The Year is Dying in the Night

I love New Year's. It's one of my favorite holidays--a time to look back on what you've done and to look ahead towards a fresh, clean start. Before officially looking ahead, though, I wanted to make a quick list of some of the things 2012 brought (in no particular order):

• Survived my first year teaching and started my second
• Traveled to Canada
• Traveled to Colombia
• Started grad school
• Presented at a professional conference
• Celebrated Hanukkah
• Learned some salsa dancing
• Learned some African drumming 
• Re-did my bedroom (I'll post about this sometime)
• Got an iPod touch
• Broke the screen on my iPod touch
• Got a new nephew 
• Picked up archery 
• Got bangs

Before and After (mostly after)

I got all my work done tonight, and I promised myself some gratification if I did. I never do things like that. I always just do the fun stuff until it's suddenly midnight and I haven't even started what I need to get done. But that's a whole 'nother thing to blog about.

What I have been wanting to post about is my classroom (which is at the junior high, where I am every-other day. It is so nice to have a classroom. At the high school, I run between two floors and three different rooms--one of which has only chairs, no desks--to teach...but, that's a whole 'nother thing to blog about).

Did you know new teachers in Utah only get about $150 of state funds to do things like buy supplies and decorate their rooms with each year? And after three years of experience (because you accumulate stuff) that number goes down. Anyway, last year I by the time I bought a set of white boards, those teacher-y bulletin board boarders I thought I was supposed to have, and a couple reams of colored copy paper, there was no money left. So I cut up a calendar I had, and that, pretty much, was my classroom decoration for the year. It looked like this:

This year, I decided to suck it up and sink some money into making my room look more like I wanted it to. I'm pleased with the results.

The beautiful plant and stand (the latter made by my grandpa) until recently lived at my grandparents'. My parents took care of it over the summer while I was gone. It's a family effort. Since classes started, one student has insisted that he's afraid it's going to eat him.

The "found French" bulletin board is for students to pin up things they find in French. (Things they find outside of the classroom, I have to keep reminding them, as happy as I am that they realize how all those handouts and worksheets I've been making them are, in fact, in French.) And those are brooms from the dollar store on top of the cabinet. For broom hockey (go Canada), not so much for Quidditch as some have suggested...though, you know, you never know what will happen.

Yes, these are all flags from French-speaking countries. If you don't know which country, I challenge you to figure it out! (Imagine I said that in my teacher voice.)

Times in different French-speaking cities. This took like a million years to set up. Maybe part of that was because I wanted to synchronize the second hands.

And the rug. A lot why this started was because I wanted a story-telling rug (which I found for 30 bucks at Ikea). I learned from my professor Cherice Montgomery that even high school students enjoy coming to sit on the floor while you read to them. Boy was she right.

If you would like to see my whole list of reasons to study another language, click here to find the Word file.

Revival!

Last night, my friend Natalie and I went to a free concert on Temple Square: a conjunto of local musicians who get together to jam with LDS hymns and gospel music and who call themselves "The Lower Lights." My mom sent me a CD of theirs while I was a missionary in Korea. I put it in the CD player and fell in love. It was the kind of music I had loved listening to before I had left...but hymns! I was sad when one of my companions decided it was best for me to put it away. I took it out after we got transfered, though, and future companions loved the music, too.

Anyway, I saw them live last night. It was in the Assembly Hall at Temple Square. It was the first concert I'd been to in awhile where people sit down. And I kind of struggled with that. Natalie and I ended up sitting in a window sill with our legs dangling (because it was a full house), and I danced in my seat while we listened. A little boy stared and pointed at us for the whole time. But I couldn't help myself.

The group just came out with their third CD--"A Hymn Revival, vol. 2." They have some tracks on their website they invite you to embed, but my favorite for the night wasn't on there: "A House of Gold." This video doesn't do it justice. I loved the big, pounding drums, which remind me of Elvis Perkin's music. I guess I'm a sucker for those drums, acoustic instruments, and a bit of twang.

Twenty-Four

This is my last night of being 24 years old. The other day, a song named "What's So Bad?" by a band called Motive came up in the shuffle on my iPod. I had forgotten about the song. The only reason I had bought it several months ago was because it is about being 24--and I'm 24. But that won't apply tomorrow.

This got me thinking, though, about songs that talk about age and about getting older. So I'm going to share a few, in chronological order (kind of).


Frank Sinatra--It Was a Very Good Year

I first heard this song on some TV show when I was probably about 8. I thought it was absolutely hauntingly beautiful.




Five For Fighting--100 Years

I was about 15 years old when this song (about being 15) came out. I remember watching Channel 1 at school every morning. There was an anti-drinking ad that asked, where will you be in a year? In five? In 10? I remember counting the years on my fingers, thinking about how old and where I'd be. Interesting that that 10 years has past.




Bright Eyes--Landlocked Blues

I discovered Bright Eyes sometime towards the beginning of my time in college. This song--and it's line about being 22--was in a playlist I would play almost every night.




Motive--What's So Bad?

...which I bought because I was 24. 

Get More: Motive, What's So Bad, Music, More Music Videos

Zum, zum, zum

M., the six-year-old in the family I'm staying with, taught me a hand game. I'm pretty sure the rhyme goes like this:

Zum, zum, zum
de la juventud
te acompañará
a decir la verdad
por la cola, cola, cola
por la Coca Cola
por la Coca Cola

Man-Eaters

Already a couple of weeks ago, I went on an adventure that I've been meaning to write about. The Spanish school where I'm taking classes arranged for those who wanted to go take some canoes through some mangroves*.

We all got on a bus, and our first stop was for a nice lunch by a beautiful beach.

 Then we walked through the little village where the bus dropped us off, and got in some canoes.

 And then we were off!

I don't think I was the only one who thought we were going to be paddling the canoes. Turns out the guides were in charge of that, and used poles to push us along Venetian-style.

The mangroves were beautiful. We saw some little crabs, anchovies, and lots of different birds along the way (the water where the mangroves grow is sea water, not fresh water). It all made me feel very adventuresome and nature-y.








*I've always thought the word "mangrove" was actually really funny. I think it should mean something like what I chose for the title. I don't think it actually does, though. 

I looked out the window, and what did I see?

A photo from the car--driving across town to pick up graduation robes for J. (married to one of the sons of the people I'm living with).

From a window of the apartment M., from Holland, is staying in. She's in the old part of Cartagena. So many of the buildings in the old part of Cartagena are built in the Spanish style, with a courtyard in the middle (like you can see here).

This is in front of the house I'm staying in. The girl next door had a HUGE 7th birthday party on Saturday. Later that night, the neighbors down the street threw a graduation party. The chairs are for their party. Delivered by horse.

Cue the Lightbulb

It seems like when people ask me about how teaching is, I usually bring up classroom management. Classroom management was one of the most difficult things about my first year of teaching. Now, trying to get ready for next school year, I've been reading a book about Love and Logic techniques and Fires in the Middle School Bathroom and trying to fine-tune my classroom rules and procedures.

With all my research, though, still I've been baffled by the secondary student mentality of misbehaving and how (my books tell me) it's often motivated by getting something or avoiding something, which might include manipulating others. Honestly, the more I work with junior high and high school students, the more I realize how I wasn't very typical at that age at all. I never got in trouble at either school, and I can only remember two instances of correction at home during those times. All through school, I would just go to class, sit down and listen, and expect that everyone else was going to do the same.

This is why I can't even understand why students act out in class. So, with the books I've been reading and the recorded seminars I've been listening to, I've been trying to imagine what it's like to be an adolescent. And it's like learning a foreign language, or trying to fit into a foreign culture. I can learn about it and read about it, but I can't speak without an accent, and I can't help but stick out on a subway in Seoul.

I just don't get it. Or I didn't until yesterday.

I've been taking Spanish classes while I'm here. I'm in the advanced class (a nice ego boost), and the teacher has been good at getting me to improve some of the gaps in my Spanish--mistakes I make over and over, grammar I never quite learned, etc. One of her primary methods of teaching is stopping us (me and one or two other students in the class, usually) when we're speaking and we make a mistake.

This has done a couple of things for me. First, like I said, it's helped me improve my Spanish. Also, it has taught me that I could be a little less...soft about feedback in the classes I teach. That is one thing I want to change about my own teaching.

I don't think I want to do it quite as often as she does, though--the technique has also had a few other results. For one thing, since I've been here, my Spanish has become a lot more slow and hesitant (in any situation, not just in class). I also sometimes get frustrated in class and don't want to say anything so that I don't keep making mistakes and getting corrected.

Well, on Friday, we read Gabriel Garcia Marquez' short story I Sell My Dreams.* The teacher wanted us to summarize the story. This activity started off well, but then began to deteriorate. In addition to all our linguistic mistakes that needed correction, we weren't summarizing with all the detail she liked. So she began to ask very specific questions to help us. I remembered the plot of the story well, but I couldn't always remember who looked at who or who said what when and why. Our answers were getting worse, and she was getting frustrated with us, sometimes adding a bit of agitation into her questions and comments.

And that was the moment I understood my students.


Since I was getting questioned and corrected and snapped at with anything I said, I didn't want to answer any of her questions any more. So when she asked me, I would give the shortest answer that I could, which would irritate her. If I didn't remember the answer (which I often didn't), I would kind of hum that I didn't know and page slowly through my story "looking" for it. I did this knowing that this would just make her more agitated (which was fine with me, since I was a bit mad at her) and that it would drag out the activity longer and longer and we wouldn't have to do anything else with the story. 

I realized, finally, that this is what all those books were talking about! I didn't get this idea of manipulation/misbehavior-to-get-what-you-want until that moment. It amazed me how simple it was: I didn't answer --> she got more agitated and the activity lasted longer. I feel like I am more a part of our human family now that I understand this. Thank you, Spanish teacher. Thank you.





*I've read a few things by Gabriel Garcia Marquez, and I'm pretty much in love with his writing. If you don't know about him...well, you should. He's Colombian. He wrote 100 Years of Solitude, which got him the Nobel Prize. He is famous for his use of magical realism--stories about regular people in realistic settings, except that all of a sudden something happens like a magic carpet flying through someone's living room, and no one finds it strange. He has some neat short stories, like the one linked above. I think it would be worth your time to check them out.

Planes, Trains, and Automoblies (well, at least automobiles)

I've been thinking about making the most of my time in Colombia, and I decided one of the things I wanted to try to do was to document some of the bits and pieces of life that I get to see here. This is for you all, but also for if I do end up teaching Spanish one day. That is one thing I wish I had done differently in France--while I was there, I thought about gathering materials and information for teaching French in the future, but I didn't think there was any way I'd actually get a job teaching French. Surprise, surprise!

But anyway, the first subject (but who knows how many I'll actually do) is transportation--specifically its various modes here. I felt like a stalker taking a lot of these pictures, but I'm glad to have them.

The traffic here is pretty crazy. People zoom and stop fast, the motorcycles weave in and out. I was nervous about crossing the street for the first week or so--it took me awhile to figure out that people actually do stop at traffic signals. If you notice, they are directly above the first car in line, though. You can also see lots of yellow taxis in this photo. They are a good form of transportation. There's no meter, but the base fair is about $5000 (about $1.50 US dollars). Don't be deceived by the low price--taxi and bus fair and some restaurants are about the only things that cost less than they do in the US.

The buses are a major mode of transportation. There are lots of them zooming around in different directions. They cost $1500 (Colombian Pesos), about $.75 in US currency--unless you have a kid who sits on your lap. Their fare would be free!

The first time I saw a guy hanging out the door of one of the buses, I thought it was a passenger being cheeky. But that's his job! He shouts out where the bus is going and watches for people looking for a ride (there aren't any official bus stops). He also collects the money and answers questions about where to get off.

There is another kind of bus called a chiva.

The chivas are apparently used as normal buses in other parts of Colombia. Here, though, they take tourists around to tourist destinations, or partiers from club to club at night.

There are also micro-buses. You can hop in the back of one of these old Land Cruisers to get where you need to go. These guys seem to hang out more in the neighborhoods than downtown. There are always a handful of these in the parking lot of a gas station I walk through to get to the Spanish school each morning. One morning I tried to make eye contact with the driver to make sure he wasn't going to hit me as I walked in front of him. But he just thought that meant I wanted a ride, and told me to hop in.

Or you could catch a ride on a motorcycle taxi. Hop on the back, and they'll take you where you need to go. Everyone in this picture is waiting for passengers. If they're riding and they're free, they'll honk at you if it looks like you might need a ride. Taxis also honk to signal they're free.

Daily Routine and the View From the Street

I'm staying in Colombia for five weeks. My schedule here has worked into a pattern. In the mornings, I get up and shower and enjoy a nice cooked breakfast that D. in my host family prepares for me. Then I walk to go take classes at a Spanish School in the center of old town Cartagena.

When classes get out, I go with some of the other students* to choose a nearby restaurant and get something to eat. When we're finished (at least an hour later), I work my way back towards the school with a few others--who might be taking a dance class or getting another (private) Spanish lesson. I go back, though, to work with J. from the foundation for young mothers. We work for about two hours on French. I can tell J. studies at home. I hope she gets a good foundation in French before she travels to Marseille to complete her six months of culinary training that she was given a scholarship for.

After that, I might team up with some of the others from the language school and go on a little outing around the school, or wander around a bit on my own, or I might just walk back to my host family's house. I might work out and shower again (it works well to shower twice during the day), or just sit out on the patio reading. I get dinner from the family around seven, and hang out with them until it's time for me to go to bed.

The other day when we were walking back to the school after lunch, we turned down a street I had never been down before. It fascinated me, and I went back later to take a few photos.

 

 

 

*Perhaps a subject for another blog post, the students at the language school are quite the crowd. I guess I expected a lot of college students on holiday, but they are definitely the minority. I have, however, met people from Canada, the Netherlands, the US, Japan, France, Germany, Sweden, and Switzerland. I've met young and not-so-young professionals on sabbatical (from countries where that is one of their rights as a working individual) to study Spanish or to travel for an extended period of time. I've met lots of people who work in education--teachers of history and ESL and other languages and school counselors. I've met an individual studying to get an MBA and one studying engineering. I've met more people than you would think--of a variety of ages--who quit full-time, salaried jobs to travel around the world over ten or more months. I've met an older couple traveling together, a family with kids, friends that partner up to travel, and lots of people going it solo.

Portrait and Toenails

Here are the photos by Sandrine (see the link to her site on the right hand side of the page to see more of her photos).

This is for her project "Travels and Travelers," for which she's creating diptics of travelers and something representative of their travels. I got the nails done for the trip, so I guess that counts. Sandrine was so drawn to how I have a "classic," put-together style of dressing, but then I had these shiny gold toenails.

I guess that kind of contrast might be representative of the trip--I didn't think Cartagena was really the kind of city that would fit me. I'm not a huge fan of the beach or of the heat, and I didn't think the laid-back South American (and not just South American, but Caribbean) style would really fit with my personality. I've been surprised at how much I really love it here. I'm surprised at how relaxed I feel--not rushed, not bothered by things not following a schedule or going slowly, etc. I've been going to bed early, haven't been thinking about work or grad school...it has been so nice to be here. The perfect break from routine. A good contrast.

Anyway, here are the photos:

As long as we're on the topic of the toenails...while I was getting them done just before I left, I was warned they would attract attention. As I've explained actually a lot, they aren't polish, but a thin sheet of plastic that is heat-sealed to the nail (they're called Minx). I knew I would be running around in sandals while in Colombia, and I just wanted my feet to look nice without having to paint my toenails over and over. When I went to a salon to get them done, there actually weren't a lot of choices for the color/design, but I happen to like gold a lot anyway, so I was happy with that choice.

But my goodness. First I got a very nice picture taken of my toenails (which, if Sandrine's project goes as planned, will one day be included on her photo website and in a book). The little girls in the family where I'm staying look at them and touch them. When I went to the foundation to start the volunteer project, a group of girls called me over--not to ask me about their little assignment or the topic of our presentation, but to ask about my toenails. And then last night a few people, including Sandrine the photographer, arranged to meet to hang out and go salsa dancing. Sandrine had a French friend with her, and when I met the friend, Sandrine introduced me by explaining to the friend, "This is the one with the golden toes."

Thursday's Post: What Happened Wednesday

            The internet doesn’t seem to be working, so I’m typing this up to post later. I’m sitting outside on the porch of the house (I tried to capture the house with a picture from my computer). The seven-year-old is borrowing my Kindle—I don’t think they’ve caught on yet here, and it seems to be fascinating to people. But then I was totally fascinated when I started seeing them among my students. The grandfather has also joined us, with the two-year-old coming in and out. This is how the evenings have been—sitting outside on the porch. I usually read for awhile. But everyone’s out and about, neighbors talking to each other, kids wandering from house to house.  It rained today, and the weather is cooler then it has been. 

            Yesterday I went to class and got something quick to eat. After that, me and the Swedish girl from my conversation class, H., along with a mother and son pair, got a taxi to “the foundation,” as people seem to be calling it. It’s an organization for young mothers. The Swedish girl and I were to present on customer service.

            We went in a taxi and split the cost. Our next step was to go find the director, but she is a super busy person. H. asked for some preparation time (she was nervous for the presentation), so the director set us down in her office. It wasn’t until a bit later, after a fair amount of confusion about where we were going and when (and what exactly the mother and son—there to help with English—were doing) that we finally discovered that there was actually a full classroom waiting for us.

            The presentation went alright. It was a bit noisy. Most of the presentation was just an activity dividing the students into groups and having them act out customer service situations. It was the first time I’ve ever held a student’s baby so she could do the classwork;)  

            The director told me there is a girl there who received a scholarship to study baking in France for six months, but who doesn’t know any French at all. I think I will end up tutoring her a bit. I’ll probably stop with the presentations. The presentations are fine, I guess, but I just don’t feel that confortable presenting on something I don’t know much about, so I’m relieved.

Settling In

Yesterday after I landed in Cartagena, I took a taxi (from a booth) strait to the language school that organized my program. It was a little awkward getting out of a taxi in the middle of a new place and walking into a new building with new people dragging all my luggage behind me. I had arrived a bit late for the new session that had started that morning, and in addition there was some confusion with working out my expectations with what they offer. I had a few moments of high frustration, but I think things are pretty well figured out. I think.

I took the school's placement test, and answered pretty much everything correct except a few questions that tested the use of the subjunctive. For that reason, the teacher who is apparently in charge of the advanced students seems to be convinced I need a through review of grammar, focusing on the subjunctive. She said I could go to an hour of a grammar class starting at 9:00, after which I'd do two hours of a conversation class with her and one other student. And yesterday I did participate in a conversation class, which I enjoyed.

After that, I took a taxi to my host family. I wasn't quite sure what to expect. The last time I had a host family (in France), it didn't go great--I was super shy in the beginning, and by the time I was feeling comfortable about things, the family had given up on me and pretty much ignored me for most of my stay. But this family has been wonderful. I stay downstairs with a couple; their three grown sons live with their families in apartments upstairs. Between them, there's a six-year-old and a two-year-old girl who are fun and seem to like me, and a baby boy who I don't see much of. I also met the maid and one of her daughters yesterday--the daughter and the six-year-old decided to help me unpack. And they literally unpacked my suitcase for me (and got such a kick out of deciding where to put things...which I may or may not have changed slightly a bit later).

The family has been so friendly--they took me on a driving tour last night, gave me a ride this morning, showed me the bank, gave me soap. When the grandfather found out I'm Mormon, he said there was a lady in the neighborhood who was also. And then tonight, when one of the sons and his wife were home, we walked over to the guard at the gate (it's a gated community) to ask about her. It turns out she's moved, but they think they know someone else to ask. They have been so kind.

Back to the language school. I went to the grammar class this morning, where we dutifully conjugated verbs for an hour. I sat there thinking things like, "Hmm...I've actually taught this same lesson before," but that was usually followed by, "well, I guess I could always use a review." I guess it was good, but nothing I couldn't have gained from opening my verb book and looking through conjugations one more time. Which I should probably do. I think I'll start going over some verbs on my own. Couldn't hurt.

Anyway, this was followed by the conversation class. I had been interested in doing some volunteering while here, and our teacher decided that the best thing would be giving presentations on job skills at an organization for teenage mothers. I felt kind of weird about this (why listen to a couple of gringas?), but I guess that's what we're going to be doing. Starting with one tomorrow.

After, I teamed up with three other students who I met in the grammar class--two Canadian teachers who came together, and one French woman who got burned out from her high-powered job, quit, and has been traveling on and off for the last two years or so. She's also discovered a love of photography, and after lunch, while we were waiting for the Canadians to finish a dance class, she asked if she could take a portrait of me. She's working on a project taking portraits of travelers to place side-by-side of something that represents traveling to them. For the latter, she was drawn to my gold toenails that I had done before I left. She said she'd email me the photos. I'll post them when she does.

After the dance class, the four of us wandered around Cartagena a bit. And here are the two photos I took. They are not particularly artistic, but they did document the day:

One of the Canadian teachers with the French photographer

After I took this photo, I found out this was once the slave market. Now, it's lined with booths that sell candy.

Arrived in Cartagena

Sunday was full of traveling. So was this morning. I got up early and flew to Huston, then to Panama City, Panama. I got quite a kick out of landing in Panama. I kept telling myself things like, "I'm in Panama!!"

Unfortunately, I didn't get to see much more than the airport. I am pretty sure, though, that we flew over the Canal and that I saw it.

I arrived in Bogota and got through the passport-stamping thing and then the customs thing (two different stations!) and by then it was about 11:00 pm. Next stop was a hotel I had reserved for a night before getting back to the airport again by 5:30 the next morning. I had read that in Colombia you need to get someone to call you a taxi rather than just grabbing one, but I figured that the taxis waiting after the taxi sign at the airport would be safe. That's legit, right? Taxis at the airport?

I might have been wrong about that. Thank heavens I know some Spanish. And I got to start using it right away. I don't think I actually ever spoke a word of Spanish while I was in Panama--I don't think I said anything to anyone at all. I was getting nervous about speaking Spanish in the airport and on the next flight, but that taxi driver sure got me to snap out of that in a hurry. As he told me how far my hotel was from the airport, and explained he knew hotels that were closer, and started trying to convince me to just go to one of said hotels, I got to say things like,

"I think you just don't know where my hotel is." (I don't think he did.)

"No, $100 per night is too much money. I'm not going to pay that."

"The other hotel was much cheaper."

He kept talking me into a (much closer, he said) hotel that would be $70 for the night (rather than the $56 for my reservation), and finally that's where we went. This got phrases like the following out of me: 

"Is he a friend of yours?" (When he introduced me to the man behind the desk at the hotel)

"Uh...do I get a key?"

The hotel had a grand total of three rooms. It was very nicely remodeled, but...an odd experience. At least I have a good story. Here's me in the room, trying to show my excitement at being there:

I got to the airport again this morning and got on another airplane, this time to Cartagena. So, I thought I read somewhere that (for this program in Cartagena) I could fly to Bogota. Then the school started contacting me about my transfer from the Cartagena airport.

That was when I realized my big mistake. At that point, though, I thought that maybe it would take a bit longer from Bogota to Cartagena, but that the school could send someone to drive the hour or two it would take to come pick me up. Or, if not, that I could hop on a train and be in Cartagena in a few hours.

It is actually an hour and a half flight between the two. I had a window seat, and I saw a grand total of FOUR groups of houses that were big enough to be seen from the air (I don't even know if they could have passed as towns)--the rest was just trees and trees and bits of farmland once we got closer to Cartagena. I was talking to my host family tonight, and they said it would take about twenty hours to drive that distance.

Huh.

North and South

Ok, first I have to explain the sheets.

My car is still pretty new. I've had it for a year. I love my car. (In fact, MSN Auto named my car one of the world's most beautiful. And, if you have not seen my car, I bet that, looking at this article, it will be quite difficult for you to guess which one is mine.) My car also has lovely, tan fabric seats. I agreed that we could take my car on our fantastic road trip to Canada, but I was a little bit worried about these tan seats (considering that 25+ hours in the car would probably involve some snacking).

So I covered the seats with sheets. And yes, the seats are still looking good. (Though so did the sheets when I took them off.)

Anywho, here's a bit about the rest of the trip. My cousin Richard took us around with his gang of friends. This involved such events as playing in a great big fountain (where some people ended up more wet than intended) followed by an introduction to bubble tea (which has no tea in it).

Here we are at the bubble tea place. We are trying to be Asian. Like the tea (that's not tea).

Also during our time, we hit the water park at West Edmonton mall, and the Ukrainian Village and horse races with my aunt.

Here I am at the hobbit house we found at the Ukrainian Village.

The horse race photo was being super slow to load. It was pretty much what you would imagine.

All together, it was a really great trip! It was fun to go and see some neat things, and fun to spend some time with family.

Speaking of family, for the week after I got back, all my nieces and nephews and one of my sisters were in town. It was great to see them all and have fun together!

Now, I'm at the airport waiting for my first flight to get to...Colombia. More adventures to come.

Hello From the North

My cousin Tanya, her husband Rex, and I decided a few months ago that we would drive to Canada. You would think this would be one of those things that you just talk about but never actually do. Yet here we are, in my car at five in the morning, sitting on sheets from the DI that I used to cover the seats. Look how we are excited (no really, we are). Look how I also kind of resemble a watermelon.

We drove strait to the great province of Alberta, where we reached our first destination: Waterton. Waterton is lovely. Even more so once it stopped raining two days after we got here.

We've been doing some lovely things in Waterton. Soon after we got there, we walked around and saw this very friendly deer.

We went on a couple little hikes and talked to two people from Holland who--we gathered--work with greenhouses and as part of their job travel all over the world (Canada, US, Australia...). And then we saw this bear. Bear!! We were in the car at the time. So everyone was safe.

We also went on a lovely bike ride, a lovely boat ride, and saw lots of lovely views.

Hooray for Waterton! Next stop is Edmonton.

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