Wishing in Rome: A Visit to the Trevi Fountain

There are many places to make a wish - wells, on stars, on turkey bones. I've made a lot of wishes in my time because I'm a bit of a dreamer, but the most beautiful place I've ever wished is at the Trevi Fountain in Rome. 

A stunning structure, it looks like a story come to life, and then magically turned into stone, with fountains of water spilling down its rocky surface into a blue pool. Tourists from all over the world visit the Trevi Fountain to make wishes and they throw an estimated 3,000 euros a day into the fountain. It is said that if you throw a coin over your shoulder into the water you will one day return to Rome. I decided to throw four coins into the fountain in hopes of ensuring my return to the Eternal City and I made a wish on every one of them. 

My first wish was for the continued well being of my loved ones. I'd be no where good today if it wasn't for the support of my family and friends - their happiness means the world to me. So across the world, in a far away city, I wished for them to always be well.

Then I wished for happiness because I've been trying to live a life devoted to it. I used to try and be successful above all things, but I've found over the past year that my failures have made me the most happy and success is worth nothing if it only brings you grief.  

Thirdly, I wished for destiny, to find mine, and fulfil it. The coin I used for this wish was a Canadian dime and I hoped the etching of the legendary Bluenose on its face would strengthen my wish that my destiny and I would meet. 

Lastly, I wished for passion. Life is nothing if you don't have passion and love is not worth having if there's no passion in it. Maybe it's because I'm getting older, but I've started to notice people settling for a life devoid of passion. They go back to relationships and jobs that don't work for them, but they feel comfortable in. They sacrifice passion for the safety of the known and they wonder why they're unhappy. Travelling through Europe was me fulfilling my passion for adventure and on my trip I made a promise to myself never to settle for anything less again. This wish into the fountain was a physical act to solidify that promise to myself. 

Four coins, four wishes, and four hopes that I would one day return to Rome to tell the fountain its magic worked and my wishes came true. 

No, I'm not American. Yes, I'm from Toronto: A travelling Canadian's most frequent responses.

After five weeks abroad I got used to repeating myself.

My voice betrayed me around the world. It's hard to sound Canadian when there's no real Canadian accent. Our land is too diverse for that distinction. As soon as I spoke people would ask: Are you American?

I don't blame them for their misinterpretation of the way my English sounds. Of course they'd assume that I'm from the States - it's big, it's well-known, and it makes a point of being present in every situation (wanted or not.)

When my response would clarify that I'm from the North of North America their first question would always be: Are you from Toronto?

There are two things I learned about my own country while visiting other peoples':

1) Canada is associated with winter -- nothing else.
2) They think everyone is from Toronto.

My interactions became predictable to the point of hilarious. People would first comment on the cold and then ask me about Toronto. The amount of times I heard "Canada? You get a lot of snow there, don't you." was remarkable.

I was expecting to discuss hockey, correct typical Canuck stereotypes, and maybe hear a couple jokes about maple syrup, but I got nothing but winter related queries. Why? Because the only people who know stuff about Canada and make fun of Canada are Canadians.

At first I was shocked (how could everyone know nothing about my vast land?!), then I was sad (I know tons of stuff about other countries. Why is my own so ignored?), and finally I was pleased. Being not well known has its advantages and it's kind of romantic to be mysterious. If I were American they'd know everything about my culture and predict my stereotypical behaviour, but as a Canadian, they didn't know what to expect, so I could be whomever I wanted.

I toyed with the idea of telling people about my dog-sled team. How they're world champions and trained with the best coaches in the Yukon. Born and bred under the northern lights, they eat nothing but the best seal meat. They're really great at getting me to and from the maple sugar bush where I work, and the local Tim Horton's. It's hard work tapping trees all day, so I often need a double-double and an apple fritter to get me through. They also don't mind the long run up to the Mountie dispatch office where my boyfriend works. He may be a full-time Mountie, but being a lumberjack is his real passion. Look out, balsam firs! The only thing that grinds my gears is trying to find good dog sled parking in downtown Toronto during a Leafs game. It's madness, I tell you.

Although that would have been fun, I ended up being polite, clean, and conversational, because I'm Canadian. And yes, I'm from Toronto.

A license plate souvenir I found in Paris. Cause, you know, 

nothing says Canada like snowflakes, bears, and moose.

One for sorrow, two for joy - Magpies across Europe

You can be followed by your shadow. You can be haunted by a ghost. But how about a combination of the two in the form of a bird?

The black and white feathers of the magpie reminded me of shadows and spectres, but while these strange birds seemed to follow me around Europe, I was not afraid of their dark omens. Their old rhyme goes:

One for sorrow,
Two for joy,
Three for a girl,
Four for a boy,
Five for silver,
Six for gold,
Seven for a secret never to be told.

My British friend teased me continuously about the amount of magpies we encountered as he drove me around the English countryside. He said he'd never seen so many in his life, so they must be following me. Either because I was a magpie in disguise, or because they were drawn to my sparkly personality. Whatever it may have been, the birds were there at every turn of my journey. Down small country roads, they perched by fields; in London, a city engulfed in pigeons, I saw magpies pecking in the Leathermarket Park; by the shore, they watched as I passed.

I thought the sightings would stop once I left England, but I continued to see them in Amsterdam, Berlin, and Hanau.

British folklore dictates that seeing a solitary magpie is unlucky, and the only way to reverse the bad luck is to salute the bird, or ask after its wife. This makes it seem that although the magpie is alone, he does have a mate, so the one for sorrow rule can be translated into two for joy. In Scotland, it's believed that seeing a solo magpie by a window of a house means death is on its way. The bird is considered a trickster and a thief all over Europe because of its cunning intellect and fondness for stealing shiny objects. The Ancient Romans associated the magpie with Bacchus, the god of wine, and considered it an animal of reasoning powers and intelligence. While in China, it is considered lucky and its name translates to "happiness magpie."

No matter the continent, magpies seem to capture the imagination and have inspired folklore and superstition for hundreds of years. Their intelligence and ritualistic behaviours might have something to do with that.

The magpie is part of the corvid family, which also includes ravens and crows. They're not only considered one of the smartest birds, but one of the smartest animals in general, with their brains being compared to those of primates. Their use of tools, mimicry, social rituals, teamwork, and strategy, put them in a class of their own. They have been known to pass self-recognition tests, the only non-mammal to have done so. With their crafty brains, striking black and white plumage, and ability to outsmart their friends and foes, is it any wonder that they've been associated with witchcraft and effect superstition.

I saw an innumerable amount of magpies during my travels, and no rhyme or lore can predict the uncountable. One for sorrow, two for joy... a hundred for endless possibility. I choose to side with the Chinese belief that the magpie is a messenger of good fortune and happiness. If my British friend thinks these birds were following me, and that I might be one in disguise, I'll take it as the highest compliment.

Superstitious or not, they are welcome at my window any day.

A magpie sits across the street from the house I stayed at in Canterbury. 

The Basic Laws of Cologne - a code to live by

I spent only one sunny afternoon in Cologne, but it was enough time to learn their basic laws and decided to bring them home and adopt them as my own. 

I learned about the laws in an art shop. The windows full of prints of clowns fooling around the streets of the city caught my eye, so my friend and I went in to browse. Almost every print in the shop had a clown in it. We asked the girl behind the counter to explain it to us - was it a theme? Did the artist specialize in clowns? Did the art shop sell anything without clowns? The girl explained that the clowns represented the spirit of Cologne and how the people who live there don't take life too seriously. This a city out to have a good time. 

Then she showed us a print with the 11 basic laws of Cologne written down the centre and said the laws were like a code to live by. The print said:

The Cologne Basic Law:

1. Things are as they are
2. That doesn't matter
3. Everything will take its course
4. If it's gone, it's gone
5. Be open minded to the new and unknown 
6. Haven't got one, don't need one, get rid of it
7. No two clowns are alike
8. We have always done things this way
9. What's the fuss about?
10. Have another drink with us!
11. Laugh until you break

Reading these laws was like getting punched in the chest. I had been trying to live my life by a similar set of rules that I had outlined for myself and now I was sitting in an art shop having these familiar principles translated from the local German dialect into English. Cologne had it figured out this whole time. I suddenly felt a sense of belonging so strong that it was like falling in love with a stranger you've lived beside your whole life - newly familiar. I had found a place on the other side of the world that felt the same way about life as I did and they'd written rules about it. 

I wanted to laugh until I broke, but instead I bought the print. I left the shop smiling and made a promises to myself that day that I would return to Cologne for their carnival, and then would visit New Orleans for their carnival, and Venice for theirs... because no two clowns are alike.

Friends forever, fooling about on the streets of Cologne.

My Canada; his Quebec - two versions of the maple leaf

The morning I left Belgium, a man approached me in a cafe and asked if I was Canadian. He'd seen the flag on my backpack as he'd held the door for me and my friend.

I told him I was, then he asked if I was from Toronto, and again I said "yes."

He pointed at the middle of my Canadian flag patch and said "but this is from Quebec."

There was a moment of confusion, and a back and forth dialogue, as I thought he was saying the flag was from Quebec. I finally realized that he meant the maple leaf on the flag. He explained that he'd worked in Quebec for a while and that these leaves were everywhere - to him the maple leaf was a regional phenomenon.

I explained that the maple leaf is everywhere in Canada, as a tree, and a symbol we all share. He put his hands up in wonder and we all went back to our croissants.

How big must our country seem to outsiders. One man's experience of the maple leaf was so tied to his time in Quebec that he couldn't imagine these red trees being anywhere else but in that province. To imagine a country lined with maple trees and all its people identifying with it as a symbol of home made this Belgian bewildered and he needed to pause for a moment to consider it. To me, a red leaf on a snow-white background is a tell-tale sign of unity, but to the many people who visit Canada it may be how they remember that one place at that one time - it's their impression of the Vancouver Winter Games, Toronto's Pride Parade, or, in this man's case, a work visa to Quebec. Our national symbol became a token for his memories of his time spent working abroad.

He held the door again for us as we left the cafe. I bid him goodbye in French and he said "see you later" in Spanish. I knew then that I would definitely return to this place - with a maple leaf secured to my backpack.

Great Expectations; England to Belgium

My first glimpse of Belgium was of fields and a spot of sun through a dark bank of clouds. It could have been anywhere, but a French flag was flying beside the train tracks, so I knew I was someplace different.

Exploring England the week before was surreal. It was like finally coming to a place I had been to so many times as a mental traveller. I grew up in love with U.K. authors - Beatrix Potter, C.S. Lewis, Lewis Carroll, Kenneth Grahame, Shakespeare, Charles Dickens, The Bronte sisters, Jane Austen, J.R.R. Tolkien, J.K. Rowling, Rudyard Kipling, Roald Dahl, and Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. Their England was the one I expected to see when I arrived and they did not disappoint.

England was a country of mythical status in my mind, built upon page after page of stories written over hundreds of years, but I saw it all just as I had pictured it in my mind. The fields of green countryside filled with bunnies that were in the Peter Rabbit stories I treasured as a child, the ancient and gnarled trees that reminded me of Tolkien, the riverbanks that brought me right back to the pages of The Wind in the Willows, and Baker Street in London where a character so beloved and admired has been made real with his own museum. Sherlock Holmes might as well have really lived for all the detail that has been put into supporting his legend.

England was familiar before I even got there, but at the same time everything felt new as I was seeing what I'd only imagined for the first time. Now, as I ride the train into Belgium, I'm about to experience a whole new level of 'new'. I know very little about Brussels, Bruges, and Ghent, but I'm so excited to see more - past the fields and sun peaking out of dark clouds, past the French flag to the people who live under it. I'm prepared to fall in love with this new place. 

Alone in London I learned

The hairdresser who cut my hair before I left Toronto said I would learn a lot about myself when I travelled alone. He was the first person to include the word "alone". Most people had just been saying I would learn a lot about myself on my travels.

I spent today alone in London and what I have learned is:

• I can go for very long periods of time without needing to speak. I'm normally a very chatty person, so I thought this would feel strange, but it didn't because I was carrying on full conversations with myself in my head. Being alone made the sound of my voice less important. 
• I'm a good navigator and can find my way back to places I've only seen once. I wandered without a map and didn't get lost. 
• I can walk all day and not get tired.
• I can explore a place on a very tight budget without a problem.The most expensive part of my day was visiting Westminster Abbey, but I managed to get the student rate because I convinced the ticket taker that I was doing my PhD in English Literature. Some of the most entertaining parts of my day were free of charge - people watching and listening in on everyday conversations are sometimes better than theatre (like right now there are two men in the Leathermarket Park talking about their Chinos and the Swedish Tinder app.)  
• I get frustrated when I'm told I'm not allowed to take photos. The frustration is so bad that it borderlines on anxiety. 
• I look people in the eye when they speak to me and this tends to surprise people. It either makes them happy and they hold my gaze and smile, or they become nervous and look away.
• I can't ignore practices I was raised with. When a minister at Westminster Abbey led the chapel in prayer I automatically said "amen" at the end even though I didn't mean to and  no longer consider myself religious. Some old habits are like the damned - they never die. 
• I am fine on my own. 

Uncertain future; open runway.

I'm sitting at Pearson International about to catch a plane that will take me across the sea to places I've only read about.

Two weeks ago I ended a 5 year career at the University of Toronto and now I face an uncertain future, an empty runway, and only my severance package keeping me afloat.  I'm going to spend the next month  exploring England, Belgium, Germany, the Netherlands, Italy, and France. Seeing the world and basically going for broke. I'm tired of running a race I'm never going to win and making money that never really felt like mine because I didn't have the luxury of time to spend it.

The last year has been  a non-stop test of my strength. From my common law partner telling me he was gay and that our whole relationship was a lie, losing the home we shared and all sense of what I thought was true in my life, to the day I was laid off from UofT and losing a friend to cancer. All 12 months I felt  like I was griping the edge of a cliff  with a giant vulture trying to pick my fingers away from the rock - waiting for me to crash and fall so it could pick my bones clean. I hung on with the help of family and friends, but now I can let go with no fear.  I've got a plane to catch me and it outflies any vulture.

My passport, camera, and notebook are my close companions and only necessities on this journey - everything else is  just details.  I may be spending all the money I have on this, but at this point I don't care if I come back without a cent. I'll be returning with  more of myself, the part that's always wanted to stand on the Bridge of Sighs in Venice and blow a kiss to 84 Charing Cross Road in London,  and that's worth so much more.