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.

"Houda" as a verb

If Houda Rafle said you were cool, you believed her.

Because Houda was one of those people who said things with such conviction and authority that you didn't dare doubt her word. For all intents and purposes, Houda was a boss.

I met Houda while doing contract work for eTalk during the Toronto International Film Festival. I was an outsider, brought in for a short amount of time to help with the influx of duties that come with such a large event, and she didn't need to make time for me and my inadequacies. This was TIFF and there was no time for slow learners. My first shift with her was intimidating as all hell and I tried so hard to make myself useful. I don't know much about entertainment news, so I was floundering. Houda's conversation about an artist named Trey Songz confused me (Trey who?), but I tried to keep up. Then she mentioned Ludacris (now him I understood) and I was able to quote a favourite lyric. Houda gave me a look of pure honesty and said "you're one of us. Amanda, that was cool." I believed her and from then on she treated me as one of her own.

The Houda I knew was sassy and strong. She told you what she thought, without holding back, and if you didn't like it that was your problem, not Houda's. If you wanted something taken care of the best person to turn to was Houda. She'd take care of business because she was a boss in every respect. Her flare for taking charge of difficult situations and people gave her such a reputation that her name became used as a verb when things got tough. Having a problem with your phone company? Time to Houda. Did that waitress just ignore us? No she didn't; Houda it up. If you had an issue you wanted Houda in your corner (or at least to channel Houda's strength).

This fall, Houda was diagnosed with cancer. She was one of the many people effected by the errors of Dr. Ivo Slezic, a Trillium radiologist who misread scans and gave patients inaccurate information. But in true Houda fashion she dealt with it with strength. She spoke out about the situation and about her fight for her life with such conviction that you didn't dare think that she'd do anything but live. Because when Houda spoke you believed her, and it's hard to imagine such a fighter losing any battle, especially one for her life.

Last night Houda died. This makes me more angry than I can express through words. I walked the streets of Toronto today with bitter tears streaming down my face because I feel very strongly that her death was unjust. A medical error that shouldn't have occurred took time away from Houda's fight with cancer. A fighter deserves a fighting chance and a vivacious young woman deserves a chance to live. That chance was diminished because of Dr. Slezic's errors and it's not what Houda, or any of his other patients, deserved.

When I found out Houda was sick, I reached out to her to tell her that I was here if she needed someone to talk to. She thanked me, and in true Houda fashion turned the conversation back to me and how I was doing. She'd heard I'd been going through some difficult changes. It was true. 2013 has not been an easy year for me. I lost my partner, the home we shared, and most recently, I've lost my job. Through these periods of change I've heard every phrase of encouragement and support, which when you're feeling your lowest sound like empty words. But when Houda said "you are beautiful and young and I know you will find the right guy for you." I believed her.