And now, Bring me that Horizon--Looking Ahead to 2014

Part of the reason why I've been consistent in writing these blog posts is the feedback I have received from readers. Many people appreciate the candid, open nature of these posts. These aren't press releases, they are honest and (mostly) unfiltered thoughts. Some will spur further conversation, some will call for a laugh, some will cause a ruffling of the brow. Being open and honest in such a public setting has its pros and cons. I enjoy writing and crafting my thoughts on this space. And from what I have heard from other people, they appreciate the posts and learn from them too. In a way I look at this blog as a way I can impart my unique experiences on this crazy adventure, and help other who are finding their respective routes.

A part of me still cannot believe how the year 2013 has unfolded. In 2012, an uncle of mine came to Edmonton as he often does (he's from Vancouver). We went to a bar in downtown Edmonton for a drink. The nature of our interactions is that whenever we see each other in Edmonton, he critiques my life from head to toe. And that's literally, head to toe. The beer I order, how I'm standing/sitting, sartorial tastes, everything is on the table. And then, of course, the important things like the education I am receiving, goals I have, etc. That night in January, I was feeling the effects of a break up. I was a bit very sad, disillusioned, and not in the best mental state to take the advice wholeheartedly.

The last time we met for a beer was that night 2012. That was when the idea of moving out of my house, let alone Edmonton, was as foreign to me as rap music. He implored me to get out and experience the world; to learn and develop. He also advised me to get out of North America for a while. As usual, I nodded my head, tried to convince myself that he had my best interests at heart, and vowed to change some things in my life.

Despite the idea being so foreign to me, I knew and had thought about getting out of Edmonton for a while. I knew the number of opportunities students have through the government, where processes are facilitated and things are generally easier. In high school, I had pictured my perfect university experience. One of the elements was spending a semester abroad to study. In my second year of university, I knew that it wasn't possible to do that if I was going to switch from Education to Communication Studies. So I had to find an alternative.

January, thanks to just a general frustration on my part, I began researching and pursuing other opportunities vigorously. I decided to commit the same amount of time to the research/application process that I would be to a university course. For the months of January and February, I was essentially in six university classes.

The time would have been worth it regardless, but the effort yielded (thankfully) tangible results. Eight months in 2013 I was outside of Alberta. It still doesn't feel real. I learned a huge amount, made some great memories with even greater people, and got to write a pretty surreal chapter in my life story.

I found out about both opportunities in the same week, which was quite overwhelming. In a cool twist of fate, on the afternoon I learned about earning the opportunity in Paris, there was an Edmonton Oil Kings game.At the game, I felt very weird, having just received this strange email. I ended up introducing myself to Edmonton Oilers President Kevin Lowe. We talked for a few minutes (VERY nice person). He actually knew about Paris before most of my family did.

This year, I probably took more and greater risks than my previous years combined. They all paid off in some shape or form, whether it was learning new skills or becoming more independent, or just gaining confidence that I was on the right path.



Looking at 2014, there are big decisions to be made right off the bat--namely, where I will be in May, and where I will be in September. Those are choices that will be thought about long and hard, though in my gut I know where I will end up. It is a VERY similar feeling to the one that implored me to move to France

Regardless, at one point fairly soon I'll also be faced with the task of reintegrating into Edmonton. It legitimately excites me that I get to rediscover my hometown. I imagine I'll be at Churchill Square, St Joseph's Basilica, Duchess Bakery, and other character-laden spots more often.

My approach during that reintegration will be the exact same as it was in Montreal and Paris; namely, that I'll have to start over in every regards. The streets will be
unfamiliar, the people will be different, and life will have a different pace. It'll still be a hell of a ride though.

 

2013 is a year I'll always look back on with the fondest memories. I'm proud of what I accomplished in these past 12 months, and am satisfied with the many mistakes I made. I definitely gained confidence, learned a huge amount, became quite independent, made great new friends, became a better thinker, and wrote a pretty incredible chapter in my life story. I even made that aforementioned uncle proud, a word he had never said to me before. That didn't stop the critiques of my fashion sense though.


A few people have asked me for advice on life. For the first time ever, I feel like I can contribute when this question arises. In no particular order is that advice:

--Get out of your hometown. Whether it is Castor or Edmonton or Brévy or Fez, get out and explore another city for an extended period of time. Move to Toronto for the summer to work. Find a volunteer program in an underdeveloped country. Teach English in France. I can't say enough how incredible both Montreal and Paris have been. Students have it easier than other demographics. Get out and explore.

--Talk to strangers (within reason). This is a habit I developed when I first got to Montreal when, well, I knew no one. Saying Bonjour to someone having a coffee can lead to more than meets the eye. Some of my funnest and fondest memories this year have been when I went to a random bar, didn't know anyone, and just started chatting with people I figured I may get along with. In this respect, I have been very surprised how friendly Parisiens have been. Many have ended up chatting with me for a few minutes about life, their kids, life in France, etc.

--Don't fear failure. I feel like I am here in Paris, writing this on a Friday night (don't hassle me, I have a cold) because I never really considered failure when I filled out the application, nor did it for the journalism job I have in the city, nor for the position in Montreal. I think that the word gets too bad a rap. It goes with my favourite saying Leave it all out there. There's also a Steve Jobs quote Stay hungry, stay stupid. I'll show Friday Night Lights here and coach Gary Gaines' definition of perfection:

--Sometimes, the best thing to do is throw out the playbook and go with your gut. Everything was telling me moving to France was wrong: delaying my degree by a year, moving somewhere without a support system, not making very much money, a position that, on paper, wouldn't help my CV very much, the list goes on. My first real gut feeling was the one that said to say screw that logic, I'm headed off. Best decision of my life (that and moving to Montreal).

--Realize that life does not have to consist of complete degree-->find career-->work 40 years-->retire. Who cares if you graduate at 24 instead of 22? How many years does someone get to take such massive and carefree leaps of faith? The race to get degrees and make partner at the accounting firm may be beneficial financially (in fact, it definitely would be), but is someone's life more enriched and complete with those extra couple of years of work, or of having new experiences, trying new things, and creating memories? 

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 My final anecdote will be this: on May 11, 2013 I moved into my apartment in Montreal. 3620 rue Lorne Crescent. A block from Stade Molson, where the Alouettes play. This was my first real chez moi. I remember having just gotten organized and put my clothes away and figured out the basics of the kitchen. I took the elevator down for the first time, and walked outside the building. My first thought: Will there ever come a day where I miss this place?

I feel so blessed I don't have to broach that question about the year 2013.

60 Thoughts on 60 Days Living in Paris

Time truly does fly by. I had my last supper, at Tim Horton's of course, said a teary goodbye to my dad and sister, and left them and my life in Canada behind. I sauntered through the security line at the Calgary International Airport, found a cozy spot with an outlet, and surfed the internet. My mind was racing. 100% credit to my dad who, up until we bid adieu at the airport, had told me that it wasn't too
late for me to change my mind, return to school, and continue my normal life. But I knew I could not let a chance to live in Paris pass me by. It would destroy my year at school knowing what I could possibly be missing out on. On that note, here are 60 thoughts on my 60 days France. Some of them will be serious, some comical, all of them completely honest. This is Salim Valji unfiltered here. J'éspere que vous profitez beaucoup!

1.     It is still so, so hard to believe. I am living in Paris. Pardon my French, but I am living in freakin' Paris! It is still surreal, 1 440 hours later. Incredible.  

2.     Sometimes living on your own, regardless of the city your in, can wear on you. Eating by yourself, waking up to an empty apartment, not hearing a "hello" when you walk in. These things can tax you mentally. Those times crop up every now and then. I think the secret to getting through those moments is asking yourself, “Do I believe in what I'm here for?” Remind yourself that you’re doing something so few people get to do.

3.      It’s fairly easy to cure bouts of homesickness these days. Twitter, Facebook chat, cheap cell phone plans, streaming NHL games…it’s easy to stay connected.

4.     I’m listening to Everything has Changed by Taylor Valji, err Swift, right now. Ideally, I’d be by the River Seine (about 10 minutes away by foot), but the weather currently doesn’t allow for it.

5.     Parisians are wonderful. I cannot comprehend why so many in Canada warned me about the opposite, and to brace for cold, soulless, merciless people. Whether it is me being lost, or people inquiring about my accent, or giving me extra mandarin oranges at the market, these people are awesome. Totally misunderstood. I have yet to encounter any snobbish or ‘stereotypical’ Parisian or French person. 

6.     The Great Canadian Pub on Quai des Grands Augustins. So cool that a place that hoser-friendly exists. In a very prominent part of downtown Paris no less. The pub overlooks the Seine, and is a ten minute walk from Notre Dame Church. The staff is great, there is always hockey on, and it’s reasonably priced.

7.     But I probably won’t go back for a while. I need to experience French cafes as often as I can while I’m here!

8.     I have a lot of great friends in Canada. If I’ve ever had to complain about something or needed some cheering up, someone has always been there for me, including the lovely ladies (or wives, as I call them) I Skyped with this morning. Much appreciated!

9.     I was legitimately worried that I’d miss out on playoff hockey fever in Edmonton. Hard to believe that the year has gone so awry so early on for the Oilers.

10.   Teaching is a joy. I truly enjoy being at the school. As I explained earlier, I know my limits. I want to be a mentor, an older brother almost, to the students. I want them to feel comfortable around me, learn English, and have a relaxed class. I’m not a hardass. I’m a breath of fresh air for them.

11.   So cool that I can talk about How I Met Your Mother with my students and say, “They mentioned my hometown last episode. Did anyone catch it?”

12.   Montreal prepared me BIG TIME for this experience, in every single way. Learning to cook and clean. Dealing with homesickness. Rebuilding a social life. Navigating a different culture and language. 3620 rue Lorne Crescent will always hold a special place in my heart.

13.   I’ll expand on this soon, but the French education system turns its students into far better thinkers than the Canadian system. I’m quite surprised how complex my students can think in English and the ideas they are able to convey, even if the grammar is a bit off at times.

14.   Some parts of Paris just take your breath away, simple as that. When I visited the Eiffel Tower, while on the metro, there was a very talented accordion player. It’s like what you see in the movies. 

15.   Some parts of Paris smell worse than the latrines of my parents’ homeland. No other way to put it.

16.   Sometimes I do worry I’m taking the city too much for granted. But I think anyone in my position would.

17.   The teachers at my high school have been outstanding to me. All of them have treated me like a family member. They are wonderful human beings. I am very grateful to them.

18.   I think that, as a student, it is my job to investigate any and all education options available to me. I have two full years of university left, and I am certain I’ll be getting my journalism degree. For now, I’d say I’m likely (as in 50% + 1) to return to MacEwan University. But I’m not doing my job if I don’t see what else is out there, be it in other parts of Canada, North America or Europe. City University in London, England, Concordia University in Montreal, and Mount Royal University in Calgary would be the likeliest places I would transfer to.  

19.   Student culture in France is non-existent compared to North America. No keggers or frat parties or ragers here.

20.   I eat very little fast food here. My mates in Canada may recall that I’d splurge on a Wendy’s junior burger or McDonalds Big Mac quite often. Not here. I’ve had McDonalds twice since I got here.

21.   Groceries are fairly comparable in price to Canada.

22.   It sure is nice not having any snow!!!!!

23.   How many journalism schools are there in Canada? My estimate, because I don’t feel like doing the research on this, is at least 15. In an industry that loses 2 500 jobs on average, there are still thousands of graduates being tossed out there. Makes very little sense.

24.   On that note, what exactly is the purpose of print/professional writing based journalism programs anymore? I understand that someone cannot wake up one day and decide to become a writer and that it takes practice and time and structure and coaching, but with newspapers shutting down and editorial staff shrinking and processes becoming outsourced, what’s the return on investment of the $30 000 in tuition for a program? Learning how to produce webcasts or or gaining on air skills or taking smart phone footage and turn it into a comprehensive, immersive, online story is what these programs should expand to. There has to be some regulation from somewhere. It’s the same thing with Education. Thousands upon thousands of graduates, and no jobs. Canadian undergrads have it tough.

25.   I think that my number one trait in a potential dating prospect is, “Someone who would be fun to have a beer with.” Simple as that.

26.   I think that first, foremost, and primarily, I am Canadian. No ifs, ands, or buts. John A. MacDonald and George Etienne Cartier are the men who worked to create my country. And yours.

27.   I do anticipate the moment when I return to Edmonton, whenever that is. Sometimes I like to imagine there’s someone doing a play by play of my life. I’m thinking that ‘The Call’ for my first step out of the airplane onto Edmonton soil will be made by former NFL quarterback Joe Theismann. “Salim Valji—Back and better than ever” will be the call.

28.   I have a playlist of five songs for all my train rides back from Paris. Dirty Work (Steely Dan), I Guess That’s Why They Call it the Blues (Elton John), Long Live (Taylor Swift), Always on my Mind (Willie Nelson), and finally Anything Goes by AC/DC. The tears will be flowing when I realize, at one point, that it will by the final time I play those songs in that setting.

29.   I have a few great mates here in Paris. It’s nice to have a group of people you can text or call to hang out. Met them by chance, and am thankful for it.

30.   It is so, so hard to believe I still have two years left of university. Two. Not one semester or one year, but two years. It seems like an eternity.

31.   My students are quite smart. They can articulate ideas very well in English. Grammar and pronunciation can be off at times, but you have to give them credit for thinking the language at such a high level.

32.   I have given lessons on: Black history, segregation, the American Dream, Steve Jobs, technology, internet addiction, and the history of the United States. All in English. These kids are smart. Worth mentioning twice.

33.   It’s funny how the word success has such a broad definition from person to person or culture to culture. For me it’s if I ‘left it all out there.’ Simple as that. If I can look people in the eye and honestly say that I did everything I possibly could, there wasn’t one more thing I could have done, I’m always going to be proud of what I did do.

34.   I miss being a sports broadcaster and working for the university. I loved interacting with the athletes, and making friends with them. It was quite an experience.

35.   But my interests have changed. I noticed this when I began living in Montreal. I’m no longer completely focused on working in sports. Honestly, I don’t really know what I want now in terms of a career. I know I want it to be related to the field of journalism somehow. But not necessarily as a journalist. Life is confusing.

36.   One of my lesson plans was to get students to talk about their heroes. I remember planning the lesson the night before, and I was having a hard time thinking of my own personal hero. I really don’t think I have one. Strange.

37.   I think I miss bartending. It’s similar to teaching in a way—you’re the caretaker of a physical environment. You can choose how people feel in that environment.

38.   In Montreal, I would hear people say that I had a very Western Canadian accent. Here, of course, people notice the different accent too. I’d love to pick up a French accent here in Paris and continue hearing observations about my voice when I return to Canada.

39.   I think that I’ll give a lot of credit to the folks who are still with me. Only 21 thoughts left!

40.   Me living in Paris makes me appreciate all the not-so-fun moments that happened in Edmonton. Lots had to happen for me to wind up here—me being in a particular frame of mind, having confidence, being unattached to a girl or job…funny how if something small had gone different, I may not be here.

41.   At one point, I will perform stand up comedy here in Paris. Bet on that.

42.   I think that it absolutely sucks that universities prevent their own students from achieving great things. Due process is respected too much, and opportunities are frowned upon. It sounds like my journalism internship will work out in Paris, but it still is incredibly frustrating.

43.   I think I will reward myself this morning by having a croissant and coffee at a café.

44.   Every human being should live on another continent. Experience life from another culture, live with different people, be free. Whether you teach English, bartend, or work as a journalist, GET OUT.

45.   I will try to get involved with some sort of mentorship program when I return to Canada. It would be fun to be someone’s inspiration or help them out in some way.

46.   I feel like my life is a bit too focused at times. I’d love to take up some sort of meditation just to give myself a mental break every now and again.

47.   Here in Conflans Sainte Honorine, the small Parisien town I live in, whenever I go to the local pub, every customer that walks through the doors shakes hands with the patrons already there, then shakes hands with the bartender. Very cool custom.

48.   Stade France is pretty epic, but it doesn’t have the big, platinum scoreboard that other stadiums have. I wonder if that is unique to this stadium, or if all sporting venues in Europe just don’t have the big, central scoreboard?

49.   Confidence is a beautiful thing. I feel like 95% of life boils down to if you believe in yourself.

50.   I think that I’d love to make some Parisien friends. Everyone I hang out with is either British or American. It’d be nice to have a group of French friends.

51.   Laundry in this country takes longer. As does opening a bank account. And getting a cell phone. And, well, life in general. The amount of paperwork here is amazing.

52.   Having a sense of humor is HUGE if you are traveling or living in another country. Being able to laugh at yourself and make others feel comfortable goes quite a long way.

53.   I think that ideally, I am nowhere near Edmonton until the end of August 2014.

54.   How many people get to reacquaint with their culture in the manner I will when I return to Canada? It will be pretty cool to come back after explaining the ins and outs of Canada to my students. I’m looking forward to reimmersing myself into Canadian society when I return.

55.   Estranged by Guns n Roses is probably my favourite song of any sort. Starting from the four minute mark to the end of the song, to me there is no better segment of music out there.

56.   My favourite part of any song is the solo(s). They represent freedom and liberation, something every human being strives for I think. Being able to go any direction, at will.

57.   I found a pretty incredible journalism internship in Paris. I have loved it there so far. Such an international office, located in quite a cute part of the downtown area. My coworkers have pretty diverse backgrounds too.

58.   I think that part of the reason why I have been so persistent in pursuing opportunities and gaining experiences related to journalism/media/public relations/etc. is that I know that the school I have obtained my journalism education from is not a Carleton or Ryerson or Concordia. And I would still like to compete with those graduates for positions and opportunities. I’m confident that, with my previous work in Montreal, Edmonton and now Paris, I will be able to fight for any position I want.

59.   I think I am thinking quite a bit about some words a wise friend told me the other day, that “If you want to make it big time, Edmonton isn’t the place you’re going to do that.” As much as I hate to say it, I agree.

60.   The prospect of moving back to Edmonton is terrifying me more than the initial prospect of moving to Paris.

 

Controlling the Line of Scrimmage in the Battle Against Homesickness

Most parts of this story have been pretty great. Running into celebrities at nightclubs in Montreal, being only a 40 minute train ride from the Eiffel Tower, having access to new cultures and people and ideas; these are only things that are accomplished when risks are taken and boundaries are pushed.

There is also another side to this, one that rears its head every now and again. Whether it is fleeting thoughts of, "I'd love to be at the university right now, drinking a Tim's medium double double and be surrounded by friends," or, "It'd be awesome to be at the grandparents' house, drinking a can of pop and listening to them banter," or, "Everyone speaking the same language as me would be nice," homesickness happens, and cannot necessarily be avoided. Whether you are living in a penthouse apartment in Manhattan, or a two bedroom flat in Conflans Sainte Honorine, France, when you are born and raised and mature in the same environment with the same streets and people, eventually when time comes to leave, there will be moments where the mind wanders back to those simpler times.  

Before May 10, 2013, I had no idea what homesickness was like. Before then, the longest I had ever been away from Edmonton, Canada was about two weeks. It was in high school, when my dad, sister and I set forth on a journey to the United Kingdom.

My first encounter with this feeling was on Sunday, May 12, 2013. I had just moved into my apartment in the McGill Ghetto of downtown Montreal. 3620 rue Lorne Crescent. I remember having just looked up the route I would be walking to work (left at rue Prince Arthur, right at Avenue Parc, walk through Place des Arts, right at Boulevard St Laurent, left at rue Notre Dame, and the museum is on the right), and was outside my building pondering a simple question:

"Will I ever miss it here?"

I sure was missing Edmonton at that moment, and was curious if I would ever develop that longing, that love, that appreciation, for another city that wasn't where I was born or where my family lived. It seemed impossible.


Living in Montreal gave me an introduction to a whole new world. I learned how to cook, clean, and do my laundry, yes. But I also learned more valuable skills. How to build a social life from scratch. How to adapt to a new culture and language. And how to deal with those times when everything seems unfamiliar, and you sometimes want to go where everybody knows your name.

I knew in Paris, I would battle those feelings every now and again. They tend to crop up on Sundays for some reason. Maybe it is because on Sundays, I generally don't go out of my sleepy town, and often don't have any in person interaction with anyone else.

Everyone experiences it, and has their own way of coping with those feelings. Some find solace in a movie, or putting on a music playlist, or calling up home. For me, in those toughest of circumstances early on in Paris, whether it was the anxiety before my flight from Calgary or facing the prospect of being homeless for a night in the Parisien suburbs, the question that I have and already know the answer to is this:

"Do I believe in what I am here for?"

The answer to the first question, to those who know me, was a resounding yes. I miss Montreal more than Edmonton Oilers fans miss having a winning season. More than the Green Bay Packers miss Aaron Rodgers. It will always hold a special and dear place in my heart, and I will always try and visit the city during the summer. It really is the place where I grew up.

This weekend, a couple of times, I pondered the question of if I believed in what I was here for. The answer, again, is a resounding yes. For every moment I have felt lost or missing home cooking, there have been ten experiences I could not have had otherwise. Talking about life with an elder French gentleman on the train tracks. Watching a French pro hockey game. Drinking an espresso while being a stone's throw from the Eiffel Tower. Is that possible without a bit of homesickness?
 
My efforts have turned to summer 2014, where the possibilities are numerous. Normandy, Paris, London, Nairobi, and Montreal are all realistic and plausible options for where I may work between May and August 2014. The question I find myself thinking of now, with one more summer of global opportunities, has a bit of a different tune:

"How on Earth will I go back to living in Canada?"

À la prochaine, mes amis. 

Being an English Teacher In France--How I Approach My Role

Just because the story isn't written on a court or in an arena or on a field, doesn't mean there aren't winners and losers. 

 

Whether it is a game of Monopoly or poker or XBOX NHL 13, if I do something, I do it to win. I want to beat you. Bad. The same thing goes for teaching English. I want to be the best. No exceptions. I flew halfway around the world to take a job; you're damn sure I'll fight to be the best at it. 

In the football game of life, the teachers at my school are the starting quarterbacks (take a minute and visualize one of your old high school teachers in a helmet and pads). They are the ones who run the show, having been given a playbook by the administration and taking the reins from there. I'm a quarterback too, but obviously not the starter. Heck, I'm not even a backup. I'm the change of pace guy. I change the way the offense is run. I add flexibility, a new dimension. I make the defence stand on its toes with my sheer presence.

I know my role, I know my rights, and I know my responsibilities. My role is to help these students (aged 15 to gulp 21) understand, write, and speak English. My rights are that I can discipline them my writing in their carnets, which would then have to be signed by a parent. I can also send them out of class, or send them to the principal. I'm not here to be a disciplinarian, nor am I here to be a bro, but on a scale of the two, I'd much rather be the latter. I'm not illusioning myself into thinking that I will be the difference between a kid 'making it' (whatever that means) and a kid 'not making it'; at the same time, I know I can be a positive influence in their lives to a small degree. I get to play the role of student teacher without the pressure of having to mark assignments and be a hardass. Bottom line: I want to get them comfortable and perhaps even fond of speaking the English language.

Before a game, a prescout usually takes place, with lots of film study and open discussion that is attended by all players, including your seldom used COP QB. You want to find out your opponent's tendencies, their strengths, weaknesses, etc. Are they a 4-3 zone defence? Do they blitz the left guard more on first down or third down? Do they throw the ball downfield a lot, or do they run a West coast style offense?

In my case, film study and a prescout take the form of conversations with teachers about the students I will have for that particular day (usually between eight and 12). These discussions take place a day or two before I see the students. Are they willing to speak English? Are there any class clowns in this group? Is Jacques comfortable with the past tense?Are there any students I need to split up? Do they even like football (I mean soccer)? 

The next step is me hearing from the starting quarterback the formations I am supposed to run. In other words, what topics should I talk about for the day? Will I have freedom, or is there a strict lesson I must follow? I will expand on this in another post, but I am quite impressed with the topics that English students are learning about at my high school, ranging from Black is Beautiful to homosexual/non traditional marriages, to an in depth look at social media.

For the most part, I'm allowed the freedom to construct my own lesson plans as long as they are within parameters. My goal for every class is to stimulate discussion en anglais. Usually this involves the showing of a provocative article or picture, followed by an open ended question. However, any successful quarterback, COP or starter, will tell you that before you get to the line of scrimmage, you need to be ready to audible in case you don't like what the defence is showing you. You can't go in assuming your play is full proof and that the corner will bite on the pump fake with your primary target being uncovered.

Back to teaching…I have to be prepared that these kids will not be receptive to my ideas and plans for our one hour lesson. I can't go in thinking my notes and grandiose ideas will be full proof, because reality is that some crowds just don't feel you sometimes. I should know, having been in front of these crowds when I perform stand up comedy. For every lesson plan, I have four other plays I can potentially call at the line of scrimmage. I have four backup lesson plans. To put that in Canadanese, imagine the Edmonton Oilers started Richard Bachman, but had Devan Dubnyk, Jason Labarbera, Olivier Roy, and Tyler Bunz on the bench, goalie suited up and ready to go (insert joke about team's defensive prowess here).

If they're not digging a particular discussion, I can seamlessly move onto something else without skipping a beat while still being well within the parameters of my teacher's preference. With these preparations, I should never have to find out if silence is actually golden.

Before a lesson begins, I always remind myself of my role and what I'm ultimately here to do as a COP QB. This has to be more fun than a normal class. I have to get these students to feel comfortable speaking in English. I usually start with a remark about something they will understand: American movies/television/culture. Tomorrow, my framework for the lesson plan will be about students and their heroes. Already, I know that the first sentence to come out of my mouth will be about the Foo Fighter's song There Goes My Hero. I also speak a few words of French with grammatical mistakes, usually asking how their days/weekends have gone. I smile genuinely when I do this. I want them to feel comfortable making mistakes in another language.


The hour passes, usually with humour and smiles injected at most junctures. More often than not, I stop with five minutes remaining, giving them a chance to chat amongst themselves.  Again, my role isn't to have them sweating until the bell. It also gives me a chance to chat with them on a more casual level. They know I'm close to them in age, and more often than not we can relate well to one another. Even during these informal chats, I speak English with them.

The final step is the post game analysis. I report back to the starting quarterback, and we go over film. Who was speaking? Who was quiet? How can I get the more shy students to speak up in class? Was the lesson plan and framework effective? What can we do to improve results next time? There is always something that can be done better. And then, repeat the process.

As a COP QB, I know my limits and what I can't do. My starting quarterback is my boss. In my first few weeks as a rookie, I can't dramatically alter the offense, nor can I change the overall strategy. There will come a time, soon, when I will be able to show my students articles from the Edmonton Journal and have them interpret events and discuss the happenings of small town Canada, but I need to grasp the fundamentals of teaching first. 

I also know that I have distinct advantages being the COP QB. I can have deeper relationships with students. I can talk with them like they're buddies from back home. It is less formal. I don't have the guilt of having failed or poorly graded them.



Just because I'm a COP QB, doesn't mean my role is any less vital to the success of my team. And by hook or by crook, if I am on the field for three snaps or 30, I promise that you'll get 110% every second I'm out there.

Breakfast in Amsterdam, Lunch in Brussels, Dinner in Paris #Awesome

This is why I did this.

 

Amsterdam is a city unto itself. Brothels, Red Light District and yes, sex, are only a part of what makes the city such an attraction for tourists, no matter windy October mornings or balmy July afternoons. Holland was one of my 10 must see countries. Originally the plan was two nights in Den Hague and three in Amsterdam, but we decided to forgo the latter and instead have another night in the former. A 12 £ ticket and eight and a half hour bus ride later, and we had arrived.

The first Amsterdam-ite we interacted with, a worker with the city's transit service, made a crude joke about American pornography. That is when we knew we had arrived. All it took was a four minute commute on the street car, and we had reached the general area of where we were staying. The night had come, but there was a certain buzz about the city. Within our peripheral vision, there must have been well over a thousand bikes.



After checking in to Bob's Youth Hostel (we had tried Tom's and Dick's, but they were booked solid), exploring those famed red light areas was our first task. Walking down the Red Light District, there is a certain sense of curiosity and excitement, but also melancholy and sorrow. Yes, sorrow. Much of what goes on in the Red Light District isn't quite legal, with some estimates stating that as much as 75% of the women behind those glass doors are there against their will. There are certain areas of Montreal (the corner of rue St Catherine and Boulevard St Laurent) that slightly resemble Amsterdam's red light area, but it's safe to say that no where in Canada comes close to that much 'action' compacted into such a small area (about six blocks). What was quite unique was that, less than 10 meters opposite the oldest church in Amsterdam were a series of red lights. It is that prevalent. 

It is incredible to see a city so liberal and open about not just prostitution and sex, but also cannabis and its recreational uses. Coffee shops selling various kinds of legal marijuana dot the city. Older, younger, every generation seems to indulge in the past time, whether they are from the area or not.

The two must see's for me were the Anne Frank House, and the Heineken Factory. Neither disappointed. The Anne Frank House was very well preserved, with the book case that separated the Secret Annex from the rest of the office space still in tact. The signs said not to touch it, but I sneaked a stroke. The staircases are quite well preserved too, to the point that it is difficult for more than one visitor to climb them at the same time.

I was very impressed about how prominent Mr. Otto Frank, Anne's father, was in the overall exhibit. He was the only one to have survived the war, and spent much of his remaining life dedicated to his deceased daughter. He had a big input in the production of plays and movies about the diary. Overall, every human being should visit this museum. The signs are all in English, it is quite interactive (most rooms have video), doesn't cost much (nine Euro), and can be seen in half a day. Plus it is in quite a scenic part of town, and in the heart of the action.

The Heineken Factory was a different type of education. Again, it didn't leave me disappointed in the slightest, even though it was about double the price of the Anne Frank House. At the factory, you are taken through the beer making process. There's more though…you can relive the Heineken commercials of eras past, read about the Heineken family, and play interactive games on a miniature football pitch. You can also record your own music video (set to traditional Dutch songs no less), and, of course…free samples! During my visit, I had four glasses of the beautiful beverage, all "on the house."

Bob's was the first time I had ever stayed at a hostel. For the most part, it was a great experience. The staff was quite friendly and outgoing, the fellow travelers the same. Cleanliness wasn't an issue, although I am very happy not to be sharing a single toilet and shower with 16 other men now that I am back home. The hostel itself wasn't expensive (my total was about $91 CAD for four nights), and breakfast was included. There is something to be said about the brotherhood/sisterhood of those roughing it out on a budget, not staying at five star hotels and having unlimited access to papa's funds. I loved interacting with the others at the hostel, if only that we were all in pretty similar in age and life experience. We're all keen to see the world, obviously, and eager to meet new people and have new encounters with life.

The rest of the trip was spent strolling the canals, chatting with locals, and taking in the ambiance of a new city, one that most North Americans desire to see. One of my favourite scenes from Amsterdam was watching as a young Dutch boy biked with his younger brother sharing the seat. They were going through an alleyway, just by a canal. With an orange soccer ball in the basket. Canada, France, or Holland, kids have to get to their friends to play. No exceptions.

My other favourite scene was strolling through a touristy area in downtown Amsterdam, late at night, with the American friend I was traveling with. We were walking past a Belgian cafe, one that was overflowing with people and good conversation. The song that was playing was a classic American bar tune, and one that sums up our time in the 'Venice of the North' quite well. If I were to pick my personal theme song for my European living experience, it would probably be this one, if only for the continuous, happy beat and easy going nature of the chords.

À la prochaine, mes amis.

Inside the Louvre: A Glimpse into the World's Most Visited Museum

There is More to Life than Hockey

"Hey Erik, my name is Salim Valji. I'm going to be a sports writer when I grow up, so you'd better start kissing my ass right now."

Once upon a time in February, I sat in my usual spot in the athletics building of MacEwan University in Edmonton, Tim Hortons and Twinkies in hand, chatting with the many friends I currently miss dearly who happened to walk by, and hammered out a French cover letter and resume. After about three hours, my work was complete, an application was sent, and a cautious optimism formed. I was happy. I knew that even if the fruits of my labour were ultimately for naught, I saw an opportunity and seized it. I threw a Hail Mary, so to speak. I went for it.


The above quote is one of my favourite stories to tell people. I was 14 years old at the time. The Edmonton Oilers were having an autograph session at West Edmonton Mall. I had waited for three hours to get my jersey signed by someone, anyone. NHLer Erik Cole, an Edmonton Oiler at the time and suffering through arguably the most trying season of his career, obliged. I said my piece; Cole laughed and wished me adieu. 

The story doesn't end there though. I wrote a newspaper article about the experience (Cole had stayed an extra half hour to sign autographs). The column was published in the Edmonton Journal. A week later, a lady whom I had never met wrote me a beautiful card saying how much she loved the article. I still have the card, which was handmade. It is one of my most cherished possessions. 

Sometimes we define ourselves too much by our careers and salaries and our plan to achieve corporate greatness. I once read a cartoon by Bill Watterson, the genius creator of the Calvin and Hobbes cartoon strip. Waters could have made millions off his two characters if he had licensed the brand. He didn't. In the strip, the final caption reads:

" To invent your own life's meaning isn't easy…but it's still allowed…and I think you'll be happier for the trouble."

As a young guy who had achieved a fair amount of success in a tough industry, there is no doubt that I fell victim to the previous thought. All of us do at some point. Whether it's a career in engineering or sports journalism or hospitality, society fetishizes 'The Plan' and where we see ourselves in five, ten years. We're told to never be complacent and to strive for the pinnacle of our professions. To put it another way (and to those who have seen the outstanding Al Pacino/Matthew McConaughey film Two for the Money), I was slowly but surely turning from Brandon Lang, the kid who was happy to be there and down to Earth, to John Anthony, the artificial, suit wearing, fast talking 'Million Dollar Man with the Billion Dollar Plan.'

It is impossible for someone to have undergone the experiences I have had over the past few months and not have changed in some way. And that is part of the reason why I knew moving out of Edmonton was my only option. Not being surrounded by others and their expectations is really the best way to gauge who you are and what you want. As a varsity athlete (and great friend) I had the pleasure of covering for two years said (he himself having immigrated to Canada from another continent): "When you're in a new town, you're free. No expectations or worrying about what others think. You get to be you."

In Edmonton, I'm likely known as the guy who loves sports. Going to Montreal and knowing that I wouldn't run into a single person who knew me; that I had so many first impressions to write, was incredibly liberating. 

Changes? It's hard for me to objectively say how I have grown since inheriting this freedom. I do think I'm much more confident and open minded; I am incredibly thankful to have had hundreds of experiences that would have otherwise been impossible to have in Edmonton.

The reality is that I'm not 14 year old 'NHL General Manager or Bust' Salim anymore. Maybe the passion and desire for that life is going down.

"There is something pretty cool about getting a phone call from your grandma in Edmonton while you're drinking a Belgian beer, in an Irish pub, in Paris, with Americans."

There's more to life than just hockey. I'm slowly figuring out what exactly that is.