Escapades of International Girl

As many of you will have guessed by the recent slew of UK hashed images on my Instagram feed, I’ve moved back to England. I left this beloved island in 2013 and a part of my broken heart thought I’d never have a chance to live my UK dream.

I arrived in Toronto with two suitcases full of ambition and an idyllic view that I would gain work knowledge in marketing and eventually would somehow land myself back in the UK. In fact, as most know, my constant reluctance to put down roots in Toronto was due to this ever present nag in the back of my mind whispering “return to England”. 

For almost three years I put the time into a life in Toronto. It surprised me that I was made to feel at home in the Canadian Goliath. A city I once referred to as Mordor was suddenly this great place with so much untapped potential. I made a band of friends (whom I know will remain great connections for the rest of my days). I appreciated the start I had in marketing, the people I worked with and the lessons I learned. I thought I could forgo England and settle into this life I was growing in Toronto, after all I was weighed down with responsibility, connections, and furniture.

After a little more than two years of not stepping foot in England, I made a visit to the UK. Inevitably this visit caused a resurgence of lust for this island nation. I felt at home navigating myself around, at peace in this hodgepodge of history, and content with the fickle weather. All these feelings culminated in the decision that come hell or high water 2016 was the year Lauren would move back to the UK!

Resolute in my goal, I began to piece together a plan. Apply for jobs and work my family into accepting the inevitable. With lots of proverbial blood, sweat and tears the pay out day arrived on June 22nd when I landed in Birmingham, UK with a happy heart and a jet lagged smile.

And just like that the Escapades of International Girl will once again catalog the life experiences of this Canuck gal as she trots around Europe. Welcome to my new adventure! 

XOXO

For a blog about escapades I sure have been remise!

Here is a snapshot of my trip with a background track from The Weakerthans - Our Retired Explorer (Dines with Michel Foucault in Paris, 1961)

The gist of the trip:

Birmingham - Furniture fashions, Brum pints with KISS pinball, and the sounds of Aidan Knight as well as Villagers.

Swansea - Splendid visit with the ever lovely Sarah and Tom, the Sea, and the Gower. The wind didn’t stop our explorations!

London town - Micro visit with my miniature nephew - he shares a love of owls with yours truly.

Aachen and Xanten - Time with my Germans - Yvi and Chris - Aachen Dom, walk about, and Lebanese. Explorations of old Roman settlements (now museum) in Xanten.

Düsseldorf - Drank tons of alt, shot some schnapps, and toddled about the city before hitting the German dance floor.

Köln (Cologne) - Went up the Dom, walking tours and Kolsh (Alt is better).

Dresden - Army museum, street art, and reconstructed buildings mixed with pints and porcelain bells.

Prague - romantic cityscapes, sunshine, defenestration, and absinth (yucky).

(Internationalgirl)

Sometimes you greet the day with a smile and the day decides to bite back. When this happens, I try my best to go “day I’ll master you yet!” 

My view of the world is naive by times. I know it. My friends know it. Heck, the lady I sat beside at the #imagineoct20th concert probably realized it five minutes into our conversation (sorry lady, I was excited about the world of possibilities and hope for the future, plus, let’s be real, I was really excited to see Feist). 

A lot has happened this year and sometimes our focus is on the less important things. A perfect example being the amount of attention we paid to Starbucks red cups than of the killings in Baghdad. And, the instant mixed reactions after the Paris terrorist attacks. Or, the lack of coverage for the Mali hotel attack. And let’s not forget the fact that people debate whether to help the Syrian refugees. Should we really be so resentful of using public funding to assist people in need? All of these events remind me that there is still so much negativity. 

And so, on Blake’s birthday, I’ve decided to share my thoughts and feelings regarding how we should react to loss (yes, I’m about to get very idealistic so prepare yourself). 

I would like to think that I am optimistic (I know I can fail miserably at times but I’m trying). I wasn’t always like this, it’s something I had to relearn when Blake passed away. 

My brother was always going with the flow. Always willing to help a person out. Always ready with a smile and a hug. And, above all else, Blake forgave and forgot. He didn’t have energy for grudges. He was an optimistic person too.

I know what you’re probably thinking - that I see Blake as a saint. Heck, I know that when we eulogize someone we’ve lost, we tend to gloss over the negatives. Believe me when I say - I know my brother wasn’t perfect. He could be the ever dependable but ever so annoying big brother. He was sneaky and lazy at times. And I know that he ate my chocolates when I wasn’t looking! Everyone has their foibles and Blake did too.

When Blake passed away my hope was that people would adopt Blake’s mentality of forgiveness. I wanted that to be Blake’s impact - his legacy - on our lives. We all had this shared big loss. This person that was wonderful and kind that was so unexpectedly gone from our lives.

It really hit home for me when I didn’t see this shared loss unify people in my life. Instead, it seemed to drive a bigger wedge between us. And that, above all else is one of the saddest parts about losing my brother. 

Loss shouldn't tear us apart. It shouldn’t create this me first mentality. It shouldn’t cause us to throw blame at one another. Loss shouldn't be the reason we set up dividing lines.

Loss should cause us to acknowledge that everyone has faults. That it is the greatest among us who are willing to forgive. It should bring us together in solidarity and it should be used as a platform for positive change.

Miss and love you Bro!

XOXO

Preface

I’ll preface that this will likely be the only forthright and public post I make regarding my veganism. If you’d like to try vegan cuisine you can check out my recipes for inspiration. I’ll also continue posting pictures of my cooking on Instagram, Twitter and Facebook because I am a giant foodie and I maintain the right to share my passion with those that follow my social media. If you can’t handle pictures of vegetables than please feel free to unfollow me on your social channels.

Now onto the actual post.

Does it offend you that I post pictures of salad instead of steak?

Does my life choice disgruntle you? 

I’m trying to understand why you feel the need to condemn, criticize or make veiled jokes about my decision. I know that a picture containing meat on my Facebook wall would never receive the flack that a picture of a salad or dairy/egg free dessert seems to garner. Is it because you’re feeling that my choice of lifestyle is a judgment on yours? 

Believe me, when I made the transition to a plant-based diet, my decision wasn’t made with you in mind. I made this lifestyle choice for a number of reasons. 

They are as follows:

Health/digestive issues

Environmental impact

Animal well being

I understand that my decision makes you reflect on your life choices. Perhaps it makes you feel uncomfortable because the reality of eating meat is one that privileged people would prefer to dismiss.

Let me be clear, my decision to migrate away from an omnivorous diet is not a reflection on you. I am not judging you for your choice. In fact, I am not trying to convince you to change because I decided to change. I’m quite aware that trying to convince you to make the leap to a plant-based diet is one that will only work if you are willing to be convinced.

When I made the decision to become vegan, I did it in a quiet fashion. When my veganism comes to light—through the pictures, hashtags, and recipes I share—it is done with the intention of sharing my life, which includes a passion for cooking (and now in a strictly plant-based approach). 

Being vegan is a facet of who I am. I suppose this means that whenever I share bits of my life through social media, I am potentially interpreted as ‘pushing my vegan agenda’. However, this negative spin/interpretation of my active participation on social media is just that, a negative connotation that should not be applied to my person or my presence on the social strata.

I respect your life choices even if I do not agree or practice the same way of living that you do. I decided to be a quiet activist but this doesn’t mean I accept your condemnation of my life choices. 

If you want to ask questions because you are considering the move to a plant-based diet or you simply want to introduce more plant-based cuisine into your repertoire, I’m perfectly willing to chat. I am however unwilling to be publicly ridiculed, made uncomfortable, or be pressured to eat meat because you feel that it is the proper way to live. 

Check your judgments at the door and I’ll check mine too.

It was a Saturday night and I was leaving the fest Got to my bike anticipating a cycle and then rest When lo and behold my rear tire was flat Airless and pathetic it went thwap thwap thwap Fortunately my friend with a car came a dashing To help this poor gal get home without crashing The next morning as thanks pancakes were made A lesson on repair was also made in trade

Excited to have learned this new trick I was ready to split, To the festival I made with speed Until I hit Shaw and Harbourd Street With a thwap thwap thwap My tire was once again flat I pushed it to Bloor and shouted Aww Crap! A repair man was hired and $20 was paid

With transitioning to a plant based diet, I’ve decided to give my online self a bit of a chance to adapt too.This means no more Ottawa(n) Food Lover posts (the blog will still be live but I will no longer be updating it).

The stillness of the room Aggravates the tinnitus Forcing thoughts back to the time I stood too close To speakers at a concert

We danced And laughed And sang along Feeling the music Flowing through us

Yesterday my Mum packed up her cares and woes into an 8x10 shipping container, filled her pick-up and began the trek out West.

This. Is. Epic!

Epic for a multitude of reasons, the most basic of which is the sheer bravery of moving around 4,100 km away from a place you’ve called home for 30 years. I know that coming from me, a gal who packed up and moved across the pond (Google tells me it was about 5, 500 km from my door to York, UK), it might seem slightly diminished in meaning but truly this is huge.

And, if you will allow me to get selfish for a moment, this is a HUGE change for yours truly. My Mum’s house has been my ever dependable nest for 16 years (a little over half my life). It’s a place full of memories (both painful and sweet). While I am excited for Mum to fulfill her dream of beginning life as a BC resident, there is still a small part of me that mourns the loss of my childhood home as it was one of the last strings tying me to Ottawa and was the safe haven I relied on. While my initial reaction is one of fear of the tumultuous nature of Mum moving so far away (she doesn’t even have a phone number yet), she always assures me that I have a sanctuary wherever she ends up. Home is the people and not the building.

Since I was ten Mum has made it clear that she wanted a fresh start in British Columbia. I’m now 26. Clearly this desire to move has been a long burning one. In a lot of ways British Columbia is like ambrosia to my Mum. It is this thing that she tasted on a few occasions and has built in her head to be the only thing worth obtaining. I know in my heart of hearts that Mum feels like this new start will be like a balm to her spirit.

Ottawa for her is a place filled with the chaotic highs and lows of life. It is a place where she raised two children. A place where she grew to be an independent and strong woman. A place where she proved that she can weather any storm be it economical or emotional. And, it is a place filled with the sadness of loss.

All of these things have made Ottawa unliveable for my Mum. It is understandable that British Columbia has become the Nirvana she seeks. After all, the mountains, lakes, and more bearable climate make it the best place for new beginnings.

Today is bittersweet. I lost my best friend. My comrade in arms. My sometimes torturer as well as my occasional victim.

But, I know that his loss was not in vain. By signing his donor card, Blake gave others the opportunity to see, to successfully go through an operation, and the chance to live a longer/fuller life.

I find comfort in knowing that my brother - a huge fan of anime, comic books, action heroes, and adventures - was able to play the hero himself.

If I can do one positive thing it is to spread awareness about how important it is to sign your donor card. Such a simple little thing can help so many people. Become an organ donor and be a hero like my brother.