My life as a traveling teacher.

The green cliffs of the archipelago of the Azores Islands, reminiscent of what I have imagined Ireland to resemble, welcome us in Mid-March, after spending the first half of this month at sea. I, admittedly, do not have Geography as a strong suit. I first learned of where the Azores where located last year, while looking on a giant world map on the wall of CFIS’ cafeteria with one of my students. We were pointing to various islands and countries, expressing our enthusiasm of perhaps one day being lucky enough to see them through a traveler’s eyes. Amidst our wandering and deciphering of the gigantic mural, the Azores were pointed out. I had remembered seeing this location mentioned on the Class Afloat itinerary for the upcoming school year. “Hey - I’ll be on that island next year. Awesome.” We find Horta, on the island of Faial near the end of winter; a season which is mostly marked by rain, and wind. This changes the planned program of a day-long volcano hike, as vis

After a great time in the Dominican Republic, we were set to begin our journey back to Europe, starting with a northeasterly trip to Bermuda. There were many reasons that made the anticipation for this port even higher than most. Reason 1: I’ve always wanted to see the island – mostly because I made it a life goal when I was a little girl to see all the places mentioned in that Beach Boys “Kokomo” song that’s so catchy. You have it in your head now too, don’t you? You’re welcome. Reason 2: One of my dearest friends lived most of her life here, and her stories and descriptions only amplified the motivations stated in reason 1. Reason 3: Pink sand beaches. Reason 4: Oh ya. Adlard is coming for a visit. One of my best friends from YYC was making the most of her WestJet employee benefits by flying down to meet me in Hamilton for a few days. Hailey’s visit was something I had been looking forward to for a while – mostly because she was bringing me some stuff

Chantalle Bourque c/o Class Afloat STA Belgium Sorlandet Thonetlaan 133 B-20050 Antwerpen 5 Belgium Snail mail needs to arrive by April 6th, friends.

After spending 6 days in Canada, and its cold, blustery winter, I was back in the tropics of the Caribbean, set to spend the next month or so with stays in Belize, Cuba, and the Dominican Republic. Have I mentioned that I love tropical weather? Because I do. Immensely. I don’t think I will tire of seeing palm trees, and turquoise-hued water. Ever. That being said, seeing a snow-covered landscape while landing at home was as heart-warming as one of those Tim Horton’s commercials. However, stepping outside into the weather that makes snow possible was about as pleasant as stubbing my toe, or accidently sitting on an ant farm. As much as I am a proud Canadian and love my home, there’s something about an ocean-side tropical view that sits 100% right with me. Perhaps it’s the fact that this tropical setting is completed with friendly people, delicious seafood, and a relaxed vibe. Maybe it’s the “go slow” way of life, or the fresh pineapple I get to eat on a daily basis. Whatever it is, I w

Twelve countries, nine languages…two of which I speak and understand. One of which I pretend to speak and understand. Though I manage to order coffee, and a (more than) occasional cheeseburger in our 3 Spanish speaking ports of call during my first semester at Class Afloat, I am limited to express myself in this beautiful language beyond ordering food, answering “muy bien” to “Como estas?”, and asking where the nearest bathroom is. This proves to be a challenge as Christina and I get into a taxi in Cartagena, Colombia, and attempt to make our way back to the tall ship we call home. This gorgeous South American port is donned with two major marinas, and we try make sure our unilingual cab driver knows where to take us. Foolishly, we have not prepared in advance for this: our cab driver has no idea where we are asking him to go. In all fairness to him, our broken Spanish is pitiful, and of no help at all. This, however, does not keep us from trying. Christina, confident that her summer t

If you’ve followed my adventures even a little bit, you’re aware that my relationship with sailing has had its highs and lows, and in-betweens. The lust I’ve felt for the water has been intertwined with the (sometimes) vile hatred of its swells and whitecaps. During our 5-month courtship, we’ve fought, we’ve made up, we’ve said and done things we didn’t mean, and we’ve shared some of the happiest moments in memory. The roller coaster that has been my introduction to the high seas has, quite honesty, resembled a teenage love affair. There was no shortage of drama, no absence of mood swings, and enough material to write dozens of new Taylor Swift songs. (Jean-Marc, “Babybarn”, this one’s for you) As do adolescent romances, so did evolve my relationship with sailing. I am happy to report that, over time, it has matured into functional union. It helps when I am surprised with the ocean’s many presents. Over the course of our sail across the Atlantic, we’ve managed to catch many dorado, wah