A Year Complete

Something I like most about working as a teacher is the cyclic nature of the year; There is a clear beginning, there are seasonal holidays & celebrations (you remember your March break holidays with family, or spending Christmas/Thanksgiving stuffing as much tasty food in your gullet as could fit), culminating in a definitive closure of the school year, with students & teachers alike racing for the door like the building was ablaze.

With the aforementioned sense of closure comes the realisation that the regular routines, special groups, and significant accomplishments of the year have come to an end. The school year is complete, the hallways are empty and quiet. The piles of homework and field trip forms have disappeared. The raucous, sticky, relentless torrent of children has dispersed elsewhere, now to be supervised by some other unfortunate authority figure. After all books, binders and supplies are packed away, what remains is exactly what you began with at the very beginning of the year, a bare classroom. It's a symbol of the cycle coming full circle, and in August the cycle will begin again with fresh faces and a decorated classroom.  

I'd like to thing that beginning-of-the-year me wouldn't recognise end-of-the-year me, at not without intensive study. Being a forgetful, unobservant klutz at the beginning of the year has somehow morphed into a functioning grown-up, although this won't keep me entirely out of trouble in the future. The ability to be comfortable and competent at a challenging job brings me monumental satisfaction, especially when it's the type of work I want to be in for the long haul. Most of that progress is thanks to my coworkers, who have been patient and kept me on track when seemingly simple things present themselves as an enormous task.

I like this. I like this a lot. 

I've also learned that the group of children that you're responsible for can take on a life of their own. They pick up on your isms, follow you wherever, and give your immune system a run for its money (that combined with living in China-not-China, I feel like I'm coming home with antibodies of steel). After almost a full year with these turkeys, I've grown pretty fond of them. They pick up on almost every one of your sayings and eccentricities, some that you didn't even know you had. It turns out being the adult in the room rubs off on them in more ways then one. More than just the content of grade 4, you observe their improvement as people. Some open up and make new friends when they started the year with none, others work their butts off to improve their English skills from almost-none to I-could-literally-write-you-a-book-right-now. It makes you feel a little proud, much more for them than yourself. That may sound mushy/soft, BUT THE FEELS GET POTENT WHEN KIDS GROW UP, OKAY?!

 I hope that I've taught them just a few things this year. I can't be sure if they'll always remember how to convert decimals to fractions, or what the 5 layers of soil are, but I think their new Dutch Blitz-ing abilities might just come in handy one day. Either way, I feel pretty lucky to have had such a good group.

And so the summer adventures begin (well, due to the amount of time it took me to write/edit/publish this, they have already begun) until August 18^th. If I haven't seen you yet, and you live in the promised land of maple syrup and echoing 'sorry's, then drop me a line and we can enjoy the wonderful things that the summer has to offer.  

A CAR

The first, but not the last vehicle to
pee black muck on our driveway

Many of you know that I'm an obsessive gearhead. Obsessive to the point that I might, if the situation came to it, bend my interpretation of the law in order to operate them. I sometimes spend a larger percentage of my material wealth on them than my basic life needs. I may even have a heightened sense of old-car radar that is able to detect an automobile of choice in a quarter of a second on a computer screen, T.V., or during an outdoor walk that is always followed by the outbursts and longing exclamations of "OH! AGH! LOOK AT THAT ONE! LOOK AT IT! Did you SEE IT!? It went RIGHT BY US!!1! OOOUFF". Just a little bit overwhelmingly obsessive. 

King Benz I - The Constantly Broken

King Volvo III - The Beloved

I've owned a number of dilapidated aged automobiles over the course of my driving life. All had hailed from Cold-War years, all had been marketed to pensioners/yuppies who have a fondness for cushy rides, big rubber steering wheels, and doors that 'KUUHNK'. They were the source of an overwhelming amount of enthusiasm, frustration and affection, and the destination of the contents of my bank account. I owned six cars in a two year period. Some brought me to gigs & summer employment, others hauled friends across southern Ontario, a few never made it onto the road.

Definitely beloved

King Volvo II -
The Poorly Maintained

Now that I no longer depend on OSAP to fund my irresponsible lifestyle choices, I can entertain the option of car ownership. Being overseas is a bit of an obstacle, especially considering Macau is smaller than the entirety of Etobicoke while being packed with 1.5 million gambling tourists, hasty locals and bumbling teachers trying to do their ties up shuffling to work in old loafers. However, the upcoming summer break of 7.5 weeks (and Christmas holiday) gave me the opportunity to do something I've been less-than-patiently waiting to do for years.

Yes. It's happening. Even as I type this, my chest is as tight as a snare drum at jazz night, and jazz night is no foolin' around, let me tell you. Hot or cold, jazz is serious business, and those snare drums have got to be as TIGHT as musician's budget in order to make those jazz notes come out. But now, my friends, it is time for you to see for yourself; The newest object of my most consuming obsession, my new (old) 1995 Buick Park Avenue ULTRA. 

Be-fuggin-hold

A Buick. A Bingo-stamping, Bob-Barker Price-is-Right-watching, loafer-wearing, burgundy Buick. You BETCHA. Just LOOK at this thing. This monument to automotive achievement was built twenty years ago. There are voting, employed, tax-paying adults who are younger than this car. The individuals who designed, assembled and shipped this thing used dial-up internet and VCR cassette tapes and watched Murder She Wrote and Seinfeld on their not-flat-screen televisions. That's how old this thing is. 

And I bought it. 

I expect that you want to have a good ol' look at this thing, so let me show you the wonders that mid-nineties technology brought motorists across North America.
The Size: If your family owns a Toyota Camry, it's smaller than this. If your family is sensible and owns a Volvo wagon, it's smaller than this. If your family owns a Dodge Caravan (A VAN), it's smaller than this. When I first showed this to my class during our "What did you do this weekend" sharing time, they asked me if it was a limousine (I told you I was obsessive). It's a big deal. Literally. It cost me $800 Canadian dollars. That's less than a new chesterfield from Sears. A pretty. Big. Deal.

The Interior: Speaking of chesterfields (and if you don't know what that is, go onto the internet and discover that Canada is a relevant and neat place), have a look in the captain's & passengers quarters. This car is so spacious that it can boast a comfortable capacity of SIX passengers (and I do mean passenger as in on an ocean liner). You know exactly what you are looking at when you see those deep, plush, leather bench seats that stretch across the car, almost into a different time zone. You'll find wooden dashboard paneling, you'll find those classic GM seat belt buckles that were in your Grandma's Oldsmobile, and you'll find yourself getting a better rest driving home from the bingo hall than you would in your own bed.

The Helm: At the bridge of this beast, you'll find a generous array of features and controls that would make even King Midas jealous. Power locks that go 'CHONK' just like they should, cruise control, and even a separate climate control for the passenger side (you don't get that in your new Honda Accord, now do YEH?). All for the sweet, sweet low price of $800, fully road worthy and ready to make my existence on earth full and complete. 

The Condition: With a crisp 170,000 km on the odometer, not a spot of rust on the body, and only two previous owners that babied (and were subsequently outlived by) the Buick, it was a pretty sweet deal. I even think it looks pretty sleek, even the back of the car has an elderly but dignifi-"WAIT DOES THAT SAY SUPERCHARGED!?" 
Yes. It does. This seeminly docile pensioner-cradling vehicle is fitted with the big brother of the turbochargers that many sports cars use today. This 'lil baby has the gusto to give those mid-90's Mustangs, Camaros and BMWs a view of its rear-end, all while making the tires scream for dear mercy. There isn't a single better example of a 'sleeper' than this car (which is a vehicle that seems docile, and shatters perception when it turns out to be a hell of a hot rod). All this, while doing 29 MPG on the highway, that is the power of a supercharger. Just when you thought I'd gone all soft and lackadaisical in my choice of car. HAH! No SIR. 

I haven't actually driven the Buick yet, I found it on kijiji and had my dad pounce on it within 4 hours of the ad going online (Yeah, I'm that good, even from another continent). It is and will be in Cambridge until I get back and am able to make paperwork turn into my passport to going fast on a couch. Then, this fantastic chariot might be able to make some adventures materialize this summer. And if we cross paths during that break, I might even let you take it for a spin (Under very close supervision of course). Either way, I am STOKED to see this, and you, and all the wonderful things that await this summer.  

'Stralya

Before I say anything about anything, I'm just going to say that I feel pretty fuggin lucky to be able to travel. I mean, consistent adventuring to the level that one can taste, see and go fast in half-a-dozen new countries per year. I consider myself even more lucky to have people to visit & travel with, because seeing new places and doing neat things wouldn't be worth much if there wasn't anyone to share it with. It also has the added bonus of keeping the ever-looming and crippling loneliness at bay. 

This trip was planned in a rather hastily manner since my two good pals Adam "Mangia" Petrini and Erin "NO YA GOTTA MANGIA" Schiffner. This charming pair had moved to Australia for the year to do a bit of supply teaching in a country somehow MORE pleasant and magical than the Canadian motherland. Yeah, tough luck eh?

EH?

Heh. They had told me to 'swing by' as their stay in Australia wasn't going to be a permanent one, so as hastily and impulsively as one possibly could, the flight was booked, the currency exchanged, and the dates set for a week in the land of poisonous everything and meat for every meal. Good hangs were compounded by another friend flying over from her studies abroad in Sydney, even if she was rude to the 'roos (learn your manners Avery).  

The single most memorable thing from the trip was the food, pour MANGIA. While Chinese food is pretty tasty, arriving in a Western country brought back the magic that I had forgotten about back home. Freshly baked bread, locally brewed beer, chocolate, deli meats, fresh oysters, doughnuts, cheese - Good god, the CHEESE. There were OCEANS of stomach-rumbling goodness to be found on every city block. If we ever enjoy a beverage of sorts this summer, I will have to tell you the full story of the charming cheese lady that sold me many servings of delicious feta cheese. 
 I sorely missed the satisfaction of enjoying a full deli sandwich, the thirst-quenching satisfaction of a Melbourne Bitter, or some Brazilian BBQ fresh from a food truck. And if you haven't enjoyed the wonders of a meat pie, you my friend, are depriving yourself of a complete experience. 

Good cafes are found on nearly every street corner, with a compliment of fresh baked goods & sandwiches out front. Iced coffee is quite the rage here too. It's too hot for the regular stuff, so they make it cold and serve it large containers, and it brings new life to a tired body that's already eaten 2 paninis, a litre of pesto, and a slice of peanut butter crunch cheesecake for lunch. However, the magical secrets of Australian cuisine lie in the cookie known as Tim Tams. Only the main type is available in Canada, but even that is enough to convert you into a believer of chocolate-coated wafer cookie sandwiches. If you want to make your life complete, you'll do yourself a favour and try a Tim Tam slam. It will open your mind to new perspectives and bring you to a new level of conciousness never thought possible. 

 While Melbourne is the first, and only (to date) Australian city I've visited, just a little wee taste of this place gives you a feel that it is an entirely unique and captivating country with a pretty decent bunch of people. My most common problem was walking on the wrong side of everything (considering they drive/walk/breathe on the opposite side), my constant Canadian mutterings of "Oup, sorry" were always met with "Nah, you're alrioght mate" or  "Ah, no wirries". Turns out that despite the constant hazards of being poisoned, eaten, or fried by the sun, the Aussies are a really chill, friendly and laid-back people. Almost like what I imagined if you took British tradition, Californian chill-levels, Canadian distances between everything, and the cattle grazing, sunny & dusty landscape of Texas and mixed them into one fantastic place. 
Like any big city, there's tons to see and do, especially if you've only got a week to see it all. I probably spent over $100 and a good chunk of my total daylight hours in museums. WARNING: BORING HISTORY AHEAD: The immigration museum goes over the surprisingly heavy dependence on newcomers that made Australia what it is today. The Museum of the Moving Picture had some fantastic exhibits on the history & technology of movies within Australia and internationally. 
Despite being a big city, the whole place was totally laid back and relaxed. A lot of stuff was on the expensive side, but you get what you pay for, and HO BOY do you get a decent time. 

On top of all this, the perfect weather and absence of winter preserves the metals that make up old cars to almost-museum level perfection. I was green with envy at some of the old motors that were still in use around town, this place is truly a gear-head promised land. 
 

Yep. The beach was pretty fantastic. What a fuggin city.

And then there's the 'roos. Avery and I found these medium-sized stinkers on the Moonlit Sanctuary about an hours drive outside of Melbourne. They're cute, they're quiet, they're gentle and furry and fantastic animals. The little guy in the top left corner is a wallaby, a little mini kangaroo. They're like rabbits and horses combined, and they're really nice.

That's it. There ya go. Go fuggin travel and see it for yourself because WHY NOT.  

Inter-Continental Conundrums: Malaysia

As people are aware, the sole purpose a liberating bonus of being a teacher is the handy vacation time. While my calendar doesn't quite match up with what you might remember from school in Canada, I had a a 9 day almost-into-the-summer spring break (it's 30 degrees here now, we don't really have a spring). I took advantage of my being-an-adult-I-do-what-I-want freedom to swoop down to the lovely countries of Malaysia and Australia and see what kind of trouble I could get myself into (and perhaps see a few friends in the process).

First Stop: Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia; Land of a thousand Foods (I made that up, it probably has a national motto or something). Jade, an awesome lady from teacher's college who landed herself a job there.

It feels pretty good to be a grown up sometimes. and see your friends be grown ups and say to ourselves "We're grown ups, look at us", so we talked about grown up life for the past year before she sent me out with her scooter to explore the city while she did something that I forgot. I promptly found that Kuala Lumpur's roadworks would have been more organized and logical if the infrastructural blueprints were a plate of spaghetti. I'm talking about roads that turn into highways, highways that turn into roads, special motorcycle lanes that separate from the highway and only sometimes rejoin it, roads that block other roads and require you to take fourteen u-turns just to get back on the street you were on, while struggling to follow the Malaysian roadsigns to get you back.

 After postponing the plans of the entire group, I flagged down a food delivery-person on his way back from a drop-off who guided me back to where I needed to be. Things went from stressfully disastrous to pretty decent once I got to hang out with some awesome people in the process, all Canadians (thank GOD) to show me what a night out in KL looks like.

Add caption

The Batu Caves are a place. That's right, a place. I forget the details but here's some pictures to fill up the spaces where words should be. 

Because Malaysia is an intensely multicultural country, it's got an arsenal of fresh, locally-made foods that come from most other places in Asia (and some places outside of it). If you like to eat, get your keister down to Malaysia, just don't melt in the sun or get lost on your way there.