Hunting in Denmark

I didn’t grow up hunting, but I did go rabbit hunting with my Uncle once, and I carried the rabbit back proudly. Since moving to Haida Gwaii hunting has become something I do, I enjoy the time outdoor and appreciate the clean, local meat. I find myself missing it and so when I was invited to go hunting in Denmark I was excited and could hardly wait. I looked forward to spending time on hunting grounds and seeing how it was done here.

At home I hunt deer with a rifle and that’s about it. Here we used shotguns and were hunting for anything we saw; hare, ducks, pheasants, deer, you name it (though I didn’t shoot the little song birds that Jesse pointed out all day, ‘Shoot that one Dad’). Going hunting once with one group of hunters hardly makes me an expert on hunting in Denmark (just as hunting deer on Haida Gwaii doesn’t make me an expert on hunting in Canada) but the two experiences were quite different. The hunting party met at a farmhouse on the island of Funen (Fyn) about 1.5 hours drive from where we live. On the drive we were told about the ‘fines’ that result from failing to follow certain procedures; we shook hands with everyone and removed our hats when we were supposed to. Nice to know there are rules and rituals to the hunt, Jesse especially liked the one about kissing the ass of the first duck you shoot and was disappointed that I didn’t get a duck. 

New for me was hunting with dogs, I tried to imagine Ruby as a hunting dog but the only image I could conjure was the sight of Ruby fading into the distance as she chased our prey into the forest. There were 8 of us with guns and we were positioned around an area when the dogs were sent to do their work. I got one shot at a bird but missed it (so did another guy so it’s okay), the one duck we got would never have been seen if not for the dogs work, and though I volunteered Jesse to swim out and get any ducks that landed in the water the dogs did that too.

What will stay with me from the day was eating lunch in the barn, an old brick barn. We sat around a table with the elder seated in the middle; you could sense the deference he had earned with age. This man has been hunting on this farm for 50 years, he is 80, and he was the only one to shoot anything all day. Lunch was one of my focuses when I shared about our day when I got home, Jesse wondered what was so great about sitting in an old barn and why I made special mention of the 80 year old man, but when he remembers this day I think he will remember what it felt like around the table, just as I remember sitting around tables in my youth and knowing who the most important people were, the ones without whom we could not be there.

Oh Canada

Last week a student revealed to me that he thought Canada was a part of the United States. I felt in turns shocked, confused, hurt, indignant; this is precisely the kind of thing that is supposed to make us Canadians angry. I explained all this to the student but then found myself unable to think of all the good reasons why being from Canada is preferential to being from the States. My minds eye was clouded by oil and I could not see.

Living away from Canada has made me think about our fair country from a different perspective. I am no longer a Canadian amongst Canadians; I am now a Canadian abroad. I can take jokes about moose, maple syrup, and hockey, but I am finding it increasingly difficult to praise Canada when every time I look for Canadian news I am confronted by the realities of Canadian resource extraction and it's related environmental record (that and Rob Ford). People think of Canada as being one of the last great nature preserves and yet the truth of how we treat what we are so fortunate to have leaves me lost for words in conversation with a teenaged Dane.

Language Again

I think it must be time to write another reflection on Danish language acquisition; it is a frequent topic around here. Understanding what is being said is getting better, context provides most of the information, but still it is so satisfying to understand. Last week I had another conversation with students about my (lack of) learning the Danish language. Present was the Brazilian exchange student with whom I have been able to sympathize. He takes classes so he is further along than I am but he too feels like he is not progressing as much as he would like. He tells about exchange students in Brazil and how they are functional in Portuguese within four months of having lived there. He and I both feel like the high level of English has a lot to do with our lack of progress, if we try to speak Danish to anybody, or struggle to understand, people just switch to English.

This led me to share about a soccer parent from England who has been in Denmark for many years (12?). A few weeks ago I heard a conversation he was having with Gus’s coach, the parent spoke in English and the coach in Danish, and they understood each other without any problems. I thought that this must be a unique situation but as I shared this story a student who has a Danish father and a mother from the Philippines told us that her mother speaks to her in English and she replies in Danish. We also know a family with a Canadian mother who has learned Danish, so it is possible, though she tells us that co-workers still ask her to say certain things because they like to listen to how she says them.

One way we might learn more is by watching more Danish television, but when English is an option and it’s the end of the day, well it is hard to force yourself to choose otherwise. Recently an old favourite, the British comedy show “Absolutely Fabulous” is back on the air with new episodes, who could choose anything else? We know that Danish television has produced some shows that are very popular (The Killing) and so too do the people at “AbFab”; I’m not sure that the clip provided by the link could possibly be as funny to anyone else as it has been for us, but you should watch it anyways, I can’t tell you how many times I have.  

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=u4sPy-02NjI

3 in 1

This week I wrote a few entries and then wondered why I would share them, followed by another ‘why share anything’ phase where I wasn’t sure that people spending their time reading my blog was my fault or theirs, and then conversations on the week-end helped me to realize how much writing the blog is helping me make sense of everything, and that my purpose is a higher one, that my true purpose is not to share the everyday minutiae of my year in Denmark but to be an ambassador for writing as a means to make sense of it all.

Mall Jammin’

Sundays start with indoor training for Jesse and Gus, it starts at 8:00 in the morning and we are there for two hours, not the best time slot but it extends the soccer/ religion relationship in my mind (soccer was Dad’s religion, Mom took me to church). As I did when I was a child I go reluctantly and amuse myself by looking around at people, at one point I get up for communion with the parents and players (parents vs. kids), and by the end of it I am anxious to leave and get on with my day. 

After lunch we went for a walk and as we often do on Sundays without plans we found ourselves at the Outlet Mall (the only one of its kind in Denmark). The draw of malls and downtown shopping areas is undeniable; consumerism is a true force to be reckoned with. I don’t like shopping, I like the mall less than downtown areas, but we haven’t done this in a long time and I’m okay with it, there is no beach within walking or biking distance, and it is good to get out amongst the people. I don’t often buy anything, when you pack for a year there are inevitable packing errors so I make the occasional purchase, but mostly it is just strolling and observing, noticing how shopping culture is insidious; ‘hey that’s a nice sweater, I could use a nice sweater’, ‘I like those shoes and they are such a good price’, etc. The downsides of consumer cultural are numerous and have been written about extensively elsewhere and by better writers, but the one I find myself thinking about is the throw away nature of much of what is offered, clothes that will last a season or two, few items that will become generational hand-me-downs like that sweater of my Dad’s I used to wear in high school, or the coat that was my grandfather’s.

My favourite stores are still the second hand ones and the latest addition to my wardrobe is from one of these, a cardigan that’s pretty thin, I probably won’t be handing it down to my kids (Gus said it was a girls sweater so he won’t mind), but at least it is getting a second chance with me.

The Times They Have Changed

When I was in high school (already it sounds like an Ole’ Man Seifert column) we played football with quarters when we should have been working, the literary types might read, some might look at magazine pictures, or just harass their fellow students. When I enter classrooms today most students are fixed to a screen playing games, facebooking, or watching youtube. I’m not going to complain about it in the classic teacher, ‘they aren’t using their time well’ way, but rather I will simply state that it isn’t fair.

When I was in school and bored out of my mind I did not have the option of playing a game, or sending messages on my laptop, pretending I was taking notes. Yes I could doodle on my paper, or write notes and risk discovery, but killing zombies was never an option. So what did I do? When I think back through the years and recall the ways that I amused myself I find two memories stand out: a game played with a friend involving the floor and our mouths, and imagining escape on the roof outside the windows.

In grade 6 the girl across the aisle from me was as bored as I was and we quickly devised ways to amuse ourselves, the most memorable for me was the ‘smile and you have to kiss the floor’ game. If my memories of grade 6 are accurate I spent half my time trying not to smile and the other half pretending to pick something up off the floor in an attempt to get close enough to kiss it. In high school the game involved less action and more imagination. Outside the window was a lower section of the school building and through the window we could see the roof. Escape plans became a part of class, and the one that stands the test of time is the helicopter plan, simple yet dramatic, bound to make us legends: ‘They climbed out the window, into the helicopter, and then they were gone.’  

Musical

We recently attended the school musical, “Hotel Hallelujah” and I am still marveling at the time and commitment students put into the production to make it what it is. I guess I had certain preconceived notions about what a production at this level would be like, and I was off the mark. I had expected to be sitting on a chair on the gym floor, but they had transformed the gym into a theater, it was no longer a gym. The stage set was professional (the sagging cardboard props of my imagination absent), the sound involved sophisticated equipment, and the lights were first class. What seems to be sticking as most impressive is the number and variety of performers; there were musicians, dancers, actors, singing actors, and if you add that to the workers who set up the stage, the lights, the sound, you are looking at a big group of dedicated students. I went away from the show wondering how any of the students involved had managed to do any schoolwork over the past month. The rehearsal time to get to where they were… and none of this is for credit?

It all made me think of something Gus commented on recently, Gus has noticed that people are really into stuff here.

Low- Wage Workers

I recently wrote about the Atwood novel Cat’s Eye and how I had run out of Atwood (I have since found one at the local library, and one I had overlooked at school, not Surfacing which I really want to re-read, but still) luckily I found a book on the shelves at home that looked interesting and again found myself revisiting jobs of the past, Calbeck’s and the other grocery stores that kept me employed before I responded to the call.

The book was Nickel and Dimed – Undercover in Low-wage USA by journalist Barbara Ehrenreich. The premise is for the journalist to explore life working and living on the wages that keep millions of Americans in poverty. The author leaves home and heads to three different locations where she tries her hand as waitress, cleaner, and finally Wal-Mart associate. What she finds are hardworking people who are barely able to survive, struggling to find housing, to buy food, to pay for health care.  

At the same time in class our songs unit has become a focus on ‘Songs for Change’ and we have been talking about various movements and songs related to those movements, watching a documentary on YouTube narrated by Chuck D (yes!) which chronicles the modern history of protest in pop. Hearing all those union songs, learning about Joe Hill, listening to Pete Seeger, it was inspiring to hear about songs that may have actually influenced some change. But then I thought about the low wage Wal-Mart workers and about the Russell Brand interview I watched recently (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3YR4CseY9pk) where he comments on the environment, the poor, and the division of classes, and I wonder: what would Woody Guthrie say? 

Berlin 2

 The non-soccer highlight of the trip was the walking tour we took on Saturday night, another one of the parent chaperones is a teacher and he took on the role of tour guide. We saw many impressive buildings on the walk but they aren’t what I will remember the most.

One of the things Leanne said she remembered about Berlin from her first visit 13 years ago were all the cranes, Berlin is still a city under construction which makes it an intriguing combination of old and new. Alexanderplatz was where our walk began and it feels very new and modern, and is at the base of the Berlin radio tower that served as a point of reference to help us figure out where we were. After the tower, which has a rotating visitor platform and restaurant, we stopped to visit Marx and Engels. Though communism has left Germany, Marx and Engels remain as a reminder and a draw for tourists who clamour to sit in Marx’s’ lap.

Further down the street we came to the Brandenburg gate, I’ll let Wikipedia do the work: The Brandenburg Gate (German: Brandenburger Tor) is a former city gate, rebuilt in the late 18th century as a neoclassical triumphal arch, and now one of the most well-known landmarks of Germany. 

As the tour progressed I became appreciative of the fact that we were seeing it all at night, different lighting makes for a different experience and a night viewing felt right, especially as we came to the Holocaust Memorial. The Memorial to the Murdered Jews of Europe is a 4.7acre expanse of concrete slabs arranged on a sloping field, the shadows at night gave it a haunted feel and there was something very powerful in the simplicity, perhaps owing to the scope of the field.

Beyond the walking tour we also toured around a lot looking for soccer games, they never seemed to be where they were supposed to be. Owing to the fact that we were the largest group of non-players, being two parents and a younger brother, we were assigned to the public transit team for the games on Saturday and Sunday. This was okay as we got to see parts of the city we wouldn’t otherwise have seen and there is something about the Berlin trains that made me feel like I was in a movie. Each time I saw one I got the feeling that I was in a futuristic story, one where peace is new and people are wildly expressing themselves in their new found freedom, and the city is under constant rebuilding. Perhaps such a movie was made and filmed in Berlin and I just don’t remember the name, maybe it is a combination of different stories, or maybe it is the mix of new and old, the abandoned buildings with smashed windows, the ultramodern seemingly constructed of glass, and the cranes; whatever it was it gave me the feeling that I was in a story that was not my own. Maybe it was the tricksters.

Berlin

We have just returned from a weekend trip to Berlin with Jesse’s fodbold (soccer) team. Apart from feeling very tired we are also happy to have had the opportunity to take such a trip.

The trip was a soccer trip so most of what we did was soccer related but we also saw some sights and as a result of some difficulties experienced in finding the locations of the games we saw more of the city than we otherwise would have. The first game was against the Union Berlin under 11 team, Jesse was overwhelmed and neither he nor I could believe how good they were, wow. There were several plays I would have loved to watch in replay and these kids are ten? This game was behind the stadium where FC Union play (second division Bundesliga team) so after the boys’ game we headed to the stadium for the match between Union and Karlsruher. We felt a bit nervous because of the police presence outside the stadium, three hours before the game and already the streets were lined with security and police vans with officers in what appeared to be riot gear, I found myself wondering if this was a safe event for kids.

The game itself was fine (0-0), I couldn’t see as well as I would have liked to, but the atmosphere in the stadium was incredible. The majority of the stands are standing room only, and we were included amongst the standing, not so good for kids viewing but probably a part of the reason the atmosphere is what it is, people just don’t get as excited when they are sitting down, but standing up the singing and cheering never stopped. Our kids especially enjoyed the chants as ‘Union’ chanted and sung by Germans at the games sounds like ‘Onion’ to English ears and I have to admit I enjoyed chanting ‘onion’ myself.

After the game we made our return to the hostel in shifts, we had a van that took three trips, and this time we were on the first trip, hovering above us as we made our exit was a police helicopter which prompted many a fan to brandish their middle fingers. The van was only able to make two trips to and from the stadium because a police blockade kept the third group in and the van out. I’m not sure that anything really happened but I guess with a game at 13:00 and plenty of pre-game imbibing there is always potential. I found myself remembering the Vancouver riot and figured that what seems like over the top police presence is maybe just how you avoid such an incident.

I know they look like normal ten year olds, but the boys in white are actually super soccer robots.

Cat's Eye

I just finished re-reading Cat’s Eye by Margaret Atwood, I seem to be revisiting Atwood while in Denmark, which is partly owing to the reading selections available to me and partly because I finally read Oryx and Crake last year and it has made me want to revisit Atwood. Cat’s Eye is about a painter who returns to Toronto for a retrospective of her work and while in the city of her childhood she revisits the past and remembers childhood and childhood relationships. Since reading Oryx and Crake I seem to find clues that Atwood was heading in that direction for some time, the father in Cat’s Eye and his predilection for the doom humanity has wrought upon itself is a natural precursor to the world of Crake.

Beyond that I have also been going through a ‘retrospective’ of my own along with Atwood’s Elaine, remembering childhood friends, wondering how we all make it through relatively unscathed. At times the neuroses of the character became my own and I feared for my children too, when us adults are just faking it what chance for our children? Elaine remembers that those in charge were older and were supposed to know what they were doing, but then, as she got older those in charge were closer to her age and she knew…

My retrospective involved googling someone I grew up with, opening an e-mail from a high- school friend (I’m on the list, they are business related, I don’t always open them), and one morning on the bus I got lost in thoughts about my high-school job. Suddenly I was feeling quite strongly about Ron and Linda who were my bosses in the produce department at Calbeck’s. They were really good to me, not like the hockey coach guy who took over from them and had me written up for having an ‘attitude problem’, funny Ron and Linda never had any complaints. Who had the attitude problem?    

I can almost let go of that anger now, but replacing that anger is disappointment, I am out of Atwood and feel that it is unlikely I will stumble upon an English copy of Surfacing any time soon.

Hallowe’en done, time for Christmas

Hallowe’en is a new holiday here, we didn’t have any trick or treaters, but we did go to a community event in a small nearby village. We carved pumpkins, saw a play in the church, walked through a haunted forest, and enjoyed dinner in the community hall, a building with the word ‘frihed’ (freedom) in large letters over the door. I did not miss North American Hallowe’en in the least; in fact this version was better as candy never even entered into it. I understand that there is a holiday here in February that is like Hallowe’en, there is dressing up, and candy, and something about a cat in a barrel? We’ll see if it matches the excesses of Hallowe’en Canada style. I like candy, but filling a pillowcase with the stuff just doesn’t seem right no matter what the date.

So now that Hallowe’en is over it is time for Christmas and Carlsberg has released its Tuborg Julebryg. It was released on the first of November and if I understand correctly it is free at first, but I’m not 100% sure what that means, I know you can’t go to the store and grab a 6 pack and walk out without paying so I assume you have to be in a certain place to take advantage. We tried one at the Hallowe’en event but had to pay for it. We also learned about Christmas traditions at a colleague’s house when we went for dinner on Friday, sounds like there is a lot of singing, and a lot of eating. The tradition that I was most interested in was the rice pudding with almonds; if your dish contains a whole almond you get a present. Our hosts’ youngest daughter was so excited when remembering times when she had the almond that we couldn’t help but get excited too. You are supposed to act casual so no one knows you have the almond, stick it in your cheek and reveal when all have finished so no one gives up hope.

Our holiday plans will see us in Bavaria just outside of Munich in Bad Endorf where Leanne has visited before and kept in touch with a friend from the first visit. She has been spoiling our children with mailed gifts for years and has promised to give us a traditional Bavarian Christmas. I don’t know if they go in search of almonds, but I’m pretty sure what we find will be good.

Haida Gwaii Brain

One of the best parts about being able to work from home is the ability to decide that I can take a break and go for a walk without worrying that someone will accuse me of abusing my prep time, I know I will come back and work later and in the end be more productive. Not to mention that often it is during such breaks that I am able to come up with good ideas and lessons start to take shape. It was on such a break last week that I realized how much I have come to view the world around me from a Haida Gwaii perspective.

One of the things we appreciate about Ringsted (where we live now) are the trails nearby that run along the creek and through wooded areas and farmers fields, it was through one of these wooded areas I was walking when I had my encounter. Out of the corner of my eye I saw movement, a large black form beneath a tree to my right, my brain said ‘bear’. Not until I had identified the animal as a cow did I remember where I was.

I have spent a lot of time in recent years thinking about place based education, this year I am getting a really good idea of how place has educated me. A couple of days ago a storm they are calling the St. Jude storm came through town, our reaction, ‘we get a few of these each year back home’. But this one killed about 15 people (two or three in Denmark) so maybe it was worse, but it didn’t sound worse and the house didn’t shake nearly as much as our house back home.

The other day in class we talked about the commercial seal hunt, a topic I have covered before, last time few seemed to understand why people would care about people killing seals because everyone knows that seals eat fish and are a nuisance to people who are trying to fish. This time we had a different discussion with me playing the ‘what about the local people’ role, partly to fuel discussion, partly because I remembered a students words from a classroom in Masset.

Oak tree

We had some beautiful fall days this week, the kind of days that make you find ways to take your class outside. And so it was that we walked down the road to a tree, an Oak tree that demands to be noticed. My students were instructed to speak only in English on our field trip (it is their habit to speak Danish whenever they are talking among themselves) and when we reached the tree they were to start by recording words that came to them as they looked at the tree. From there they wrote whatever they were inspired to write, for some that meant very little, not enough structure, but most made the experience clearly worthwhile. On the way back to school one student commented that it was the first time they had done anything of this sort in English class, he asked me if I had seen ‘Dead Poet’s Society’ and drew comparisons to the movie and told me that in his experience teachers didn’t like the movie because of the way Robin Williams teaches. We had a good conversation about teaching and about learning, for some the walk to the tree was the best possible way to spend the class, for others it was not structured enough, they didn’t know what I wanted.

Over the next couple of days I wondered what I would write for sharing at the beginning of next class, I looked at the tree through the bus window, I procrastinated, and then on a spare block between classes I visited Wikipedia and enlisted it’s help with my poem.

600 existing species

evergreen and deciduous

your flowers are catkins

your fruit, a nut called acorn in a cup-like structure – a cupule

Genus Quercus

Genus Cyclobalanopsis

high tannin offers you resistance

your grain marks are appealing

a keystone species in a wide range of habitats

you live in constant fear of Sudden Oak Death,

and Oak Wilt

a symbol of strength and endurance

sacred to Zeus and Thor

Oak tree I hardly knew thee

when I stood beneath your stretched out arms

and thought of you as

towering,

lonely,

dying.

I know this post is incomplete without a photo of the tree but when I bought my cellphone (my first) upon arrival here I went for the cheapest option, I should have got one with a camera.

Barcelona finale

One of the best parts about new places (about life?) is the food, if you are open to trying new foods you can learn a lot about a place and truly experience it through it’s food. When people visit us at our home they will eat deer and fish, I let place dictate what I eat and appreciation for the food of different places increases my enjoyment of places, Barcelona was no exception.

Some of the best places we visited in Barcelona were the markets, places I suspect many do the bulk of their grocery shopping as grocery stores were hard to find and quite small when we found them. My favourite parts of the markets were the fish/seafood stalls where all manner of sea dwelling creatures could be purchased for consumption. I suppose I was too distracted by all there was to look at in the markets because we took no pictures there, no kids in front of the fish table pictures.

What struck me about the fish stalls was the variety of species available for purchase. If it comes out of the water and you can eat it, it was there. At the first market there was also a stand where they deep fried sea creatures, we bought some squid and a mixed container that had a variety of batter covered fish and bits, including what I know as needle fish (very small), not the first time that a fish thought of by some as food for fish became food for me, deep fried goodness.

Beyond the fish tables were many stands selling land animals and it appears that all parts of the animal are sold and consumed. Some of the animal parts were identifiable, I can spot a liver, a kidney, a heart, a skinned head, others…. not so much. Then there are those who not only can identify but can tell the seller which one, or which part they want because they have an old family recipe that they are going to go home and make with these ingredients I can’t even identify, and I wish I was coming for dinner.

Having friends who live in the city also helped with the quest for local food. We have found it overwhelming when it comes time to pick a place to eat (beyond the bread, meat, cheese, and fruit from the backpack meals) and it was nice to have locals take us to good restaurants and order what they already know is good on the menu. Highlights for me were the beef with goat cheese tapas, the black rice that came with the paella (blackened with squid ink), the small white fish with olives and vinegar, and a variety of fish cakes all of which made we want more.

While out for dinner I mentioned how the fish stands at the market have species that are at least similar to ones we have in the waters at home but that we didn’t eat them and in some cases that I didn’t know what to do with them. Broth was the easy answer and I found myself wondering if I might try a bullhead broth when I get back, could be that everyone will be targeting them after they try my sculpin soup. One species that they were excited about were urchins, which I mentioned were eaten on Haida Gwaii too. Our friends love urchins and were very excited to hear about going kayaking and picking urchins up out of the water. As a matter of fact while we were going on about how much we loved Barcelona, our friends were asking questions about Haida Gwaii and seem to be formulating plans for a trip of their own. It was great to visit a city like Barcelona, and it was great to see that our friends who lived there were as excited about where we live as we were by their city.

FC Barcelona

The ever-present awareness that we were in the home of one of soccer’s greatest clubs was inescapable in Barcelona. Everywhere were reminders that we were in Barca territory, something that we as soccer fans appreciated. Again my North American keyboard fails me; Barca should have an accent under the ‘c’ to soften it.

Jesse had recently found an old Barca jersey at a thrift store in Ringsted and Gus had one he got from a relative as a birthday present once so they were both frequently attired in the local colours. The actual local colours are better reflected in Barca’s away jersey this year which looks a lot like a Catalan flag, Barcelona is in a region called Catalonia which is made up of parts of Northern Spain and Southern France, some within the territory are fiercely Catalonian rather than Spanish or French and the flags are hard to miss in Barcelona.

The tourist industry cashes in on Barca fever with Barca jerseys available at nearly every tourist store. Hungry for a snack? Why not grab a bag of Barca chips, or perhaps your preference is for a bag of Barca coloured popcorn. Drinking water comes from bottles and in a few restaurants we found Barca players on the label, Iniesta was in advertisements on the bank window, and tickets to games can be purchased at tourist information centers.

Sadly we were visiting during an international break so no game for us (bank account sighs with relief), but we could still go to the stadium, to the museum, and the superstore, which we did. The museum was like a really good commercial, I knew I was being manipulated but it worked. I think Gus said it best to his mom (opted out of museum and tour) ‘When we were in there I started to wonder if I liked Barcelona better than Bayern Munchen, but then I got outside and I was like, okay, Bayern’.

The first part we walked into was the story of Barcelona’s Unicef involvement, Barca was one of the clubs that did not have a sponsor (rare) until very recently when they paid Unicef to wear the name on their jersey, that is not how it usually works and it is hard to deny the power of that move. The display was all about charity work and respect and supporting others and teamwork and it made you feel warm and cozy. Unicef now finds home at the back of the jersey and the front this year has quietly changed from Qatar Foundation to Qatar Airways; slick entry into the world of sponsorship. Upstairs the emotional appeals continued with video touch screens that allowed parents and children alike to revisit great Barca moments, I watched the greats of the past while the boys watched today’s stars.

We had a good time at Camp Nou but it was a long walk back to the hotel and when we finally got back we were ready to relax and unwind while watching our favourite channel – BarcaTV.

Barcelona - Part 1

Starting work in August was not something that thrilled me, though I should say that the shorter summer felt longer due to all that we had done in the shortness of a month. I am just now returning from my first (and likely my only) fall break, from a week spent in Barcelona. I thought I would be writing while we were there but I forgot to bring the adapter and took a week break from the computer, a liberating experience and I think the best way to go under the circumstances.

We loved Barcelona!

Barcelona is a very popular tourist destination, it is easy to see why; a beautiful city on the shores of the Mediterranean Barcelona offers plenty of sites to see and plenty of beach to relax on, it’s got it all. We saw plenty of tourist attractions, magnificent churches, remains of the Roman walls, columns from the temple of Augustus (Gus’s temple), Gaudi’s park, and of course Camp Nou home to one of football’s most celebrated clubs.

One can visit the beach in October anywhere there is a beach but the beach in Barcelona was still summer hot. We swam in the sea, played soccer, buried our children, worked on our tans, and fended off constant offers from entrepreneurs selling everything from temporary tattoos, to coconut, to beer, to massages.

Our second visit to the beach was on a beautiful day that had perhaps left the water too warm; there were a number of jellyfish swimming about too. They were small and few given the size of the sea so I went in for a dip, I had finally convinced Jesse that the jellyfish were too small and too few to worry about when I felt the first jolt on my arm, followed closely by a second. My first and second jellyfish stings were not the most pleasant seaside experience but I am thankful the fish were small as I assume the larger ones pack a bigger punch. Jesse offered to pee on me but I opted to ride it out and watched the hives swell and then shrink leaving only the faintest of reminders.

Part of what made this trip so great was meeting and re-connecting with an old friend. Leanne’s friend from Toronto lives in Barcelona with his partner and their 3.5-month-old. They assured us that the jellyfish are not a daily issue and they also let us in on some things we would never have known. The guy selling coconut for example is incomprehensible to Spanish and Catalan speakers as well, not just to us foreigners; his sales pitch became an often-revisited joke throughout the trip. We also learned through our friends that the Russian sounding voices on the beach were probably Russian voices as the economic crisis in Spain has led to an increase of Russians in the area because buying a house in Spain at a certain price comes with Spanish citizenship.

Sadly this year of vacationing in places the likes of Barcelona is going to leave us with nothing in the bank so we will have to keep saving for that seaside villa.

CBC

Just to be clear I would not characterize myself as homesick, we are having a great time seeing new things, enjoying new experiences, blah, blah, blah. Yes a poem I wrote for class and posted awhile ago made it sound as though I was homesick, but I really am happy to be here and don’t want to leave yet. Still….

I do miss the familiar sound of CBC radio in the house and so last week we brought the laptop into the kitchen and prepared dinner with some old friends. It was nice to hear Jian Gomeshi’s voice in our house once again, and though the Doors’ John Densmore would not be a first choice as guest to visit our kitchen I couldn’t have been more pleased when who should drop in next but Margaret Atwood. The volume was too low, we had to be careful not to trip on the chord, but sounds from home transformed the kitchen, and suddenly it was home. Though we don’t always gather together in the kitchen to prepare the evening meal we did that night, all of us happy to gather round the 'radio' basking in the glow of Margaret’s voice. 

Canadian Dialogues

A recent assignment has my students writing scripted dialogues that share their perceptions of Canada, mostly they are having fun with stereotypes, so did I. Apparently it is common for Danes to be confused with other nations, including the Netherlands, and I tried to portray a stereotypical Canadian barroom chat. It was fun to listen to Danish students read the roles of the two Canadian guys, lots of laughs.

Two Canadians are sitting at the bar; on television is a hockey game featuring Denmark and Norway.

Guy #1: Hey, what teams are playing?

Guy #2: Two European teams.

#1: I thought Europe was like one country now.

#2: Nah, they just use the same money or something.

Bartender: Not Denmark though, theirs is different.

#1: So they aren’t part of Europe?

BT: No, they are part of the EU, but they kept their currency.

#2: Too good to change their money eh, with their wooden shoes and shit.

BT: I think that’s Holland.

#1: So what teams are playing?

BT: Denmark and Norway.

#1: Which one is the red team?

BT: That’s Denmark.

#2: They suck.

BT: I guess hockey just isn’t their game.

#2: Well if hockey isn’t their game they really suck.

#1: They play soccer or something?

BT: Soccer and handball, I think badminton is popular too.

#2: The Dutch suck.

BT: They aren’t Dutch, they’re Danes.

#1: My buddy has a Great Dane, serious leg humper.

#2: So if they aren’t Dutch and they don’t wear wooden shoes what do they do?

BT: They were Vikings.

#2: That’s cool.

#1: I would’ve thought Vikings would be good at hockey.

BT: Hans Christian Anderson’s Danish.

#1: I like Danishes.

#2: Who does he play for?

BT: He’s not a hockey player, he wrote fairy tales.

#2: If he doesn’t play hockey he’s a fairy all right.

#1: What did he write?

BT: The Little Mermaid, The Ugly Duckling, The Princess and the Pea.

#2: Speakin’ of which, I gotta pee, eh. Give me another Canadian will ya?

BT: You wanna try a Carlsberg? It’s a Danish beer ya know.

#2: Is that right? I had one of them once when they ran out of Canadian, and it wasn’t half bad. Guess them Dutch ain’t so bad after all.

Helsingor

I named my blog the undiscover’d country after a line from Hamlet, visiting Helsingor (again the ‘o’ needs a diagonal line through it) was a long time coming. The town is north of Copenhagen and across the sound is Sweden, the castle is Kronborg, made famous by Shakespeare when it served as Hamlet’s Elsinore.

The king used the castle but the location dictated the primary function, which was the collection of dues from ships passing through the sound. The castle is surrounded by canons pointed out to the water where one can imagine the artillery convinced most captains to pay the dues no matter how exorbitant as making a run for it would not have looked a promising option.

Before you even enter the castle you are surrounded with sound effects that put you in a different time. As we walked up to the cannons we heard voices and commotion that sounded as though they were preparing to fire, and as we walked towards the tree lined gravel road leading to the castle we heard the sound of a horse drawn procession approaching.

Kronborg is my favourite castle so far, it had once been victim to fire and the rebuilding has left it less decorative than some. While others have felt overwhelming with just how much there is to look at, this one kept it simple, I need that. It also had some modern museum features that brought the story of the castle to life.

Part of the appeal for us in this location was that it was seaside; we started off comparing it to home because we could see the water, and we could see Sweden, just as we can see Alaska on a clear day at home (only Sweden was really close). We have become accustomed to being near the shore because we so often are when we are at home on Haida Gwaii, but Denmark has been different, we live on an island but inland. Last post I shared how someone had said that fishing was not his culture, he meant his personal culture, Denmark has a lot of coast, there are lots of people who fish and we saw people fishing from the shore in Helsingor.

We enjoyed or time in the castle but the walk around the outside was just as good, the sun on the water, the swans in the moat, and folks out fishing. We could have been living in the days of yore, behind us the castle, in front of us the sound, and people out fishing for their dinner. 

Culture of Football

Both the boys have now made their debut for Ringsted F.C. There are many differences between playing soccer here and playing in Masset. The most obvious difference is in the numbers and I think most of the other differences follow. There are way more players, and the players are all dedicated to playing soccer, they have chosen soccer over other organized sporting options. The season never ends here, when it is winter they move inside until it is nice enough to go outside, the boys aren’t so much on a team as they are part of a club. They train twice a week for an hour and a half, the boys are chosen to play in some games and the ‘team’ is made up of club members invited to play on any given play day.

Gus has been to two Saturday tournaments where they played three games each time. Games at his age and level consist of 2 seven-minute halves so they are over pretty quick and playing 3 games is not an all day affair. Gus has represented Canada well and was quite proud of his beautiful crossed in pass last weekend that was buried in the back of the ole onion bag.

Jesse missed his first game because we didn’t sort out where exactly he was supposed to go, the athletic center is a sprawling affair and it is sometimes hard to know where to go, I think we were supposed to go to the clubhouse, I won’t bother with trying to guess how many fields there are but there are lots. Jesse finally made his debut on Tuesday this week and to my eye starred in his defensive role, also supplying an excellent ball through that ultimately led to the winning goal. Other parents seem surprised that they can play as well as they do, first because we are from Canada, a hockey nation, and second they only play organized soccer during a brief 3-month season!

On the ride to our last out of town game talk turned to where we live and then to fishing. Our ride was Gus’ coach and he told of how his mother in law had bought him a fishing rod, something he didn’t really know what to do with. As he said, “This is my culture, playing soccer, I’m not going to fish.” I wish soccer was a little bit different back home, I wish the boys could play as often as they do here, but I’m also pretty happy that fishing is such a big part of Haida Gwaii culture, even if I didn’t appreciate fishing when I was a kid. Sorry Dad, maybe if we had caught fish?