The things you learn Part 2: Cultural differences and Barcelona

As anyone will tell you, living with someone can be hard. For a variety of reasons spawning from cleanliness to taste in music, with some people it's less hard, and with others it can be more so. However, truly living with someone (not just as a guest for a few nights on their couch) from another culture is entirely different experience. Each day is a learning opportunity, and both parties must be patient and see it this way for things to progress smoothly. Because aside from the difficulties that can arise from living with someone with different tastes or habits than your own, culture has its own peculiarities. Now culture doesn't just mean surface items such as language, food, dress, and entertainment. Yes these are but mere surface items on the large list that attempts to answer the question, what is culture. When you dive deeper, you discover that culture can affect everything from how one receives a guest, to how they act in public, to how they view authority, to what they consider respectful and polite behaviour. With this in mind, it is easy to see that problems with cultural differences arise not from the first category, but the second. Yet often it is this second category that is completely overlooked or disrespectfully deemed 'wrong' or 'weird'.

Now consider this: not only am I living in Germany, a foreign country which I have only briefly visited a few times and don't speak the language, but I'm living with a Russian. So given that major double whammy, there was a steep learning curve and disagreements or issues were bound to arise. Thankfully though, Julija and I are both not people to quietly hold something inside to fester, but are rather the type to voice an issue or subject, regardless the nature. Because of this, the night I returned from Munich to Hannover, thanks to a bottle of wine, we ventured in to a very long but highly interesting discussion. The conclusion of which was very enlightening for both of us. The nature? Respect. Also, before I attempt to dive in to this cultural conversation, let me remind you of how incredibly difficult it is to discuss an issue as sensitive as culture and stereotypes without offending someone or sounding inconsiderate or racist. So if someone is offended by the following paragraph, or feels that it is an incomplete description, I meant no offense. I just don't want to waste 7 paragraphs making it explicit or have to do research just to write an entry.

Something as seemingly obvious as how we perceive respect from someone else can vary so much culture to culture. In the Canadian Prairies, respect tends to take the form of small gestures and tokens. Such as, bringing someone flowers when they're down, showing up on time to appointments and events, stopping to pick them up coffee before you meet, baking their favourite dessert for when they come over, or going to pick them up from somewhere when they need it. These small gestures show that we care for someone, or respect them. For Russians however, this is vastly different. For them, for example, one of the biggest signs of respect is having a clean house. It shows that you care enough for someone to make your home as presentable as possible. If you didn't clean it, this would be a sign of disrespect or that you didn't care for that person. Conversely, dirtying it, such as walking inside with your shoes, or leaving things out could also be a sign of disrespect. So something very simple and insignificant to a Canadian, such as accidentally leaving dishes in the sink, can be quite insulting for a Russian. On the other hand, something of great respect for a Russian, such as having a very clean house, to a Canadian can sometimes be seen as unsettling, that is giving us this feeling of out of place, or feeling that we clearly aren't as close of friends as previously thought. Another important sign of respect for Russians is social or public respect which takes the form of helping a women with her heavy suitcase, giving your seat on the metro to a senior, or paying for the meal. Sure Canadians do this as well, but for us it's more a common curtesy. If we don't give up our seat or pay the bill it's not a big deal. Just as for Russians, if they don't show up precisely on time, it's not the end of the world. But for many Canadians and Americans, punctuality is the essence of respect, just as for Russians men paying for the meal has a great deal more importance.

Ten Things Never to Say or Do in Russia

For every culture in fact, how we perceive the feeling of welcome, respect, friendship, politeness, and social responsibility can be extremely different. For the Thai for example, pointing to something with your feet is a sign of great disrespect, as the feet are seen to be very dirty. Or in many Asian cultures, looking someone in the eye, or too long of eye contact can be a sign of great disrespect. This all translates to very different interactions with different cultures and people. For example, while a first meeting with your average German can be pleasant and illuminating, a first meeting with your average Italian will mostly likely be fun and boisterous. Or a first meeting with your average Canadian will undoubtedly be friendly and informative, while a first meeting with your average Russian will be polite, exciting and a perhaps a little intimidating. This is not to stereotype or disrespect these cultures however, obviously people are individuals and it is impossible to 'accurately' stereotype an entire nation of people. This is just skimming the surface of a very deep well of cultural and personal characteristics and perceptions. However this little fact alone, that there is much more to every individual than just the surface descriptions and cultural stereotype is definitely worth remembering, as some people, indeed many people seem to skip through life under this impression.

To sums things up, it has been a very informative and reflective past couple weeks. The meeting of a fabulous French-speaking Italian woman (who also teaches languages! albeit Italian) a little while ago just adding to the excitement. Fun fact, the Italians are somewhat outraged and perplexed regarding Hawaiian pizzas. The idea of pineapple on a pizza is almost insulting. On the other hand, they cannot believe that others do not put potatoes on their pizzas. Tonight however, marks my last night in Germany. I apparently also have a 'Farewell' soirée tonight thanks to Julija and Ljuby. And tomorrow starts my 3 day journey to the next cultural chapter of my life, Barcelona and the CELTA course. I leave tomorrow for Brussels via Amsterdam, will spend a few days there (orthodontist appointment and whatnot), and head to Barcelona on Friday. What do I know about this next step? Not too much actually. I been concentrating so much on the course itself that I have yet to 'refresh' my Spanish or check out any of the information I have downloaded on Barcelona. I do know however, who the school has set me up to live with the month of March.

Yes, this is the cover and an article from an issue of Spanish Vogue circa 1990. And yes, featured is renown Spanish artist (and professor) Maria Roca, who's work and research in the field of hand dyeing and weaving of textiles (among many, many other things) has led her to own exclusive designs for fashion designers including Adolfo Dominguez, Iciar de la Concha, Miquel Ibars, Joaquim Verdú, Yanko, Loewe, and Giorgio Armani. Yes, this is who I will be living with! From what I gather, she doesn't really speak much English, but as she studied at École des Beaux-Arts in Paris, she speaks French! Problem avoided. Either way though, it is an excellent occasion to force me to improve my Spanish skills. Ah the adventure begins Friday.



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I would just like to add that this blog represents my personal views and my perspective alone. While this may seem self-evident, apparently it is worth clarifying. It is something of a private journal for me that happens to be public in order to keep friends, family, and others updated on what's going on. So in the end, if you don't like it, don't please read it. Thanks :)

The things you learn Part 1: Intro and Munich

How to start this little update? Since we last 'spoke', I have dove in to my Teaching English and English Grammar pre-course work (my god, I even stopped to reflect on the tense of 'have dove'), embarked on an adventure to Munich, capital of Bavaria, and learned a great deal about Russian culture. This last bit inevitably means that I've been spending a lot of time thinking about cultural differences and how these play out during our interactions and dealings with each other. So how to even start this entry? I could easily write an entire blog just recounting exactly what happened in Munich, because it does truthfully deserve its own blog. I could also spend an entire entry simple discussing cultural matters. And yet another one talking about events, revelations, and updates about my daily life. Hm..

Okay, while stopping to think this over, I was making myself a lunch of soft boiled egg, avocado, and cheese and crackers when it hit me. What hit me was that I wasn't just eating any old cheese and crackers. I was eating Chavroux cheese with these wonderful Backerei Tomaten crackers. In Canada however, I would most likely be eating Multigrain Wheat Thins with Light Cream cheese, both of which being tasty, but extremely processed. However, as I am here, in Germany, where there are no Wheat Thins, and hundreds of cheeses to choose from, I selected a hand baked in a German bakery bag of crackers, and this dippable form of goat cheese Chavroux that I was introduced to in Switzerland by a Belgian/Congolese colleague, to fantastic results. It is hands down much better than my would be Canadian selection. Why? Is it because the ingredients and items are inherently better here? Perhaps, however I'm sure it is possible to find a similar cheese and similar cracker in Canada, imported or not. But that's the thing about travel, you open yourself, intentionally or not, to new experiences. Be it something extreme or something insignificant, fantastic or miserable, your eyes and spirit will be opened.

When you are in a place that is well outside your comfort and familiarity, life, or at minimum perspective, changing events can be around every corner. Something as minuscule as wanting crackers, and not being able to find anything similar to what you normally buy, forces you to try something new. In my case, these fantastic hand baked organic crackers. To which their fantastic taste, significantly better than the type of cracker I was looking for, make me reflect on the value of locally produced and owned companies. Because in Germany, local bäckereis (bakeries) are a source of much pride, resulting in a forced eviction of anyone that tries to open a large, chain operated bakery that threatened shutting down others. As a result, you can find these wonderful little gems around every corner, each having the possibility to offer you something new and delicious. In Canada however, where we have been thoroughly Americanized and everything is now a large chain store, these 'gems' are few and far between. Your best bet is finding an organic brand you like and can buy near your town or city. All this from buying crackers. So you can imagine the world-changing perspective one can gain by making a friend in another culture, being forced to overcome a sometimes significant problem that has risen, or simply by travelling to a cultural mecca. To give you all some perspective, each in their own way, I have come across these 3 examples I have just given since my last blog entry, forget about since I left Canada 2 years ago.

Now that I've given a bit of context from which I've been reflecting on the events of the last few weeks, let me give a brief run-down (I'll do my best), of my trip to Munich, capital of Bavaria, which very much feels like its own country. So I left very last minute Saturday morning (Ckatu's fault, not mine) for Munich in this Mercedes Sprinter with two men that I'd never met before. Why you might ask was this my means of transportation? Well dear readers, when one cannot afford a train or plane ticket, one makes due. However, the amount of people I have met on a (somewhat) comfortable plane or train ride vs the amount of people on random cheap/free rides has got to be around 1 to 10. This one was no exception. It was about a 6 to 7 hour drive Southward on the autobahn to Munich with one gentlemen that didn't speak any English, in a giant van going no faster than 120km/h, meaning other cars were almost literally flying past us. However, me always being one to look at the bright side of the situation, I was perfectly content sitting in the back listening to them chatter on in German, relaxing, and taking in the scenery. Sometime after the first pit stop after lunch when I had finally properly woken up, the second guy and I, Nino, finally started talking. Turns out, he is half German and half American (but basically only has the American charm, hollywood good looks, and easy-going nature leaving the rest German, win win) is currently doing a Masters in Environmental management, and in the last year had recently returned from a 1.5+ year trip around SE Asia where he spent 6 months in Bali, Indonesia assisting the development and implementation of a waste recycling program. Needless to say, we spent the next 3 or so hours in a fantastic, deep, developmental, international, philosophical and spiritual conversation. I probably hadn't had a conversation quite that good and to that extent since Jasmin and I's last night doing squares.

When I finally arrived in Munich, solved a no-credit-on-my-phone situation and found Ckatu it was verging on 4 o'clock. From here, we grabbed a quick bite to eat and Ckatu took me straight to the Hofbräuhaus (Beer Garden House). Now, I could most definitely write a small novel about the Hofbräuhaus. In one word? Amazing. Sure it is now a tourist hotspot, but this, this truly is the cultural heart of Bavaria, and I was diving right in. Loud boisterous and incredibly friendly atmosphere. Every man woman and child with a giant maas of beer in front of them, some eating traditional and still giant hunks of meat or sausages. Servers and band dressed in traditional costume. Traditional wooden tables and benches lining every meter of the building. We basically just walked in, found what looked like an empty space at the end of one of the tables and sat down. Within 20 minutes the table was joyously swaying their beers signing Bavarian drinking songs (which apparently one must do every time the band plays a certain song), had set Ckatu and I up with a traditional/Carnival hat, German flag, German lei, 2 mini schnapps bottles, and were busily talking to us about god knows what. What was supposed to be one drink to show me the place followed by an Italian restaurant turned in to 3 rounds and a giant chunk of the most delicious pork (I think) that I have ever tasted (all ordered by the table of course). Fellow Saskies, this is our ancestry. This is where we get it from. It all makes sense now.. I have never felt any more similar in spirit than here.

From here Ckatu and I had to take a wee break from drinking, as we're both fairly small in size and it was only 8 o'clock. However, friends of hers were already on their way over to her place to start pre-drinking before going out to the clubs. Because we still are in Germany after all, which means there would be no few drinks than return home, it will be a 10 hour festive occasion. To make a long story short, wonderful night. My only complaint if there was to be one, would be that aside from an Austrian friend of Ckatu's the night was filled with Germans. This may seem self-evident as we are in Germany, but to explain, compared to other cultures, socially the Germans are a very reserved culture. Reserved in the sense that they don't go out looking for friends. They'll be very polite to you, talk to you, party with you, etc., but when the night finishes, you are not friends. They have their own friends, and their own life which you are not part of. This may be a harsh way of wording things, but rest assured this is not a judgement, simply a cultural observation and something with which one must make due. The Germans and people in question are still great people. Also, it is obviously not only the Germans that tend to do this. Being a Canadian naturally puts me on the extreme end of the makes friends scale. But more on this though in Part 2.

The next day started with a fabulous rather Ecuadorian style breakfast grâce à Ckatu and a full day of deep discussion and conversation, seeing the sights, wandering streets, and drinking fabulous lattes in very old cafes. The day after while Ckatu was at work, on my own I did much the same, wandered all around the centre, absorbing the Carnival atmosphere, stumbling across a French café, and returning home by the river (I later discovered I walked well over 3.5kms just wandering).

For pictures of Munich and Hannover, click here

So, given what I said before this about how, with an open mind, the smallest little thing can permanently alter our perspective of things, just going over the events of the trip to Munich tells us more than enough regarding shifts or additions in attitude and thought. However, there wasn't only events on the trip. I haven't even mentioned anything regarding Ckatu and I's discussions over the course of the 3 days I was there. And for privacy and brevity's sake I don't think I will. But suffice to say that the reflections and revelations during those discussions were possibly greater than or at least equal to my personal reflections about the rest of my time put together in Hannover. Ckatu, I <3 you.

Cheers to World Travellers

As I start this entry it's 10pm on a Friday night in Hannover in Julija's flat, and after a long day of what feels like nothing but appointments, errands, and work, I'm sitting here sipping a cool Heineken engulfed by the Sound of Silence. The Simon and Garfunkel song that is. Just one wonderful song of many on a fabulous playlist called Beautiful Men Making Beautiful Music. Tomorrow morning I'm catching a ride to  Bavaria's capital, Munich for a few days to visit Ckatu. And Tuesday I have my first TEFL job interview for an adventurer/teaching position in the mountains of Chile. Exactly a week and a day later I start my journey Westward, to Barcelona that is, taking an afternoon stopover in Amsterdam (for an even lower price than a direct train to Brussels!) and a few days stop in Brussels. I still have yet to figure out exactly how I'm getting from Brussels to Barcelona with my suitcase, as it's too heavy to bring it aboard discount airlines with their outrageous fees for any checked luggage, let alone 30 kilos worth, and taking the train there would be a 14 hour overnight adventure. So we shall see.. I still have some time before I absolutely need to figure it out. First there are many more chapters of my pre-course textbook to read (after first getting through the 5th chapter summarizing English grammar that I have been stuck on through sheer boredom for 2 days) and another 15 hours remaining of pre-course exercices to complete. Not to mention doing a refresher course on Spanish before I leave, and looking up a few things about Barcelona. 1 week.. that's enough to get through all that, right?

So I am finally complete re-adjusted back to life on this side of the pond. It only took one full week of jet lag and another half a week to finish the accent/linguistic and day to day life re-adjustment. But I suppose there are 8 hours of time zones to account for (7 on DST), not to mention significant cultural differences. So I guess it takes time.. However, even after only 11 days in Germany, I'm very much looking forward to getting in to the Spanish culture soon. I mean, they are pretty much on two opposite sides of the relaxed-tense spectrum. One has a law for everything, including possible beer ingredients, and the other institutionalized mid-afternoon naps. One is a culture built around tapas, visiting on the street, and laying on the beach, while the other was fashioned around efficiency and practicality.

I'm also very much looking forward to reintegrating in the international community. Although most of my friends are international in some sense, (I mean, Julija speaks 5-6 languages) it's still different than being amongst people who are also world travellers, have wide-spaning dreams and ambitions, and who work in the international arena. In other words, the people who make up the cosmopolitan/global community, because I truly feel that we are our own community. In these circles, nationality plays but a small role. The question of "where are you from" makes a good opening line, but that is about the importance it has: first among the pleasantries. What really matters are your views on certain topics, the role you play, your goals, your plans, where you're currently living/what you're currently doing, etc. So needless to say, I'm looking forward to having deeper identity than simply the 'token Canadian' (or likewise, in Canada, the 'world traveller'). To connecting with people on a deeper more profound level. People that have gone through all the stress and hardships that come with living and travelling abroad, because they're in it for something more, something greater. And first step on that journey? Reconnecting with Ckatu tomorrow. The well-travelled Ecuadorian who has a Russian name, spent a lot of time growing up in the US, and has been living in Germany (with a stint in Brussels) the past 5 or so years.

Willkommen to Deutschland: First step past first impressions

And so begins my quest for experiencing other cultures, in other words, living in foreign places and cities. Sure I've lived in Belgium and Switzerland, however those are both countries with dual national languages, one of which being French. Not to mention the fact that half of my ancestors are from Belgium. So living there was more like the first step on the path to cultural awakening. I mean, after all, they are both Western countries, highly developed, very international (as they both hold headquarters of major international organisations), and very tourist/business friendly (which translates to English and English speakers everywhere).

Sure I've also visited many other non-English or French countries, including Germany a handful of times, but as anyone who has ever 'lived' abroad for a period of time will tell you, actually living there is a very different experience. When you visit the city, it's like you're meeting someone for the first time. You get to know what they look like, how they speak, what they do, and how interesting they are. The first conversation is usually all the basics and pleasantries, a surface introduction to that person. You can usually gage by that conversation whether you want to pursue the friendship or not, but you are most certainly not friends yet, you just met! Visiting a city is like that. You get the tourist or surface introduction. The architecture, the language, the monuments, the history, and the sights. If you really dive into exploring, you might even get an idea of the feel and the rhythm of the city, and the nightlife. However, as with that initial conversation, it is all surface discoveries. You've gotten to know the surface and/or the skeleton, but you haven't even begun to get to know what is inside. To do so, you must truly experience the city, and really get to know the person. A common mistake with friendships and relationships is when one assumes that they know the other very well, until they decide to live together. Only then do they truly get to know the other person and their habits, often to unwanted results. A city is the same. Only after you have lived there, experienced all the routine errands and 'habits' of the city, and gotten to know its habitants and their lives, can you even begin to truly understand its culture.

I absolutely cannot believe that it is already February 7th. This means that I have just over 3 weeks in Germany. And today, my first full day, is being spent just focusing on being awake and present. I think the only way I made it through the past 2 days was by sheer will power and determination. Today, something as simple as lifting my head off the pillow and getting out of bed (even if only to go to the couch), was quite the feat. Jet lag and adjusting to time zones is a bitch. I haven't even begun to look at or move my suitcases. By which, one would assume that I have not yet begun to explore or experience Germany yet, right? Wrong. If you open your eyes and pay attention, culture is all around us. Indeed it is shaping our every move and decision. For example, my German experience actually started on the German train I caught in Brussels that would bring me to Köln, then to Hanover. Even the way the commandant (can't think of the English word, ticket guy), moved about on the train was different. The way he spoke to passengers was quite different than in Belgium. The passengers themselves looked differently, acted differently, and dressed differently. At the train station in Köln, people sitting at cafés in spoke to each other differently. Their mannerisms were more rigid and formal looking than the very informal French café banter. The stores and restaurants in the train station were obviously quite different too. The Currywurst chain restaurant was the first one to catch my eye. Back on the train, even drinking became different, more German, as the man next to me drank a very large and dark bottle of German beer while reading an incredibly thick book on philosophy. The entire experience by this point was already akin to a "I've a feeling we're not in Kansas anymore" moment.

Today, as I sit here in Julija's cute little (and I do mean little) flat, listening to the deafeningly loud (but very good) music coming from her neighbour's place that sounds as if I am playing it myself from Julija's stereo, at first glance it all seems very normal. I mean a flat is a flat right? Then as you look closer you see hints of Germany, signs of a Russian, markers of a very international person. I believe the German in this case might be reserved to the music, food, and the view from her balcony of the inside square of her block. For breakfast for example, I had the very German and delicious bread with raspberry jam and cheese (I couldn't even begin to tell you what kind, all I understood was 'mild'), followed by Darjeeling tea. The Russian in her flat is much more evident. Everything from her organization style (stuff everything in to a pretty box so as to look organized on the surface), to her ornaments and decorations, to the large bottle of vodka sitting under the TV are all clues to her Russian (or rather Latvian) descent. The international I believe is the most prominent. Clues are everywhere from her Italian espresso maker and Italian noodles in the kitchen, to Dutch clogs under the TV, to the 4 different countries/languages of Cosmo hanging above the couch, to the vast array of books on her imposing bookshelf, counting at least 5 different languages.

The real fun will start tomorrow however, as it will be the first direct and challenging experience outside (tonight with Julija will not count as she will be there to translate and it will be completely focused on talking and catching up) as I venture forth in to the city, attempt not to get too lost, perhaps visit Vera in the hospital, buy more contacts, and buy a sim card for my phone. I'm hoping that I will be able to get by on my extremely limited German with my two key phrases, 'spechen Sie English oder Französisch?' (Do you speak English or French?), and 'Ich spreche kein Deutsch' (I don't speak German). Haha, we shall see..

Back on European soil, and couldn't be happier

I missed everything so much it’s ridiculous. I didn’t realize quite how much. For the first time in 3 months my nose doesn’t hurt because of the dry, dry air. It’s only 1pm, I have only been back on this continent for less than 3 hours, and already I have walked more than the last 3 months put together I’m sure. I have also already had more fruit (quite unintentionally as I’ve been eating ‘fast food’ on the go) than I’ve had any given day of the last 3 months. I’ve also finally gotten to wear my wonderful big red scarf again (more to fit in than out of necessity, as it’s only -4 here too). I love it all.

The sound of the Spanish song playing over the loudspeaker at the healthy fast food place I ate at. The simple fact that there is a healthy fast food place, where a chèvre et tomate pizza/quiche and tea + a little chocolate cost the same as a 6” sub at subway. Languages and nationalities all around me. Scarves, boots, long sweaters and fabulous purses as far as the eye can see. The feel of taking the metro, tram and train. Tea and a tiny Belgian chocolate after meals. The sheer exquisite taste of food, even fast food; everything from pizza to fries is like a symphony of flavours playing out on your palate. Belgians laughing and conversing intimately (not just gossiping) whilst a crowd queues and bustles throughout the streets and cafés. Back to the land where tea cost 2,30€ and a beer 2,10€. I’m tired, jet lagged, and functioning solely on caffeine, but I couldn’t be happier about it.

It’s even refreshing in some sort of twisted way to see everyone bundled up with their parkas and fur coats for the -4C weather of skiffs of snow and beautiful sunshine. In the same way as it is being greeted not by the smiles and idle constant friendly chatter of Canadians but the polite total indifference of Europeans. I never want to leave again.

Montréal: Stopover en route to Europe

As I write this entry, I'm sitting here at the Brioche Dorée, just having finished my wonderful Bistro Mélangée salad complete with walnuts and fromage chèvre, sipping the best Thé latte chai I've had in 3 months. The view out the window is little less spectacular, as it's just of the frozen Montréal airfield and an AirCanada plane fueling. Inside however, is where the excitement lies.

Aside from the two horrendously loud female English speaking employees that just sat down next to me complaining to each other that their boss is "out to get everyone" because she caught them smoking up, the atmosphere is great. A couple across from me sharing a pizza Méditerranée, eating it with fork and knife with strewn about napkins on the table soaking up the mess the Sparkling Lemonade made when it overflowed as the woman attempted to sweeten it with brown sugar.  A woman with dark hair down the isle eating a Quiche Épinard while sipping a Pellegrino wears a fabulously bold black and white horizontally striped top with a bright orange scarf; an outfit only a frenchwoman could pull off. Meanwhile, out by the other café down the isle there is another fabulously styled Frenchwoman strongly resembling Doris, both in style and character, cackling with friends about the 'insane' amount of sweets on display by the cash register.

The contrast between here and Winnipeg Airport (or the Prairies and French Canada), could not be stronger. I left Winnipeg surrounded by an overwhelming number of overweight people wearing outdated ill-fitting mom jeans combined with too tight sweaters and hoodies barely coming down to their belt line, with faded white worn sneakers, and landed in an atmosphere infused with style and a certain freshness, a boldness maybe. It's incroyable that these places are both still in Canada, no? If I didn't know any better, I would swear I had landed in a paralel universe Canada, where everyone is still very friendly and amicable but still has a very strong French European infusion, where there was never any anglo-saxon takeover which spawned a nation of fast-food eating, giant truck driving, American-British hybrids. Oh wait... I actually am. I think Québec may be the best of both worlds. I think I may have to figure out a way to live here when I one day move back to Canada.

On another note, I went to bed last night on Canadian time and woke up on European time. What time is that you might ask? 2am. So these last 3 paragraphs may very well not make the best of sense, or not truly reflect what I'm trying to impart here. However, it also means I get to go to sleep on European time, which is shortly after my flight leaves in 3h30 hours, or 6pm SK time. We had to wake up that early to leave and make the 4 hour drive from Redvers to Winnipeg to make my morning flight, which surprisingly, considering the god-forsaken hour at which we rose, what actually a really pleasant drive. The only complaint I would have was the Tim Hortons in Brandon, in which the staff's immense desire not to be there led them to not make us breakfast sandwiches, even though it was 10 minutes to 5, when they apparently start serving them, and turn us down, making us wait another 2 hours to Winnipeg to finally eat breakfast. But other than that, and my bag apparently weighing 70lbs, meaning I will probably have to go through and get rid of some more stuff to be able to better travel with it (or lift it), YET AGAIN (Swear to god I've cut my stuff in half 3 times already, and anyone who knows me knows I don't have that much stuff to begin with!), the first 10 hours of my 38 hour trip to Hannover, Germany have been excellent. Now there is just to pray to the plane gods that I can fall asleep on my flight to Amsterdam.

Teaching English in a Globalized World

I've just received word, no more than 5 minutes ago, that I have been accepted to the University of Cambridge CELTA (Certificate in English Language Teaching to Adults) course. Which, fabulously enough, is taught in Barcelona; much like how the University of Kent's International Studies program is taught in Brussels. Gotta love globalisation. 5 minutes in to the interview, he concluded that he had heard enough, and based on the 'strength' of my application, accepted me in to the program. Then, like any good English teacher would, he spent the next 20 minutes going over language awareness and grammatical nuances present in my essay. Asking me to explain to him why it was wrong, what was wrong with it, etc. Most interesting interview I've ever had. Lastly, before explaining some administrative details, he informed me that I should do well with the common problems areas people have with the course, such as the intensive course-load and information overload, but I would have to work my English 'language awareness'. Not surprising in the least, as I have studied advanced French grammar during my Bachelors, studied Spanish grammar, and have commenced studying German grammar, but have not studied English grammar in the very least.

Why might you ask then, have a decided to take a course on teaching English if I have never even bothered to stop and learn the English equivalents of the French grammatical and linguistic terminology I've learned over the years? 

Well, the simple answer would be, why not? If I ever want to improve my writing skills, do a PhD, or have a better answer to why a sentence isn't correct than, "it just doesn't look right,"then I should probably actually study the English language. Hell, I already learned more terminology and English grammar rules in the 20 minutes on the phone with my interviewer than I probably have in my entire life. And anyone who has ever been gracious enough to proofread or edit any one of my essays for me, or anyone who has suggested that I pursue writing endeavors, could not disagree that this will be incredibly beneficial. Not to mention the fact that it quite obviously teaches Methodology on Teaching. Which again, given my past work experiences and future goals, could be nothing but beneficial. Lastly, I love languages, so why wouldn't I get credentials in teaching them? 

Speaking of future goals, I dedicate this next section, the more complicated answer, to all of you wonderful people who have been patiently but persistently asking me what it is I'm doing next, or what my goals are. I refer to my favourite quote by writer, poet, and diplomat Octavio Paz:

"Each language is a view of the world, each civilization is a world. The sun praised by the Aztec poem is not the sun of the Egyptian hymn, although both speak of the same star."

Along with this quote, I completely concur that language is the key to culture, which in turn is the lens through which all human life is perceived. I also believe that today, in the 21st century, culture and civilization are still being falsely categorized under the colonial hierarchical ladder of technological progress. The repercussions of this are devastatingly widespread, and can be seen everywhere from the over-reach of capitalism leading to economic downturn, to climate change, to the so-called 'third world', or as it is now more humanely referred to, the 'developing world'.

The name itself, while not explicitly referring to the outdated ladder of categorisation, still suggests that these nations and cultures are in the midst of developing; that they are heading towards some ultimate goal, which is obviously to be ‘developed’, to one day be categorised as part of the 'developed world', or as it used to be called, the ‘first world’. Which as the title suggests, is the world of the capitalist, corporate, technologically and economically 'superior' West.

Sure, categorisation no longer blatantly refers to the power struggle and cultural battle for supremacy, as did the 'First, Second and Third world', referring explicitly to the Cold War distinction of West, East, and everyone else. Rather today, it is now placed within the context of the field of International Development, categorising 'developed' and 'developing' states by characteristics of a healthy and sustainable society, such as access to education, healthcare, nutrition, shelter, etc.

However, by this same categorisation, (which again, in practice basically simply changed the title from 'First' to 'developed') even a civilisation as ancient, wise, and knowledgeable as China, who had a functioning astrological supercomputer while Europe had not yet had its agricultural revolution, is still referred to as developing. Groups of people, such as the living descendants of the ancient cultures of the Indonesian islands, who already thousands of years ago had navigation technology superior to and more accurate than those of the British Empire at its peak, are still referred to as ‘undeveloped’ tribes. Arab nations, who retained and expanded on the vast mathematical and physical knowledge of the ancient Greeks and Romans while Europe was living in the barbaric 'Dark Ages', are now considered by many simply breeding grounds for terrorists and intractable conflict zones waiting to be resolved.

In short, (but not really), this is why I'm delighted to be taking the CELTA course. I want to experience these cultures of the ‘developing’ world for myself, hopefully absorbing some of their wisdom along the way. However, I most definitely have neither the capital nor the desire to simply be a tourist – a Western tourist at that. I want to contribute and be part of a cultural exchange, albeit without purely volunteering, which ironically is quite expensive. I want to go travel and work around the globe, in a world which is currently in a state of economic peril, making getting any traditional job near impossible. Much in the same light as does Wade Davis, as he imparts in his spectacular book, "The Wayfinders: Why Ancient Wisdom Matters in the Modern World". So one day, perhaps after I've done even more education and gotten a PhD on the nexus between culture and conflict, and am perhaps working in the field of conflict resolution, the experience and perspective I gained from teaching English, not to mention the skills gained from the CELTA course itself, will undoubtedly prove to be invaluable. And if not, well, I still get to spend a month in Barcelona and finance travelling around the world. Win.