The One Where I Mustn't Be Left Alone With Professors

I'm in my classroom, alone, minding my own business. In walks the prof.

"You're early!"

(I wasn't).

"I'm hiding from the snow."

"You'll like today's class, we're doing your favourite subject."

"What, boobs?"

"I was thinking Britain."

IT JUST SLIPPED OUT. I HAD NO CONTROL.

In other Hannah-professor interactions news, I'm in Anderson's office and she asks me to get the kettle because I'm "British and know what to do with kettles." I'm inferring from that that Canadians don't know what to do with kettles.

Come to uOttawa and your dreams will come true!

The One With Diplomatic Relations

Today Christina and I have mock-argued over the correct pronunciation of "wiener" and whether the clapping song is "High, Low Chiccolo" or "High, Low Piccolo." (It's the former!)

In other news, Jon and I did a swap of hockey tickets and cash and it felt oddly like a drugs deal. I got my Hermione-on in Jewish History by expousing all I know on AM Klein, which is a lot. And Jenny and I descended into near hysteria when it came to the AM Klein documentary.

Idiosyncrasies and little things and random moments. This is where we're at right now.

For example: Tabaret in the snow.

The One With Long Walks In The Sunshine

Whisper it: I think spring has sprung.

It's going to snow again now for fifty days isn't it?

Ottawa is currently warm enough and the snow piled far away enough from the sidewalks to sack off the oppressive winter coat and leave the boots to one side and slip back into the flats - and go for walks in the sunshine. Now, when Lydia and I looked at the map for how to get from campus to the Canadian War Museum, at no point did we think the walk might take longer than say thirty minutes at most. This is why Lydia and I are in humanities and not Geography. In actual fact, the walk is about 45 minutes, and two kilometres must mean something different in Canadian than it does in British. However, there is nothing more gorgeous than the fresh spring sun on a warm afternoon. (I say warm, warm for Ottawa means plus two).

Despite having been in Ottawa since September, I'm coming to realise that there's an awful lot I haven't seen. So it was really nice to just keep walking from Confederation Park, which I've ambled through a million times, to going further and further past Parliament, all the way to the Canadian War Museum. Ottawa is not blessed with the most beautiful skyline - but the Parliament buildings more than make up for dodgy decisions by town planners in the 1960s.

As for the Canadian War Musuem...it's a depressing experience. I know that sounds like I'm stating the obvious, but there was no sense of this is war, but here's how we learn from our mistakes. Another stating the obvious thing to say is that the focus of the museum was very Canadian. And very determined to shake off any colonial connection. I also really could not swallow the gross patriotism displayed in the World War II section, knowing that Canada is indirectly responsible for the deaths of many thousands of European Jews. Especially hard to swallow was the art display for remembrance which featured a statue meant to represent Canadians' compassion and desire to help the helpless. Ironic? Yes. A lie? Also yes.

What was meant to be a trip to the museum rapidly became less about the museum and much more about Lydia and I just catching up - and we talked for hours. We also decided to check out Vittoria Trattoria for "research purposes" in preparation for Lydia's birthday dinner. Yes, it's slightly more pricey than say Zak's Diner, but gorgeous food and perfect rose wine, with even better company is worth every penny. And then we finished it with Gregory House MD and an in-depth discussion on the impact of names. All in all, a perfectly beautiful Saturday.

Idiosyncrasies and little things - these are the things to treasure in these last few weeks.

The One Where I Have Awesome Professors

My final midterm has been and gone and I feel a twinge of sadness over it. It just reminds me how strong I'm hurtling into my final weeks here in Ottawa, and it's a devastating thought.

Classic moments from History of Religion in Canada:

1) We've been looking at nineteenth century Protestantism in Canada this week including looking at such subjects as the notion of the rapture. The prof told us a story about a guy she met who grew up being taught by his parents what to do should he come home and and found his parents had been raptured. Christina then raised the valid question that the parents obviously didn't expect their son to get raptured and that that was pretty unfair. Our prof agreed and then said that I would get raptured and that Christina wouldn't. Now, this unwittingly played into mine and Christina's nearly-daily argument over which one of us is better. So the prof brought out her telling-her-children-off-in-the-car routine and Christina and I were more than happy to play along.

2) Her next classic moment came when she tried to address how rubbish she is with technology and said, and I quote exactly, "I'm in awe of students who know how to sext." Later she tried to explain Darwin's theory of evolution and chose the words, "the birds with badass beaks." What a legend!

Classic moments from Creative Writing:

1) Simone: Jesse is such a white trash name.

    Adrienne: My brother's called Jesse!

2) Various assorments of "It could be a play" or "Maybe it's allegorical."

3) My prof is just generally awesome and is an asset to uOttawa and has, without doubt, really made my year academically to be phenomenal. University isn't a business institution, or at least, it certainly shouldn't be. It should be about learning. Unfortunately, the world doesn't see the value in the individual's broadened mind. My prof is passionate about education - about small class sizes where professors and students can create deep and meaningful relationships and the learning experience can go to epic heights.

In me experience there are three types of student-prof relationships: the I-don't-care student; the needy student who over-compensates in their need to be liked by professors and takes it personally when they're not the pet; and the genuinely special union of a wise mind and an eager mind. And sometimes, I fall in to the last category.

One of the most special parts of my year abroad has been the academic side to the year. It has been my privilege to learn about Indian Reservations from First Nations profs; to have my readings taken from not-yet published books by profs who are the leading figures in their field. Most of all, I have fallen in academic love with Jewish Canadian literature and it is all due to the passion and enthusiasm of one professor and his investment in me as a student. I feel valued and appreciated and so grateful for the opportunity to explore a whole new world I had no idea existed. I've learnt a bit about his family's history, I get weekly "bedtime" stories, I get marriage advice and vocation advice, and I learnt this week that he got expelled from school twice for the most badass reasons ever. (Protesting outside the American Consul and escaping arrest by hiding in the British Naval Office).

My convoluted point is: this year has shown me many things and one of the biggest ones has been that I love learning and that a great teacher has a value beyond rubies and pearls.

4) Josh enjoyed his first ever university lecture:

The One With A Campus Visitor

The mother vetoed my tattoo plans.

However, there was a WOODPECKER on campus. An actual WOODPECKER. And it was PECKING WOOD like WOODPECKERS do in nature documentaries and children's television cartoons. I repeat, today I saw a WOODPECKER PECKING WOOD because WOODPECKERS PECK WOOD hence why they're called WOODPECKERS, and I saw an actual WOODPECKER.

I also need to leave my debit card at home when going to Byward Market. Alternatively, the Student Loans Company should give me more money. (That's the option I prefer).

The One With A Late Night Thought

I don't want to leave Canada.

And Canadian vending machines can't tell when you feed them American money.

And I am seriously considering a maple leaf tattoo.

 

The One With Mine and Canada's Anniversary

Happy Six Month Anniversary, Canada! I love you more than yesterday, but not as much as tomorrow.

Yes yes, I know that I came to Canada on August 31st, but February is deficient in the date department, so the 1st of March is as close as I can get to a legit six month anniversary. Also, my friend, also called Hannah, got married on the day I moved to Canada, and she's just announced her anniversary celebrations, so we're all at it with the dodgy dating.

Before I dwell more on the whole six month thing, I do have to share with you another gem from my Jewish Lit/Creative writing prof. Bear in mind we're in a class on Leonard Cohen.

Prof: Not that I'm name-dropping, but I had an email from Leonard Cohen on Friday...he's doing well, I told him about you, and he's given his blessing.

What a legend. (Both Leonard and my prof).  Yeah, I'm on first name terms with Leonard now; the midterm does that, breaks down the student-famous poet barrier and now we're bosom buddies; mainly because when faced with a compulsory section of the exam, I didn't know any of them poems. Then I realised that I'd already looked at one in last semester's Jewish Canadian Lit class and praise The Lord, I was saved. I hope. We'll see how marks go. Let's just say I'm super thankful for taking Jewish Canadian Writers last semester.

In other news, the snow has returned. Not the snow that's ten feet high and piled up on the sidewalks, that's been there since early December. I'm talking about the snow so heavy, walking through it is like being assaulted by strobe lighting. Safe to say, I'm no longer sure if I'm in Ottawa or Narnia. It's also Islam Awareness Week, as run by the Islamic Students Society at the University of Ottawa. And I got given a gorgeous smelling white rose by them, with a little thing attached about Mohammed (PBUH). It's a really sweet gesture, but does anyone else see the irony in giving someone a piece of literature saying their prophet advocates equality, and then having public prayer where the men and women are separated? Also, their hope is in a man, not a God. However, they were also in a very fetching green, whereas the Christian Union at Exeter made us really suffer for Jesus on our events week by forcing us into an hideous yellow monstrosity. Not okay, guys.

I digress.

Six months eh? Where has the time gone? I know it's a cliche to say that time flies when you're having fun, but it's a cliche because it's true. At the same time, that late August afternoon when I took my first tentative steps into the Canadian sunshine and ended up sweaty and dishevelled in my landlord's car, seem like a million years ago. It's mind-blowing to comprehend all that's happened in the past six months. From that very first full day where I saw roller-blading pensioners and nearly got sun stroke on a canal boat ride, to whale watching, to Niagara Falls, to seeing a moose, to A+ papers, to new life-long friends, to hurricanes, to snow, to walking along frozen canals, to dog-sledding, to falling in love with Jewish Canadian literature, to even more snow!

When they say the year abroad is the best year of your life, they're not lying. That's not to say I haven't been homesick - I have; I've also fallen foul of impatient huskies and bad footwear choices in tropical storms and paid the head-slamming-concrete price. And I've stood in the middle of a Canadian supermarket aisle and sobbed for no real reason other than being totally overwhelmed at the enormity of foreign country living. But overcoming those things, whether through copious amounts of Tylenol or sheer determination, they all add to the adventure, to the feeling of unadulterated joy that is the year abroad.

Before I arrived in Canada, I was down and scared and anxious and unassertive and frustrated and tired and my aim was to find some courage, no matter how small. Six months later, I am proud of the fact that I seem to have developed courage in bucket loads. From the small things like talking to every person who has the misfortune of crossing my path, to the big things like walking on (frozen) water and just generally moving four thousand miles away across the Atlantic. (And the Atlantic is big).

I love it here, and I'm not just saying that in a blase or caught-up-in-emotion way, I really truly mean it: I love it here. I have been supremely blessed by the people I've met, from Canada to Australia, and everywhere in between. I've been given once in a lifetime opportunities and endless gut-bursting times of laughter.

I could focus on how my time here is coming to an end, but I think I'd rather look forward to all the adventures I can still squeeze in. Praise God for health insurance - and that I haven't needed it thus far!