Bubble World Part Two: Stockholm

I should explain what were the circumstances of my accommodations during my weeks away.

They did not just treat us well. They treated us exceptionally, enormously, almost shamefully well at the Donald Gordon Conference Centre, a part of Queen's University. 

I don't think I've slept in a more comfortable bed. The food - you can guess I'm a bit picky about my food - was tremendous. There was no whim or trouble so great or small that they would not move heaven and earth to accommodate it. I'm not kidding. 

I forgot to pack my calcium supplement and vitamins (both of these run to some money) and hazarded a request that someone be sent out to fetch me some. So it was done (at no charge). 

I hankered to go for walks but it was terribly cold and had not brought a hat. Could they get me one of those? So it was done. 

We received some oversized maps of the polar regions as swag from one of the speakers. I fretted that mine might be crushed on the train. They fetched tubes. 

But the tubes are awkward to carry, I said, can't these be shipped? They made it so.

The food was not only good, it was readily available in considerable quantity during the entire day. Every imaginable breakfast - cereal, fruit, eggs, meat of just about any description, pastries, oatmeal - was already on the buffet or could be ordered. Lunch and supper offered every possible option: carnivore, omnivore, vegetarian, vegan, gluten free. And, if you wanted something else, so long as they had it in the kitchen, your wish was their command.

Life below stairs: the classroom I sat in for 9 hours every day.

Then there were the snacks. At every break goodies awaited us up the stairs from our subterranean classroom: mini smoothies in shot glasses festooned with short drinking straws; spears of fresh berries; endive spoons with dollops of blue cheese, toasted hazelnuts and pear chutney; savoury pinwheel pastries with jalapeño peppers and jack cheese. 

If fresh gourmet snacks were not your thing, there were large mouth jars (fourteen of them) full of pre-fabricated snacks: jelly beans, mini chocolate bars, jujubes, wine gums, wasabi peas, dried fruit, a bunch that I couldn't readily identify and those salty, slightly greasy, sesame snack things I ate so many of I made myself a little sick.

No wonder that by the beginning of the second week I was starting to identify with my captors.

The group of people I was spending every day with were accomplished, interesting, fun and friendly.

The official photo from the sidelines.
I asked a student to take a picture of us getting our picture taken.

I got to go to yoga.

330 Yoga in Kingston offered us a private class every day. We were shepherded there by Queen's students, in this instance, Tara, the one with her hands over her head. 

On the Saturday of our short weekend (we had classes on Saturday morning and Sunday night), I took a walking tour of old Kingston with a professor emeritus of History and Geography from Queen's university. 

The view from the courtyard by Miss Piggy's

A small cohort of my classmates and I -- those of us left behind  for the weekend like boarding school kids at Christmas -- ate another fine meal Saturday night at old Fort Henry.

I was hammered into submission not only by the good food and easy living. The course offerings were better in week two; there was more group work and there were some practical lessons offered up from interesting case studies. We almost never heard about the good old days.

Still, there is no question that I was holding a lot in. I missed Bruce. I missed my home. I missed the mobility of my life as a pedestrian in Toronto. Students don't shovel sidewalks and the freeze/thaw cycle made even the cleared pathways perilous. I felt pretty cooped up.

In case you're wondering, that's all ice.

All of this sets the stage for my last night in Kingston, which featured an epic tear down, more about which next week.

Thanks for reading!

Have a great week!

You can read Molly's latest post here.

Karen