A few photos for you!

The sun going down during our first week here.  Note the Bird poo on the window.

City lights!

Back to School!

Are you starting to notice a theme? This was a few weeks ago, judging from the crescent moon.

So...here's a moment of humility.  Mom - I don't give you as much credit as you deserve.  While I promise our apartment doesn't normally look this bad, I have discovered that it's a lot harder to stay on top of cleaning, and especially dishes, than I thought it would be. One room with all my stuff in it is definitely NOT the same as a whole apartment.

Tonight...while I was blogging.

(Extra)Ordinary

On the last official day of Summer, I awoke suddenly, and my first thought was " I HAVE to look out the window right now." I'm not sure which is stranger, this ridiculous desire, or the fact that I actually got out of my extremely comfortable bed, and did it.  It was around four in the morning, and my apartment was just dimly lit by the city lights from outside.  Quietly, but with some urgency, I walked to the open window, and pushed my face up against the screen.  There, in front of me, was a full and golden moon. Thick beams of amber light shot up to the top, bottom, and sides: a perfect, stunning, unbelievable cross in the sky.  I blinked.  I  ran to the office, and then to the living room, and then to the spare bedroom, thinking it must be a trick played on me by the glass, or the screen. I tried to take photos, pinched myself, and blinked several more times - I must be imagining this.  It must be a really, vivid dream.  Finally I allowed myself to stand still, and silently stare at this phenomenon which I was witnessing.   I love the little moments in life.  Whether miracles of nature, or just funny little you-had-to-be-there stories, I think it's amazing that it only takes seconds to create memories that  could last forever.   

I'm finally (knock on wood) almost over the cold that's been haunting me for the last couple of weeks, and with the return of my ability to breathe normally, has been a lifting of my spirits.  I'm not sure if it's health, or the season, or the things I've been up to this week, or maybe just a renewed breath of life in me...but the world just keeps seeming more and more wonderful.  Autumn hit with the equinox - almost exactly.  Overnight millions of leaves changed from green to yellow, and now with each passing day the city is becoming more vibrant as orange and red take over the trees, and the ground as well.  Though there are definitely still hot days, scarves, sweaters, and mitts are beginning to make appearances around me.  I've also seen my breath in the air already.  And all of these observations, which I could linger on for hours, have happened in the company of friends. 

Friday after C4C, we all went out to enjoy bubble tea in the byward market before the weather gets too cool.  While I definitely wouldn't want to be the one or two lone workers who are suddenly swarmed by a large group, I enjoy being part of the group which all at once takes up the entire restaurant.  I love losing my voice by the end of the evening, because we've been talking and laughing so much.  After 4 hours with the group, Amber and I, and two friends - Carla and Cassie - headed back to our place to play a much anticipated game of Munchkin. Maturity flies out the window with this one, and potentially, any remaining respect you still have for me.  It's a card game of battling monsters with the most ridiculous weapons.  It's a ruleless, ruthless game, which had us laughing ferociously.  And please don't think pokemon - this is much more fun, and much more entertaining.  I'm hooked!  After being terribly behind for most of the game, I teamed up with everyone to make it impossible for Cassie to win, and then forced her to either lose a point, or accept my help (and thus share the glory) to battle the monster.  So the two of us defeated it together, and won the match....at 1 am.  We then walked her home, and returned for what was going to be a sleepover with Carla...but actually turned into watching ridiculous youtube videos, and laughing so hard we were balling until almost 5 in the morning.  

I woke up 5 hours later feeling unusually rested, and proceeded on with a quiet day of organizing, and procrastinating.  Amber's mom and little brother were visiting from Toronto, so they were out together for most of the afternoon.  I admit that having them over made me a little homesick, well, maybe not homesick, but I guess just really wanting my family to be able to visit me too.  It was also fun having them over though! After going to Amber's church, which now meets on Saturday nights, I came home and spent some time preparing for Cross Training at Grace the next morning.

Sunday, I left the apartment around 830, walked to the mall to catch the 95, sat on the bus for about 20 minutes, and then transferred to another bus which would get me almost all the way to church.  When I stepped off the second bus, I was overwhelmed by how fresh and beautiful the air smelled. I think this is the first time in Ottawa that I've noticed loving how the air smells.  It had just rained, and the leaves had just started to fall, and I was far enough from major highways to actually smell nature...mmmm...nature.   

After worship, I left with the kids to observe cross training - and meet some of the youth so that in two weeks, when I teach by myself, it will be a little less awkward.  I am even more excited now to be working with the Sr Youth at Grace - they seem like such an awesome group of young people, and I can't wait to get to know them more!  Church was followed by a potluck brunch, and then I went home to get some work done.  I love Sundays!

Monday I returned to school, and after my morning class and doing some stuff for C4C, I went to the market with Allison (who just graduated from EMCS and is now attending uOttawa too!).  It's so weird having someone from home here! But I'm enjoying spending time with her each week, talking about life, rez, classes, and things that are different in Ottawa.  I bought some local fruits and vegetables, including purple cauliflower, which I bought specifically for Amber, who I'm trying to teach to love vegetables. Then I came home, did some work, did some skyping, cooked shepherd's pie, and enjoyed the rest of my evening with Amber.  

The last few days have been pretty ordinary, a word which here means, full of their own special moments, combined with the every day tasks of cooking, cleaning, and going to school. 

Here ends this post. 

Under Construction.

This blog is under renovations at the moment.  Please post comments/suggestions!

Ode to Just Outside MRT 212

I've found myself a quiet spot
A quick escape from bustling halls
and flexing minds, tongues, calves.

It's not a shaded nook where
I sit, the small of my back pressed
against a solid, ancient tree,
and breathe fresh earthy air
and warm my toes in patches of streaming sunlight.

My eyes don't dart from wonder to wonder,
wandering amid the artistic
poetic creation around me.

My hair isn't blown by a butterfly's
breeze which dances in leaves
and sings soft ambiance.

I'm not sheltered by marble columns
or arches, or coloured glass
or hand laid bricks.

I can't smell the warmth and age
of profound discoveries and recorded truths
that are kept in the words or cryptic symbols
of great philosophers, linguists,
historians, or mathematicians.

But
There is something captivating
in the tinged concrete pillars
in the humming floreescent lights
in the conflicting institutional
colours of the carpets, doors, and walls.
Something which shatters my romanticized vision of study.

My eyes are caught by the one beam of real light
which invades through an impossibly narrow window,
the one reminder of simplicity in this semi-closed
academic sanctuary.

I stare at tipsy leaves
which boldly reach from the safety of
abstract vines which bring life
and love to
concrete.

I do not imagine sweeping colour,
breathtaking art, granite floors,
a ceiling of skylights,
or even an inviting chair
in this foyer.

I do not hear harmony or music
in the cacophony of clinking doors
and the choppy rise and fall of
the lectures taking place behind them.

I do not need to.

The future is in this room, carefully contemplating
absorbing, processing, highlighting,
memorizing, resting, eating, sighing,
laughing, waiting,
breathing,
learning.

And that grandeur is inspiring enough
for me.

School's officially in.  I mean actually officially.  It's past the point of exciting new school supplies, welcome back, how was your summer, and introductions.  And there's one fundamental difference from last year, and I think, from many of my years of schooling.  I haven't hit my usual, UG, I have to do this for  X more months.  In fact, even though I'm on the verge of falling behind in my readings, I have quizzes and assignments due in every class, and I'm counting down the days until Thanksgiving, Reading Week, Exams, and Christmas (Ok, maybe not the last two), I'm actually enjoying most of my classes.  I really care about my African History class - I feel like it's actually helping me to understand more about WHY things are the way they are.  I really love going to my History of Health and Disease lectures - I dont sit there watching the clock, my mind doesn't wander.   I love the challenge of my French Pronounciation class - I love that I can actually see where it's going, and how it's going to help me grasp the language.  And while I dread attending my other french class, I don't always hate being there. I remember talking to my friends at school last year and thinking "You are getting so much more out of University than I am."  Maybe it's because I wasn't ready last year.  Maybe because for one noticeable period of time in my life, my maturity level was lower than my age.  Maybe it's just because I know a bit more of what I was getting myself into this time.  Whatever the reason, I'm sitting on the top of the slide that's about to be this year - and actually looking forward to the ride down.  Before coming to Ottawa last Fall, I remember spending some time with a little girl in Edmonton.  And I remember helping her climb up to the top of the slide, sitting down with her on my lap, counting, and sliding down together.  There's a gradual transition between being scared to slide with someone, enjoying that slide, being nervous to slide by yourself, and squealing with glee as your body gains speed in an effortless, exhilarating trip to the ground.  I think this year, I'm so much more ready to slide on my own.  I'm excited for the journey - I don't know where it's going, I dont know if I'll succeed, I don't know how I'll pay for the next part - but rather than just looking forward to the end result, this year, I'm looking forward to the learning curve itself.  In my back yard growing up, we had a blue slide with a few little bumps or waves on the way down.   I remember trying to slow myself down for the bumps, trying to hold myself to the slide so as not to gain speed as I slid over them.  It's so easy for me to get scared of the bumps that are coming: finances, exams, stepping out of my comfort zone.  But looking back on my countless afternoons racing up the ladder and zooming down that slide - the bumps that scared me turned out to be the best part.  (And so I'm praying that this will apply to my dreaded tuesday/thursday french class...and soon!)

~
^ This means that I'm tired of trying to figure out how to make my last paragraph flow into the coming one.

Sunday Amber and I spent the afternoon painting faces at a community barbeque.  I was amazed how quickly I was able to paint butterflies, sponge bob, and spiderman after the first few tries.  Let me say this: I love spending time with kids.  I loved the way they scrunched up their noses when the cool, slimy paint first touched their faces, and how they tried so hard not to budge when the brush tickled their skin. I loved their amazed, giggling explosive smiles when they found their new face in the mirror.  I loved that at any given point the conversation was in at least 2 or 3 languages, with one translating for another, translating for another.  I loved listening to them talk about what they love about superheros, or why one cartoon character was better than another.  Having spent all of last year immersed in my studies, spending time with people my age, I'm quite positive that if I were to do the same thing again this year, I would begin to shrivel up inside.  And so, this post marks the death of the non-involved, quite spectator Jennifer.  I'm excited to begin leading Cross Training (which is basically Sunday School) for Senior Youth and potentially K-4 at my church this year.  I'm excited to be using my time for more than just me: and praying that I'll know when to say yes, and when to say no.

Also this week, I had the opportunity to meet Kim Phuc, who became famous after a journalist captured the image of her running out of the fire ball that was once her Vietnamese village, her clothes melted off and her face saturated with emotion.  I sat and listened to her speak to a group of students in the beautiful Tabaret Chapel.  We are so blessed, in Canada, to be free to study.  To be free to decide what it is that we want for our lives.  To be free to choose where we want to go.  I think her story for the first time really made me think about my freedom, and even though I've always been thankful for it, I guess I haven't really understood what it meant.  She's speaking for many Universities through events organized by Campus for Christ, and after her presentation, a group of us went out for dinner with her at a Vietnamese restaurant.  She talked to us about how she defected to Canada -with her new husband, her purse, camera, and nothing else.  She talked to us about losing her dreams to the will of politicians, who wanted to use her as a symbol of the war.  She talked to us about forgiveness: and how she learned to forgive the people who dropped the bomb.  It was an incredible evening: talking and laughing with her, and also bonding more with some friends from C4C.

I think that brings me to this moment.  I'm sitting outside of the technology/engineering building at school, in which I'm about to have my next class - French Pronounciation. I'm cozy in my jeans and knitted sweater, the breeze keeps pushing my hair to one side.  It keeps pushing the clouds that way too. To the right, the sky is grey and white and blue, strips of opaque clouds give it depth and texture.  But over my other shoulder, the clouds are soft, seemingly paper thin, whispy, light, and beautiful as they dance across an endless blue.  It's all about perspective: and I'm praying that you see the sun today.

Transition part 4 (There's a Woset in my Closet)

I love that as the day slides into evening, I can stare out my large living room window, and watch the sky react to the coming darkness: with vibrant, bold sweeping colours, the clouds become chameleons and change as rapidly as the moments pass.  The sun slips down behind the temporarily-silhouetted tips of parliament's peace tower, in a golden, blazing hope-inspiring farewell.  And then I watch as the clouds retreat to cool, peaceful blues and sleepy-time purple.  I also love to listen to the cacophony of pounding rain and snapping thunder while lightening flashes in the sky, as though God is frantically trying to capture photographs of the feuds taking place within the deep heavy clouds. I feel small and safe and awed and warm and young, as I sit on the edge of my seat, or bolt to the window, and press my face against the glass as my eyes dart around the sky trying to catch the next surprise.

And I can't even describe how much I love being able to invite people over to my home - or how much I love even just all the details of making it a home.  I love that each room is becoming unique, and that when Amber and I finally have time/money to finish what we've planned, our personalities will be expressed through our decorations.  I love the space that we have.  I love that I can leave dishes and food in the kitchen.  I love that I can leave my towel and shampoo and anything else I desire (to a point) in the washroom.  I love that my work space, living space, sleeping space and eating space are not all in the same room.

And I'm trying to love the quirks.  For instance, the rather large quantity of pigeon droppings on the balcony and windows.  Not to mention the hurricane that's almost constantly going on inside of the apartment.  I feel like I'm locking some sort of magical explosion or three headed dog inside each time I stand outside of the door, either pulling with everything inside me to close it, or pushing with all my weight against the wind, so as not to slam the door.  You have to lift the drawers to open them, and you can't open one of the vanity doors in our washroom, oh, and you can't completely close the window in our awesome room.  We've added a few quirks of our own.  Almost everything we own is named Zellers, with the exception of our futon who is named "Forsaking Zellers," and our cleaning gloves, which are named bed bug and cockroach, two things of which we are terrified. Today, Amber and I discovered that we actually dont live on the 15th floor. The missing 13th floor is really not a myth! How hilarious is that? Very. I think.  But maybe I'm just weird.  In which case, you should try laughing at these kinds of things too.  It makes life much more entertaining!

What kind of first apartment would this be if everything was perfect? Imperfection is what leads to personality.  And how boring would life be without personalities?  So our place isn't perfect.   But what kind of strange first apartment is? Imperfections lead to great personalities, and how boring would life be without those?

Transition Part 3

It was also filthy..but spacious!  We looked at each of the rooms: two large bedrooms, a small washroom, a storage closet, a "den," the living room, the kitchen, and the numerous closets...and then sat down in the coolest spot we could find, to go over the gigantic stack of papers I'd been given.  That is when we noticed that after taking off socks and walking around the apartment for a few minutes, our barefeet were pitch black.  And so we took off for our first trip to Zelllers, conveniantly located about 5 minutes away from our apartment, including the time it takes to wait for the elevator.  I'm pretty sure we've been to Zellers at least once every day since arriving, though the record may be closer to 4 times in one day.  We bought some cleaning supplies and groceries for the night, and then headed home.  By this point, the sun was going down, and we were very much anticipating the coolness that should come with its departure.  I believe it was when we went around to open windows in each of the rooms that we discovered the great lack of lighting in our apartment.  We'd noticed lightswitches earlier - but had not noticed that there are no cieling lights in any of the bedrooms, or in the living room. And so we spent our evening cleaning in the dark, listening to music.  When I was getting to the point where I was about to fall over with exhaustion, we decided to get ready for bed.  Amber had brought an air mattress, which, if it had been a reasonable temperature, we probably could have shared.  But given that it was still 30 degrees, and the mattress was a twin, that was not going to work.  Instead, I borrowed her sleeping bag, and carefully organized all of my clothes inside of it to use as a mattress.  It was rather firm...but I actually slept pretty well each of the nights I used it!

We spent most of our time before classes began trying to find furniture and organize our apartment...and now that classes have started, would you be surprised to know we are still doing the same thing? I will share a few stories...

Friday we decided to go to a Salvation Army and a Value Village which were both within walking distance of the apartment.  It was still uncomfortably hot outside, and so we walked slowly as the sun beat down on the concrete roads and on our heads.  I had coppied directions down from google maps, and the plan was to go to the Salvation Army first, and then to Value Village.  I'm not really sure what happened, but we never found the Salvation Army, even though we followed the directions and walked way farther than we should have needed to.  By the time we gave up, we were both too hot and too tired to walk all the way back to Value Village, so we decided to take the bus to our next stop, Walmart, instead.  Since we are both terrified of bed bugs, and so we decided that it would be a good idea to purchase a cheap futon new, isntead of risking having to get rid of things should our apartment become infested.  After checking a few different stores, we decided that we'd get one at Walmart.  Unfortunately, since Amber's Dad was our only access to a car, and he was only in Ottawa Saturday and Sunday, when we found one on Friday and the store wouldn't hold it...we had to leave it behind.  So, Saturday morning, we phoned Walmart with the product number to see if there was still one there...but it was gone.  Then we began phoning all of the other Walmarts, including two in Quebec.  We switched the website to French, which listed the same futon under the word "futon" and so, when I attempted to find if there was one in stock, this is the word I used in French.  My dictionary, and the computer, and the Walmart Website all say the same thing...but aparently it wasn't the right word, because noone that I talked to understood me.  Finally I was talking to one person in English, and I asked for a futon...and was transfere to the photography department.   While I may never speak French again, we did find eventually find a futon!

On the way to pick up the futon, we stopped at Value Village, where we purchased a table and a shelf.  We were told that they'd hold them for 24 hours in the warehouse part of the store, so we could come back later to pick them up.  Well, when we did, the table was there, and the shelf was there, but the leaf for the table had mysteriously disappeared.  By this point I was really tired, and really frustrated - because we'd bought that table specifically because it had a leaf.  After phoning and sternly talking to the manager, I was told that there was nothing they could do about it, and they would not give us any money back because they lost the leaf.  If we wanted to, we could exchange the table wtihin 7 days, but they didn't have any other furniture, and the entire exchange amount would have to be used at the time of returning the table.  Well, we do have a table.  And we didn't have to drive all over town to various homes we'd found on used Ottawa trying to buy one.  But, if there was any doubt before, when it comes to thrift stores, I'm definitely a Salvation Army girl!

After lots of drilling, screwing, hammering, and redaing instruction booklets, our apartment is finally beginning to resemble a home.  We just need some things on the walls, oh yeah, and a cushion on our couch.

Tune in to the next episode of Transition: Jennifer-getting-her-blog-caught-up,  and you'll get to know some of the things I LOVE about my apartment, and some of it's semi-loveable quirks.

Transition Part 2

Ottawa was hot.  Very hot.  Sweating, exhausting, brain frying, sticky, icky hot. (Yes, Taylor and Veronica, I made you wait in suspense for that!)  Lianne picked Lane and I up at the airport, and we headed off in the direction of the apartment. While Lane caught up with all his family news, I madly phoned Amber to find out when she’d be arriving, and the rental agent, to see if we could still get keys at 6 in the evening.  After not  getting very far with either one of them, we decided to just try going to the apartment.  I ran between the buildings and the car, trying to find the rental office, and the management office, and let Lianne know what was up without calling long distance.  Eventually, I signed a paper, and the keys were in my hands! Lane helped me take my tote and suitcases up the elevator to my apartment on the 15^th floor.  He waited at the elevator while I went to open the door.  I slid the key from my pocket into the lock, turned, and pushed the door.  Nothing happened.  I pushed harder – and it was opened enough to let a brilliant light come through, but that was it.  My heart was racing in anticipation.  My cheeks were burning with heat and embarrassment – I’ve always had door problems, but this was ridiculous! I stood in the hallway and watched Lane fiddle with the knob and push on the door.  Finally, it opened.  Light poured out into the hallway, and we stepped in to my first apartment.  This was a moment that I’d hoped to soak in, to breathe deep, to allow my excitement to build in me, bursting through my smile and my quickened steps as I raced around my new home, trying desperately to capture each image and thought into perfect, happy memories.   But in the heat, after a long flight and a long fight with the door, I was too overwhelmed to intensely feel anything, except my phone beginning to vibrate and ring in my pocket.  Amber was downstairs.  We dropped everything, locked the door, and went back down to the parking lot.  Lane and his mom left for home, Amber said goodbye to a friend that had driven her from Toronto, and together, we entered the building, steped into the elevator, and made a fateful turn down the hall.

Yes, fateful.  When Lane and I had come up, we had turned left, and found the apartment in the corner.  So, Amber and I got out of the elevator, turned  left, and began trying to open the door.   But the lock wouldn’t budge.  After my initial struggle with the door, I wasn’t surprised, and so we kept taking turns trying to get it to move, but with no luck.    We saw a woman in the hallway, and asked for her help – but she too couldn’t get it to move.  So as she left, she volunteered to send security up to help us, and asked which room number.  That was when we looked at the door.  I thought my cheeks were red before!  What I hadn’t considered, was the fact that there are elevators on both sides of the hallway.  When I came up with Amber, it must have been on the opposite side of the hall.  Laughing at ourselves, we pulled Amber’s suitcases to the opposite end, where after only a little pushing and shoving, we made it in to the right apartment.  

And it was warm.  Nice, bright, laughing, smiling, story-to-tell-the-grandkids warm. 

To be continued…

Transition Part 1

It’s been a long time since I last blogged! The last sands of summer are slipping through the hourglass as I type.  In so many beautiful little moments, this summer has been unforgettable.  Staring at infinite stars, walking through barely touched woods, surprising friends, swimming in one of nature’s most extravagant pools,  laughing and paddling ridiculous homemade boats,  gathering with people I love to praise and pray both at my church and my home…how blessed I have been!   There are definitely major challenges that come with having my life in two different cities, so far apart, but I am overwhelmed by the love and support of my family and friends in both places!

August came to a close with our annual camping trip, dinners with my grandparents, last little adventures with my friends, and the long-dreaded task of packing my belongings to head back to school.  On August 31,  I woke up after a short sleep to meet Sidney.  We sat and talked, prepared a marinade for dinner, and then took the bus to UVic together, where I was meeting Lane, who had driven across Canada with his friend, and was flying back to Ottawa around the same time as me.  Let me say this: after taking the bus even once from Sooke to UVic, I am SO glad that I’m not living at home and commuting to school!    After hugs and numerous goodbyes and trying-not-to-really-think-about-it faces, Sidney went into the bookstore, and I set off for home with Lane.

Do you ever have experiences that seem completely natural and yet seem like they are impossible and foreign and…I can’t even think of the right word.  But that’s what it was like having Lane at my house.   As normal as inviting a friend over after school…and yet, this was the bridging of two completely different worlds for me.  There haven’t been connections between my Sooke life and Ottawa life before.   Everything that has existed in Sooke has been just in Sooke, and beyond my feeble attempts to describe a scene, or a friend, or the colour of the walls in my bedroom – ocean blue when the sky is painted with happy clouds and sun is bouncing between the waves and the air is sweet and refreshing - Sooke has been just on the map, and in my heart.  And everyone that I’ve met in Ottawa, all my experiences here – they too have been just my own when I go home.   It makes me wonder how it felt for Amber and Veronica to have me at their homes in Toronto.  It makes me want to be able to bring more University friends to see the place where I grew up, and to touch its trees, dance in its wind, be renewed in its water, and understand the intertwining of salt air and cedar roots in my life.

It was good to be reminded of why snowflakes and flaming leaves are making their way into the fibers of my heart too, right when I was getting ready to leave one home and return to the other.   Lane and I caught up on the adventures of the summer while I crammed exactly 50 pounds of random things into each of my three bags, and late into the night as I tried to remember everything and to think rationally when it had been days since I’d had enough sleep, I was so glad of the company.  I made it into bed sometime around 1 am, and the last thing I remember thinking before falling asleep, was that I should get up and put my flip-flops in my bag.

Mom, Dad, and Tim got up around 4 to drive Lane and I to the airport for our early flights, and we laughed and talked in the van all the way to the airport.  It’s such a bittersweet time of year.  I part with some, only to meet up with others, and the hug-fests on either end, though both motivated by love, are embraces of polar opposite expressions.   Maybe I’m dramatic about goodbyes.  Maybe things were getting to me more because my sleep deprived self is more like a 6 year old girl than a young woman about to move in to her first apartment.  Lane flew Air Canada, and I flew West Jet.  We flew through different cities, on flights just a few minutes apart.  And I was so thankful to have a friend to sit with in the airport of one home, and a few hours later, to meet up again in the airport of the other. 

 ...to be continued.