll state my case, of which I’m certain
I’ve lived a life that’s full
I’ve traveled each and every highway
And more, much more than this,
I did it my way”

And here it is, the end of my time here in Italy.

Everyone keeps asking if I’m sad to leave or if I’m happy to be going back to Vancouver. I think it’s both.

I am sad to be leaving behind earlier than scheduled and to leave behind my family and the friends I’ve made while here. There are other things I’ll miss as well, such as fresh bread, heated towel racks, bird polenta and the numerous cultural differences I find here on a daily basis.

At the same time I’m happy to return to Vancouver, I’ve missed my family, friends and the familiarity of the city- there’s something I never thought I’d say. I also feel like it’s time, because while I know I said I wanted to stay here a year, it’s becoming more and more apparent that moving to a country is a lot different – and harder – than visiting it.

I will be back though, I have so much more to see and do here that I wish I had more time and money to do it with. I have thoroughly enjoyed my time here and would not trade the time spent here for anything. I think, looking back at myself when I first came and now, that I’ve learned a lot about myself, where I’m going and what I want to be.

I think most of all I’m excited to be returning with a plan for the future, I was worried that when I left here I was going to return and would be lost and unsure of what I’m doing. But I think my time here has made a lot of things clear for me and maybe cemented some ideas in my head for the future.

So arrivederci Italy. I will miss your museums, architecture and fashion, I can’t say the same about your bureaucracy or dial-up internet.

When old ladies attack

February is soon upon us. And every February comes one of the biggest events in fashion… New York Fashion Week.

Celebrities, socialites, hanger on’s and models flock to NYC to get a glimpse of this years biggest trends.

It never fails at these fashion shows that some celebrity or magazine editor shows up in fur. It’s cold in New York and understandable I suppose.

We’ve all seen it in the past. Lindsey Lohan has been dosed in red paint, so have some of the models in the shows. Heck, even Anna Wintour herself, the real life devil in Prada, aka editor of Vogue and fashion’s biggest critic, has had paint thrown at her.

It’s all the doings of good ol’ PETA (People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals), my dad’s favorite animal rights group (heavy on the sarcasm). They like to send out people to throw red paint to represent the blood shed in procuring such furs for the garments. Harsh, if you ask me.

(as an aside, I’m not a fan of PETA, while I do agree with treating animals ethically, I guess being a meat-eater myself I can’t really say that I agree with everything they do. Also, I think they’re slightly maniacal and unethical towards humans who quite honestly are participating in a somewhat diluted circle of life. Also, Pam Anderson is one of their most famous spokespeople, by subjugating humans to her preaching about their cause is clearly a cruel and unusual punishment to mankind and thus making me want to send PETH after here… if you’re wondering that would be a newly formed group by yours truly – or I assume it is – called Pets for the Ethical Treatment of Humans)

Anyways… I seem to go on a lot of tangents here… my point is PETA likes to target Fashion Week. Sure, it’s because it’s a big event with millions of people watching and it’s good publicity for the PETA cause. But, I know a place where PETA is missing out.

Italy.

Seriously. This place is crawling – crawling – with fur coats. Every woman over the age of 60 is wrapped in some kind of animal carcass. I have no problem with this by the way, I kind of like to see these older ladies wandering around in their furs, dressed up to go to the markets in the morning. But part of me also thinks how awesome would it be to see a PETA member run up and throw paint on these women. Frankly I don’t think they would take it. They’d probably clobber them with their purses (and those are some big purses). These are some feisty ladies. And I’m sure their friends (because they travel in packs) would join in on the beating. Imagine, PETA members getting a beat down by older women… priceless.

After they’re done in Italy they could head to Berlin. They too enjoy their fur there, although much of it is of the hat variety.

Fun with language

Canadese:

I thought this word meant Canadian in Italian. And it most certainly does.

There is a second meaning to it thought.

Apparently canadese also means “small tent” in Italian.

Question to my fellow Canadians: are you insulted? I kinda am.

Why? Dammit… Why?

Why is it whenever I find a concert I really, really, really want to go to somehow it never happens.

To continue where I left off yesterday in my happiness about Fleetwood Mac:

I phoned my dad before 6am his time to share the news, apparently they were coming to Vancouver, he had known this and was planning on trying to buy tickets when they went on sale at 10am Monday. There was actually many people involved in this ticket buying scheme. I ruined the surprise I guess.

But… when I phoned later in the evening to find out if the tickets were bought, he said no. They apparently charge $199/ticket.

I love me some Mac, but no. $199 is too steep.

So here I am, sad and without Mac tickets. These guys are on my must see list, the concert I have to see before… well… they die, because that’s more likely than me dying first.

First Spice Girls, then NKOTB and now Mac.

But as with NKOTB (whom we’re all still praying returns to Van-city right?) I will not give up hope. I’ll search online for cheaper tickets and maybe find something cheaper through craigslist closer to the date… or I’ll resort to buying from scalpers.

For reals people, my love for Fleetwood Mac runs so much deeper than that of NKOTB.

If U2 tours this fall I swear to God, Allah, Buddha and all things holy that I will not let that one pass me by.

You can go your own way

I'm hyperventalating with happiness.

Happier than when I thought there was an off chance that I'd see NKOTB.

I knew there was some kind of destiny why I was heading back to Vancouver.

FLEETWOOD MAC

Only my favorite band ever. Playing in Edmonton, Calgary and Tacoma (what no Vancouver? sigh)

Guess whose about to get an excited 5am wake up call Mom and Dad? I don't care, I'm going even if it's alone.

Tickets are on sale in a few hours. Must move fast.

Less than a week…

And I’ll be back in Vancouver.

I’m pretty much packed, I started Saturday after my dad warned me Friday night that it was going to take me forever. It took about 3 hours on Saturday… so ha ha dad.

I have two of my three suitcases packed and ready to go, just under their weight limit.

The third should come in under the limit as well, or at least I hope.

I’m obviously out of things to write about on this here blog since I’m writing about boring things like this. But I hate to not write, I might get emails from my mom again complaining that I’m not entertaining her.

AKA: YVR

We got into a discussion after lunch on Sunday. Or maybe it was just Christian just talking and all of us arguing with him, this sometime happens.

He asked me if the Vancouver International Airport had another name. I said no, although we often refer to it as YVR.

This upset him. Because every freaking airport here in Italy, if not Europe, has a name. There are plenty of examples: Heathrow, Charles DeGaul, Malpensa, etc.

Even outside Europe there is JFK in New York and I think Toronto is called Pearsons.

It bothered him that YVR didn’t have another name. I like to argue that it’s easier to refer to a airport by it’s city, unless said city is big enough, like London or Milan, to have more than one and thereby needing more than one name.

I mean would the average person know where I was landing or leaving from if I said I was leaving from “Marco Polo?” Probably not, so I’d have to waste more time and say that it’s the Venice airport. What about Schirpol? (sp? I could look it up, but that requires work you know). That’s where my layover in Amsterdam is (ok, this maybe a bigger airport, but really, Amsterdam is so much easier).

But, apparently this isn’t good enough for Christian, so we need to find a name for YVR. Christian suggested Bryan Adams airport. I said I liked Michael J Fox International better. Anyone have any good ideas? Leave them in the comments (a sneaky ploy to get people to comment, I know) and the best one will not become the official name, but you know, I may refer to it in this blog at some point when writing about my return to Vancouver.

Ask and you shall receive

My mom complained to me (via email) that I had been lacking in the blog department lately and apparently the fact that she’ll be seeing me in less than two weeks isn’t a good enough reason for this.

I’m just lazy (but also busy). Plain and simple. I’m working weird hours lately and haven’t been arsed to write and then post anything. For example, I’ve been working on a post on Berlin museums for about a week, I left it when I realized I had to look up how to spell Pergamon, the info was in my agenda as well as in the pictures I took, but you know, that would require effort. I did finally look it up, but then realized I had to look up other things to do with it. So I lost interest and gave up.

Today I’ve posted a bunch of things I’ve been working on and thinking of. Enjoy.

Admit it, you’ll miss his brilliance

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pWuIEIBN3sY

Sorry, it wouldn't let me imbed

"We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal."

Rejoice. Rejoice. Rejoice.

We survived Bush. Welcome Obama.

(PS: anyone else love Michelle and the daughters, they're an adorable family)

Venetian Adventures

I went to Venice last Saturday. My only disappointment was that I didn’t go sooner. The train there is 4.25 (euro) each way, so I certainly could have gone more often, but I was always under the impression it was more expensive.

I have been to Venice in my three previous visits here, but I was too young to remember it or truly appreciate it. I do remember it raining each time I went, so I was really happy when it was a clear, sunny day on Saturday (a nice reprise, since it rained all Friday and Sunday and continues to pour even now). I also remember a lot of pigeons, this time there were many, especially in St. Marks Square, but not as many as I remember. There are two theories I have for this, one being the obvious that they probably flew somewhere warmer for the winter, the other is that they’ve started eating each other… the pigeons are quite obese, so I wouldn’t put it past them.

I made my way to Venice in the wee morning hours, I left home to catch the first train out and arrived in Venice by 8:15. I wandered along the Grand Canal and walked over one bridge after another. I made it to St. Mark’s square before the crowds showed up and enjoyed the quiet early morning. I watched vendors set up their booths, pigeons crowd around people with bread crumbs and a few tourists, like myself, taking pictures of the beautiful architecture.

I took a walk and came back to the square later, when things had opened up and I was able to go into the cathedral. It truly is striking inside. They were holding confession and I was tempted to go, except they were only offering it in Italian, French and German, because you know if it weren’t for that minor detail, I would have been in there. :P

After the cathedral I made my way onto the ferry (which costs 6 euro, more than the train, and the ticket is only good for an hour, luckily they don’t check tickets so I didn’t bother buying more than one). Once I figured out how they worked I went to the Peggy Guggenheim museum, which featured pieces from her private collection (Picasso, Dali, Klee, etc.) as well as her grave and the grave of her many dogs.

Once I felt decently cultured I made my way back down the grand canal and did some shopping in the stores, wandered aimlessly and looked wishfully at apartments, trying to figure out how much rent was and whether living in Venice is as much fun as visiting it (various people here, who have never lived in Venice, tell me that living there is probably not all it’s cracked up to be).

I finally made my way back home in the evening, tired and with sore feet, but pleased with the city and happy with my trip there. Only wishing I spent more time there in the few months I’ve been here and now wanting to visit even more cities. Oh well, I’ll be back Italy. There are far too many museums, churches and piazzas that I have yet to see.

What I know for sure

(Bloggers note: How have I not done one of these before? Oprah “writes” a monthly column in her magazine called ‘What I know for sure” where she dispenses advice about what she is sure of in life. It’s all very narcissistic if you think about it, because can we ever know anything for sure? But then again, it’s Oprah and thus we should probably trust that she knows, because aren’t we screwed if she doesn’t. Anyways, I thought this was an appropriate title for this blog entry because I do know this for sure… right now).

Last week I started teaching English at a nursery. That’s right, I mold the minds of children, toddlers really, if that even. They’re all generally under the age of 2 and until today, all girls. I use the term “teach English” very loosely, because I basically just repeat key words in English after the teacher says them in Italian, for example if we’re painting with white paint, I say “white.” Tuesday we played with rice, so I repeated rice a million times. Last Thursday I sang Mary Had A Little Lamb about 100 times. This week, one of them finally repeated after me when I said cat. This was a breakthrough, although when I asked her again what the picture was, she couldn’t remember cat.

They are adorable, I do know this for sure. At least for the first 15 minutes, when we’re playing with paints or wool or whatever craft project that has been set out for them. But they have short attention spans, just like me. So they get bored and whinny and cry for their parents as lunch and nap time looms. By the time I’m leaving they’re all crying or screaming and I’m running for the exit.

By the way, I spend an hour with them.

So, what I know for sure (aside from the before mentioned adorableness)… my mom is not getting grandchildren from her daughter anytime soon. Aside from the fact that I can’t afford to make one life happen right now- let alone two- babies aren’t so much my thing right now. Screaming, crying, whinning- it’s not cool. Even though they are kind of fun for 15 minutes and there are 2 of them who are pretty smart for being just under two and another one who squeals in delight when I get there, I figure that fifteen minutes of cuteness isn’t enough to sell me on them yet.

And that is what I know for sure.

Hanging Tough

For those wondering, I was not in Birmingham, England last weekend and therefore did not bare witness to the greatest concert on earth (NKOTB, as if I needed to tell you). It goes without saying that I was trying to make it happen up until the last moment.

They are doing another North American tour in the spring, but unfortunately it’s not in the west. I am hoping they come to their senses and swing back towards Vancouver, even Seattle.

Pictures, pictures, pictures

I've posted some more pictures over at Facebook, go check them out with these links below. They're just random pics taken over the 9 days I was there. It looks like Kim and I never changed our clothes, but I promise we did. We just had to layer more and more as the days went on that it constantly looked as if we never had time to rest or return home.

Culture makes you tired. We did make it home to sleep and change. Trust.

Album 1
Album 2

What I’m looking forward to…

There are a few things I’m looking forward to when I get back to Canada, things that just aren’t available here and I find myself missing. Like drip coffee with flavoured cream in the morning.

I’m also looking to end my addiction to Fox News. 2 months after the election I find myself still watching. It could be because they’re the only station stupid enough to air Anne Coulter and I enjoy yelling at her idiocracy and the other stupid people that the network feels are entitled to airtime.

I think I just enjoy arguing a lot. And no one here will argue with me. So I yell at the TV and I really enjoy the fact that it doesn’t yell back. Although it does continue to spew it’s right-wing b.s.

I suppose that’s reason #347 why I should continue this law school path. Sigh, I guess I’m just destined.

I can’t wait to get back to Canada for the mere fact that I can watch other news networks (they have CNN and BBC here but they always seem to only show lame world sports- today I watched horse jumping… Canada won!- or money watch- which is depressing when you have no money to watch).

I also look forward to the dog and Wii. In fact returning home and playing with my mom’s Christmas present, a Wii, is a pretty exciting for me since I see commercials for them everywhere here, but have yet to experience it.

And I suppose I look forward to seeing all my friends and family, but you know, perspective people, have some perspective.

Maybe a late-in-life career change is in order?

I’ve found a second movie with John McCain in it. As I reported last month John McCain was in Wedding Crashers. Sunday night I was watching the Dixie Chicks documentary “Shut Up & Sing” (not a bad documentary actually… but I love most documentaries so I don’t know if I’m the best critic) and John McCain was in a scene in which they’re discussing radio programmers boycotting the Chicks. Oddly enough, he sided with them and thus I may have, for a mere second, found him endearing.

Again, if he had only brought out the movie credits in his campaign, I believe he could have garnered a few more votes (or maybe it was tactical with this one since a few Republican voters would have instead voted Democratic because his affiliation with the Dixie Chicks?).

From Zio Miraldo’s kitchen…

Before I got to Italy I didn’t really like polenta. I tried it on a few occasions and decided it was too mushy for me. Those not in the know, polenta is a type of corn bread, it’s basically corn flour, salt and water. I had tried my Nonna’s, which I didn’t like, but here, when it’s grilled or fried it’s not mushy and actually quite tasty.

Saturday evening we had some people over for dinner. When people are over we generally grill some meat, have potatoes and polenta. Sometimes we grill it, but lately it’s been fried. And although Jessica and I have both questioned the caloric count in each piece of polenta (it’s best not to think of it) it’s too good to pass up.

On boxing day I began questioning how it was made, I mean at first I thought it was fried in butter or oil and spices, but I started finding clues and today I was given the “secret ingredient.”

It’s birds.

The buggers, I was convinced I wasn’t going to eat any here, but I’ve been eating this dang polenta while it’s been coated in bird guts. When I was told this, my aunt questioned if I would stop eating it just because of that, even though I like it. No, I replied, I would not.

Apparently some of the “special bird sauce” may be smuggled back to Canada with me. It’s a present for dad from Miraldo. It makes good polenta dad, I’m just saying…

Theoretically spending New Years at the worlds best place

First off, let me say I haven’t posted any pictures, aside from the few I’ll add to this entry. My previous experiences with posting pictures were when I would sit out and post using the free wireless in the square by my work. It’s too cold for that at this point and while I may try to do it from an internet café, I need to figure out some logistics first. Technical Difficulties R Us, but depending if you’ve read the big announcement yesterday, you would know that high-speed internet in the comfort of a heated home is three weeks away and I can guarantee them at least at that point.

Click here for the link to my facebook photo album of New Years


Anyways, New Years in Berlin. We were informed by Kim’s mom, who had apparently seen this on the news or something, that Berlin, specifically the Brandenburg Gate, is the best place in the world to spend New Years Eve. Considering I always thought that Time Square always won that distinction, I was quite impressed that we happen to be in Berlin at this time of year, so celebrating there was a must.

As I mentioned before Berlin was cold. I cannot express this enough. Being that the celebrations were outside and Kim and I not being one’s to have patience or forthright thinking that this would be a popular spot, we opted not to spend hours in the cold. Instead we went to dinner with her boyfriend, Jesco, where he warned us about crazy Berlin New Years celebrations and tried to explain why he wouldn’t want to join us. Apparently not only was this going to be crowded but he told us about the desire many a-Berliners had to throw firecrackers out on the street, from apartments, from the sidewalks, from train stations- anywhere. We thought he was exaggerating, so we bundled up in many layers and made our way to the gate.

We walked to the U-bahn station and noticed that yes, there were many, many firecrackers being lit in dangerous and inappropriate ways. As we climbed the stairs we noticed some American guys throwing them off the stations platform to the street below, scaring pedestrians below.

It became clear that maybe Jesco was right, from every direction people were setting off firecrackers. We joked that if one closed their eyes they could imagine themselves in WWII Berlin, firecrackers could be mistaken for gunshots and Jen could be seen running for her life.

But we trooped on. We got to our station and ascended onto the street only to be faced with even more firecrackers as well as many displays of public drunkenness. We refused to let go of our goal, and with New Years only half an hour away, we proceeded to the gate. As we reached the main street leading to it we became educated in the rules of firecrackers, on the street, which cars were blocked from, was where you lit firecrackers and fireworks, stay on the sidewalk and you were safe… well, safer. Except one family was not aware of this and had taken up residence on one corner to throw firecrackers at anyone passing by, what was more fun was that their young children would walk around freely, often narrowly being missed by a firecracker.

As we continued to our goal we came to a crowd and were stopped behind a police barricade. With only 10 minutes to new years we were going nowhere. We would find out later that apparently the park had gotten full and they were letting in no more people, so we spent New Years behind the gate counting down with people of many different nations, counting backwards in different languages and saddened that we did not reach our goal. I must admit, although we missed the official fireworks display of Brandenburg Gate because it was hidden behind a building, the display put on by those walking the streets was quite nice as well, definitely a better way to spend the new years than the lack of fireworks we get in Vancouver.

About 5 minutes after midnight they let us through the barricade, only to stop us about half a block later by another one. We tried to charm some police, but that didn’t work, so we worked our way back through the crowds, dodging fireworks and empty bottles, back to the u-bahn and into the apartment.

Although we didn’t technically spend our New Years at the official Brandenburg Gate celebration, I do think we did theoretically since the gate and the fireworks were in view while we hugged each other a happy new year.

And that’s the story of how I spent my New Years 2009 at one of the best places to celebrate in the world.

There are always challenges at every stage in our life, overcoming them is what life is all about

It’s with mixed emotions that I write this blog entry.

I’ve recently been doing a lot of thinking, I suppose it’s what you do when you have many hours spent in the cold Italian countryside with nothing to do but watch the snow fall. That and I finally got a sounding board in Berlin to listen to my problems and to lead me to answers.

But I’ve been thinking of life, where it’s going, where I’ve been and how to negotiate it. Life is pretty darn good, I can’t complain to be honest. I’ve got my health, great friends, family and live in a beautiful country (wow, cheesy moment alert).

But sometimes reality hits and we have to put on our big-girl pants and face the truth.

The truth being that with poor employment opportunities for me here and dwindling resources I will be returning to Vancouver much earlier than planned. February 1st earlier to be exact.

This isn’t a decision I made lightly or quickly; I took into account many different situations to make staying work and consulted the opinions of those that I usually count on during tough times. I tried to figure out ways to continue this Italian adventure, but with the economy how it is, my language skills where they’re at and the lack of English students, none of the many different situations that I could come up with were feasible.

The only way I have been able to describe my decision making process to anyone (myself mainly) was that I felt that on the cusp of 27 years old, I need to start making some adult decisions and move forward when life keeps you stagnant. Sure, I could stay here and work the few hours I am given and live with my aunt- my job does afford me that much- but I feel as if I wont be true to myself and my reasons for being here, which was to travel and see Europe. As we all know, travel requires money and the economics of today do not allow travel to come cheaply, nor do I make enough to jet away for a weekend. At this point in my life, with student loans looming and what I assume will be law school in the future, going into debt to travel isn’t the responsible thing to do right now.

I am sad to be leaving this wonderful country without fully experiencing it or traveling it, but law school futures could mean lawyer paychecks, which will hopefully afford me travel to Europe without the constant nagging in the back of my head telling me everything is too expensive (dang my parents for making me so responsible).

I will also miss my family, whom has been so wonderful and generous by letting this Canadian gal live with them, not to mention their friends who have also been so welcoming to me. Believe me, the next three weeks will be filled with me trying to squeeze in the most time with these people and learn their wonderful recipes that they often cook for me.

When I say I have mixed emotions I don’t lie, I will truly miss everyone and everything here, but I do look forward to the next step in my life. Who knows what Vancouver will hold for me, but if anyone knows of any jobs looking to hire full-time (either in the teaching field or not), send them my way.

Who lives sees much. Who travels sees more.

Berlin. Oh Berlin. How I love you. Minus the cold.

Where do I begin? The nine days I spent in the city were filled with so much culture and things to do. It’s hard to pick a favorite thing. Even trying to write about the trip seems daunting at this point, almost as if I could never do it justice.

Let me start with the easy stuff. It was cold. Dang cold. Even for two Canadian girls, whom many probably thought we should be able to handle the temperatures... but honestly I have never worn so many layers of clothes before. It started off innocently enough, but by the time I was leaving they were predicting minus 20 degrees for the upcoming week. We supposed it was about minus 10-ish, although it felt much colder (dang wind-chill factor). There wasn’t any snow, at least until it gave an inch the last couple of days, it was just dang cold.

It was great to see Kim again. We hadn’t seen each other since parting ways in front of the Kits LuluLemon after spending some time getting giddy over a Henrick/Daniel Sedin sighting (we weren’t sure which one) back in late March. She went on her way to Toronto, I stuck around in Vancouver and we both left our respective cities for European cities in early September. We spent the first night getting caught up over drinks in this bar called Becketts. I honestly really missed seeing her everyday as well as having someone to talk to on a daily basis, something that is kind of lacking here. Don’t get me wrong, I have people to talk to, but it was great to talk to someone who probably knows me better than most others (so clichéd, I know).

We basically spent the next 9 days taking in culture, wandering around Berlin and negotiating the S and U bahn’s (the uber-sufficient Berlin train system… Translink, look here for ideas for the skytrain).

The first day was spent walking around the city, we saw Christmas markets, churches, memorials and generally took in the culture of the city. We also took care of the one thing I was jonesing for ever since I left Vancouver… Starbucks. I had my first macchiato in months, it was glorious. Although I believe that the good Italian espresso has somewhat ruined the Starbucks taste for me.

I also discovered a life outside of Starbucks. There is a huge café culture in Berlin. While here in Italy we have bars where you can get coffee/espresso, but the main problem I find is that it’s not really a place where you can go by yourself and sit and just nurse a coffee over a period of time. In Berlin they have cafes everywhere. People sit for hours talking or sitting by themselves reading. This is one of my favorite things to do, just sitting and people watching while pretending to read the paper or a book, I so miss that here in Italy, so I was so happy to sit in cafes for hours, just talking, drinking lattes or cappuccinos and just watching life happen. Kim could quite possibly be the biggest café lover I’ve ever met, and while cafes are fun in winter, summers are better, so it became the most common thing out of her mouth (aside from nein, which means no in German) for her to say “I can’t wait for summer… this will be such a cute café in the summer.” It’s apparent Kim has decided to spend the whole summer biking from one café to the next.

Don’t even get me started on the bars/lounges. I honestly believe after seeing what they have in Berlin and even where I’m living that the nightlife culture here is far more superior than in Canada. I mean, I’ve always thought that Vancouver lacks a nightlife for those that aren’t 20 or yuppies in Yaletown, but they have a great variety of things here for people and suits so many different people’s styles. Future business ventures may be trying (a futile attempt I’m sure) to bring this to Canada.

As for the culture here, it is insane. There are a million different memorials or museums or other places to visit (I was told later there is over 150 museums, I saw 3). The history in the city is everywhere, from memorials from the war or reminants of the wall to churches and synagogs. One can't help but constantly think about where they are and the huge amount of history that was played out in the city. It truly was an amazing and humbling feeling. While we tried to see a lot of the city in my time there, I’m sure there was a lot that I missed. Again, trying to compare this to Vancouver is impossible. There is history here everywhere, we would go home exhausted each day after cramming in so many different things that I had to see before leaving.

I’m going to write more on this in the coming weeks, maybe it’s better and less daunting for me to write, and others to read, if I try to rely this in bits and pieces. Right now, as the snow falls heavily outside here in Italy, I’m still mentally trying to get over all this (if that is possible… yeah right) and figure out how to write about such a memorable and wonderful trip.

Btw, there are pictures to be seen, a lot of them, but due to slow internet connection cannot post them right now. Hopefully they’ll be up on Friday.

What is the show and how do I get tickets?

The Jen and Kim Show

I’m not sure if I’ve explained this clearly in the past, I know I’ve made reference to it here and to others, but I figure why not now before I make reference in Berlin recap entries (it also lets me know if my costar actually reads this, like she said she would start to).

Kim and I lived together for 3 years. It was three years of dirty dishes, messy one-bedroom apartments, me living behind curtains and constant conversation between the two of us.

Believe me, when I make reference to us knowing each other well, we do. For a large part of my life all that separated me in my bedroom from her in the living room/dining room/guest bedroom was a thin Ikea curtain. Every thought that ran through our minds was said and contemplated. We came up with quirky sayings and conversations that I’m sure others would find either:
a) stupid
b) childlike
c) embarrassing
or d) confusing.
When we ended our living arrangement last December it was the end of an era, so getting back into our old selves was so fun in Berlin, we have the kind of comfort with each other that we can say what we want and not fear what the other thinks, we can talk and know the other is listening and will most likely state the most obvious solution to the problems but will sound brilliant in doing so.

So- the show. Kim and I have the same cynical, sarcastic and black sense of humor. We can one-line one another pretty fast, not as good as my dad, but we hold our own. One day while riding a bus in Vancouver we realized that we’re hilarious, we would talk about things that are pretty mundane and stupid, but we’d entertain ourselves for hours (think Seinfeld… at least we think so). We realized that we should charge people on the bus to listen to us, because it’s brilliant, they’re being entertained to listen to this conversation and we deserve compensation… in essence, we’re a tv show but on the bus.

After awhile we started to refer to our banter and relationship as the “Jen and Kim show.” Every time we’d do something we’d call it the show, for example one Halloween when neither of us had plans we tried to decide what to do, after coming up with nothing we realized the two of us could dress up and go to a bar together, but after a moment of contemplation we realized it would just be “the Jen and Kim show with costumes,” something that was too expensive and not worth our time when we could just do the same thing in our apartment. Funny to others, probably not, but to us it was hilarious, and it became our thing, we’ve done various episodes, for example “the Jen and Kim show do Christmas,” “Jen and Kim show in Victoria” and now “the Jen and Kim show in Europe.”

So we go around, making jokes in our witty banter, we don’t know if it entertains others, but we love it. It was great to have that back in Berlin.

Travel makes one modest. You see what a tiny place you occupy in the world

Here’s what sucks about traveling. Airports. I hate them but love them at the same time. I love the arrivals gate for the same reasons Hugh Grant’s character pines over them in ‘Love Actually.’

I find that airports can really set the pace for the trip. I thank the Milan/Bergamo airport staff for stepping up and just being so Italian about everything.

Yes, I’m going to stereotype but I find in this case it to be true. You see, I get to the airport and find the security gate that will start my whole Berlin adventure. I hate security, I don’t know why. I’m not smuggling things across the borders or even carrying anything contraband… I stay below the 100ml liquid limit and forgo all tweezers and nail clippers. But I hate when I beep, which is usually the case since I usually wear jeans. This time I beeped, not only because of the jeans but also my boots which had a buckle on it, so they made me take off my boots and go back through as they scanned my shoes. I beeped again, but this time I pointed to my earrings, which were also quite big and metal-y so they let me though without so much as a wanding. Crazy Italian security.

Ryan air, my lovely airline, also has a strict policy with it’s carry-on luggage. Apparently you can carry only one item on, this means if you carry on your luggage, you cannot carry on your purse or computer bag or whatever, it must all be contained in one bag. Said bag must also weigh only 10kg. So I got my bag weighing 10kg, or so I thought, but that was before I got my purse in, I had decided beforehand to just go through security that way and when I got to get on the plane I’d stick my purse in. But upon getting to security they made me put the bag in one of those metal things that your bag must fit into in order to be classified as a carry-on, this thing also weighed it for me. The bag, was in all honestly too big (I had taken my aunts), but they bought my excuse that it didn’t fit because the handle was sticking out. It was a kilo overweight, but they just told me to stick some things in my purse and it would be fine. Apparently the two bag thing wasn’t a problem. When I reached the gate I worried about this again, but upon noticing all other women carrying their bags plus a purse I didn’t worry.

I had arrived early, giving myself time before the flight to peruse English magazines and wander around the small airport. The flight was to leave at 7pm, the gate, my boarding pass informed me, was to close at 6:30pm. I headed to the gate to line up around 6:20. It was still not open. Ney, they did not open it until 6:40… oh you Italians, I love your blatent disregard for guidelines.

Seeing that I did not get on the plane until about 6:50 and they didn’t close the plane doors until 7:05 I began to worry I would be late to Berlin. It was rather odd, since I was flying Ryan Air, and for those who do not know how the airline can charge low airfare, it’s because the moment you get on the plane, they are advertising for everything. They also sell everything on the flight, the usual drinks and food (buy two spirits get one free!), but also duty free items and scratch tickets. They also like to advertise that they’re the best European airline when it comes to arriving on-time and low cancellations. At this point I began to wonder if we’d be making it on time.

But miraculously, even though we took off 15 minutes late, we were in Berlin right on time. Go Ryan Air!

Happily able to retrieve my luggage from the overhead compartment I was able to work my way through the maze that is the Berlin airport (the arrivals maze is more complex than at Vancouver international) and waltz through the sliding doors to see Kim without any customs interference (we’ve worked it out that if you are flying within the EU you have no customs to deal with, this is still very odd).

All in all, the experience at Bergamo and with Ryan air in Italy was good. But Berlin, oh Berlin, I hate to stereotype, but if the Italians were so very “Italian” in their airport, I worry that the German’s were slightly the bad stereotype westerners have of them in their airport (ahem, I hate to say this but, such as Seinfeld liked to call the soup guy a soup nazi, dare I say I found many, many, many airport nazi’s?)

Having experienced the easy time in Italy, Kim and I took a little more time to get to the airport in the morning, allowing us to sleep a little longer and grab one last latte at the airport before I headed through the security gates. Upon leaving Kim, who insisted on taking my picture as I worked my way through the airport, I headed for security where they asked me again to stick my carry-on into the metal measuring thing. Here’s where it all got a little crazy. The man informed me that it was too big, I argued that it was because of the oddly placed handle, he wasn’t having that. So I told him in Milan they didn’t care. Again, he told me they had to keep within the regulations and it’s not his fault if an airport was falling behind in that department. I tried to charm him. Didn’t work. I begged, I told him my gate closed in half an hour, but nope, I had to haul ass to the Ryan air desk and check that bad boy in (he also took issue with my purse and bag situation, even if I argued I would place my purse in my bag, he wasn’t having it, again, even if Milan allowed it). So I get to the desk and plead my case to the lady, she wasn’t having that either, in fact I’d say that she was not too pleased with life in any way and made me and many other passengers aware of the fact (it appeared that the other Italians on board, which was about 99% of us, all took advantage of the Milan airport lack security, because most of us had to check luggage after being turned away by Mr. Security Man).

Anyways, I bring my luggage to the desk and check it in, she then tells me to pay for it, across the airport and then come back for my boarding pass. Her directions to the desk where I pay were sketchy at best, and I can’t chalk this up to language difference, she was an English speaking individual. But I finally find where I pay and lay down 20 euro (20 EURO!) to check in my luggage and head back to the desk where I started to get my boarding pass. At this point I have about 25 minutes before the gate closes and there’s a line at security. The desk has a line as well as she is trying to explain to more Italians that they have to check in their luggage. I try to go to the front to grab it, they’re not liking that. So I go to the next desk, where a lady is checking in a flight for Dublin and tell her I just need my pass, if she’d just reach over and grab it from the other lady. Apparently Dublin lady hates life and her job as well and gets pissed off that I would even suggest such a thing and points back to the end of the line and tells me to wait. Luckily I get my pass quickly after the line clears and am off to security.

Evidently security in Berlin is tight, crazy tight. I stood in a line of about 10 people and it took about 20 minutes to get to the gate. It took 10 minutes to clear those people, seriously, they made everyone go through the security and if they beeped or not, they would be wanded and patted down. I finally got through and beeped, of course. They of course did not like me telling them I had boots that tend to set these things off. Instead the woman, who also hated life, security guard decided to give me a slow security check. She wanded me, patted me down, felt for belts, when there wasn’t one she felt the button of my jeans wondering why a jean button would beep (has she not seen jeans before?). Upon reaching my shoes she made me take them off, they looked at them in the security thing and she patted my feet and legs down. When she finally had decided I wasn’t a threat, she left me there with 5 minutes to gather all my things (a lot since I was wearing many layers and had to take off all my jewelry at this point) and run to my gate.

But it wasn’t so easy. As I went to grab my bag another security guy (btw, most places have two or three working per lane right? This place had 6) asked to see inside my bag because I had liquids, and yes, I did have my makeup bag in there since I hadn’t had a chance to throw it in my luggage, but nothing was over 100ml so why did it matter. Apparently I should have bought a plastic bag for them, again I said they hadn’t cared in Milan (or in Vancouver or Amsterdam for that matter), but he told me they had to be in a bag, this was the regulation for over 2 years (said to me in a mocking, “are you stupid” voice). He wanted me to leave security, buy a bag for .50 cents and come back and deal with security again. I basically refused, telling him my gate closed in 5 minutes and I had no time. He took pity on me, let me go but told me next time to follow regulations.

I did end up getting to the gate on time, but at this point it hadn’t even opened, when it finally did open, I had found that the plane hadn’t even arrived yet, so my running and worrying wasn’t so much a thing. Eventually we were let on and we took off, again 15 minutes late, but again they landed on time. As in true Italian form, the Italians on board clapped.

Evidently all those working at this Berlin airport hate their jobs and their lives, not one person I met there even tried to be nice or explain anything to me, I get the whole experience with working with the public, it can make you pissy sometimes, but not once, even before I started to get annoyed, were they even trying to be nice to me. This was kind of a bad ending to what was a great trip, because elsewhere in Germany I found everyone was relatively nice and really helpful.

I like looking at stolen art

Just thought I'd give a little update from Berlin.

I'm having a great time, I love it here. No, I love, love, love it here.

Cafes everywhere. Museums. History. German language (plus or minus, still unsure). Zoos. Starbucks.

What's not to love?

We've been to a few museums. Seen the Berlin Zoo (and Knut! and monkey's!). Spent New Years hypothetically at the Brendinburg gate, which is apparently one of the best places in the world to spend New Years.

Everyday we come home so tired but filled with culture, history, good conversation and wine.

Full stories and pictures... oh so many pictures, when I get back to Italy.

Happy New Year y'all!