Extracurricular Activities

In early December, I had my first school field trip this side of my high-school diploma. My school's Modern Foreign Language department was taking some Year 8 and Year 10 kids to the city of Aachen, in Germany, to visit a Christmas market. In keeping with the trips we've done so far, it was a whirlwind visit: 7 teachers and 50 kids boarded a bus on the Thursday night, drove all night to arrive in Aachen at 6:00 a.m., then toured the city until about 4:00, when we piled back onto the bus for the ride home, finally pulling into the school car park around 11:00 the Friday night.

For such a hectic-sounding schedule, the tour was surprisingly peaceful. For most of the morning, the kids had free time to explore the city and visit the market on their own in small groups. We met up with them every 90 minutes or so, but otherwise they (and we) were free.

It was a rather chilly morning, so the first order of business was to find a cafe and warm up. This was easily done, and I learned something too - Germany has the best coffee in Europe. I would have expected to find it in Italy or France, but Germany takes the prize. In a German McDonalds, for 1€, you can get a cappucino that puts the others to shame; the fare in proper coffee shops is even better.

Properly warmed and caffeinated, I meandered about the old town looking for the 6 famous fountains that dot the city. In the end I only managed to find three, but then, it wasn't really my trip, was it?

The first was Geldbrunnen, a round fountain with figures all around it symbolizing the flow of money through the city. A vortex in the middle, known as "The Taxman" was a reminder of where it all goes in the end.

The second was the charming Puppenbrunnen, or Puppet Fountain, covered with moveable brass figures that passers by could play with and pose as they liked.

Finally I came upon this happy fellow:

As the story goes, Bakhauv waits for revellers coming home from the Brauhauses later than they should and jumps on their back for a ride.

By that time, it was time to head back to the meeting point for the first check-in with the kids. I still had fears of police or irate shopowners dragging our kids back to us by the ears complaining of some hooliganism or other, but it seems our kids acquitted themselves admirably. Apart from bad negotiating skills, the kids seemed to have done alright and they were anxious to show us their purchases.

It may have been a missed teachable moment, but I didn't have the heart to tell him that 14€ is way too much to pay for a yo-yo.

On my second go round the town, I walked with a group of other teachers, including a German teacher who had been to Aachen many times and was able to show us around. We walked through the market, smelled the Gluhwein, and made our way round to the medieval Rathaus, which might be an apt or unfortunate word for 'town-hall,' depending on whether or not you work there.

In the afternoon we took the kids on a guided tour of the old town, which started out as a Roman spa. We heard about the history of the fountains and of the archaeological digs exposing Roman foundations under modern buildings. We went into a huge pharmacy that had installed a glass panel in the floor where you could see the site where the ancient buildings were being unearthed.

One last time we turned the kids loose while the teachers went for lunch. Here I discovered that even in Germany, not so far from Frankfurt, a Frankfurter is still just a big hotdog. I don't know why I expected different, but I did. Sure it comes with sauerkraut and mashed potatoes with gravy instead of mustard, relish, onions and coleslaw (mmmm...); at the end of the day it's still just a big hot dog.

As the sun was just starting to set, we piled the kids onto the bus for the ride home which, not surprisingly, was rather more peaceful than the ride out. Everybody was pretty knackered, kids included, and no amount of Red Bull or Kx Stimulant Drink was going to keep their eyes open. We rolled back into the school around 11:00 and by 11:30 the last of the kids had been picked up.

One final note: I have now been to two more countries that Melissa. I've seen a Belgian truck stop and a few miles of Dutch highway more than she. ;P !

Another Concert Review

First, let me say a big belated thank you to everybody who took time to wish me a happy birthday. It’s really good to know that as gone as I may be, I'm not forgotten.
As I've gotten older, I've learned to manage my expectations. Nobody likes to be disappointed; if you don't get your hopes up too much, then the let-down isn't so bad when things don't pan out. It may sound a little bit jaded or cynical, but that philosophy has allowed me to enjoy many fine Wesley Snipes or Jean Claude Van Damme direct-to-DVD releases that could easily have been big disappointments. It's an attitude that allows for taking chances when you just don't know whether you're in for Bloodsport or The Shepherd: Border Patrol.
If I told you we were going to a concert at the largest and most prestigious concert hall in all of Croydon (that's like the largest and most prestigious concert hall in all of Chateauguay), what would you expect? How about if I told you we were going to see an acapella group who reproduce instrument sounds with their voices?
As we waited for the lights to go down and the show to start, the girl sitting behind us commented that when she performed here, the place had been much more full. The maroon and off-white 1960s decor of Fairfield Halls faded into shadow as an unassuming middle-aged man in a polar fleece came out to announce the opening act that hadn't been on the bill. With a modest introduction like that, it's no wonder Krystle Warren blew my mind.
Alone with her guitar on a stage that was rather too big for her, Krystle Warren seemed to open her set cautiously. My first thought was that it was a shame we were seeing her in such a big room – this girl belonged in a smoky cafe or a small cabaret. Plunking a couple of chords on her guitar, she sang a simple song in a rich, throaty alto that gave no hint of the vocal acrobatics coming up. Krystle expanded to fill the stage and then the entire room as she unpacked a Joni-Mitchell-meets-Billie-Holiday sound that captivated the crowd. By the time she took her leave to make way for the headline act, I was completely won-over.
The first half of Naturally 7’s set was part concert, part technical demonstration. Their set-list of R&B, hip-hop and gospel music was broken up by rather a lot of background – who the band was, how they came to be, where they had been, etc. Their demonstrations of the human drum set and the loop pedal were entertaining enough. Each of these massively talented musicians mimicked instruments from horns to keyboards to wailing distorted guitars, on top of singing lead and harmonies that put Boyz II Men to shame. Each little story led into the next song, so the set flowed nicely enough, although I was nagged by the sense that these guys had huge energy that they weren’t turning loose. A highlight came at the end of a story about two brothers in the band growing up with nothing but John Denver and Simon and Garfunkel records in the house. The 7 put their mics down and came to the front of the stage and gave a soulful acoustic rendition of The Sound of Silence. Full respect for the talent and skill, but I was still waiting for them to blow the roof off. About 45 minutes into the set, I got my wish.
I couldn’t tell you exactly what it was that signalled to the crowd that it was time to change gear, but everybody got it pretty well all at once. Suddenly everyone realized that nobody wanted to be sat in their seats watching these guys have fun; we wanted to be part of it. Everybody got out of their seats and started dancing and singing with abandon. When the 7 saw us out of our seats, they reciprocated by involving us in the show, giving the audience rhythms to clap, steps to dance, and parts to sing. For the next half-hour was a jumping, shaking, crowd-rocking party worthy of Ozomatli or Herbaliser. The human bass guitar, a lanky kid in a white dinner jacket with an impossibly deep voice, made the women scream when he spoke into the mic. Naturally 7 went through a mishmash of Michael Jackson, Stevie Wonder, and other crowd-pleasers as well as some of their own original material. After a short break followed by a 30-minute encore, they ended with a wildly extended adaptation of Phil Collins’ In the Air Tonight that had everyone singing as they left the hall.
I knew we were taking a chance in seeing this show. Seven guys trying to sound like Larvell Jones have the potential to reach rare depths of lameness. But of course, nothing ventured, nothing gained, and our risk was handsomely rewarded with a thoroughly satisfying show.