Despite my lofty new job in the land of corporate O&G and the fact that I have YET to re-visit the mountains, I fear this latest stint in Calgary is turning me into a tree-hugger. My two weeks since the last entry have consisted of daily bike commutes to and from work, twice-weekly yoga practices, Wednesday visits to the local Farmer's Market, Saturday stops at the bohemian Kensington Roasterie Cafe (a hang-out for people wearing flowy dresses, eccentric hats and shades on cloudy days) and keen monitoring of our recycling box, not to mention screening of the garbage can for recyclables [View Full Entry]

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Every time I come back to Calgary, I am pleasantly surprised by the changes I find it to have undergone during my absence. New clubs, new shops, new restaurants, new buildings are springing up at an impressive rate in spite the recession rhetoric being floated about. Opportunities for enjoyment and employment abound for anyone willing to seek them out, and I have found a perfect mix of both since my last entry. Lucky for me, while the city has changed, my network of friends has largely stayed the same, which has meant plenty of people to hook me up and help [View Full Entry]

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"You're not going to make it." This was the verdict when I announced to some colleagues that I planned to stay in Calgary for the next two years. I had found some temp work covering reception for my old company and even the people that started there after I left seemed unconvinced about my resolve to stay here long term. My voice must waiver when I answer the already-skeptical, "how long are you staying this time," question. Once again, I am out to prove something, though. The last time I left, I needed to prove that I could adapt to life [View Full Entry]

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When I made my decision to return to Canada, I struggled with the thought of "settling down." To my nomadic mind this implied immediate marriage, pursuit of a serious career, home-ownership and a plethora of other dreadful sounding traps for the free spirit. Stressed by the thought of instant immobility, I spent a long time ignoring my own declaration that I needed to come home, searching spastically for jobs that would keep me on the move. Numerous lengthy discussions with Dad in Ireland assuaged some of my unfounded fears that I was closing the door on all future adventures as we [View Full Entry]

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With time running out, Dad and I cut east across the country from Westport, hoping to find some more cute towns in the midlands along the N4 highway. After discovering vibrant coastal culture in even the smallest towns we passed through, we took for granted that we would find the same in central Ireland. No such luck, though. We kept telling ourselves the next town might have more life, finally convincing ourselves that Longford, the largest town on the way, would have at least one music session going on. But we arrived at 6pm to find all the shops and restaurants [View Full Entry]

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Craggy rock-strewn cliffs, rain and a good dose of Catholicism greeted Dad and I as we entered the Burren from the Ring of Kerry. We've continued our trek around the coast, heading slowly upwards from Killarney, stopping frequently to take panoramic photos and stain our teeth with endless pots of tea. Each day we've made ambitious plans to travel x hundred kilometers to the next big town, but we keep falling in love with small towns as we drive through them. From tiny musical Doolin - a loose agglomeration of pubs, shops and B&Bs next to the Cliffs of Moher - [View Full Entry]

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Woo! The official party may be over, but Dad and I have not stopped moving since we got here! It’s made it very hard to stay on top of my blogging, and I am now going to try to summarize my previous 3-page-long entry, to save everyone an information overload. We left Dublin last Friday, via the left side of the road, to embark on a road trip around the south coast of the country. Though bad signage and bicycle-path-sized roads turned our first 100 kilometers into a 4-hour odyssey, we’ve finally gotten the hang of things and have managed to [View Full Entry]

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Finally, the party has ended. Don't read this with a negative tone, it's actually a good thing. Though I miss the Netherlands and the fast pace of my last two weeks of travel, my body was not going to make it another day. I escaped at just the right time and for a great reason - to meet my dad in Dublin for a two-week Irish road trip. So far things have flowed as smoothly as a fine pint of Guiness. We managed to recognize each other at Dublin airport after 7 months apart and kicked off our tour with an [View Full Entry]

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With Queensday festivities officially over last Friday morning, Koert and I took a day to rest before heading back onto the party scene again. We also engaged in a little healthful activity with a bike ride through Hoge Veluwe (pronounced ho-huh velu-wa) Park, the largest nature reserve in the country, and some brain-cell-rebuilding with a cultural visit to the Kroller-Muller Museum (which lies 5.5km beyond the park gate) on Saturday. With a few clouds keeping crowds to a minimum, Koert and I felt like intrepid explorers as we rolled, nearly alone, through an ever-changing series of landscap [View Full Entry]

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11:30pm. I am walking into a club followed by two imposing bodyguards. Dressed in baggy jeans, flat shoes and a loose long-sleeved v-neck t-shirt, I garner no attention from the good-looking men around me, who stare instead at the tall men behind me. It's Queensday and my great friend, Koert, his brother, Menno, and I have outlasted our other party pals in the national celebrations of the Dutch Queen's birthday. We've been dancing in the chaotic streets of Amsterdam for 10 hours already, hopping from open-air clubs to small streets with students blasting beats from their apartment wind [View Full Entry]

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