the_vulture

The rest of the photos to be found at: http://s6.photobucket.com/albums/y220/Ca thartesAura/Calais/?albumview=grid 

I do apologize to anyone who has been eagerly awaiting this post; recently I've been getting a lot of pits from the bowl of cherries that life is purported to be, but I'll get into that later. 

First, allow me to describe my second day of adventuring, in which I hopped a ferry from Dover, England, to Calais, France. It started off quite reasonably with stuffing myself with a tasty English fry-up, followed by a brisk morning walk to the ferry. Sadly, it was still misty and cloudy, so there were no great shots of the cliffs to be had as we sailed away. 

I have to say, after many merry memories of sunny afternoons spent on the broad, open observation decks of BC Ferries, those of Sea France rather decidedly sucked, especially given that the tiny patio area that passed for an outdoor observation deck was frequently filled with smokers desperate for a fag, killing off any opportunity to appreciate fresh sea air, not that the cold wind and mist made it any more pleasurable. From outside, only a vague idea of what was happening outside could be gleaned through the film of water deposits that crusted the windows. 

I was rather amused to discover a Space Invaders game in the video arcade, though.  

The ferry ride took much longer than anticipated though, teasing me with a view of the French beachside for about half an hour as the ferry sat in the harbour waiting for its place at the dock. Between that, and discovering that there was a one hour time difference that everyone neglected to tell me about, my day in Calais was a bit shorter than anticipated. 

My next consternation came as I left the ferry terminal building to discover that the next bus to town would be about forty minutes in arriving.  Thankfully, I'm not adverse to walking, and after taking a minute or two to get my bearing, I predicted, quite accurately, that it would take me a hell of a lot less time just to walk into town from the terminal and I promptly left behind the group of folk despondently settling in for that long wait for the bus (What's wrong with your feet, people?!?) 

Many architectual delights awaited my camera lens and I spent a great deal of time snapping and striding from one place of interest to the next. I got some delightful shots of Teddy with the Town Hall, which has a most impressive clock tower. Other nifty subjects of the shutter included a roundabout topped with topiary shaped like a peacock and many attempts to capture the little public busses that can only be described as "cute".  

Realizing that I was running out of time, I opted out of checking out the hypermarkets, which tend to hold the interest of most English visitors to Calais. I've since been told that I haven't missed much in that regard.   'Course, if I had gone, I might have actually found some souvenirs to purchase, something which was strangely lacking in the shops of this port town.  

I took in a nice meal in an actual French cafe (Le Cafe de Paris, no less!), which included a decidely French appetizer I had not had since I was a child, escargots. And, yes, I sipped une cafe at le cafe.  

My final visit in Calais was to the beach. In Dover, the beach consisted entirely of small pebbles without a grain of sand to be found. This, I discovered, is because the French stole all the sand for their own.  The beach of Calais was a broad expanse of fine, clean sand that formed dunes in the wind. When I say clean, I mean CLEAN. I imagine it might be different in the summer when this beach is likely cram packed with beachgoers from a variety of nations, but, during my visit, I saw nothing of the usual flotsam and jetsam found upon beaches, no driftwood, no seaweed, no partial remains of any critters, save a singular pretty clam shell (cardida?) that, due to its very uniqueness of presence on this beach, was an offering from it to me (as there weren't any rocks to be found, interesting or otherwise!). 

I eventually made it back to the ferry terminal where, upon attempting to enter the British Customs area, I was nearly given a heartattack along with the proclamation that my passport had expired. GLAH!!!   For some reason, I thought I still had time on it, but, apparently, as scrambled as my brain was before the holidays, I mixed up my driver's license expiry date with my passport expiry date. Fortunately, the customs officer was really good about it and, after checking out my (still valid) entry visa and asking a few questions about what I was doing in England, he waived me on with signed declaration and the emphatic advice to get my passport renewed post-haste (got the photos shot yesterday). Yep, THAT was excitement I didn't need!  

THEN (yes, there's more) there was the last second panic over not having a proper boarding pass.     Apparently, I was supposed to have gotten from the lady at the counter when I arrived at the terminal (my return ticket wasn't good enough?), but I didn't know that, as there wasn't anyone AT the counter when I had arrived some time earlier. This time, though, I wasn't alone in this bit of stupidity, as many folk had to race back to the ticket counter for their boarding passes. Yerg!  

Add to that a choppy, and subsequently nauseating, ferry ride and a couple hours of train ride, and you've got one very exhausted Vulture arriving home late and very glad to see his bed. Thus ended an otherwise lovely couple days out. Oh and hey, I've now set my feet upon THREE continents! Yay me!  

As I mentioned earlier, I would have got this post out sooner, but the last couple days at school have been utterly exhausting (wretched hellspawn!). The creative energy just to even write a decent blog response has been quite lacking, let alone something like this. I am exceedingly glad I put in my notice for the end of this term; it's going to be a test of my mental fortitude just to last THAT long. I've only been teaching two days and I already feel as physically, mentally, and emotionally exhausted as I did before the break began. Ugh! Fortunately, there's going to be a lot of breaks inserted here and there, including an inset day next Monday and an Easter long weekend, to help stave off insanity during my last remaining weeks at this school.

SPOON!!!

 As much as I miss my childhood days of trying to get as much candy as possible, my thoughts are a fair bit different. Yes, I do think about whether or not to try for a costume this year (but, sadly, cannot afford one yet again, nor do I have the skills, time and/or equipment to make my own) and I also wonder about what to expect from this neighbourhood (shall have to ask the neighbours) in terms of how ill behaved the local youth can be.

But, in the front of my mind, I think about the ancient Celtic view of Samhain (pronounced "sa-wen") and the celebration of the harvest (Samhain being the final harvest rite). Now I'm pretty far removed from the farming traditions of my family, but the idea of reaping the rewards of one's labour over the course of the year is still quite relevant. Afterall, when would be a better time to celebrate one's accomplishments over the course of the year?

 Okay, okay, I can already hear a number of people shouting "New Year's Eve!" and in response to that, well, you're absolutely correct. And, for the Celtic peoples, Samhain was, indeed, New Year's Eve. Of course, for a people whose lives revolved around the cycles of farming, the last day of harvest would be the most appropriate one to celebrate the year with.

So what have I to think about this year? Well, it did see a huge change in my health, including finally being rid of the need to use a CPAP machine to deal with obstructive sleep apnea, as well as actually running a 10k race (a HUGE accomplishment for me). Career wise, it was nice to kept for more than a year, even if I was given all crap classes to teach this year. I no longer question my own ability as a teacher and no longer have anything to really prove to myself in that regard.

This weekend, I'll be marking year 11 Original Writing coursework. In a very true sense, I will being seeing the results of a LOT of effort I have put into their Hero's Journey project over the past half term. I am already well pleased by how many of them actually produced work (this is a very low ability and under-motivated group). Like I say, I no longer really have anything to prove to myself, teaching-wise.

Family wise, this summer proved very important in that I returned to places and people that I hadn't seen since my childhood. It was a great time of spiritual and emotional healing. I was also pleased and relieved to see two of my grandparents, who will not be much longer for this world. It is quite possible that I have seen them for the last time, but, at least, my final memories of them will be pleasant ones.

Traditionally, the Celtic New Year was celebrated with large bonfires used to symbolize purification. In many instances, two bonfires would be set and both people and livestock would be passed between the two in act of purification (ref: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Samhain).

 As Samhain saw the end of the old and the beginning of the new, it was also a time to reflect on one's departed loved ones. By legend, the barrier between the world of the living and that of the dead would be thinnest, as the Summer Lord (Holly Lord, Green Man, etc.) made his descent in the underworld to await rebirth in the spring. There are a plethora of different practices associated with this aspect of Samhain. "Trick or treating" is derived from practices involving leaving offerings for the dead, such as food and drink. Many modern pagans utilize the tradition of the "dumb feast," in which a place is set at one's dinner table for the honoured dead. I, myself, tend to light special candles and share a drink with the dead, in a fashion that would be similar to the Mexican Day of the Dead (one day I'll have to explore the reasons for the many parallels between such similar practices on this day for such differing cultures).

Interestingly, during my early years as a pagan, I actually didn't have any specific people from my life to honour. I gave thanks to my ancestors, as an abstract generality, and to a person of substantial effect on my own spiritual values, O Sensei Morihei Ueshiba. That changed with the death of my grandmother some years back. Now, I light a candle specifically for her, as well as one for my ancestors.

Of course, such communion with the dead also includes the God, as embodied by the Holly Lord. The solemnity of this ceremony is tempered, though, by the acknowledgment that, whilst He and the land pass into a time of darkness, Spring will see His rebirth, as light and warmth once again begin to embrace the world. Oh, and also all that celebration (The Dead drink a lot, you know! You have to keep pace with 'em!).

Sorta goes well beyond "Shall I dress as a witch for Halloween?", don't it. *chuckle*

 I think I'll end this reflection with the suitably seasonal song, Holly Lord, by the Australian folk band, Spiral Dance. The song can be heard here: http://www.soundclick.com/bands/songInfo .cfm?bandID=461752&songID=3411737