tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-205419622024-03-13T18:05:03.303-07:00Bre Dub's BlogJournaling about my life as a Professional Basketball Player. From Canada to the USA, Finland to Sweden, Portugal to Luxembourg and finally Spain - I'm ballin' all over the world!BreDub3http://www.blogger.com/profile/10548357764703147155noreply@blogger.comBlogger90125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20541962.post-18819965189841233472012-01-31T21:28:00.008-08:002012-02-24T14:11:44.002-08:00Back to RealityAt the risk of sounding incredibly cliché, I was in fact living the dream. Traveling weekly to European destination cities, living expense free and getting paid quite nicely to play the sport I love…life was good. Really good, and I couldn’t have imagined it any other way. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhV-g2srB0kDpsarNDWAUrxKdnrysSJAMm9d30Ev4mEXZh1AhmnRswMUpByoZcIY5MSGcc9WO4HXY6fgb09A6mQMFKoceQhRXLsx8OxGg3ruGyJ-r2m75edm81hYPO5IYbEW-9z/s1600/420656_10100902239386938_10714039_60628496_1995103466_n.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="320" width="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhV-g2srB0kDpsarNDWAUrxKdnrysSJAMm9d30Ev4mEXZh1AhmnRswMUpByoZcIY5MSGcc9WO4HXY6fgb09A6mQMFKoceQhRXLsx8OxGg3ruGyJ-r2m75edm81hYPO5IYbEW-9z/s320/420656_10100902239386938_10714039_60628496_1995103466_n.jpeg" /></a></div><br />
But inevitably, I hit the proverbial wall. Waking up early in Spain one morning, I finally realized I was done. This was no longer my dream – it was a nightmare. I didn’t want to go to the gym. I didn’t want to lace up my basketball shoes. I didn’t want to touch a ball. After a 20 plus year love affair with Spalding, the thought of shooting one more jumper made me feel ill. I wanted to go home. I wanted to see my friends and family. I wanted to be surrounded by the people I loved.<br />
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Toughing out the rest of a long, unhappy season and fulfilling my contract obligations, I was finally on a plane back to the Pacific Northwest. It was then that I realized I had completed my final season as a professional athlete. And oddly enough, I was at peace.<br />
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Once landing back on the right side of the world, I didn’t touch a ball for close to 2 months. I’d had a lifetime of basketball in my 26 years and was ready to start the next chapter. After spending summers working as a personal trainer, coaching, planning and organizing various tournaments and events, it was time to get a ‘real job.’ Being choosy in regards to my field of interest and expertise, I wasn’t going to accept any position. It had to be the right fit.<br />
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Enter <a href="http://gothunderbirds.ca/">UBC</a>. If there were two skills I’d encourage young adults to focus on today they would be networking and confidence. Education and work experience are important and matter, but you’d be surprised at what self-confidence and networking can do for you. They can open doors you didn’t even know existed. If it wasn’t for my self belief and the networking tools I put to use, I can honestly say I don’t think I’d be holding the <a href="http://gothunderbirds.ca/staff.aspx?staff=292">position</a> I have today; a position I’m quite fond of.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi63qPyY_KSeTTEgAg9sM5PO8gkTtxRGg6qAW-KbY3y2AEaFWRk4p_2ZruKgTp6l0vcCpiLpdfqA9nggCTmJvgvpIMe5_AkXt0vlV-noqi73FiLVJkNkU_o-iHAwKYIjSY72CbO/s1600/329933_10100554278169008_10714039_58500295_614091677_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="239" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi63qPyY_KSeTTEgAg9sM5PO8gkTtxRGg6qAW-KbY3y2AEaFWRk4p_2ZruKgTp6l0vcCpiLpdfqA9nggCTmJvgvpIMe5_AkXt0vlV-noqi73FiLVJkNkU_o-iHAwKYIjSY72CbO/s320/329933_10100554278169008_10714039_58500295_614091677_o.jpg" /></a></div><br />
That being said, it’s been a transition. Though I’ve gone back to playing basketball at a high level (I play on an elite <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3xye5liA9Uk&list=FLIXDUab5qt2tiQYLfD-trPQ&index=8&feature=plpp_video">semi-pro team</a> based in Seattle that competes in two US National tournaments every summer), it will never quite be the same as playing in front of 4,000+ purple clad fans at the <a href="http://www.gohuskies.com/">University of Washington</a>, celebrating close victories with my teammates, enduring agonizingly satisfying 2-a-days during the preseason, lifting absurd amounts of weights or hitting game winners. There are a lot of things I miss about playing college and professional basketball, but there are a lot of things I'm happy I have moved on from.<br />
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Having spent no more than 2 months at a time in Vancouver since 2003, every day brings its new adventures and challenges. I’m reconnecting with old friends and meeting new ones. I’m paying taxes, monthly bills and am finally realizing the reality of being a ‘grown up.’ I miss my best friends in Seattle and the carefree lifestyle of Europe, but Vancouver has been nothing but good to me thus far.<br />
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Here’s to month 10 in Beautiful British Columbia…<br />
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-BWBreDub3http://www.blogger.com/profile/10548357764703147155noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20541962.post-79360235122056323352011-04-16T18:46:00.006-07:002012-01-25T19:38:57.181-08:00Out of Time<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgt48-uEAa_UYtn0Pdc_WINe1jTw8p1xVjdUjBlfXwh9ioautuFHagsY4vBX1zoSBAtXLrrcpX68nLOh5bnjf1hLRRZ2YFYuEHIH0R7YMz_68lZ9eK3XG2w0j08cvgZqhpw3-Ym/s1600/IMG_3262.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgt48-uEAa_UYtn0Pdc_WINe1jTw8p1xVjdUjBlfXwh9ioautuFHagsY4vBX1zoSBAtXLrrcpX68nLOh5bnjf1hLRRZ2YFYuEHIH0R7YMz_68lZ9eK3XG2w0j08cvgZqhpw3-Ym/s320/IMG_3262.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5596367901616721138" /></a>It’s funny how sometimes, timing is everything. I made it no secret that this season in Ferrol was not the most enjoyable. Unfortunately, playing in Spain will always have an asterisk beside the memory. Despite residing in one of the most beautiful and diverse countries in the world and playing in one of the most respected women’s basketball leagues internationally, I never had the chance to appreciate the country the way I wanted to.<br />
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Basketball is only a fraction of the life of an overseas professional. With so many differences and excessive amounts of downtime, it’s essential to meet people and make friends in order to integrate into the culture. In my previous 3 seasons I was very successful at all of the above and flourished not only on the basketball court but, in my social environments. Here in Spain, my social life outside basketball was almost non-existent. The reason: team chemistry. A professional athlete’s network abroad stems from the relationships you develop with your teammates and those associated with club. Sadly, the foreigners (non-Spanish players) were alienated from the beginning for some inexplicable reason. Though I tried to integrate and associate with the girls on my team, they did not want any outsiders to be a part of their group. The foreign imports were treated terribly by our Spanish counterparts, to the point that I sometimes thought I was in some sort of high school nightmare. It was brutal. Though speaking Spanish is not my strong point, I understand it at a very high level. Imagine how it felt sitting in the locker room, riding the bus and running up and down the court everyday, constantly hearing my teammates talk about me (and Jhasmin) while we were right beside them. I’m not stupid. But, I’m also not a confrontational person. With age and experience I’ve learned how to deal with and manage various types of personalities. Instead of being goaded into being 'the problem', I chose to ignore these ridiculous girls and the uncomfortable situations they tried to put me in. I did my job everyday and then made sure not to associate with these teammates off the court. This is the first time I’ve ever had to do this. It was…sad.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjd4Jxr3zxEpHCDDoE7KCd6Lxr0SCjg6zzNfC0BorgXrvMr3bmL-139b22cjPylQ2j8FHxvB4Lbtk5vUkHcjZwKxUH9dXoXnI9Xg-G88mY8zH0WdaGcK0R-auJTYw0z7MDBsnhA/s1600/IMG00151-20110415-1426.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjd4Jxr3zxEpHCDDoE7KCd6Lxr0SCjg6zzNfC0BorgXrvMr3bmL-139b22cjPylQ2j8FHxvB4Lbtk5vUkHcjZwKxUH9dXoXnI9Xg-G88mY8zH0WdaGcK0R-auJTYw0z7MDBsnhA/s320/IMG00151-20110415-1426.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5596367685870114674" /></a><br />
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When your teammates are not your friends, it’s very difficult to branch out, associate and build relationships with others in a foreign land. That’s not to say I didn’t try or it cannot be done. However, when you do not see familiar faces everyday, it makes befriending someone much tougher. My first step towards fixing this problem was connecting with our men’s team - which ended up being more difficult than anticipated. Most did not speak any English, they practice at another gym and there were no American imports. With one strike on the board, my next step was looking up English speaking consulates in Ferrol (UK, CAN, USA, AUS, etc). I was ecstatic to discover that there was in fact an Irish office in town. Entertaining the thought of being able to hang out with other Anglophones, I visited the consulate with high hopes, only to have them come crashing down. Only one person worked there. He was 65+ and despite holding an Irish passport, barely spoke a word of English. Strike 2. Starting to feel the inklings of failure creep in, I refused to give up and soldiered on. On campus at the University of Ferrol one day, I decided to inquire if there were any Americans studying abroad. Once again, I came up empty handed. My final option was spent searching the Internet and completing random searches on facebook. This too was unsuccessful. Ferrol is a small city and very few people have it listed it as their ‘current city.’ Every name that did come up was definitely Spanish. Luck was not on my side. Extinguishing the last of my options, I accepted that for the most part, I’d be keeping myself entertained for the next 8 months.<br />
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Before our last home game of the season, I encountered a cruel twist of fate - meeting 4 Americans during my last week and a half in Ferrol. Not only that, they had been here since October!!! Are you kidding me?! Apparently there are 10 in the city teaching English/learning Spanish at a small college on the outskirts of Ferrol. Not only were they all SUPER cool, but 2 lived a few blocks from my apartment! How does that happen? How did we never bump into each other?! Of course they also frequented the same bars I could be found at on the weekends and cafes I often drank coffee at during the week…unbelievable. Not understanding how we never crossed paths, I spent my last days hanging out with each of them in various settings throughout the week - dinner, coffee, drinks, homemade meals… We all had quite a lot in common and enjoyed doing the same types of things. One of the guys even attended my last home game to cheer me on. What could have been…<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghnIYBlA17RcExv3Q7IEweDGlRQREEvW-9q1JNLMhwyhN84nIe1hstCiBiAF815OgTUoX5KUX0XXJNLCnANs4LbMaHna40lEZKZsntKoDuAqc5FR6tV32H1KvY8um2FhWP7H11/s1600/IMG00143-20110415-1329.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghnIYBlA17RcExv3Q7IEweDGlRQREEvW-9q1JNLMhwyhN84nIe1hstCiBiAF815OgTUoX5KUX0XXJNLCnANs4LbMaHna40lEZKZsntKoDuAqc5FR6tV32H1KvY8um2FhWP7H11/s320/IMG00143-20110415-1329.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5596367526259605666" /></a><br />
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Though I’m more than excited to leave Ferrol, I’m kind of sad that fate was so unkind in its timing. I think what is most upsetting is the fact that I did make an effort to get out there and meet people, but due to an extremely bad stroke of luck, I found them too late. I’m certain my experience in Ferrol would have been much different had I connected with this great group of people in October. Ironically, I probably would have loved my time Galicia.<br />
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Nevertheless, this is life. These kinds of experiences make me more resilient. The fact is, life doesn’t always work out the way you want it to. It’s something that I can’t dwell upon, I just have to be thankful that I was able to meet these people and we were able to enjoy each other’s company in the short time we had together.<br />
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That being said, my 4th season abroad is FINALLY over. We finished in 6th place (out of 14) in the LF2 ‘A’ Division with a 16-10 record, missing playoffs. I leave today for a 9-day trip throughout Spain (Madrid, Granada, Seville, Cordoba) with a friend before flying home April 28th. Once settled at home in Vancouver, I plan on posting my annual pros/cons list about the season and share thoughts on my post season trip through Spain.<br />
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Until May, Hasta Luego!<br />
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-BW<br />
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Sidenote: These photos were take from a day trip to Doniños, a beach 30 minutes outside of town. It was a beautiful day, but very cold and windy!BreDub3http://www.blogger.com/profile/10548357764703147155noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20541962.post-81502927809761419162011-04-03T05:43:00.007-07:002017-04-24T17:55:05.658-07:00The Un-Glamourous<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEir-XlnMrMblkzWUaa3IaiiT7MAjBRP6zS1NfKA8Bw2_xjdxpiS6ZMSnqPlTXSPNFTRCOuPcmcFXF8zE2V0HZwn4KXUqg1Zpb1SqQgQ3jA40VTHW8dBpUfFw0Y9vIitQFmAD5kC/s1600/n10714039_33387546_9042.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 212px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEir-XlnMrMblkzWUaa3IaiiT7MAjBRP6zS1NfKA8Bw2_xjdxpiS6ZMSnqPlTXSPNFTRCOuPcmcFXF8zE2V0HZwn4KXUqg1Zpb1SqQgQ3jA40VTHW8dBpUfFw0Y9vIitQFmAD5kC/s320/n10714039_33387546_9042.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5591339426830068690" /></a>I may never beat you off the dribble or blow by you with my first step. It’s unlikely I’ll be selected to take the game winning shot or wow you with my fancy passing. I’ll never be the player everyone wants autographs from or whose moves fans constantly try to mimic…But one thing is for certain – you need me to win basketball games.<br />
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I’m the silent one in the background, the tall presence that stays out of the spotlight. I’m the player that accepts my role and tries not to complain about lack of touches. This is one aspect out of my control, as I need my teammates to feed me. Instead of grumbling, I focus on rebounding and interior defense.<br />
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I take my lunch pail and put on my blue collar before every game. I sacrifice my body, set screens, take the hits and outwork my opponents. I focus on my strengths and stay away from my weaknesses. I do the dirty work, clean up the glass, bang inside and crash the ‘O’ boards. I’m what gives the team its edge.<br />
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I’m the under-appreciated, under-recognized, overlooked and un-glamourous. I’m your big. Your inside player. Your post, pivot and power forward. I may not be the most agile or the most fun to watch. I won’t hit a deep 3 in your face. My physical tools aren’t jaw-dropping and there’s a slim chance I’ll take you coast to coast. But I will be one of your toughest players. I will patrol the paint and I will be the enforcer. I will stand up for my smaller teammates, anchor the team and impose my physical strength on opponents. I will intimidate.<br />
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The guards will get the recognition; people will buy their jerseys. Fans will fight for their autograph, chase after them for photos and follow their every move. I, on the other hand will quietly slip out of the arena without fanfare, while nursing multiple war wounds.<br />
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The only recognition I want is a pat on the back from my coach and the respect of my teammates.<br />
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The perimeter position is glamourized by media. It’s the place everyone wants to play and succeed at. It’s where players are noted and acknowledged. Where careers are cemented. Seemingly, no one wants to play inside anymore and embrace the label of ‘forward’. Nowadays there are 6’9”+ (men) and 6’1”+ (women) who prefer to crossover and shoot jumpers than make drop steps and bank shots. I think it’s because they’re scared to venture in the paint inside. Sadly, the post player is slowly becoming a dying breed.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQRqedV6lPkYoRT7c49DTf7klJBYU4wUe-iqhsEOjQn-YN_-SVbYkeoy-bSrfhmFK3ffWnYmSQLqEiHvY5PJRX_T5OGbOG3H4A7S7yF3PVLOHBZuLMAssuxARAUYB11e5_jdTd/s1600/IMG00130-20110327-1433.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQRqedV6lPkYoRT7c49DTf7klJBYU4wUe-iqhsEOjQn-YN_-SVbYkeoy-bSrfhmFK3ffWnYmSQLqEiHvY5PJRX_T5OGbOG3H4A7S7yF3PVLOHBZuLMAssuxARAUYB11e5_jdTd/s320/IMG00130-20110327-1433.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5591339578526988674" /></a> <br />
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I don’t need the newspaper articles, TV interviews or radio broadcasts. I’ll take the black eyes (6+), stitches, broken noses (3), and cheap shots under the cup. I’ll accept the bad calls from officials just because I’m bigger and stronger than other players. I’ll take the blame for a missed chippy, layup or rotation in help. I’ll take the brunt of the criticism for team breakdowns because I’m the tallest and always seem to be an easy scapegoat. I’ll take all of it, every time, as long as it puts a tally in the win column.<br />
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I’ve been an undersized forward my whole life. I’ve got battle scars, an imperfect nose and an achy body. I’m an inside player and don’t want to be anything else.<br />
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-BWBreDub3http://www.blogger.com/profile/10548357764703147155noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20541962.post-58190619425411976202011-03-20T11:22:00.005-07:002011-04-03T06:26:29.953-07:00Marchin' into the Madness<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXV0MDXW-vUYRrSRaP-7fChmU2Gw1RNukphr5b7uC3U-QsT9wYPHNjVMxqvhwor7z1WuGAVl4_fcLxRUv8WCcZb1uEpTj8LzPrgABYEot4xsGGr7ZV4QxU_WIlIuYfvrxQI4KR/s1600/Upset.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 254px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXV0MDXW-vUYRrSRaP-7fChmU2Gw1RNukphr5b7uC3U-QsT9wYPHNjVMxqvhwor7z1WuGAVl4_fcLxRUv8WCcZb1uEpTj8LzPrgABYEot4xsGGr7ZV4QxU_WIlIuYfvrxQI4KR/s320/Upset.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5586238539372396530" /></a>For any type of basketball fan, right now is by far the best time of year. Whether cheering for a mid-major, conference power, the underdog, the favorite, your alma mater or even for a university you never knew existed - there’s nothing quite like March Madness. Brackets busted, bandwagon fans hopping from team to team and college colors being seen every which way you turn, March really is the best month of the year.<br /><br />The worst part of the month? Being in Europe while Madness infiltrates every television station, radio broadcast and newspaper sports section in North America. Though able to watch each game online via live stream, (thank you <a href="http://www.cbssports.com/">CBS Sports</a>!) it’s not nearly the same as having a gathering of friends over to talk trash with, heading to the local <a href="http://targys.com/">bar</a> to enjoy a few brews while surrounded by monstrous HDTVs or screaming at the screen and completely losing yourself in the moment, forgetting you’re surrounded by strangers. Instead, I’m stuck watching college basketball alone in my room on my 10-inch Macbook. Most Europeans don’t know much about US college basketball and even if they do, they don’t really care. This tends to put a damper on my personal March Madness.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfj3cbfMTjdQ-WOpCu_V8wefm3IkgjI2olb2BZRJq5LU9uyU3zYO6royCGGQH1pFF2_UyZP_-SMGQ8IArBTujAJKPgnaXdGBEri9qTTyE1mUMZMEUnIlU_JqYfuVztDBXkj25_/s1600/pac10.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 206px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfj3cbfMTjdQ-WOpCu_V8wefm3IkgjI2olb2BZRJq5LU9uyU3zYO6royCGGQH1pFF2_UyZP_-SMGQ8IArBTujAJKPgnaXdGBEri9qTTyE1mUMZMEUnIlU_JqYfuVztDBXkj25_/s320/pac10.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5591348053185652706" /></a><br /><br />Nevertheless, I’ve spent all my free time staying up late to watch games, trying to trick myself into being a part of the excitement. Because I can’t share this wonderful time of year with my friends, I’ve tried to duplicate the atmosphere in a couple of ways. First is by watching a live stream while <a href="http://www.skype.com/">Skyping</a> with a friend who also is watching the same stream. This way, we’re able to watch the game ‘together’…or something like that. When in reality it’s kind of weird because we end up barely talking while staring at our screens, sometimes forgetting the other is there. Or one of our games will be ahead, ruining the build up for the other! Sounds awesome right? Not! Another option I had to resort to and get creative with was using my Blackberry. Missing two games I was most looking forward to watching (SDSU/Temple, Butler/Pitt), while being on a 10 hour road trip, I had to resort to following excruciatingly slow game tracker updates via my Sports Illustrated App. Unsatisfied with having no idea how the game was being played, who had the momentum and which team looked as though they wanted it more - I started to BBM (Blackberry message) with a friend who was watching the game live. She was kind and patient enough to give me (for the most part) the play-by-play and breakdown of the game. Though I’m thankful technology enabled me to be somewhat part of Saturday night’s Madness, I happened to miss out on probably 2 of the most exciting games of the tournament thus far. Dangit!<br /><br />Because I’m away from everything familiar covering the NCAA tournament, I guess I’ll have to YouTube Saturday’s highlights Sunday morning, rather than catch them on Sports Centre or ESPN. C’est La Vie!<br /><br />Thankfully, I’ve been home and available when Washington (my alma mater) played its 1st and 2nd round games. If you’re questioning my dedication, check this: I woke up at 3am Saturday morning to watch my Huskies squeak out a victory over Georgia. Though sleep deprived the following day/night, the sacrifice was well worth it. Sadly, today the boys lost a heartbreaker to traditional power North Carolina Tar Heels. They had a chance to win in 7 seconds left, but silly turnovers killed us. Wearing purple and screaming at my computer while alone in my room, I couldn't help but be proud of my DAWGS. <br /><br />BOW DOWN!<br /><br />-BW<br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Basketball Update:</span> I’ll keep this one short and sweet. Four more games left in the season and I get to go home. Draw your own conclusions ☺BreDub3http://www.blogger.com/profile/10548357764703147155noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20541962.post-82801925448011474762011-03-04T10:01:00.005-08:002011-03-04T14:32:49.044-08:00Motivation<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSfw17485i76iD6yHUL1I9_uujjSgRoatDyWV4mvC_vRpbpqccgI8S8n-uxsiIzKmXTLKo26ZjoEjdUCqn8RdFoN46v-VHUzuGA1PSjuZv_jTDTYYvMsfE2GI7Q6_zzKR8qjGI/s1600/168447_10100186733286898_10714039_54900933_1515026_n.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSfw17485i76iD6yHUL1I9_uujjSgRoatDyWV4mvC_vRpbpqccgI8S8n-uxsiIzKmXTLKo26ZjoEjdUCqn8RdFoN46v-VHUzuGA1PSjuZv_jTDTYYvMsfE2GI7Q6_zzKR8qjGI/s320/168447_10100186733286898_10714039_54900933_1515026_n.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5580291579558466722" /></a>I once read somewhere that if you have nothing to write about – don’t. Well that couldn’t have rung truer this past month, as I was unable to find anything worthy of sharing. I’ve been stuck in a rut and only now am finally finding the motivation to dig myself out of it.<br /> <br />This season in Spain has been the most trying of my 4 years abroad. It has challenged me in numerous ways and in all honesty, has been quite miserable. A big reason as to why I play overseas is to travel to new worlds and experience living in foreign lands, all while teaching myself how to adapt, assimilate and thrive within them. When I found out I’d be calling Spain home this season - I was ecstatic. I had heard such wonderful things about the country and league, that I couldn’t wait to leave Vancouver and begin my new adventure.<br /> <br />Unfortunately, the country has failed to live up to my expectations for a variety of reasons. Though I’m happy to be playing in one of the top leagues in the world, I’ve found that this alone cannot provide me with the happiness I desire. Basketball used to be my world - I believed that all I needed was a ball and hoop to be happy. Obvious I was quite naïve, as I find now that this couldn’t be further from the truth.<br /> <br />Though I love the sport with all my heart, there are much more important things in life. When 2011 rolled around I had an epiphany - the reason basketball made me happy was because it surrounded me with great opportunities, relationships and people. These were the other things that contributed to my happiness. Unfortunately, many of these variables do not surround me this year, therefore putting my romantic relationship with basketball on the rocks.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjh33-7Beli1pLMi7kEYueoaA59zjH7drtjEYkFpFgZOJscorm56t5VyciE1u3iuHpjCIG2gq9fFjw2bw7usd5htW0MwLmmZZ0O5gSRDxl0EOmg1QAwpulMVp-Hj_a-IspITWtX/s1600/IMG_3195.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjh33-7Beli1pLMi7kEYueoaA59zjH7drtjEYkFpFgZOJscorm56t5VyciE1u3iuHpjCIG2gq9fFjw2bw7usd5htW0MwLmmZZ0O5gSRDxl0EOmg1QAwpulMVp-Hj_a-IspITWtX/s320/IMG_3195.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5580291859059745842" /></a><br /> <br />As regular readers know, I have a soft spot for my family and friends. They are the 2 things I value most in the world. In my previous 3 seasons, I was fortunate enough to have made fantastic friends hailing from numerous European countries. This year, I don’t have that luxury. This area of Spain has created a sort of isolation. I won’t get into the specifics of my situation in Galicia, but needless to say I’m very unhappy. So much so, that I don’t like the person I am right now. I’ve always been a motivated, driven individual who loves getting the most out of each and every day. I like to set goals, conquer challenges and explore new surroundings. I’m someone who cherishes every minute and hate seeing time pass quickly. However, Spain has changed me…and not in a good way. I've lost all motivation to do the things that define me. As of right now, the ‘real’ me is missing. If I could use one word to currently describe how I feel, it would be…bleh - and that’s very upsetting. As I type this blog post out, I realize I’m ashamed of how uninspiring and ‘boring’ I’ve become these past couple months. I hate who I am right now and want nothing more than time to fly, so I can go home and get out of this horrible funk.<br /> <br />Which brings me back to motivation. A powerful verb. When lacking it what kind of person do you become? Do you like that person? If the answer is no then it's time to find your inner motivation (whatever it may be) and use it to get out of your funk. Find something that motivates you to become the person you want to be. Don’t let outside factors hold you back, no matter how hard they try to bring you down. Everyone has their own personal burdens and challenges that stand in the way, but it's up to you to escape them strive to become who you want to be!<br /> <br />Writing this post is the first step in motivating myself to find and revive the 'real' Bre Dub. I’m going to fight my way through this slump, no matter who or what tries to take me down! It’s time to make a change and rediscover my happiness - bring it on!<br /><br />-BW<br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Sidenote:</span> This was not meant to be a self-pitying post, rather an update that paints a picture of my current emotions and experience in Spain. Obviously, it’s not the most glowing report, but an honest depiction that I hope can be understood! The life of a professional athlete is not as glamourous as it seems sometimes. :)BreDub3http://www.blogger.com/profile/10548357764703147155noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20541962.post-63998096837623521522011-02-06T13:38:00.007-08:002011-02-08T02:55:18.724-08:00It's a Small World After All<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRc5Piu70SV18qtdU1LPhSq3p-IRziDHQQdn_X62sZnl_pH2g8Q_F93aCbY8npaOtyQx4ySNOdnfdsNyoTSJj5hNyDdRJIg8yXZNxhzcUhQi3SWAIhRxvaTvcR1x7g2zCV33-V/s1600/002.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 244px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRc5Piu70SV18qtdU1LPhSq3p-IRziDHQQdn_X62sZnl_pH2g8Q_F93aCbY8npaOtyQx4ySNOdnfdsNyoTSJj5hNyDdRJIg8yXZNxhzcUhQi3SWAIhRxvaTvcR1x7g2zCV33-V/s320/002.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5570710743210078546" /></a>As the season wears on, it's of no surprise that my body is starting to complain more and more. Some mornings I wake up and feel as though I’m 40 years old. Only 25, every joint has taken a consistent beating year after year due to a competitive basketball schedule. Unfortunately, I'm already beginning to feel the effects.<br /><br />Throughout my high school, university and professional playing career I’ve remained relatively injury free (knock on wood). Though I’ve never had a surgery, I’ve visited my fair share of doctors, physiotherapists and chiropractors. Keeping the body as close to 100% is very important in my line of work and requires a constant effort.<br /><br />After a week of suffering though uncomfortable lower back pain, I finally decided to visit our team physio Angel. I’m not one to complain about injuries, nor do I enjoy spending excessive amounts of time rehabbing, but it's better than being held out of practice. I don’t really like special treatment. If your injury disables you to the point that it’s affecting your play - ok, but if you can handle the pain – suck it up and stop being a baby. Maybe I’m a masochist, but that’s always been my approach.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdzciKfOM-bRp5z3ut4XMhTyaFVmw1vG5_zW8IKFyalwmQDbVU8moepxuY7qnF7I1ppJCGag3Gqr-vvgz48Iy_PwYk5R6sKu5WldW13LTTUnTWhAaK5up6CCSyoSXi5uH23Nf6/s1600/001.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 220px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdzciKfOM-bRp5z3ut4XMhTyaFVmw1vG5_zW8IKFyalwmQDbVU8moepxuY7qnF7I1ppJCGag3Gqr-vvgz48Iy_PwYk5R6sKu5WldW13LTTUnTWhAaK5up6CCSyoSXi5uH23Nf6/s320/001.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5570712391728657362" /></a><br /><br />Anyway, after being poked, prodded and questioned, I was finally granted what I really wanted - a massage. During a long period of silence, I decided to engage Angel in conversation. Though we don't share a common language, we were somehow able to communicate and I was surprised to where the conversation led. Practicing my Spanish, Angel commented on how adaptable and friendly Canadians are. Swelling with pride, I couldn’t help but agree with his observation. Wondering how he had deducted this from just speaking with me, he explained that a couple of seasons ago, the women’s team had employed 2 Canadian girls (coincidentally, both of who I know and had played on the National Team with). He then continued to explain that 2 Canadians had also played for the men’s club in the 80’s. Not expecting to recognize the names, I asked anyway. “Rick Hanger and <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lars_Hansen">Lars Hansen</a>.” The moment Angel said Lars’ name, I couldn’t believe it - Lars is from the Greater Vancouver area (my hometown), played at the University of Washington (my <a href="http://www.gohuskies.com/sports/w-baskbl/mtt/watson_breanne00.html">alma mater</a>) and is an acquaintance of my father! <br /><br />Though completely different players (Lars 6’10 center, my dad 6’5 swingman) the 2 share a lot in common. Lars was BC High School MVP in ’71 and ’72, while <a href="http://www.canada.com/vancouversun/news/sports/story.html?id=b77fbc7f-6f9b-4c19-93b8-317244603a3b&p=4">my dad was MVP in ’60 and ’61</a> (yep, he’s a tad old and grey...love you daddy!) Upon graduation, my dad went on to play for legendary coach <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Marv_Harshman">Marv Harshman</a> at <a href="http://www.wsucougars.com/sports/m-baskbl/spec-rel/012006aab.html">Washington State</a>. Similarly, Lars went to play for Coach Harshman 10 years later at the <a href="http://www.gohuskies.com/sports/m-baskbl/mtt/harshman_marv00.html">University of Washington</a>. My <a href="http://curtisjphillips.tripod.com/id82.html">father</a> and Lars have played together many times during the mature parts of their careers. Lars is a member of the <a href="http://www.basketball.ca/en/hm/inside.php?sid=1&id=873">Canadian</a> and British Columbia Basketball Hall of Fame, the latter of which my father will be <a href="http://www.basketball.bc.ca/index.php/categories/football/item/26-2011-basketball-bc-hall-of-fame-inductees-announced">inducted into in April</a>. I’ve met Lars a handful of times and the fact that he played here in Ferrol blows my mind!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIcp5GgpjAwLJIiPUYV3XI1Ck3ctrjWmzk8sZE52XZDPyF555GcLZ1Wr09STigKNQm1W1yaUeqnovFuOHEuu1EZtZMlCB4y3cZ6TxlfZA3wrPV_Yn-8-3yvgiqGqjN1NEG-Wtn/s1600/IMG00090-20110131-1837.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 235px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIcp5GgpjAwLJIiPUYV3XI1Ck3ctrjWmzk8sZE52XZDPyF555GcLZ1Wr09STigKNQm1W1yaUeqnovFuOHEuu1EZtZMlCB4y3cZ6TxlfZA3wrPV_Yn-8-3yvgiqGqjN1NEG-Wtn/s320/IMG00090-20110131-1837.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5570712155107957058" /></a><br /><br />Sharing this information with Angel, he quipped “so all you Canadians do know each other?” I laughed. It seemed as though the stereotype was true. “Just a coincidence” I stated with a smile. Angel called his father into the room and shared the info I had just told him. He was ecstatic and left the room, returning with a team photo. He explained he had been the physiotherapist for Lars’ Ferrol team when they played in the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Liga_ACB">ACB</a>. Crazy!<br /><br />Every year I’m abroad, I can’t help but shake my head. No matter how far I am from home, I always seem to stumble upon something or some sort of information that surprises me and proves that it really is a small world after all…<br /><br />-BW<br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Basketball Update</span>: And the roller coaster continues…2 weeks ago we lost to one of the worst teams in the league on the road. Though they had changed 3 players and their coach over the Christmas break, talent wise, we were still the superior team. Nevertheless, that day Carmelitas wanted it more than us. With an unkind rim and soft defense we quickly found ourselves down 20. Finally finding some will after halftime, we battled back to make it a 1-point deficit with 1 minute to play. Unfortunately, it was too little to late and we were handed the L. Lets just say the following week of training and meetings were the furthest thing from enjoyable…However, the following weekend we managed to bounce back and destroyed the 2nd place team (who prior to playing us, had only lost twice) at home by 18. Yup, 18 points. Happy with the win, I was also frustrated. We have the talent to be the 2nd or 3rd place team in the league, but it depends on which personality shows up Saturdays. Our team is very young and attitude and discipline are problems that hurt us. Until we find a cure for this, I don’t know what to expect. Road game versus the 3rd place team today…fingers crossed.BreDub3http://www.blogger.com/profile/10548357764703147155noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20541962.post-15666472300044040972011-01-26T10:14:00.011-08:002011-01-29T08:33:59.233-08:00Stormy Weather<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgs8CuJ_mEA-NEYAbat9ighr9hyphenhyphenbXem5E0MXffXqwhFa0kbtSTQi1EWUqizp4jqGtBI2GNK0zcqiFmcLz0kZKri6QLybGSs-Wm5gp8T7OdELcb9KEgjc_BnSI-knRd4ZX1cfsZl/s1600/IMG_0717.JPG"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgs8CuJ_mEA-NEYAbat9ighr9hyphenhyphenbXem5E0MXffXqwhFa0kbtSTQi1EWUqizp4jqGtBI2GNK0zcqiFmcLz0kZKri6QLybGSs-Wm5gp8T7OdELcb9KEgjc_BnSI-knRd4ZX1cfsZl/s320/IMG_0717.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5567646931021229394" /></a><br /><br />Lost in a mass of people speaking a language I don't understand<br />Feeling the twinge of loneliness while living in a foreign land<br /><br />Same routine day after day<br />Wishing I could call a close friend just to catch up at a cafe<br /><br />An isolated life to play the game I love<br />But wondering if the trade off is worth it when push comes to shove<br /><br />Its been a great 4 years, 3 more than ever thought<br />Reflecting I am grateful and know it wasn't all for naught<br /><br />3 months to go with a salary to be paid<br />Wondering if this is the last time I decide to live the unique life I have made<br /><br />Bouncing a ball and shooting a hoop<br />When coming home I feel so out of the loop<br /><br />Europe has been wonderful, but I'm now looking beyond<br />Thinking it may be time to start over again and finally move on...<br /><br />-BWBreDub3http://www.blogger.com/profile/10548357764703147155noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20541962.post-39874498697367398962011-01-16T13:54:00.011-08:002011-03-07T09:50:34.292-08:00Perdóna, Your Smoke is in My Face<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5o1x2juGOaXawoEYH68GvXXY3hyzIxeRBRTs5i0TTodl9g8HtKnORdCmpALIqGrSEoPweOApzdHmIetYwXj1QQKjtG72RVgzkoVyxBJWIDJAxZaqNHaGn7NU2a2IYc8msdS1V/s1600/IMG_3219.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5o1x2juGOaXawoEYH68GvXXY3hyzIxeRBRTs5i0TTodl9g8HtKnORdCmpALIqGrSEoPweOApzdHmIetYwXj1QQKjtG72RVgzkoVyxBJWIDJAxZaqNHaGn7NU2a2IYc8msdS1V/s320/IMG_3219.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5562919972986259250" /></a><span style="font-style:italic;">(Author’s note: this post reflects personal opinion and is not meant to offend those that choose to smoke.)</span><br /><br />I hate cigarettes. The smell, the taste, the way smoke embeds itself into clothing and hair…ugh. It can take days for the stench to dissipate from a favorite jacket or an extensive hair washing or two to rid of the smell. This goes without mentioning how bad cigarettes are for your health and the potential quality of life problems they can create.<br /><br />Essentially, I’ve lived a relatively smoke free life. My parents are non-smokers and my friends too refrain from lighting up. In fact, of all the people I spend quality time with, I can’t think of one smoker. I suppose since I’ve been active in athletics my entire life and the fact that I’m currently employed as a professional athlete factors into these realities as well. <br /><br />From high school until now, I have never found myself in a situation where I had felt pressured to try ‘be cool’ or ‘fit in’ by smoking. Perhaps it was the people I associated with or an unspoken respect that I was given. Clearly, I was not interested in the tobacco filled sticks and had never been inclined to try. <br /><br />In 2008, British Columbia passed a <a href="http://www.health.gov.bc.ca/tobacco/">law</a> prohibiting smoking in enclosed public spaces and workplaces. Before this law was passed, most restaurants and public areas had already enforced this type of law themselves, so it wasn’t a huge adjustment.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4j4wXe5mRGA1Sq8LbtL657h6E28hTpHy2TefDK0qxtKqlkRGxoHSaXthKSKZ5EUMfO8talrl43inXOFSTjsDzZ9CAmo29VQ_REK7Yuj2xH8DG-ID6wvcCNmI-1RElc-czyvsI/s1600/IMG_3203.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4j4wXe5mRGA1Sq8LbtL657h6E28hTpHy2TefDK0qxtKqlkRGxoHSaXthKSKZ5EUMfO8talrl43inXOFSTjsDzZ9CAmo29VQ_REK7Yuj2xH8DG-ID6wvcCNmI-1RElc-czyvsI/s320/IMG_3203.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5562920290056192722" /></a> <br /><br /><a href="http://www.doh.wa.gov/tobacco/secondhand/secondhand.htm">Washington State </a>bettered BC’s law by almost 3 years in 2005, suggesting “all Washington residents had the right to breathe clean air.” I don’t think I could agree more. In fact, I didn’t even realize smoking was allowed indoors until traveling across the United States with my college basketball team for away games. Eating pre-game meals in restaurants from Texas to Minnesota, Illinois to Iowa, I found myself holding my breath while trying to enjoy dinner. Only then did I realize how progressive and thankful I was to be born and raised in the Northwest. Currently, Canada enforces a nationwide ban on smoking in all public indoor areas, whereas in the United States still <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_smoking_bans_in_the_United_States">does not have a national ban</a>.<br /><br />I don’t have a problem with smokers – it’s a lifestyle choice. I just don’t enjoy being subjected to the byproduct of a cigarette when I personally choose not to smoke. Secondhand smoke is just as harmful as puffing on a cigarette. Non-smokers who breathe in secondhand smoke take in nicotine and other toxic chemicals just as smokers do. It’s harmful and there is nothing I hate more than breathing in a cloud of someone’s smoke. Cough, cough! <br /><br />I wasn’t really affected by European smoking laws until my 2nd season in Portugal. (Finland and Sweden like Washington State had imposed smoking bans in public places in 2005.) Though smoking indoors was discouraged, it wasn’t enforced. I was shocked by the number of people (and ages!) I saw lighting up in Portugal. It seemed to be a part of the culture – one that was thoroughly embraced. As much as I tried to distance myself from the fumes, it proved to be nearly impossible. As much as I disliked inhaling the harmful toxins, I found ways to live with it.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpLR0dAozlvN5FvckCGFUpuA-9nWaVBgad2hLPXufdDQxzU5t-eR3d0bmUlCVIYiQXV-hUqcYnfUfLb_63QUa39abdpYmNW7r1MhHW6UKF2BeyQBpWzQ5Tkrcmzhx5mKU0GlGu/s1600/IMG_3236.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpLR0dAozlvN5FvckCGFUpuA-9nWaVBgad2hLPXufdDQxzU5t-eR3d0bmUlCVIYiQXV-hUqcYnfUfLb_63QUa39abdpYmNW7r1MhHW6UKF2BeyQBpWzQ5Tkrcmzhx5mKU0GlGu/s320/IMG_3236.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5562920729613860338" /></a> <br /><br />Aside from bars and nightclubs, Luxembourg was much better than Portugal. Secondhand smoke became more of an issue when I took trips to Germany, France, Belgium and Greece. Germany and Greece were by far the worst, with very few anti-tobacco laws. Smoking was evident anywhere and everywhere. I remember while in Athens visiting friends and practicing with a Greek team, I was shocked to see the team’s administration light up on the sidelines while we were running lines on the court. Unbelievable! Friends who have played in Greece said it was not unusual to play under a constant cloud of smoke. Wow. It should be no surprise that Greece has the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_smoking_bans">highest rate of tobacco consumption in the EU</a> at 40%.<br /><br />Here in Spain, I have a much better appreciation of the laws Canada has imposed and enforced. Never have I lived in a country where it was next to impossible to find a smoke free environment indoors. Since arriving to Ferrol in September, I struggled to enjoy my daily café con leche(s), rarely entertained the idea of eating out and couldn’t stand spending more than an hour in a small nightclub or bar. The smokey fog that blanketed every indoor facility made routine activities unbearable. The constant smell and cloudiness that filled my lungs with each breath made me sick, to the point that I started avoiding social gatherings. I couldn’t handle the irritating environment anymore. Upset with how smoking was affecting my social life, I was beyond ecstatic in early December when learning Spain planned to impose a national anti-tobacco law on January 1, 2011 in all indoor facilities. Translating newspaper articles, watching TV interviews and questioning Spanish friends, I had a feeling the ban would be ineffective and people would continue to do as they pleased. Spanish people are very proud and somewhat indignant – a new law was not going to stop them from chain smoking while enjoying their afternoon wine/beer/vermouth.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5r0y9kd15RQa7EkuSdf9_b6_c4iW_k5VLq3gpmC_KDkaH1cbQuoEC0zHPwVvPweurobfwgXTANhgjRI_CF5tRUwJGsqrBQg5kY0jjcBZNAZTLm1M5025v2vy-XgPseehy_L5c/s1600/f12p36F1.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 316px; height: 277px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5r0y9kd15RQa7EkuSdf9_b6_c4iW_k5VLq3gpmC_KDkaH1cbQuoEC0zHPwVvPweurobfwgXTANhgjRI_CF5tRUwJGsqrBQg5kY0jjcBZNAZTLm1M5025v2vy-XgPseehy_L5c/s320/f12p36F1.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5562920922070240850" /></a> <br /><br />Returning after Christmas, I began counting down the days until I could enjoy a café at my favorite bar while breathing clean air. When the New Year finally arrived, I was shocked to find that for the most part, Spaniards have been abiding by the <a href="http://www.google.com/hostednews/afp/article/ALeqM5jKw2UjYleMfug1sH2dht0jeQyuFA?docId=CNG.d0742101cf6091a508d93992474e7181.391">anti-tobacco law</a>. Though still clearly upset about it, I find it somewhat amusing to see packs of people huddled outside doorsteps after sipping on coffee, running outside for a smoke, only to return and finish their beverage. This is a huge step for Spain and by the end of the year I’m sure it will be a non-issue. <br /><br />Ser Fuerte España!<br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Basketball Update:</span> As alluded to in my previous posts, 2011 has not been easy for us. With only 8 roster players and 2 currently injured, practice situations and game rosters are not ideal. We lost our first game after Christmas break by 7. It was one of those games that you'd love to replay. Leading most of the match, we saw our advantage slowly diminish as we entered the 4th quarter. Never able to get the defensive stop we needed to get something going, it was a very disappointing loss. Lugo deserved the win. This weekend was as important as the last. With 6 players dressed and a junior player on the bench in case of emergency - it was not looking good. Facing a team with the largest frontline in the league (including 6'6" <a href="http://www.mgoblue.com/sports/w-baskbl/mtt/phillips_krista00.html">Krista Phillips</a>, member of the Canadian National Team) our focus was to stay out of foul trouble not let the ball inside. I don't know how we did it, but we managed to pull out a 4 point victory that was determined in the final minutes. With our fans screaming at the top of our their lungs our starting PG fouling out with 2 minutes to play, we came together and screamed with relief when the final buzzer sounded. Phew! Time to start a winning streak.<br /><br />-BW<br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Sidenote: </span>The provided pictures are from my most recent 'getaway' to the beautfiul city of <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/A_Coru%C3%B1a">La Coruña</a>, the former capital of Galicia and a 50 minute ride from Ferrol.BreDub3http://www.blogger.com/profile/10548357764703147155noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20541962.post-87498568361580305992011-01-03T08:58:00.017-08:002011-01-06T04:35:37.594-08:00Feliz Año Nuevo!New Years Eve is often an over-hyped holiday that usually ends in disappointment. Many people tend to spend excessive amounts of money on expensive outfits or entry to premier events, only to be disappointed when the clock strikes 12. I used to be one of those people, but have since learned from those experiences. Now, I find myself a huge advocate of celebrating at a low key venue among close friends.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_Wv9t6YZwenvemsKKFtnBzY3FLHANwA8kXYtYVIbKOukIHJAE5TUxrzSMgQDhp59_ZFtn_asJyfoLNyph35nDkmt2c-6Im0QaUBv4dffkGTwCGxH9y8p1VUxpZnRWdXyd09r9/s1600/132916_177399075626832_100000702212100_449929_7380608_o.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_Wv9t6YZwenvemsKKFtnBzY3FLHANwA8kXYtYVIbKOukIHJAE5TUxrzSMgQDhp59_ZFtn_asJyfoLNyph35nDkmt2c-6Im0QaUBv4dffkGTwCGxH9y8p1VUxpZnRWdXyd09r9/s320/132916_177399075626832_100000702212100_449929_7380608_o.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5558344718888417266" /></a> <br /><br />The past couple years, a group of us opted to glam ourselves up, while counting down to midnight at a local <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dive_bar">dive </a>bar. It’s great, because we are able to experience the best parts of NYE – looking fabulous and ringing in a New Year with those important.<br /><br />Since being abroad, I’ve been fortunate enough to have had both Christmas and New Years at home during the holiday break. However, this season I was granted a short 6-day stay, most of which was lost during travel. Extremely disappointed in being unable to continue the tradition of spending NYE at <a href="http://www.facebook.com/targys">Targy’s Tavern</a> on <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Queen_Anne,_Seattle">Queen Anne</a>, I finally made peace with welcoming 2011 in España.<br /><br />“New Years in Spain? How exciting!” was the common response received when discussing my plans for the 31st. However, it was not as exciting as it sounded. The moment I stepped off the plane in Ferrol (midnight of the 27th), I was informed I had to be on the court at 10am the following morning. Can anyone say jetlag? After 20 hours of travel and less than 9 hours to acclimate, I was not a happy camper.<br /><br />Our first game isn’t until January 8th. However, since the 27th we’ve had 2-a-days of straight conditioning - everyday. No practice, just running and sprinting. Sometimes we’ll shoot for an hour afterward, but it seems as though we’re training for a marathon. In addition, we currently have 8 roster players, 3.5 of which are injured or sick. Because of this, only 4 of us (the 3 imports and 1 Spanish girl...) have completed every conditioning drill. I’m beyond exhausted and don’t understand the rationale. Being home for a week did not get me out of shape. This is somewhat concerning, as I feel these actions may lead to more injuries. With only 8 players on the roster and half out of service, we need to be smart. Instead, we're wearing down the uninjured individuals - the ones expected to play close to 40 minutes this weekend.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEPtml9psKnbpWzl1R3CLJoJd5VLQy9WJEk3yX6bkM71Guu0D3n7jKnHw8bRAFrQpo5rErnbZiaetXdgK5DqoO9EB8BA0KGeY9Pl-pe3j4ts52rQGv9BkfeXzIUpkopDhaBqcU/s1600/IMG_3162.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEPtml9psKnbpWzl1R3CLJoJd5VLQy9WJEk3yX6bkM71Guu0D3n7jKnHw8bRAFrQpo5rErnbZiaetXdgK5DqoO9EB8BA0KGeY9Pl-pe3j4ts52rQGv9BkfeXzIUpkopDhaBqcU/s320/IMG_3162.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5558344724533117394" /></a><br /><br />Anyway, back to the topic of the post, New Years Eve. Once I learned I had to return to Spain earlier than thought, I decided to be positive. Weighing a variety of options, I planned to either welcome 2011 in Madrid, bus to Portugal to celebrate with a friend or even fly to Luxembourg. Unfortunately, none of these options were feasible. The club had scheduled practice the afternoon of NYE – thus my plans went out the window.<br /><br />After surviving yet another grueling cardio workout, I was determined to have an enjoyable evening. With most of my teammates deciding to stay in for the night, I had to come up with something – fast. Thankfully, Selma (Bosnian teammate) and our Spanish friend Laura wanted to celebrate. Quickly formulating a plan, we decided to meet at Laura’s apartment downtown around 10pm to prepare for the festivities. The evening began well (I met with one of our <a href="http://competiciones.feb.es/estadisticas/Jugador.aspx?i=536358&c=1815884&med=0">men's players</a> for a drink before heading to Laura's), but unfortunately, it did not go as expected.<br /><br />In North America, we’re used to starting New Years Eve festivities around 9-10pm, in anticipation of midnight. But it isn’t the same in Spain (or perhaps N. Spain…or maybe just Ferrol...) Walking to Laura’s apartment, I couldn’t help but notice that most bars/restaurants were closed and didn’t open until 1am. Huh? Confused, I waved the thought away and continued on. Arriving around 10pm, I knocked on the door to find my friends in sweatpants, while I was rocking a short, leopard print dress. Thinking I had missed something, the girls told me not to worry and said they had plenty of time to get ready. Unsure, I decided to go with the flow to see what was going to happen. As the clock crept closer and closer to midnight, I began to worry. “Guys, shouldn’t we go to a bar or something now…so we will be there for the countdown??” Laughing, they told me everyone does the countdown to midnight in their homes (while eating grapes - see video below) and then goes out around 2am. What??! Disappointed with the way the night was unfolding, I slumped down on the couch. Shoving <a href="http://www.entertainmentinspain.com/12%20Twelve%20Grapes%20New%20Years%20Eve%20Tradition,%20Spain.htm">12 grapes</a> in my mouth while the clock chimed midnight from <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Plaza_Mayor,_Madrid">Plaza Major</a>, I couldn’t help but wonder what my friends and family were doing during this exciting time at home…<br /><br /><object width="640" height="385"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/mCDqFZsK1zc?fs=1&hl=en_US"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/mCDqFZsK1zc?fs=1&hl=en_US" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="640" height="385"></embed></object><br /><br />Happy New Year! Only the best to come in 2011. Here’s to that! ☺<br /><br />-BW<br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Sidenote: </span>I don’t mean to sound like a negative Nancy in the post, rather, trying to reflect the differences between Europe and North America. Sometimes it’s hard picking up new traditions, especially when so far from everything familiar. After 2011 made it’s way to Spain, we stayed in Laura’s apartment for 2 more hours before the bars finally opened. By that time, I was ready for bed! Dragging myself to the first taverna was all I could handle. Finishing my drink, I headed home alone in my high heels and short dress.BreDub3http://www.blogger.com/profile/10548357764703147155noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20541962.post-78199675272032980222010-12-16T09:13:00.010-08:002010-12-17T00:50:48.030-08:00Genuinely Generous<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo_aWRLsFZzJjlXhZ6G8rml6krXINVAPryqyXQJU6d5tMttD-ApwBrpxAGYSJz1y2ODTMLX3VuZlck4bYPutLwkWYV3p9NZRN5xAlQQmaAy6Z3dJS6VvSCVrAQaJkW0-6YGc05/s1600/IMG_2892.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo_aWRLsFZzJjlXhZ6G8rml6krXINVAPryqyXQJU6d5tMttD-ApwBrpxAGYSJz1y2ODTMLX3VuZlck4bYPutLwkWYV3p9NZRN5xAlQQmaAy6Z3dJS6VvSCVrAQaJkW0-6YGc05/s320/IMG_2892.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5551339843451575090" /></a>Living in a foreign country can be scary. Typically, you’re entering an environment where language, culture and beliefs are much different than what you consider normal. People look different, sound different and even act different. It’s bizarre and at times can be somewhat lonely and isolating. Adapting is not easy, but is essential if you plan on enjoying your new surroundings.<br /><br />Though this season has been an adjustment for many different reasons, I’m blown away by the hospitality I’ve received from the Spanish people. For the first time in my 4 seasons abroad, I’m finding most of my friends are not necessarily basketball players, but everyday individuals. It’s quite…refreshing.<br /><br />Ferrol is a fairly small city and it’s obvious I don’t belong. I stand out with my light hair and eyes, tall stature and style of clothes. Whether it's because of these characteristics or the fact that I’ve become somewhat recognizable, many of the locals have taken a keen interest in me. I’ve had people stop me on the street offering congratulations after a good game, received absurd amounts of friend requests on facebook and am consistently presented with saved photos or newspaper articles from a bartender whose bar I visit weekly for a pre-practice café. It’s humbling. Today I walked into my favorite bar where I was greeted by the regulars and given the thumbs up by a few who follow the team. Pulling out my wallet to pay for my morning café, I was waved off and told it had been taken care of by someone who had left. Wow. It’s these little acts of kindness that go a long way.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVETv6as0W7lK2iu1Ybhzxwm2CXN3GxQKj55kRLVNBqAeDIbN6fLMWLVkurU6sLrnjLkW8eW5a6uBmr-HATEkoVRdcVLY4xA9yjlg10doVisrpqpV8ZLftg30nRFFBCXrQi0eZ/s1600/IMG_2889.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVETv6as0W7lK2iu1Ybhzxwm2CXN3GxQKj55kRLVNBqAeDIbN6fLMWLVkurU6sLrnjLkW8eW5a6uBmr-HATEkoVRdcVLY4xA9yjlg10doVisrpqpV8ZLftg30nRFFBCXrQi0eZ/s320/IMG_2889.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5551340650774061938" /></a><br /><br />It’s hard to express how thankful I am for the generosity I’ve encountered. The Spanish people continually go out of their way so that I (a visitor), am able to enjoy and experience the country they are so passionate about.<br /><br />Just when I thought I had seen it all, I was completely dumbfounded by how a friend (visiting from Seattle) and I were treated Monday afternoon. Consulting my Spanish amiga Laura (who speaks zero English), I gave her the mission of finding a restaurant where <a href="http://best.king5.com/winners/best-of-western-washington/4779/people/college-athlete?place=3&view=List">Daesha</a> (who came to visit after attending a professional showcase camp in Germany) and I could experience a genuine Spanish meal. Never one to disappoint, she had just the place in mind. Hopping on the bus (which Laura paid for, refusing to let her ‘guests’ spend a dime), we traveled 10 minutes outside Ferrol to Narón, where we made our way inside Casa Vicente. As soon as we walked in the door, I nodded in appreciation. With jamón hanging from the ceiling, pictures of historic Spanish events covering the walls and not an inch of wall, shelf or table space available, I knew we were about to have an amazing afternoon.<br /><br />Sitting down at the bar, we were immediately served Spanish cider, white wine and warm <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Empanada">empanadas</a>. Not looking at the menu, the owner decided what we would eat, constantly returning with tapas and keeping our wine glass full. Once settled, we were introduced to the owner’s partner (a gorgeous Spanish man, who also happened to be a police officier) who was directed to give us a tour of the place. No argument from me! Grabbing our full glasses, we were led to a back room where a table had been set for four. Following José, we were led into a massive wine cellar, home to a collection worth well over 1€ million euros! Seriously. There were thousands of bottles from every country you could imagine. Some dating back to the 1800s! Apparently the owner’s father was a good friend of <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Francisco_Franco">Franco</a> during his regime, explaining why the cellar contained numerous bottles emblazoned with the general’s personal seal.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrSxtX3oaFyl-Et5ZQOLc0moyCnmEAmKxIB7jpKrf96t_Z54irSJFY8sRZ0iZ9satvFERnhiRV-vXDIiNpLqQ21nCoo7f3hlVG8I4Nzpy6Qgn7iGTmqrb4rsi-zr_tUK1P5Ufm/s1600/IMG_2900.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrSxtX3oaFyl-Et5ZQOLc0moyCnmEAmKxIB7jpKrf96t_Z54irSJFY8sRZ0iZ9satvFERnhiRV-vXDIiNpLqQ21nCoo7f3hlVG8I4Nzpy6Qgn7iGTmqrb4rsi-zr_tUK1P5Ufm/s320/IMG_2900.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5551345350095531250" /></a> <br /><br />Eventually picking our jaws up off the floor, we were taken to the backyard which was filled with geese, pigs, chickens and a turtle! Learning a little more about the wine collection and history of the restaurant, José took us back to our private dining area – where the first course was waiting. Sad to see him leave, he said he’d be back to check on us. Phew! ☺ I won’t go into too much detail about the food, but will say it was amazing. We were served 4 courses, followed by desert and cafés. Not to mention the bottles of wine and liquors that seemed to continually find their way to our table. The owner and his gorgeous partner consistently checked in on us, making sure the food was ok and our wine glasses were always full. After eating and drinking as much as humanly possible, we slowly began our departure. Thanking the owner numerous times while pulling out our wallets, he insisted that we were his guests and that our meal (worth well over 50€/person) was gratis (free). Unable to comprehend how someone we just met could be so generous, we literally had to fight with the man for close to 10 minutes, before he begrudgingly accepted the 20€ each we stuffed in his pocket. It was unbelievable how kind the man was. He kept insisting that ‘Montreal’ (even though I told him numerous times I was from Vancouver) and ‘USA’ should enjoy a free meal in Spain. What a sweetheart.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtmOgKEFDiHSrPAK6YfbvDtMeaLybm52sx8Q3HhsU_7-T-ZiZk-yYoq97Fn0J7yvhLQzVSeiFzrofvnAJ-7q3OBuZf2zCWqvPshhCjR18-TQvZw0PUzZQJiByppcfO8mVhiTY7/s1600/IMG_2912.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtmOgKEFDiHSrPAK6YfbvDtMeaLybm52sx8Q3HhsU_7-T-ZiZk-yYoq97Fn0J7yvhLQzVSeiFzrofvnAJ-7q3OBuZf2zCWqvPshhCjR18-TQvZw0PUzZQJiByppcfO8mVhiTY7/s320/IMG_2912.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5551346125869722642" /></a> <br /><br />Of course we weren’t able to make it out of the restaurant until we shared a flute of champagne with the men, tried the owner's favorite beer and downed yet another aperitif liquor ‘for digestion.’ And, if you can believe it, Daesha and I didn’t leave empty handed. He gave both of us numerous bottles of liquor ‘as a gift to remember him by.’ It was amazing! This was the first time we had met the man! Mentioning we had to leave to catch our bus, the owner grabbed José (the policeman ☺) and ordered him to drive us back to Ferrol. Not batting an eye, he opened the doors of his Mercedes for a smooth ride back to Ferrol. Writing this now, I still cannot put into words the generosity I’ve experienced from people here thus far…only halfway through the season and I am already grateful for what I’ve been able to see and experience here in España.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgI2Z9cu5uuJGfAF-9ET5CGuJdagaFveMdaJAW3Z46SuRKMaygBs0E3GnjK5bxwvE8FCAikehWjJr1n6jQ4Srl5Pd1uXqpDc1mBjSVTzQstM4EpP9l3z3JaXz6tSbeKlAuigjVx/s1600/IMG_3020.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgI2Z9cu5uuJGfAF-9ET5CGuJdagaFveMdaJAW3Z46SuRKMaygBs0E3GnjK5bxwvE8FCAikehWjJr1n6jQ4Srl5Pd1uXqpDc1mBjSVTzQstM4EpP9l3z3JaXz6tSbeKlAuigjVx/s320/IMG_3020.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5551346827434977922" /></a> <br /><br />Returning to my apartment with a full stomach and red cheeks, I’m pretty sure Daesha will have something to talk about when she gets home!<br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Basketball Update</span>: Though nice to have a friend in town, it was a terrible weekend for my team. Losing an extremely important road game to a team we’re better than really hurt. Up 14 and in control for 30 minutes, we completely fell apart in the 4th quarter. I can’t even describe what happened. We were slow and unfocused. Despite my non-impressive stat line (5pts, 6rbs), I thought I played well. My defense was tough and I hustled on every play. Saturday my shots just wouldn’t drop (I only took 6). This was my worse statistical outing in Spain thus far. Though frustrating, we have to move on. We must win this weekend before the holiday break. Currently, we have only 8 players and 2 are injured right now (both our point guards!). Despite our lack of bodies and injuries we still are practicing twice a day (with conditioning!) and have 2 hour night practices. It’s crazy! I’m tired and run down. I know the other girls are too. I don’t want to use it as an excuse, but I do think fatigue was a factor in last weeks game. I really hope there is enough left in the tank for this weekend… <br /><br />-BW<br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Sidenote: </span>The blog will be on hiatus while I'm at home in Vancouver for the Holidays. Here's wishing you and your loved ones a very Merry Christmas and Happy New Year! Please come back and visit in 2011!BreDub3http://www.blogger.com/profile/10548357764703147155noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20541962.post-32445434459764520552010-12-06T14:30:00.006-08:002010-12-06T17:27:55.411-08:00It’s Beginning to Look a lot like…Christmas?Brightly colored lights strung high upon building terraces, Christmas trees struggling to stand tall despite the weight of numerous decorations, jolly men dressed in red suits and the smell of cinnamon in the air…this really is the most wonderful time of the year.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiswU5LXYB0F6kWqupLJrZVNFamZIy0-otAtNN-iDj0Cx-ytrgbzxNJ-1dvYzjpuMNsDHAHZh-mgr2efNDaEg-jSwaUWQonIuaS0ZQyaX6hlw_ub1C86Lt2niVxXhesM815vUyQ/s1600/IMG_2568+2.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiswU5LXYB0F6kWqupLJrZVNFamZIy0-otAtNN-iDj0Cx-ytrgbzxNJ-1dvYzjpuMNsDHAHZh-mgr2efNDaEg-jSwaUWQonIuaS0ZQyaX6hlw_ub1C86Lt2niVxXhesM815vUyQ/s320/IMG_2568+2.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5547706146970644114" /></a><br /><br />Too bad the aforementioned doesn’t seem to exist in <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Galicia_(Spain)">Northern Spain</a>. At least from what I’ve seen. Sadly, this season I’m not really feeling the Christmas spirit. I love this time of year more than anything else. The atmosphere, celebrations, sense of kindness and sudden realization of meaningful relationships. But it’s also one of the most difficult times of the year, as I spend most of it in isolation away from those I hold closest to me. I’m not looking for pity, but I believe December is a month where we should take the time to cherish those closest to us. Family, friends, significant others, pets, etc…it’s hard being away from the place you call home during the holiday season. My nomadic lifestyle the past 4 years has consistently kept me away from North America during this time. Despite the obstacle, I make sure to find ways to enjoy it while far from home. From tracking down <a href="http://www.christmasmarkets.com/">Christmas Markets</a> in neighboring cities, to viewing tree lightings, drinking <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mulled_wine">mulled wine</a> and spending absurd amounts of money on gifts. I find ways to occupy myself, even though a large ocean separates me from those I love.<br /><br />Though difficult being in one place when I want to be in another – I really do cherish the Christmas spirit and make sure to keep a smile on my face. However, this season it is proving to be quite difficult. There are no Christmas markets nearby or glühwein being brewed. I have yet to see a Christmas tree (other than in a few storefront windows) and the lack of Christmas lights around town is disappointing. I don’t know if it’s Ferrol, or Spain in general – but for the first time, it doesn’t feel like Christmas. It's sad. In my previous years abroad I was fortunate to witness new traditions and join in on different types of holiday cheer. Unfortunately, I can’t find any of that here. I’ve looked for Christmas markets and strolled the streets to admire holiday decorations, only to return unsuccessful. Why are my not hearing Christmas songs being replayed continuously on the radio or in downtown shops? How come I haven’t seen a wreath on a door or buildings trimmed with excessive amounts of holly? You’d be hard pressed to find a poisetta or Santa Claus himself in this area of Galicia. Right now, things feel very…beige.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhTV1sfVhytLCdicq20EWeoUYFwKbN69B59RMTu4U96Dw6eA9lwzMovfRBZjmU9DOMIytNYGC1Qona8fCD0DAE7kS8u1gI6YU9Sf1z6LZoahAhIs37eIe-t8_xWobGEhseMHKz/s1600/IMG_4859+2.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhTV1sfVhytLCdicq20EWeoUYFwKbN69B59RMTu4U96Dw6eA9lwzMovfRBZjmU9DOMIytNYGC1Qona8fCD0DAE7kS8u1gI6YU9Sf1z6LZoahAhIs37eIe-t8_xWobGEhseMHKz/s320/IMG_4859+2.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5547706287267504274" /></a> <br /><br />Which is probably why I’m counting down the hours until I board a plane home for a much needed (albeit short) break. I doubt I’ll have much time to sleep, as once I land on Canadian soil I’ll be attending Christmas parties, finding excuses to wear gaudy Christmas attire, baking holiday treats with my mom, walking around <a href="http://vancouver.ca/parks/events/brightnights/index.htm">Stanley Park</a> at night to view Christmas lights, wandering the streets of Vancouver during its very <a href="http://www.vancouverchristmasmarket.com/">own Christmas Market</a>, spending time with my grandparents, spoiling my family with gifts and catching up with close friends. With 2 very important games left before the break, I know I have a job to do; but my heart is aching to go home where I can sit in front of the fire with a cup of hot chocolate while my mom and I kick my dad and brother’s butts in Apples to Apples and Cranium. <br /><br />13 days and counting…<br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Basketball Update:</span> Lost a tough one this weekend to the number one team in the league. It was a close the entire game, but came down to the visitors lighting our nets on fire with their 3 balls. We ended up losing by 14. Encouraging because we know they’re beatable (had we played better defense on the long ball we would of won), discouraging because we didn’t adjust and lost focus during at crucial points. Two games left before break, both of which are <span style="font-style:italic;">must </span>wins. <br /><br />-BWBreDub3http://www.blogger.com/profile/10548357764703147155noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20541962.post-64242854228409482932010-11-28T05:16:00.009-08:002010-11-28T10:02:47.594-08:00Pas Parle Americano!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEideRSUg-8AX3pm7n5pbHWxfbkTBAQ9ZOEVePU_VWYngWvu5N1wzfdrugqZiSq3C_d0FfeQf6lsTcLw20C636ArMvZS2pD3muScA5UtvchRFV-5IhAav8IqSHSJM1HiuooyvGxz/s1600/photo.jpeg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEideRSUg-8AX3pm7n5pbHWxfbkTBAQ9ZOEVePU_VWYngWvu5N1wzfdrugqZiSq3C_d0FfeQf6lsTcLw20C636ArMvZS2pD3muScA5UtvchRFV-5IhAav8IqSHSJM1HiuooyvGxz/s320/photo.jpeg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5544596205550742354" /></a>Language is a funny thing. No matter which country I find myself in each year, communication always remains a constant obstacle. Though I’m a very adaptable individual, there are some barriers that are always difficult to overcome. I’ve written about this topic before, but it’s one that continues to both intrigue and surprise me.<br /><br />Last Saturday I found myself in a situation that exemplifies my life in Europe. Fresh off a hard fought overtime win, one of my Spanish friends called and suggested I gather some teammates for tapas and drinks. Let me preface this by saying Laura (the Spanish friend) does not play on my team and works at a clothing store I frequent. She speaks very little English, actually hardly any – yet we’re able to communicate somehow and grab a café once a week to practice each other’s respective languages. <br /><br />Inviting 2 of my Spanish teammates, my Bosnian teammate (who speaks 6 languages) and her friend Giulia visiting from Italy (only speaks Italian), we met Laura downtown later that evening at a busy Galician tapas bar. After introductions, Laura ordered a variety of Galician specialties for us to sample. The food was amazing and surprisingly, so was the conversation. Throughout the night, 3 different languages were being spoken at the table – yet somehow, we were able to have an animated dialogue on a variety of topics. It was awesome. Of course there were moments of misunderstanding and over exaggeration of gestures, but despite the obstacles, 6 girls from 4 different countries had a great time getting to know each other better. At one point in the night I remember sitting back in my chair and just taking it all in. Wow. During a night filled with 3 different types of vocabulary, I was momentarily speechless. It was a perfect example of how despite differences, there is always a way for people to communicate with one another and get along. It's moments like this that make Europe so special to me. By the end of the night, I was spouting off phrases in Italian to Giulia while answering questions in Spanish that were posed to me in English! Call me Miss International…heeeyyyyyy!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXlKtWbFMtJ_cxTXmESzNirlRekErM35mi2uKQEZUpDOvqmOh-rrVeX0Zb0hsfCik7SldZ5KY6870eZaqQ6gduM78ua3_VbBSdNKIRkA7ZWExXMnwOtL8cezQK9Lt0N-AN1yaH/s1600/IMG_2838.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXlKtWbFMtJ_cxTXmESzNirlRekErM35mi2uKQEZUpDOvqmOh-rrVeX0Zb0hsfCik7SldZ5KY6870eZaqQ6gduM78ua3_VbBSdNKIRkA7ZWExXMnwOtL8cezQK9Lt0N-AN1yaH/s320/IMG_2838.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5544596390433775970" /></a><br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Basketball/Life Update:</span> For those that follow my blog regularly, I apologize for my 2-week absence. Even this post is somewhat lacking. Recently, I’ve been quite busy with school (finals week/group project/final assignments). Currently, I’m working towards my Marketing Management Associates Certificate in <a href="http://www.bcit.ca/study/programs/630xacert#courses">Public Relations</a> from <a href="http://www.bcit.ca/">BCIT</a>. I’ve been in the program for a little over a year now and only have 3 classes left before completion! I was able to attend courses while at home this summer (Public Speaking being one of them – which I LOVED!) and am lucky enough that 2 of my last 4 courses I can take online. If anyone is interested in viewing the blog I had to maintain for my Social Media Marketing class (which I’m currently wrapping up), the link can be found <a href="http://bredubandthefitfiles.blogspot.com/">here</a>. Aside from schoolwork, I’ve been helping a friend plan her visit (Daesha arrives Dec. 9th!), keeping up with our demanding practice schedule while also trying to maintain somewhat of a social life. Basketball wise, things are going well. As of late, my team has been on a recent tear. After starting the season 1-2, we’ve bounced back with a 5 game winning streak and are currently sitting in 4th place at 6-2. With 3 games left before Christmas break, the goal is to win 2 of 3. If will be difficult, as next week we face the 1st place team followed by 2 others sitting close to us in the standings. I normally don’t talk much about my statistics, but I’m currently leading the league in <a href="http://competiciones.feb.es/estadisticas/Rankings.aspx?g=9&t=2010">offensive rebounds</a> per game and sit in 2nd in total rebounds overall. Because rebounding is my favorite part of the game, this is something I’m quite proud of. <br /><br />If interested, click <a href="http://regeneracomsports.com/breanne_watson_destaca_con_21_puntos_15_rebotes_y_34_de_valoracion-ne197.html">here</a> and <a href="http://www.diariodeferrol.com/index.php/periodico-impreso/deportes-ferrol/10538-noemi-coruna">here</a> to view recent articles written about my successes in Spain.<br /><br />Hasta Luego!<br /><br />-BW<br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Sidenote:</span> I've compiled an album of the photos I've taken during my travels. It includes at least one photo from every country/major city I've visited outside of North American thus far. View it by clicking the labeled link on the right sidebar or by clicking <a href="http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2513975&id=10714039&l=455ae1ea58">here</a>.BreDub3http://www.blogger.com/profile/10548357764703147155noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20541962.post-60222692816008962002010-11-12T05:03:00.007-08:002010-11-13T15:58:18.216-08:00Know Your Role!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiI7RE9IzHEL9ySseSUhXQbq81tHqw_OYHKeQTIXlpZw3odIzdPSGk5pxtQUfJrw4Y508Tq13JSUt5l6KQjWCgZpth5IsgAcwKETtS2i7STZ1S-k-AyeAgHEO39rzg_Fbn9V-aj/s1600/WSU1.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiI7RE9IzHEL9ySseSUhXQbq81tHqw_OYHKeQTIXlpZw3odIzdPSGk5pxtQUfJrw4Y508Tq13JSUt5l6KQjWCgZpth5IsgAcwKETtS2i7STZ1S-k-AyeAgHEO39rzg_Fbn9V-aj/s320/WSU1.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5538656841804375138" /></a><br />New season. New country. New team. Same expectations – sort of. Though my job description rarely differs from year to year, it’s adjusting to the role each new team gives me that can be toughest.<br /><br />In high school, it was easy. I just played basketball – and I was good at it. Points, rebounds, steals, blocks, assists – you name it, I did it. I stuffed the stat sheet without any interest in what numbers filled what column. Each time I stepped on the court I was excited to be playing the game I love – not concerned about the expectations people had placed on me.<br /><br />Once I entered university, I realized things were going to be different. Everyone was a former high school star, thus the majority of us were asked to wear different hats in order for the team to succeed. At Washington I wasn’t looked upon to score, rather do the dirty work - play tough defense, rebound, make hustle plays, run the floor and hit open shots. Though at times I felt my abilities and contributions were limited – I took my role in stride. If fulfilling these requirements would help us win basketball games and take us to the NCAA tournament, I was all for it. Sure it was an adjustment and I often felt outside my comfort zone (spending the majority of my time behind the 3-point line), but we advanced each year in the Pac-10 tournament and played post season 3 of my 4 years. I have no regrets about my on court contributions at UW, I just wish I had been given a little more freedom to show what type of player I really was (am).<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgD4FYQ2gI5CiLuB5zuz1oKv28TxaFLdCKT6goVVQqeO7GqSjm1M4-2ZZed7Nh5ucRrOai7DDLgZ0RJ6Qhk83gF7X1J9PQGijKDZkCWeAZW6s-WAeFZ-M4glnS5w8yGj8Xr0u8y/s1600/35830_555624592130_42901155_32673383_651799_n.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgD4FYQ2gI5CiLuB5zuz1oKv28TxaFLdCKT6goVVQqeO7GqSjm1M4-2ZZed7Nh5ucRrOai7DDLgZ0RJ6Qhk83gF7X1J9PQGijKDZkCWeAZW6s-WAeFZ-M4glnS5w8yGj8Xr0u8y/s320/35830_555624592130_42901155_32673383_651799_n.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5538657955232160034" /></a><br /><br />After graduating from UW, I figured that was the end of my competitive basketball career. When in reality, it was the just the beginning. Unsure of what to do with my first summer of freedom, I ended up participating in <a href="http://spokanehoopfest.net/">Spokane Hoopfest</a> for the first time. Those who know me well understand this is an event I hold <span style="font-style:italic;">very</span> close to my heart. Playing on a team composed of extremely elite level players (and close friends) I would be taking on a role similar to the one at UDUB. With a potent combination of scorers (Lindsey Wilson - All-American at Iowa State, WNBA draft pick, European professional, Casey Nash - All Pac-10 at Oregon State, Pac-10 scoring champ, former European professional and Amy Taylor - GNAC player of the year, former European professional), I was more than happy to let the guard types take shots while I cleaned up the boards and patrolled the paint. This is a role I truly cherish and enjoy. I have no qualms about it either, as I feel my skills are being used effectively in the half court 3 on 3 event. I can honestly say Hoopfest is when I have the most fun playing basketball.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWUS7jfZmuewkTFXY0I_7nexIq4bZ4TUsXTsD87fwUy7PF5X-0vIJ5zxwIkEaQ_FvoaiCqgrcHBVjcyNsmAW8r98sk29ZmB84x3yGvVvYh1MZkDGIzg4WDWhLxs1mkfUn78BMQ/s1600/07.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWUS7jfZmuewkTFXY0I_7nexIq4bZ4TUsXTsD87fwUy7PF5X-0vIJ5zxwIkEaQ_FvoaiCqgrcHBVjcyNsmAW8r98sk29ZmB84x3yGvVvYh1MZkDGIzg4WDWhLxs1mkfUn78BMQ/s320/07.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5538656713559882802" /></a><br /><br />Playing in Hoopfest only re-lit my competitve fire. After the tournament I decided I wasn’t done. I was going to try and play pro. Connecting with an agent, I was ready to start my career overseas. Initially I thought I’d play a year to try it and then join the real world. Well, it’s been 4 years and I’m still bouncing a ball across Europe. <br /><br />Each professional season I’ve not only been able to travel numerous countries, but I have also learned a lot about myself as a person and as a basketball player. I’ve finally been able to develop into the type of player I always knew I could be. I’m happy with my game and understand what I can and cannot do on the court.<br /><br />With every new team that has employed me, I’ve been asked to take on a different role. First and foremost was to score and score a lot. At first, the idea seemed as foreign as my surroundings. After 4 years of scoring off of fast break layups, offensive put backs and corner jumpers, I’d forgotten how to take control of a game and put the ‘biscuit in the basket.’ Finland was an eye opener. My team had 3 import professionals (me and 2 North Americans) who were all in their first year and all expected to score bunches of points. Thankfully we played well together and the scoring machine I knew in high school gradually made a return. Rebounding, which has always been my forte, was never a problem - but regaining my confidence on the offensive side was an important part of my overseas development. Looking back, playing in Scandinavia (I signed in Sweden for 2 months of post season play after failing to reach the playoffs in Finland) was the perfect place to start – as it introduced me to what was to come.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgP8kedMgoqUaNrwTSYspQEmFD8CjeqiGED9JUgNwFJzgqpTCfL_gZNYqqNo2hbPqYOs2oAKKifs1K_ZAVnwjxj1kGb0_PwCxG6XTyKF1GDswBUlJ4WRzCdQkM5_CjHWh9CDE3e/s1600/beast.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgP8kedMgoqUaNrwTSYspQEmFD8CjeqiGED9JUgNwFJzgqpTCfL_gZNYqqNo2hbPqYOs2oAKKifs1K_ZAVnwjxj1kGb0_PwCxG6XTyKF1GDswBUlJ4WRzCdQkM5_CjHWh9CDE3e/s320/beast.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5538658177977831586" /></a><br /><br />In my second season I agreed to terms with one of the top teams in Portugal. Employing my American teammate as the main scoring focus, my role was to average a double-double and take pressure off of her. After she experienced a season ending injury, I was forced into the starring role. I relished the opportunity and was able to continuously improve my offensive skill set. A month later the team brought in Casey Nash (good friend and fellow Hoopfest teammate) to help share the scoring load. Once again I was lucky, as Casey and I shared great chemistry and complimented one another on the court. <br /><br />However, the biggest role I’ve ever taken on was last year in Luxembourg. Though perhaps not the strongest league in Europe, it was there I was expected to do the most and experienced the most pressure. In Lux, you’re literally paid to produce results. As the only full-time professional on a team, a win or loss is pinned solely on your shoulders. If you’re not averaging 25+pts, 12+rbs a game and outshining or shutting down your opposing American counterpart, your job is on the line. There’s money in Luxembourg and they’re more than happy to swap you out next week if you aren’t providing more wins than losses. It’s an exceptional league and changes the way you think about the game. The reason I love basketball is because it’s a team sport, but in Lux you’re expected to do almost everything on your own. Thankfully, I was blessed once again to be put in a good situation that provided me with a strong supporting cast. We put together a great season, reaching both the league and cup finals. It was here I developed mentally as a player. <br /><br />Which finally, brings me to my current season in Spain. This is by far the best team/league I’ve played on in my 4 years abroad. My team currently employs 6 full time professionals (2 North Americans, 3 Spaniards, 1 European). The basketball level is high and every game (thus far) has been competitive. Though I don’t believe I’ll ever play at a higher level than NCAA Div. I, Spain has brought back some of my passion that was beginning to wane. This season I’m in more of a supporting role. With so many scoring options, I’m expected to rebound, defend and score close to the basket. With our lack of height I have be a force underneath the basket, despite being eternally undersized. ☺ I’m happy with what is expected of me and feel I can put together a strong year. Though my numbers are much lower than the previous three (currently averaging 14.2 points 9.5 rebounds [4.8 offensive] per game while shooting 50% from the floor), I realize I’m in a much more competitive league with yet another role to fill. My goal is to finish the year averaging 15pts and 10rbs. And I feel I’m more than capable of doing so.<br /><br />Important road game this weekend - looking for the 'dub' to make it 3 in a row!<br /><br />-BWBreDub3http://www.blogger.com/profile/10548357764703147155noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20541962.post-78160045529722655982010-11-02T08:05:00.010-07:002010-11-02T10:56:40.972-07:00Siesta to Fiesta!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyLfRLLT7uzfCRgsQAXASONQECYpr4eZ5VFDCOMqecsC748lL84m0YHDHDTZN9qv8ngb1u009Z0JlbXkpENa2VCe266zXubc_0XgtSHMf1i22FWkSlUHl4iNb8kSOKk25u770k/s1600/67705_446729035285_733135285_5926056_497564_n.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyLfRLLT7uzfCRgsQAXASONQECYpr4eZ5VFDCOMqecsC748lL84m0YHDHDTZN9qv8ngb1u009Z0JlbXkpENa2VCe266zXubc_0XgtSHMf1i22FWkSlUHl4iNb8kSOKk25u770k/s320/67705_446729035285_733135285_5926056_497564_n.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5534974770717097202" /></a>I’m no party animal, but definitely know how to have a good time. Though I enjoy the night scene, you won’t ever find me throwing up outside a bar, passed out on someone’s couch or stumbling out of a nightclub long past last call. I don’t spend evenings at the bar planning to meet a guy who can barely remember his own name in the morning; I go out because I enjoy dressing up, listening to good music and dancing the night away with a group of friends. <br /><br />I wasn’t always like this however. In fact, I’ve come a long way since my college days. I rarely partied in university - I was too focused on basketball, attending athletic events, doing well in school and spending time with my close friends. Before I entered my senior year, I could count on one hand how many parties I had attended. Staying out late and drinking all night really wasn’t my scene.<br /><br />Looking back on my college years, I would have done some things differently. Sometimes I wish I had been a little more social and attended some of the crazy football parties or frat events. Heading into my senior year, I finally decided to open up. Living my first 3 years with athletes only, I needed to get outside of the familiarity of the athletic department and meet some new people. Hearing about a house full of ‘civilians’ (what us athletes called regular students…☺) on <a href="http://www.washington.edu/alumni/columns/sept01/greekrow1.html">Greek Row</a> looking for a roommate, I got in touch with a girl in the house and expressed my interest in the available bedroom. Hours later, I was the newest member of an 8 bedroom house full of girls! Being a straight-laced, clean and a painfully organized individual – I was unsure of what I had gotten myself into. Biting the bullet, I decided to spend my last year of university in the loudest area of the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/University_District,_Seattle">U-District</a>. And you know what? It was the best thing that could of happened to me. I met new people, became close with ‘regular students’, attended parties and even hosted a few! I dressed up (dresses, big hair and makeup!) for events I would never of thought of attending. The girls in the house helped bring out a side of me I didn’t know; a side opposite of the one I had been my first 3 years. Though still focused and determined when it came to basketball and schoolwork, I learned how to balance the ‘job side’ of university (basketball, school) while also experiencing and enjoying the social part of college life.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgN0dcpL-tNcPIhhUIwyqaxFxK6iCJbl9JUk56lExIe3Lq-9Xv-UU-SqpyD-Nr8hOzh4pBnpGbOUWasKeMvQG6sdDqhDvrKWO03JOcqe6AjFJ4qgoDyK076JB63QbpgACPXapFN/s1600/74141_448427695285_733135285_5965291_3565695_n.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgN0dcpL-tNcPIhhUIwyqaxFxK6iCJbl9JUk56lExIe3Lq-9Xv-UU-SqpyD-Nr8hOzh4pBnpGbOUWasKeMvQG6sdDqhDvrKWO03JOcqe6AjFJ4qgoDyK076JB63QbpgACPXapFN/s320/74141_448427695285_733135285_5965291_3565695_n.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5534975169314669458" /></a> <br /><br />However, if I thought I knew how to party during my senior year in college, I quickly found I was barely an amateur when I came to Europe. Europeans are crazy…they make frat boys look calm. Each passing year I spend in a new country, I’m continually amazed by the amount of energy and stamina Europeans possess when it comes to enjoying the night. Finland, Sweden and Portugal were fairly tame. Luxembourg was pretty crazy, but Spain is flat out insane! The Spaniards break every record when it comes to going out. As evening turns to early morning, the only thing on their mind is dancing until the sun comes up. It’s not normal and as many times as I’ve tried to hang, I can’t. I’m always the ‘weak’ one that leaves early (early being 3-4am!!!) I just can’t fiesta for hours on end. I get too tired and the thought of drinking for an extended period of time is of no interest to me.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0KbxH8lMkab2FHptR2BdfSAaSKXAaW2ZDQ_TQT1WEhsrwdObnsxQtkSikatQqvzpo4ujk4qK8-W0tICPHBFWfSRSrRqH5OZJeNeEsx3_TZzfn2DWrXdxSOauT7o2R1cbgHCLG/s1600/150093_448428300285_733135285_5965317_2758653_n.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0KbxH8lMkab2FHptR2BdfSAaSKXAaW2ZDQ_TQT1WEhsrwdObnsxQtkSikatQqvzpo4ujk4qK8-W0tICPHBFWfSRSrRqH5OZJeNeEsx3_TZzfn2DWrXdxSOauT7o2R1cbgHCLG/s320/150093_448428300285_733135285_5965317_2758653_n.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5534975636398643522" /></a> <br /><br />Add this to the fact that the night normally doesn’t ‘start’ until 2am. I can’t understand it. It’s quite remarkable how these people maintain the partying mentality. I like going out, but when my Spanish friends suggest a night on the town I don’t know whether to cry or get excited. It’s a workout in itself maintaining a certain level of energy for fiesta night. And to make matters worse, the only time during the week I can go out is the evening after a game, thus I’m already exhausted from 30+ minutes on the court. It’s a no win situation, making me feel as though I’m starting to get old…<br /><br />Experiencing the Spanish nightlife has allowed me to understand why <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Siesta">siestas</a> exist in Spain. It’s because they fiesta harder than anyone else. When you don’t get home until 8-10am in the morning (seriously!) you need an afternoon nap in order to survive a normal 24-hour day. (Typically stores in Spain open around 10am and close at 2pm, only to reopen again at 5pm until about 8pm). The thought of staying out all night into the early morning is completely exhausting. This past weekend I made it to 6am (attended a Halloween party in <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/A_Coru%C3%B1a">A Coruña</a> – a city 40 minutes from Ferrol) and the next day I was unbelievably exhausted. I don’t see that happening again for a looonnnnnng time!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4CbXlqrmjvALxRuDOyKo91-2BY9LwTa3VO8TTxut4g7B5OI7z5NwPaecpOFrOzpx5qgdX8XYKFYKdauT3tpjxRgSUP80gZaL91UwDffMvJqw_-19MeJcnbI8fjnFjh7rW2qZZ/s1600/149914_448614720285_733135285_5969610_520260_n.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4CbXlqrmjvALxRuDOyKo91-2BY9LwTa3VO8TTxut4g7B5OI7z5NwPaecpOFrOzpx5qgdX8XYKFYKdauT3tpjxRgSUP80gZaL91UwDffMvJqw_-19MeJcnbI8fjnFjh7rW2qZZ/s320/149914_448614720285_733135285_5969610_520260_n.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5534975335443827266" /></a> <br /><br />When in Spain, do as the Spainards do…at least once. That might be the first and last time, but at least you can say you did it!<br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Basketball Update: </span> We are currently sitting at 2-2 in the league with our 2 losses coming to 2 of the top teams. One of losses should have been a win, but we self-destructed in the 2nd half. Nevertheless, it was a learning experience that hopefully will make us better. I’ve been really happy with my play, but have been extremely frustrated with the Spanish officiating. Through 4 games I have 2 technical fouls - thus drastically cutting my minutes and affecting my stats. I’d be the first to admit I deserved the ‘T’s’ if I did…however, I really didn’t deserve either of them. Both of the disqualifying fouls have come on plays where I’ve been fouled all game inside (never complaining, talking to the officials or making gestures) and finally, getting hammered hard in the 2nd half without a foul call. Both times this has happened I looked at the official and said the word ‘really?’ in a calm voice, turned around and ran back to play defense. The two times I’ve done this I’ve been T’d up. It’s completely ridiculous and very upsetting. The Spanish girls are constantly complaining to the refs during the games, as are other Americans. I don’t say anything and the 2 times I do, I’m done. The most frustrating part is that in my 4 years of Professional basketball, I had never received a technical foul – and now I have 2 through 4 games in Spain! I’m not an angry, aggressive player, but now realize I cannot say ANYTHING no matter how frustrated and unfair the officiating may be.<br /><br />-BWBreDub3http://www.blogger.com/profile/10548357764703147155noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20541962.post-36775632770091852892010-10-19T09:58:00.011-07:002010-11-06T06:54:35.572-07:00Short Shorts, Speedos, Sans Bikini Top…<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinmGhTi9MvL9ZITvjozrEEIhHPjo40lTchegPAOBAR1k5caFhAXnGBls02Y7FIlCzKdx6pBZLVwIfNCO6Hvm0SJs-LspvhiaCLjayBQ689HswTij_v-QCQzSiKTIZeUrthpr6_/s1600/IMG_2801.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinmGhTi9MvL9ZITvjozrEEIhHPjo40lTchegPAOBAR1k5caFhAXnGBls02Y7FIlCzKdx6pBZLVwIfNCO6Hvm0SJs-LspvhiaCLjayBQ689HswTij_v-QCQzSiKTIZeUrthpr6_/s320/IMG_2801.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5529880270469288994" /></a><br />Sometimes I can’t believe where my job takes me. Only two games into the season and I found myself on the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Canary_Islands">Canary Islands</a>, gazing out on the brilliant blue of the Atlantic Ocean, warming my pale skin in the hot sun.<br /><br />I’d heard of the Canary Islands, but never actually thought I’d get the chance to visit and travel the largest of the Spanish archipelago - <a href="http://www.abouttenerife.com/">Tenerife</a>. Once our season schedule was released, I began researching which away games were in cities worth spending time in. As soon as I realized Tenerife was one of them, I immediately got in touch with my coach and club president, requesting to stay an extra day in paradise. A few days later my request was granted and the team booked my flight back to Ferrol a day and a half later. Score!<br /><br />Of course once we departed for our trip south, I was all business. First and foremost we were there to win a basketball game, not vacation. Once arriving on the island, we checked into our hotel, ate dinner and discussed the schedule for the following day. Facing <a href="http://www.cbisladetenerife.es/web/default.asp">Aguere</a> was going to be tough, as they are expected to be one of the top teams in the league.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgc3Q6VZIVQmU6fwEjkf7isZIab89gAwjmgKGYY6ONwa30AZcok2FNvai0eZhXhUMS3xHKJXnusSx4IksKWfRp8ZOnKdAGYtWIhZg-VmnU2x5jYEXbGo-ysby6t2u0jxaO4FB6K/s1600/IMG_2745.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgc3Q6VZIVQmU6fwEjkf7isZIab89gAwjmgKGYY6ONwa30AZcok2FNvai0eZhXhUMS3xHKJXnusSx4IksKWfRp8ZOnKdAGYtWIhZg-VmnU2x5jYEXbGo-ysby6t2u0jxaO4FB6K/s320/IMG_2745.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5529879601795965074" /></a> <br /><br />The following morning we were up early for breakfast and morning shoot around. After getting comfortable with the unfamiliar floor and rims, it was back to the hotel for lunch and downtime. It was going to be a physical game. Later that evening, motivated and confident with the scouting report, we quickly jumped out to a 28-11 lead, playing fast and playing together. Then just as quickly, it all fell apart…<br /><br />Opening the second quarter we started the first 2 minutes on a roll. Scoring 5 points in a little over a minute, Aguere was forced to try something different. Throwing a full court press on us proved to be the solution. Our guards tensed up and were unable to handle the pressure. And just like that, our lead quickly started to disintegrate. It also didn’t help that the forwards could get a whistle while being mauled inside. Frustrated by the lack of calls, I stayed focused, but unfortunately lost my cool a few moments later. Setting a screen on the baseline, a Spanish girl on the opposing team ran by me (not even grazing my jersey) and suddenly threw herself to the ground as if she had been hit by a freight train. Screaming in phantom agony, the ref blew his whistle and issued me an offensive foul with a stern warning of no dirty play. What?! Looking at him incredulously I said in a normal tone “Wow. That’s a terrible call” and ran back on defense. Apparently that was enough for him to give me a technical foul. Are you kidding me!? I had never been given a ‘T’ in my overseas career until now. I didn’t even get to scream and shout for it!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkTl5cMLwfw3Xgg36IwSaUz6s7yjotJwNLoUZV-lyOY52gnQ-feIRjblQHvhjJy9EsZcm7z91gW2t9rQUjAPwO0tretaKwqzx8Q8kj-a9gjJa7plAjyudBEsZTi4KRkMrRU0Qn/s1600/IMG_2752.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkTl5cMLwfw3Xgg36IwSaUz6s7yjotJwNLoUZV-lyOY52gnQ-feIRjblQHvhjJy9EsZcm7z91gW2t9rQUjAPwO0tretaKwqzx8Q8kj-a9gjJa7plAjyudBEsZTi4KRkMrRU0Qn/s320/IMG_2752.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5529884806174375458" /></a><br /><br />Nevertheless, the combination of turnovers, my 'T' and the fact that my coach decided to sit me for 12 minutes straight after the call helped lead to our demise. Still, at halftime we were only down 9. That proved to be enough, as my team stopped playing for each other and started playing for themselves. There’s nothing that bothers me more than when people play basketball selfishly. It was an unfortunate turn of events. What could have been a big win for us, turned into and ugly game that exposed our biggest weakness – team chemistry and mental toughness on the court.<br /><br />After a heated exchange of words in the locker room, everyone trudged to the bus malcontent. The atmosphere after losing a game is not enjoyable, especially when teammates refuse to talk to one another. Once back at our hotel, we ate dinner in silence and were told told to meet in the lobby at midnight for departure.<br /><br />Finishing dinner around 9pm, I suggested we go to the bar down the street. Three of the 4 other pros agreed and we sat down to have a few <a href="http://www.streetdirectory.com/food_editorials/beverages/beer/dorada_tropical_and_reina_beers_of_the_canary_islands.html">cervezas</a>…which quickly turned into a few more than that….<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDifPkOoyCo-__1b0jYwDYIWhNOzyQS3spW-MW5CXraH8te4goR9A-TRmuvIjo2vjhug3tsSECX3x1aYXOj70kwE1B_hULxBRWyygvYXamm8cPC-4wEq5bK0v4Z3US8mzl1ykU/s1600/IMG_2736.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDifPkOoyCo-__1b0jYwDYIWhNOzyQS3spW-MW5CXraH8te4goR9A-TRmuvIjo2vjhug3tsSECX3x1aYXOj70kwE1B_hULxBRWyygvYXamm8cPC-4wEq5bK0v4Z3US8mzl1ykU/s320/IMG_2736.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5529882555891637250" /></a><br /><br />After getting some frustrations off our chests and finally calming down somewhat, we started to have a good time. With a bit of liquid courage and a persuasive barkeep, we found ourselves joining a karaoke party downstairs. The rest of the team showed up a bit later and we ended up putting the game (or most of it) behind us as we belted out tunes from <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qrO4YZeyl0I">Lady Gaga</a>, <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pRpeEdMmmQ0&ob=av2e">Shakira</a> and various Spanish artists. Glancing at the clock, it was time for the team to get back to the hotel and catch the bus to the airport. Waving goodbye, I was now on my own.<br /><br />Not wanting the party to end, I went in search of the hotel’s discothèque. Strolling in the dimly lit hall, I found myself dancing with English vacationers, explaining why I was wearing a hideous mustard colored polo and navy basketball shorts (team issued gear we have to wear when together). Eventually, we wandered out to the pool and chatted under the moonlight. Not wanting to be tired for my only day of exploration the following morning, I said goodnight and headed to bed. I needed to get up early if I wanted to see both the north and south of Tenerife.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKuQG9POYlaWUbgbwRJOWKBzzDbWBMgiO_XxGFGnbxe-tgZE6A50SNPJi_jjdU7SzuGxIr3_wyVDjsIitO1_QQUhhyphenhyphenv_-PtJ6f0ZxqwSv1PL1zM8ytAmyg0bMi1nBQWSeIOZwg/s1600/IMG_2765.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKuQG9POYlaWUbgbwRJOWKBzzDbWBMgiO_XxGFGnbxe-tgZE6A50SNPJi_jjdU7SzuGxIr3_wyVDjsIitO1_QQUhhyphenhyphenv_-PtJ6f0ZxqwSv1PL1zM8ytAmyg0bMi1nBQWSeIOZwg/s320/IMG_2765.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5529881020807213538" /></a> <br />Waking a mere 6 hours later, I finished a quick breakfast and waited for the bus to <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Santa_Cruz_de_Tenerife">Santa Cruz</a>. Sitting at the bus stop, a car with a good-looking fellow pulled over and motioned for me to come to the door. Giving him a questioning look, he rolled down his window and offered me a ride to the city. Tempted, I decided against the idea, as I was traveling alone. Politely declining with a smile, I sat back down and hoped the bus would arrive soon. <br /><br />Ten minutes later, I was on my way to Santa Cruz. Being Sunday, there was hardly anyone on the streets. With no particular plan in mind, I quickly found that the capital of the island was a fairly modern city, with very little historic architecture or monuments to gaze upon. Nevertheless, I walked down to the water and came across a large, bizarre shaped building – the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Auditorio_de_Tenerife">Tenerife Auditorium</a>. After snapping pictures of the giant structure, I continued along the boardwalk enjoying the morning sun. Thinking about heading back towards the bus station, I stumbled upon a massive gypsy market. It was close to 10 city blocks of everything and anything you could imagine. All the downtown streets were shut down and people we hawking items like blow dryers, jewelry, cassette tapes, clothes, cigars, washing machines…you name it, they had it. It was complete madness! Browsing my way up and down the streets, I found a couple gifts to tuck away for Christmas. Deciding I had had enough shopping for the day, I stopped for a café con leche in the town square and made my way back to the bus station. I found Santa Cruz a bit overrated. There isn’t much to see. It seems like a business district with very little beach access. I was ready to move on and spend the rest of the day in the South…on the beach and in the sun!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFKLk7kvneLPnSi4xdXtK4g4IKwrm4N2gT9N8XS7cJBvDp-jCakb9AfRCAsFYfHIQQ_gyvHrE4mPhJIRjni8xdfk2XsId0V4gaTziL-Q1Pfl1EpjrcfsfM-oAF8HxDmp-8uHmc/s1600/IMG_2805.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFKLk7kvneLPnSi4xdXtK4g4IKwrm4N2gT9N8XS7cJBvDp-jCakb9AfRCAsFYfHIQQ_gyvHrE4mPhJIRjni8xdfk2XsId0V4gaTziL-Q1Pfl1EpjrcfsfM-oAF8HxDmp-8uHmc/s320/IMG_2805.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5529892153575664066" /></a><br /><br />One hour and 15 minutes later I arrived in <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Playa_de_las_Am%C3%A9ricas">Playas de las Americas</a>. Starving, I grabbed a quick bite to eat, purchased some sunscreen and made my way to the beach. Walking up and down the boardwalk, I finally decided where I wanted to spend my day. Stripping down to my bathing suit and lathering on sunscreen, I was ready to read my book while soaking up some rays. <br /><br />Not taking note of my surroundings, I forgot how ‘free’ Europeans are. Sitting up I found myself looking directly at an older man bending over in his tiny speedo. Stifling a laugh, I glanced around a realized almost every man was wearing a speedo (many who shouldn’t have been) and most of the women were topless. Keep in mind, the ones baring the most skin were more often than not the more ‘mature’ individuals. Welcome to Europe folks! Thinking about joining in on trend, I finally decided against it. The skin I had exposed was fair enough and I didn’t want risk getting burned in places more sensitive...<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMtOPDXzRjQwjKlP2ENucp17ObeTgNVg2uz0BXm1JJH2JPts0vgDJWp_y1R9FijkQm9dg_uIBe_zb9eK92G4b3gNdO6EL0e-tuck1EI0a1n_j7311HvbS9zv4M0_gUJzKPX7es/s1600/IMG_2812.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMtOPDXzRjQwjKlP2ENucp17ObeTgNVg2uz0BXm1JJH2JPts0vgDJWp_y1R9FijkQm9dg_uIBe_zb9eK92G4b3gNdO6EL0e-tuck1EI0a1n_j7311HvbS9zv4M0_gUJzKPX7es/s320/IMG_2812.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5529883779986380674" /></a> <br /><br />Continuously re-applying sunscreen (should of gone for that SPF 70…ouch!), swimming in salty the ocean to cool off and reading my book made for a fabulous afternoon. I was able to relax, enjoy myself and soak up some much needed vitamin D. After about 5 hours in the sun (30+°C, 90+°F), I gathered my stuff and decided to stroll the boardwalk and find a place for dinner. I was surprised by how much English was being spoken. It seemed most of the tourists were from the UK or Scandinavia. I should have figured that out from the almost translucent skin pigments that had surrounded me all day! Selecting a restaurant right on the water, I ordered halibut in champagne sauce and savored the delicious meal while gazing out on the ocean…<br /><br />Deciding I had seen what I wanted after a long day, it was back to the bus station to catch my bus. An uneventful hour later, the sun started to set as I was walking down a hill towards my hotel. Seizing the opportunity, I sprinted to the water, got back into my bathing suit and jumped into the ocean as the sky turned a fiery red. It was gorgeous. Climbing onto a rock to admire the breathtaking view, I couldn’t help but wish I was sharing the moment with my closest friends…<br /><br />-BW<br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Sidenote:</span> I think it’s worth mentioning that though I had an amazing time in Tenerife, traveling is not quite the same when spending awesome moments alone. The experience is greatly enhanced when you’re sharing it with someone.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Sidenote2: </span>Though I enjoyed the island and found it very beautiful, it doesn’t quite compare to <a href="http://www.madeira-web.com/">Madeira</a> (Portugal). Madeira is gorgeous and green, whereas Tenerife is desert like. Just my opinion!BreDub3http://www.blogger.com/profile/10548357764703147155noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20541962.post-49127659145687925132010-10-04T07:45:00.014-07:002010-10-04T13:05:50.602-07:00Not Your Common Cold<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhovmPdtWsOh3K4kQ7xPvu0FP4Bpot81PjoNhXYL2GcoB0fQhCBdmyvykXBisWA8ui-EZiJvddGtJkvqKJJIUHH0igB7NhyGk6nua4-1Tewv9V91q7d-j204TXyDktIcy1N8fnE/s1600/IMG_1164.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhovmPdtWsOh3K4kQ7xPvu0FP4Bpot81PjoNhXYL2GcoB0fQhCBdmyvykXBisWA8ui-EZiJvddGtJkvqKJJIUHH0igB7NhyGk6nua4-1Tewv9V91q7d-j204TXyDktIcy1N8fnE/s320/IMG_1164.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5524204349353154770" /></a>It’s inevitable. Every season around this time of year I find myself coming down with a sickness; one that’s not easy to cure and can often span for months at a time. There’s no magic pill, thick syrup or doctors order that can keep this virus at bay - however, a busy schedule, positive thinking and an active social life can get me through some of the toughest days.<br /><br />Homesickness is not an easy battle to fight. It can pop up out of nowhere and ruin a week, day or even month. It’s relentless and ever present. It’s hard to control and unfortunately, can sometimes affect performance in the workplace.<br /><br />Last week I caught a serious bout of this undesirable disease and am still trying to escape from its grasp. It’s tough being away from the people you love for long periods of time. Though the Internet helps to keep in touch with home, it still doesn’t quite cut it. Four years into my chosen profession and this is the aspect I struggle with most. It never gets easier.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinRfxESYYPMGnPXwgH-YEDD30xDOhyphenhyphenE2RH_AOFvZMaJfe5iM6m4eC7LIMMkiBlt7ea3In3hxX7SmVfErpJ5LNHEZqImMli6Fxj25RwT0VRidGRmaE2dXG8xtu4ha59OFMj2zLq/s1600/CIMG3379.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinRfxESYYPMGnPXwgH-YEDD30xDOhyphenhyphenE2RH_AOFvZMaJfe5iM6m4eC7LIMMkiBlt7ea3In3hxX7SmVfErpJ5LNHEZqImMli6Fxj25RwT0VRidGRmaE2dXG8xtu4ha59OFMj2zLq/s320/CIMG3379.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5524205605730626434" /></a> <br /><br />As an extremely social person, I love experiencing new places, meeting new people and having meaningful conversations. I’ve been known to go out with a group of friends, only for them to find me talking about life with some random individual in the corner of a bar. I love people. I like hearing their stories. I thrive off of social situations – which is why Europe can sometimes be a difficult transition. Though I’ve been blessed with enviable circumstances abroad thus far, this season has been somewhat of a difficult adjustment. The language, location, size of city and lack of tourism in Ferrol are obstacles. Of course when living abroad, I’m a guest and am the one who needs to assimilate. However, in my first 3 years I had always managed to find a core group of English speaking individuals to make the experience more enjoyable. I found them through local embassies, universities, on other professional teams in the city (basketball, volleyball, soccer) and even through facebook! These people kept me busy, close to home, in high spirits and helped fulfilled my social hunger pains. For the most part, my homesickness was kept at bay and I was happy. This year, these past ideas have not proved successful. There are no English speaking embassies in the area, the university does not have an exchange program and we don’t have another professional sports team in the city with English speaking imports. Thus, I’m on somewhat of an island. For some players this isn’t a problem, as they can keep themselves occupied in their tiny apartments with TV, the Internet and a book. But for me, that’s torture. I like <span style="font-style:italic;">living<span style="font-weight:bold;"></span></span> in my new city/country. I can’t stay cooped up in an apartment all day, everyday and not explore, experience and enjoy the foreign culture. I want to see what my new environment is all about, while meeting new people. I’ve ventured out in Ferrol numerous times with these ideas in mind, but it’s never as fun when you’re doing it alone.<br /><br />This is not to say my teammates aren’t nice people – because they are. They have been very friendly, but through no fault of their own, their English is very limited. Most go to school and are busy living their own lives.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEjMB1K7wxaDXlvON_eZq_uoEVXKn98-GUyLIAXjCSqn4wSFyyjMwlh9t9tC6G-2bJIlzOJfUIdpa7seC2qkRHTCDLoA8E-VJEDguL1Q1VSo-4kCmRLjyWnRs3HZSXYxxt_w5e/s1600/IMG_2708.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEjMB1K7wxaDXlvON_eZq_uoEVXKn98-GUyLIAXjCSqn4wSFyyjMwlh9t9tC6G-2bJIlzOJfUIdpa7seC2qkRHTCDLoA8E-VJEDguL1Q1VSo-4kCmRLjyWnRs3HZSXYxxt_w5e/s320/IMG_2708.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5524206432925674178" /></a> <br /><br />Prior to this year I was remarkably lucky to have been paired with import teammates who were outgoing and shared similar interests. In fact, I became very close with all 3 and to this day still keep in touch with each of them. I talk to Lizanne (Finland) monthly and am in constant touch with Casey (Portugal) and Jordan (Luxembourg) - both of which have become very close friends. This year it’s…different. I don’t have a partner in crime. I’m on my own. My American keeps to herself and though my Bosnian teammate is a very nice girl (we meet for coffee daily), she’s European and can speak 6 languages; enabling her to communicate and associate with others around the city. Unfortunately, my French won’t get me quite that far in Spain.<br /><br />I love where basketball has taken me and the high level I'm playing at this year is a confidence builder. How can I complain when I get paid to travel Europe while playing the sport I love? Nevertheless, as I grow older I'm realizing that basketball is a part of who I am and does not define me. Not having the social interaction I want and need this season has me realizing how important my family and friends are; people I will never take for granted. <br /><br />Things will get better. They always do. I’m just waiting for the Robin to my Batman to show up…<br /><br />-BW<br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Sidenote:</span> First league game Saturday. Can’t wait to lace up the sneakers and play for real!BreDub3http://www.blogger.com/profile/10548357764703147155noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20541962.post-69428291424721308502010-09-27T05:51:00.010-07:002010-09-27T12:54:59.037-07:00Lost in Translation<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiuG3TOI6e1YlaNyZDBq2UtY0_H7mo44MIhky-MfVjXqCqofeN6PxLbv9q7rDYHLgFzSghKBcVes3_fs3D9mOyS_LBspzxWd7y6UV0tDWUAvgca9TMZFKP5WNwrb0avG08frXK/s1600/IMG_2673.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiuG3TOI6e1YlaNyZDBq2UtY0_H7mo44MIhky-MfVjXqCqofeN6PxLbv9q7rDYHLgFzSghKBcVes3_fs3D9mOyS_LBspzxWd7y6UV0tDWUAvgca9TMZFKP5WNwrb0avG08frXK/s320/IMG_2673.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5521583565415416978" /></a>Another country, another language, another way of life. Each time I cross the Atlantic, I find myself assimilating and integrating to the norms of a new environment. Most of the time I make the transition quite smoothly, however so far, this season has proved to be a bit of a challenge. <br /><br />Ferrol is a small city with a non-existent tourism industry, thus finding people who speak English hasn’t been an easy task. Aside from my American and Bosnian teammates, my coaches, Spanish teammates and people around the organization speak little to no English. Add this to the fact that I have almost zero Spanish vocabulary, makes conversing somewhat difficult.<br /><br />That being said, I’ve managed to conquer essential phrases such as “quiero un café con leche por favor” (I’d like a coffee with milk please) and “donde esta el cuarto de baño?” (where’s the bathroom?), in addition to simple greetings, thank you’s and good byes. But aside from that, I’m completely lost. I do feel as though I’m beginning to understand when spoken to, but responding is a completely different beast. At times I’ve found myself starting out in Spanish, only to complete a question or sentence in French. This has earned me some odd looks and shakes of the head. I’m learning, albeit slowly. I never realized how scary it is trying to speak a foreign language. It’s frustrating not being able to communicate the way I want to.<br /><br />This barrier always seems to lead to interesting situations. Almost everyday we have 3 practices. Ninety percent of the time they follow the same routine. One evening we (the two English speakers) were told in broken English that we needed only running shoes for morning conditioning. Thus, the following morning Jhasmin and I arrived at the gym in our sneakers, workout gear and nothing else. Big mistake. Apparently we were having a full-fledged basketball scrimmage. Here I was in cross trainers without ankle braces or my mouth guard, expected to battle against two 6’4 post players. Nervous about getting hit in the face or rolling an ankle, I decided I was going to cruise and take it easy. Being as competitive as I am, that didn’t last long and I thankfully survived the practice injury free (aside from a few bruises). That day I learned a valuable lesson – to always pack everything and anything I might need for conditioning, weights or full practice in my gym bag each day. You can never be too prepared!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhe44u_nJuSUdooB7txyOrviDpTW_YSrq-63Q5SOAlxSC4w1CJI_D3k7KBNvtYcXjcOcPcs6879rXhweGbCs_9vI9fa9P5f74vfVhlpt9BDYobjE9KWPk8hkIcSxtK-Jc5XKqaJ/s1600/IMG_2625.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhe44u_nJuSUdooB7txyOrviDpTW_YSrq-63Q5SOAlxSC4w1CJI_D3k7KBNvtYcXjcOcPcs6879rXhweGbCs_9vI9fa9P5f74vfVhlpt9BDYobjE9KWPk8hkIcSxtK-Jc5XKqaJ/s320/IMG_2625.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5521585415433631714" /></a><br /><br />Interestingly enough, being a non-native Spanish speaker seems to provide entertainment to those around me. The other day during practice I ran down the court and yelled out one of our plays, which I thought was called “coño.” All of a sudden everyone stopped. My teammates burst out laughing and my two male coaches turned red. Confused, my point guard eventually explained what I had just said - now it was my turn to turn red! Apparently the play is actually called “puño,” however when pronounced, sounds very similar to the first. I’ll let you figure out the first word, but let you know the second means “fist” and is definitely not what I said when I was running down the court…<br /><br />Though miscommunications can be amusing, they can also be costly. Last week I decided I needed a haircut. I always wear my hair long, but it had reached the point where it was proving to be somewhat unruly and needed a trim. By trim, I meant taking 2 inches off – no more. I described what I wanted to a teammate and made sure she thoroughly explained it to the hair stylist, who did not speak English. Confident we had an understanding, my teammate left and I sat down in the chair. Watching her every move, the cut started out right and I was able to relax. Glancing up from my magazine a few minutes later, my heart dropped. She had taken off close to 5 inches and layered the hair short – real short. Used to the feeling of hair resting on my shoulders, I now found the longest pieces barely making contact with my t-shirt. Upset and unsure of what to do, I told her to her stop. Somehow, I managed to communicate to not to go any shorter, but to make it all one length. Sweating under the hair apron, I continually reminded myself that my hair would grow back. Thankfully my job requires me to wear a ponytail 90% of the time, but as I found out later that day, putting it all up with one elastic band has proved to be difficult. If there is one word of advice I can offer, it’s this: NEVER get your hair cut in Europe…<br /><br />Though language barriers can be difficult, I've decided to be proactive. Last week I did some research and signed up for Spanish lessons at the local university. I start today! It will be interesting trying to learn Spanish from someone who speaks no English, but is worth a shot. Wish me luck!<br /><br />-BW aka Bringo (Bringo is the nickname my Spanish teammates have decided for me. Bre + gringo = Bringo...)<br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Sidenote:</span> Press play to watch highlights of our 7 point ‘friendly’ loss to Santiago de Compostela. I’m number 11 blue and score 6 points in the clip.<br /><object width="640" height="385"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/5FJxr8Jv8qs?fs=1&hl=en_US"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/5FJxr8Jv8qs?fs=1&hl=en_US" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="640" height="385"></embed></object>BreDub3http://www.blogger.com/profile/10548357764703147155noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20541962.post-35255169033112662542010-09-20T06:29:00.014-07:002010-09-21T01:16:24.605-07:00Santiago de Compostela<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEindN2oSA_aNwfdkEvS3qkdl7okKSu79Hi5FEoczxeMI2iSOh3xgtHxMQDQqNVwPrK1-Pq9X1ajI3SUyVkMn-GGtniohxOylQfy409IFnLKThEj-SfyYZIXfXR773Ka8BOCYsF6/s1600/IMG_2681.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEindN2oSA_aNwfdkEvS3qkdl7okKSu79Hi5FEoczxeMI2iSOh3xgtHxMQDQqNVwPrK1-Pq9X1ajI3SUyVkMn-GGtniohxOylQfy409IFnLKThEj-SfyYZIXfXR773Ka8BOCYsF6/s320/IMG_2681.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5518988558482338514" /></a>Three weeks in and 2 ‘friendly’ games under my belt, I’m finally starting to acclimate to my new life in Spain. Last Saturday we beat a league <a href="http://www.arxil.es/">rival</a> quite handily, but this weekend let a closely contested match get away from us. A turnover plagued, defensively soft second half sealed our fate, as we lost on the road to <a href="http://www.cbpioxii.com/">Pio XII</a> by 7 points. <br /><br />I had a solid game, but couldn’t figure out why I spent most of the second quarter on the bench. Shooting a high percentage from the floor with 0 fouls, I was frustrated with not being on the court. Nevertheless, after halftime I played the majority of the final two quarters and put up respectable numbers (14pts, 7rbs, 2 blks, 6/10FG, 2/2 FT) against the preseason league favorites. <br /><br />After the final horn had sounded, the team and I headed to the locker room for our post game chat and shower. Looking to the stands, I signaled to fellow Vancouverite <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Levon_Kendall">Levon Kendall</a>, letting him know I'd be a minute. Conveniently, Levon plays in <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Santiago_de_Compostela">Santiago de Compostela</a> for <a href="http://www.obradoirocab.com/">Obradoiro</a> C.A.B. of <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Liga_Espa%C3%B1ola_de_Baloncesto">LEB Gold</a>. With permission from the team, I was allowed to stay in the city as long as I found my way back to Ferrol for practice Monday night. This would be my first excursion outside of Ferrol and I was excited to spend it with a friend.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4OWIQrnXVRIQ_Qc4GJ25s-_za91EELpzSphgSRRf37rK88zN7kq6X2ydlooQ5PDTVGLvTVYcpFYypeDCXxWVCd9etnBn3bdi0yluihMOmJMf1FIoibaAoT921-mDcwRb1lRX1/s1600/IMG_2686.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4OWIQrnXVRIQ_Qc4GJ25s-_za91EELpzSphgSRRf37rK88zN7kq6X2ydlooQ5PDTVGLvTVYcpFYypeDCXxWVCd9etnBn3bdi0yluihMOmJMf1FIoibaAoT921-mDcwRb1lRX1/s320/IMG_2686.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5519004136013089186" /></a><br /><br />Saying goodbye to the team, we hopped into Levon’s Prius and departed the gym. After a tour of his apartment and taking a few minutes to freshen up, we decided to head to Santiago's Old Town for dinner and late night tapas. This was an experience in itself. The Spanish social scene is much different than that of North America. People go out to dinner late...10pm kind of late. Strolling the narrow cobblestone streets, we eventually selected a cute restaurant in the center of town. Taking advantage of the mild evening, we sat outside and people watched while enjoying a delightful seafood dinner. Being adventurous, the both of us sampled a signature Galician dish - <a href="http://spanishfood.about.com/b/2007/07/02/pulpo-gallego-galician-style-octopus.htm">Pulpo a la Gallega</a>. It was…interesting. The texture of octopus is definitely not a favorite...<br /><br />Wrapping up our meal with a café con leche around 11:30pm, it was on to Levon’s teammates’ apartment. After introductions all round, we watched college football on ESPN while prepping for an evening out. Apparently midnight was too early to arrive at the popular bars, thus we waited until after 1am before checking out the city’s nightlife. Enjoying the company, we shared various overseas stories and before I knew it, it was time to make a move.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0aPOSVGJbUr7f8jIV4IHY3lgbj5gscTe8T6tTvN-2NpKPKAwabOO0mo4fo_Jn2hilxfRSb5N1LR6Ww_AaWbj32XqxOqq9UOCU3XZOBS1sTdLq7NNPMhtJn7LWnt1j5v6er2do/s1600/IMG_2631.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0aPOSVGJbUr7f8jIV4IHY3lgbj5gscTe8T6tTvN-2NpKPKAwabOO0mo4fo_Jn2hilxfRSb5N1LR6Ww_AaWbj32XqxOqq9UOCU3XZOBS1sTdLq7NNPMhtJn7LWnt1j5v6er2do/s320/IMG_2631.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5519006421028615666" /></a><br /><br />Back in Old Town, the fellas knew their way around, navigating the narrow maze of streets to a busy bar in the basement of an old building. Upon our arrival, everyone literally stopped and stared at us. With the two guys having to duck on entrance (6’8” and 6’10”) and myself following at 6’1”, the short Spaniards weren’t sure how to react. Once everyone had a chance to look us over, they went back to their drinks and previous conversations. Aside from being scrutinized at times, I really enjoyed the bar. It had good music, cheap drinks and a great atmosphere. At one point in the evening a girl came up to me and bluntly stated, “you’re not from here.” Hmmm...thanks for pointing that out. I don’t think she meant to be rude, but she didn't understand why we were all so tall. After satisfying her curiosity, I was back on the dance floor doing what I do best. Slowly the bar crowd began to dissipate and it was time to move to the next place…at 3am. Ugh!<br /><br />Once again following the guys down narrow alleyways and side streets, we arrived at an underground salsa club. It was awesome! I spent most of my time swaying to the music while watching various young couples dance at a frenetic pace. They were amazing! Salsa dancing looks tough - I’m not sure if it’s something I’ll be able to master before leaving Spain.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJW3ufqdqq9a_y9QzfceNJ3MqrA3CjFUQHhytNyNTQO-CgdBT2C5vTa-fOoziKSIbuKldfUghLN92-hSyu-caZ3PQLasPWMC3-kvnsqtTEZdX5RC2JW20IHTW1-f5oAxOHvS6S/s1600/IMG_2633.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJW3ufqdqq9a_y9QzfceNJ3MqrA3CjFUQHhytNyNTQO-CgdBT2C5vTa-fOoziKSIbuKldfUghLN92-hSyu-caZ3PQLasPWMC3-kvnsqtTEZdX5RC2JW20IHTW1-f5oAxOHvS6S/s320/IMG_2633.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5519090522113252034" /></a><br /><br />With the 3 of us starting to fade, we decided to call it a night around 4am and started the trek back to Levon’s apartment. Traversing the uneven cobblestones street, I suddenly realized my phone was ringing. Confused as to who would be calling me at this ungodly hour, I was surprised to find it was my good friend Lindsey (who also is Levon's friend) calling post-Husky football game. It was great hearing a voice from home and it topped off a successful evening. <br /><br />Finally back at Levon’s flat, I set my alarm for 11am. Knowing I’d be tired in the morning, I mentally prepared myself. I would not allow myself to sleep away the day. While in Santiago, I wanted to wander and experience the historic town before having to depart. Waking up less than 6 hours later, I quietly crept out of the apartment and left Levon a note. We’d meet later in the afternoon for lunch. <br /><br />Pulling out my journal, I found my bearings a started the 15 minute walk to downtown Santiago (spending about 2km on the actual <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Way_of_St._James">Camino de Santiago</a>). Navigating the narrow streets, I found Rua do Franco (main street) and started to wander up and down the different roads, snapping photos and sampling baked goods. Following St. James ‘hikers’ and bikers down one particular street, I was taken aback when the confined alley suddenly opened up into Praza do Obradoiro, home of <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cathedral_of_Santiago_de_Compostela">Santiago de Compostela’s massive cathedral</a>. To say this monument is impressive is an understatement. I’d say it’s only second to the <a href="http://www.sagradafamilia.cat/sf-eng/">Sagrada Familia</a> in Barcelona. The thing is enormous and is apparently one of the most impressive cathedrals in all of Europe. After witnessing it, I have no doubt that's true.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimfydQyJBradGeXYFemmVxBwO9Hbz1JtMxR2bkhZSbCZgGC6XjalmqugiNI5pOMrJiTt3JPzeKS6rVlAvyb6SdLHp0jj1dtz9gO-w0vQcf0VYRz30nK7ZlJWqdcUF3suwhT2h5/s1600/IMG_2689.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimfydQyJBradGeXYFemmVxBwO9Hbz1JtMxR2bkhZSbCZgGC6XjalmqugiNI5pOMrJiTt3JPzeKS6rVlAvyb6SdLHp0jj1dtz9gO-w0vQcf0VYRz30nK7ZlJWqdcUF3suwhT2h5/s320/IMG_2689.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5519096831568909650" /></a><br /><br />Enjoying the view, I sat down at a nearby café for a café con leche and worked on my tan while gazing up at the impressive cathedral. After a short rest for my complaining feet, I called Levon. We decided to rendez-vous on Rua do Franco for a late lunch. Enjoying another great meal in the sun (30°C, 85°F) while people wandered around us, we eventually joined the masses and strolled the historic city, eventually making our way back to the cathedral’s main square. Once again impressed by it’s size, we snapped photos, chatted with some Aussies and inquired about cathedral tours. Unfortunately they were booked for the day – so it's the first thing I plan to do upon my return. Making our way down a quiet street, we walked around a park that provided stunning views of the cathedral from an incline. Tired from a late night and long day, I glanced at my watch. It was time to head to the bus station. <br /><br />Saying our goodbyes, Levon and I briefly chatted about future visits. I’ll definitely be returning to Santiago soon and recommend it to anyone if ever visiting Northern Spain. Only a 1 hour bus ride from Ferrol, it’s a cheap and easy commute. I have a feeling I'll know the city very well before I returning home to Vancouver at the end of the season.<br /><br />Back to work,<br /><br />-BWBreDub3http://www.blogger.com/profile/10548357764703147155noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20541962.post-51505552870903942322010-09-09T15:55:00.008-07:002010-09-10T04:41:56.665-07:003-a-Days Keep the Doctor Away?<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNVHtu_wLIz3LSxF2a2aF6ezD3SuTFzrUhzisSgMDgiTiXDNEhfSHFg4GGgA6DgmVA13GgjEEQ3i2iQqgWpPLcZigrkQegoGM0i8M2rGhqlHUz1UMYMIcD20T1b92mqnm_sexT/s1600/IMG_2619.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNVHtu_wLIz3LSxF2a2aF6ezD3SuTFzrUhzisSgMDgiTiXDNEhfSHFg4GGgA6DgmVA13GgjEEQ3i2iQqgWpPLcZigrkQegoGM0i8M2rGhqlHUz1UMYMIcD20T1b92mqnm_sexT/s320/IMG_2619.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5515067409735081122" /></a>Estoy muy consada! <br /><br />After 3 flights (Vancouver to Montreal, Montreal to Paris, Paris to <a href="http://maps.google.com/maps?q=vigo+spain+map&hl=en&ie=UTF8&ei=fGaJTJm-Mo6UjAe4lN2vBg&ved=0CBkQ_AU&hq=&hnear=Vigo,+Pontevedra,+Galicia,+Spain&ll=42.212245,-8.239746&spn=4.239008,11.898193&z=7">Vigo</a>), a 2-hour car ride (Vigo to Ferrol) and a combined 18 hours of traveling, I had finally arrived in Ferrol, Spain. Tired, jetlagged and hungry, I was dropped off at my new home by the club’s President – who reminded me to be ready for evening practice. After 3 seasons abroad, this came as no surprise. As with most European teams, it’s a norm. Despite the fact that I had no idea what day it was and my mind was in a complete jumble – I was expected to lace up my basketball shoes and show Ferrol that I was worth the money they’re paying me.<br /><br />Arriving at the gym with head coach Nacho (great name right?), I was quickly introduced to my new teammates. This alone was quite exciting, as I learned my team employs 5 full time professionals. Add that to the fact that I’m not the tallest player (3rd tallest), I’ll finally be able to play my natural position at small forward this year. Once I had tried and failed miserably pronouncing all my new teammates names, it was right into a long practice full of unfamiliar drills. My only focus that evening was getting my legs underneath me and working up a sweat. <a href="http://www.positiveperformanceconsulting.com/">Preparing myself mentally</a> enabled me to make the transition quite smoothly.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaTJYJE9p5JFfJs3fmrgIiPqB49SEE0YC35pBZOJBYRdG5Jts5sYK7ap0DrJPbQq4Wh0HT8OT7I6tH1lkGWdurip43ZSI7Vsd15cZHp0lCXG_vVdmb0GJWbDr6z5jRMWRUVWjQ/s1600/IMG_2606.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaTJYJE9p5JFfJs3fmrgIiPqB49SEE0YC35pBZOJBYRdG5Jts5sYK7ap0DrJPbQq4Wh0HT8OT7I6tH1lkGWdurip43ZSI7Vsd15cZHp0lCXG_vVdmb0GJWbDr6z5jRMWRUVWjQ/s320/IMG_2606.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5515069118604705426" /></a><br /><br />The following morning however, was a different story. Not only did I have to get up early, but I was also expected to effortlessly join our demanding 3-a-day training routine. Not sleeping well the night before and with my body still in a different time zone, I woke up fatigued with a cloudy head. I managed to survive the day, only to wake up and do it again and again...Every morning we condition and shoot, afternoons we lift or condition (again!) and in the evenings we have a 2-hour practice session. It’s insane.<br /><br />For the last 3 seasons abroad, I’ve been a late signee and have managed to avoid all preseason training. I’d land in my new country, practice a few times and jump right into games. I’ve never had to endure the god-awful preseason filled with excessive amounts of conditioning and weight lifting. This year however, there was no way out of it. As an early signee in a very good league, it was expected I arrive September 1st and be ready to go. Though conditioning has been tough, I came in great shape and am constantly proving to be best on the team in this area. It’s always rewarding as a ‘big girl’ (post player) to beat the little guards (and other pros) in fitness drills. I feel really good about my conditioning level right now. The only thing I’m worried about is the weight I’m losing (which normally wouldn’t be a problem…) however, my normal playing weight is around 170 lbs, but, with the extreme humidity and amount of sweat I lose during practices, I’m down to 165lbs. This affects my strength inside. Each session I lose close to 2 lbs in sweat - it’s gross! I’m conscious to rehydrate and literally have to force myself to drink 2+ liters of water during/after each session. Understand I’m not complaining about the hot, sunny September weather (mid 20°C [70-80°F]), but the humidity is killing me!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOYz3as1n3C40JAF9gDwA1Pwby8Hg89W3ZP8uqZD2DBgp29m43eDpNV2UQskwi8vMiOscem0JOQA5NjJ9j1dsbNStZDH7SOpBwVRgUTCKG_ccMjJBErFA9Xr3RUPNpDS7asAK2/s1600/IMG_2607.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOYz3as1n3C40JAF9gDwA1Pwby8Hg89W3ZP8uqZD2DBgp29m43eDpNV2UQskwi8vMiOscem0JOQA5NjJ9j1dsbNStZDH7SOpBwVRgUTCKG_ccMjJBErFA9Xr3RUPNpDS7asAK2/s320/IMG_2607.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5515067950908588386" /></a> <br /><br />This preseason has been rough and will likely last until the end of the month. Our first official game is <a href="http://competiciones.feb.es/estadisticas/Calendario.aspx?g=9&t=2010">October 9th</a> and I’m literally counting down the days. I don’t think I’ve ever experienced 3-a-days, everyday. As a result, my body is extremely sore and I’m exhausted. Add all this to the fact that I’m still not sleeping well makes for an unfortunate combination. But I’m surviving and oddly enjoying every minute of it...<br /><br />Since, I’ve been completely inundated with basketball, I’ve had very little free time to go out and explore my new city. In fact, in the free time that I’ve had, all I’ve wanted to do is eat and sleep…which is definitely not like me. However, last weekend we were finally rewarded with a Sunday off. Gathering all my remaining energy, I rallied and ventured out of my apartment to see what Ferrol had to offer. Heading towards the water, I found that most of the coast is blanketed by a massive <a href="http://www.worldportsource.com/ports/ESP_Port_of_Ferrol_1271.php">naval base</a> – which made getting to the Atlantic more difficult than originally anticipated. After walking beside the huge walls for a good mile or so, it finally opened up into a marina and boardwalk. The area is very pretty, lined with nice restaurants, palm trees and people milling about. Taking some pictures and noting the names of streets I wanted to explore at another time, I took a different route home and found myself walking down the main shopping street. Being a Sunday, everything was closed. So I took time to window shop while enjoying the sun. Strangely, I was somewhat uncomfortable as there wasn’t a human in sight for a good 45 minutes. This was unnerving and really weird. Most European cities close down to an extent on Sunday – but Spain takes it to a whole new level. Aside from the marina, all of the city was desolate…I felt like I was Will Smith in <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0480249/">I am Legend</a>. It was creepy.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgg239mx2qwfdH9J_mPpPVo-mz3tCzsVykKk-40xnsLIMRYdtEeKKVgDPOXFwDJO6vAjgLnr3V9AVmrmfBzEWfzA39X5FEgbSU9vLusMO_ujlAMLZWzToCTFDzfrrR8iJ-28CxD/s1600/IMG_2610.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgg239mx2qwfdH9J_mPpPVo-mz3tCzsVykKk-40xnsLIMRYdtEeKKVgDPOXFwDJO6vAjgLnr3V9AVmrmfBzEWfzA39X5FEgbSU9vLusMO_ujlAMLZWzToCTFDzfrrR8iJ-28CxD/s320/IMG_2610.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5515068382461762578" /></a> <br /><br />As I head into my 2nd full week in Ferrol, I’m finally starting to feel comfortable. Despite the fact I have no Spanish language background, I feel as though I’m starting to pick up words and phrases quite quickly. I understand most of what is being said to me, but the pronunciation and rolling of the r’s is proving difficult. I really like my teammates, coaches and the organization has been very professional so far. Aside from living in an apartment older than I had hoped and a noisy neighbor living above me, I have no complaints. My team looks strong and I think we could have a very good season. I have no idea what to expect from this competitive league, but this is definitely the strongest European team I’ve played on so far.<br /><br />With a day off this weekend and first ‘friendly’ match Monday, I’ll be sure to have something more interesting to share next week.<br /><br />Hasta luego,<br /><br />-BWBreDub3http://www.blogger.com/profile/10548357764703147155noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20541962.post-31657585606083973552010-08-31T10:28:00.004-07:002010-08-31T10:47:36.929-07:00Viva la España!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1exgh23Nl-XW_yqNyuf0P1NtrV5fIVLizc0Qgl1AecrqgdrCYNybTXWRXGwAdT3Rm4IP1SHtPEcnmnaHleeB2ZRXNmANM4mQRpXShce4Dg69MsqOW7lCUW2hWquAPSvdzMVK4/s1600/spain-flag.gif"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 210px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1exgh23Nl-XW_yqNyuf0P1NtrV5fIVLizc0Qgl1AecrqgdrCYNybTXWRXGwAdT3Rm4IP1SHtPEcnmnaHleeB2ZRXNmANM4mQRpXShce4Dg69MsqOW7lCUW2hWquAPSvdzMVK4/s320/spain-flag.gif" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5511630782454640722" /></a>Tomorrow I embark on my 4th professional basketball season in Europe. It has been an amazing summer and I don't quite want it to end. Though I will miss my friends and family deeply, this is the path I've chosen and I'm ready for the new adventure to begin. <br /><br />This year i will be taking my hard work, hustle and rebounding skills to <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ferrol,_Spain">Ferrol</a>, Spain. I'll be suiting up and playing for LF2 Universitario de Ferrol. Spain is one of the best basketball leagues in the world, a league I've been trying to break into since I started playing. My time has arrived and I'm excited to challenge myself in this competitive league.<br /><br />With the beginning of another new season, comes the re-activation of Bre Dub's Blog. I hope you'll come visit weekly as I update readers with new posts on my life, lessons and experiences in España.<br /><br />El que la sigue, la consigue,<br /><br />-BWBreDub3http://www.blogger.com/profile/10548357764703147155noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20541962.post-51991480734450963882010-08-22T21:27:00.035-07:002010-08-25T21:33:45.064-07:00“We’ve been waiting 364 days for this…”<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVx_8tFvXenCkOCxHV2Vp3349JzzMFAL2YGC4or27HJmRC5eIvNpNWhSf4qNbgE_oIPzdpmlkX3FZjsc8QJkFU7EpHiesKM9nwcH0gCmoNTM9lcqg9LMJ3525JMB7LQhwTmhBD/s1600/40284_966299156688_10714039_51694906_5074007_n.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 181px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVx_8tFvXenCkOCxHV2Vp3349JzzMFAL2YGC4or27HJmRC5eIvNpNWhSf4qNbgE_oIPzdpmlkX3FZjsc8QJkFU7EpHiesKM9nwcH0gCmoNTM9lcqg9LMJ3525JMB7LQhwTmhBD/s320/40284_966299156688_10714039_51694906_5074007_n.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5508464562830188786" /></a>There are 3 days in a calendar year I get absurdly excited about. Christmas, Thanksgiving and…<a href="http://hoopfest.org/">Hoopfest</a>. Yes, you read that correctly. I look forward to playing in Hoopfest more than I look forward to celebrating my birthday, dressing up for Halloween, tailgating Husky Football or ringing in New Years. I can’t quite explain my ridiculous passion for this annual event, other than it’s an addiction I must feed once a year. <br /><br />My love affair with Hoopfest began 4 years ago and only grows stronger with each passing summer. This tournament not only allows me to continue playing basketball at a very high level, but is also a great way to spend a weekend with my closest friends. Though the roster has been tweaked over the years, the past 2 summers we’ve definitely found the winning combination. TBA (“To Be Announced” – witty right?) plays hard, plays to win and always has fun. Our roster is composed of 4 former collegiate players who all have spent at least one year playing professionally abroad. Who are these talented women you ask? Well, without further adieu, let me introduce you to team TBA…<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSl7qNqiESU-WUNNCNWqO_XR_oXzDBiuBnjD3bM1F9N-zK57kseyfmCCOYb2U-ZO4lEDmn4beTh4OnZAgaA13R6NtPuimVa59qLb-objFpfiMH9A09G46MEzqpf3yVrGzNWNbR/s1600/photo.jpeg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSl7qNqiESU-WUNNCNWqO_XR_oXzDBiuBnjD3bM1F9N-zK57kseyfmCCOYb2U-ZO4lEDmn4beTh4OnZAgaA13R6NtPuimVa59qLb-objFpfiMH9A09G46MEzqpf3yVrGzNWNbR/s320/photo.jpeg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5508464845509791490" /></a><br /><br /><a href="http://lucasswoopesbasketball.com/about/#casey">Casey Nash</a> – 6’1”, Stayton, OR, Oregon State ’07. The oh so smooth lethal lefty. You think she’s right handed, but nope…she’s taking you left all day. Lay up drill!<br /><br /><a href="http://www.eurobasket.com/player.asp?Cntry=NED&PlayerID=123145&women=1">Amy Taylor</a> – 5’9”, Shoreline, WA, Seattle Pacific ’05. TBA’s hardnosed 3-point specialist will cross you up in a second if you try to take away her range.<br /><br /><a href="http://www.positiveperformanceconsulting.com/">Lindsey Wilson</a> – 5’9”, Seattle, WA, Iowa State ’03. Our fearless leader with a ridiculously dangerous pull up jumper. Period.<br /><br />And me. <a href="http://www.regeneracomsports.com/basketball_women_player-breanne_watson-155.html">Breanne Watson</a> – 6’1”, Richmond, B.C., Washington ’07. I’m here to protect the paint and tirelessly crash the boards…REBOUND! ☺<br /><br />Though somewhat biased, I really do believe our team has the perfect combination of skill, determination and desire. The 4 of us compliment each other on (and off) the court; we know our roles and don’t stray from them. This is a huge reason why we have been so successful as a group. No one is worried about stats or who takes the last shot. We all know each other’s strengths and play to them. There’s nothing quite like playing with people who have the same goal and don’t care about individual performance. It sounds cliché, but it's the truth. I’ve traveled the world and have played in some pretty big time, important games. But hooping with TBA is the most fun I’ve had on a basketball court. It’s the most cohesive, passionate, caring group I’ve ever played with. These girls are some of the best teammates I’ve ever had and I freakin’ love them!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_XAQFi0s9tu23PzjYdPvBfB9kCJyzviMrCBPsP_z_XD9QhK1NBD_y5B58DYzcv-EXCP1i76lWeUmeDGva6XtnDpOO8V5iomoFeKdN9cFLTy9Gk1ld9TWzjgHIjJy8oM_4FEun/s1600/photo-1.jpeg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_XAQFi0s9tu23PzjYdPvBfB9kCJyzviMrCBPsP_z_XD9QhK1NBD_y5B58DYzcv-EXCP1i76lWeUmeDGva6XtnDpOO8V5iomoFeKdN9cFLTy9Gk1ld9TWzjgHIjJy8oM_4FEun/s320/photo-1.jpeg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5508465133864631874" /></a><br /><br />So, imagine my excitement when June 26, 2010 finally rolled around. I had been waiting all year for exactly this moment - the TBA reunion! After sharing countless hugs and smiles all round after the rendez-vous in Seattle, the girls and I jumped in Lindsey’s car and were off. It was time to begin the 5-hour road trip to <a href="http://www.visitspokane.com/">Spokane</a>. Though a bit of a drive, the time spent in the car is a huge part of the Hoopfest experience. Since we all live in different parts of the Northwest, we don’t get to see each other as often as we’d like. This time on the road allows us to catch up on each other’s lives, update on recent happenings and reminisce great memories. That being said, I believe the best part of the road trip this year may have been the music. Of course everyone has a favorite singer/band/genre they want to listen to during the trek across I-90, but there’s nothing quite like listening to a teammate sing/rap a pre-recorded song about our team. Ladies and gentlemen, let me once again introduce you to our amazingly talented guard Amy Taylor. Not only does she save lives (she’s a nurse), but she’ll hit a jumper in your eye then sing about it. Or rap. The girl is unbelievably gifted! Needless to say, we popped in the CD anticipating Amy’s Hoopfest song debut – one that may or may not have stayed on repeat all weekend…<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgRr5JkoXwZ3Ptxa2agtN4yjgGWVpy_l4Ez7cmMBcqNEEuyvwf7CEVcbPUU16EEtLHR56SHXD9x2OI-Kd4yKm2DxypsHWT55RFFVnXouNZomw9y7KM32HXKVbGRvRKXGYpPZzn/s1600/photo-2.jpeg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgRr5JkoXwZ3Ptxa2agtN4yjgGWVpy_l4Ez7cmMBcqNEEuyvwf7CEVcbPUU16EEtLHR56SHXD9x2OI-Kd4yKm2DxypsHWT55RFFVnXouNZomw9y7KM32HXKVbGRvRKXGYpPZzn/s320/photo-2.jpeg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5508465414079556690" /></a><br /><br />Click <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6mHega0dwik">here</a> to listen to Amy T’s first Hoopfest single! How awesome is that???<br /><br />Arriving in Spokane with Amy’s rap committed to memory, we were off to find the Couch family residence. Who are the Couch’s? Well, they are some seriously wonderful people that’s who! Last summer at Hoopfest we had quite a following. People say it was our impressive play and engaging personalities that led to our popularity, however, I’m convinced it was the lime green jersey’s I designed…anyway, during the 2009 weekend we met a super friendly family with two young daughters. They came to watch most of our games and cheered us on faithfully. After winning our bracket in the scorching Saturday sun, they invited us to a neighborhood BBQ. Not only did we enjoy great food, but we met some great people, making for a memorable night. A few weeks after Hoopfest, the Couch family contacted Lindsey and extended an invite to us to stay at their house for Hoopfest 2010. Humbled by the offer, we accepted and thus spent our 2010 weekend with this kind family. And wow, what a family they are. I’ve never met such thoughtful, generous, friendly people. Not only did they open up their home, but they had a room prepared for the each of us and dinner waiting on the table upon our arrival. Wow! I know I speak for the team when I say we can’t even express our gratitude for EVERYTHING they did for us all weekend. The Couch's really made us feel welcome and were a part of the formula that led to the Championship!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6GZwx3idf4ef-CXEm8DWeXE7DRml3ESIMD1TKvReez9Mi3y_WKiby7WUwbI-JUSwIxC1rRWTBiT0zYjtq1997FUCqLjXHClPY4ENs_FI5BsApmsdpR_clCqEpM9LwG5ycWyeA/s1600/photo-3.jpeg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6GZwx3idf4ef-CXEm8DWeXE7DRml3ESIMD1TKvReez9Mi3y_WKiby7WUwbI-JUSwIxC1rRWTBiT0zYjtq1997FUCqLjXHClPY4ENs_FI5BsApmsdpR_clCqEpM9LwG5ycWyeA/s320/photo-3.jpeg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5508465991932189858" /></a> <br /><br />For readers unfamiliar with Hoopfest, here are a few quick facts: Hoopfest is the biggest 3 on 3 tournament in the world and this year, featured 6,990 teams, 27,465 players and 3,000+ volunteers. The Women’s Elite Division had 20 teams featuring former NCAA standouts like <a href="https://thesundevils.cstv.com/sports/w-baskbl/mtt/noe_jill00.html">Jill Noe</a>, <a href="http://www.gostanford.com/sports/w-baskbl/mtt/harmon_jillian00.html">Jillian Harmon</a>, <a href="http://www.baylorbears.com/sports/w-baskbl/mtt/lambert_sheila00.html">Sheila Lambert</a>, <a href="http://www.gozags.com/sports/w-baskbl/mtt/bowman_heather00.html">Heather Bowman</a>, <a href="http://www.gozags.com/sports/w-baskbl/mtt/frieson_vivian00.html">Vivian Frieson</a>, etc. It is a very competitive division full of emotion and physicality. There’s no mercy on the court as every point counts. <br /><br />Decked out in our Nike sponsored gear and bright homemade jerseys (a tradition that will forever continue) we immediately made our mark. As soon as we took the pavement, TBA was all business. Our first game would be one of the most difficult of the tournament, as we matched up against Pure Advantage, a team headlined by former Arizona Sun Devil Jill Noe and Stanford Cardinal Jillian Harmon. The first game is always tough and the fact that we were facing some serious ballers made it a battle. However, we managed to get our first ‘W’ of 2010 and continued to ride the wave by winning our second game over a scrappy <a href="http://www.nnusports.com/">Northwest Nazarene</a> team. Once taking care of business, the girls and I spent the rest of the afternoon cheering on friends and enjoying the sun. Later that evening it was off to a bbq followed by a short pub-crawl downtown Spokane. <br /><br />With a fairly tame evening behind us, the following morning we were up bright and early for Championship Sunday. Shaking the sleep out of our eyes for the 8am tip, we made quick work of Hot Mess Crew – who's name is self-explanatory. Win under our belt, it was on to the semi-finals where we once again found ourselves facing Jill Noe and her Pure Advantage teammates. By losing their first game to us on Saturday, they were regulated to the losers bracket. Battling the heat and playing an excessive amount of games, PA was out for revenge. Seeing the thought of an upset in their eyes, TBA was in no joking mood. We were sharp, focused and stepped on the court with only one thing in mind. It worked and just like that we were punching our ticket to the Women’s Elite Division Finals for the 3rd time in 4 years.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJmxZa3ahIIke7R4cRGc_juhn2tsP32VRsmOAiXioJwPG3z9E-1O5I9IJGHiMecmbFHk5vuYte2x3Q33fYAx1PA0K2X1GaUiRCQh0q3Z66tYPaydW2_My6XhyphenhyphenPfXuMoPqo2DsU/s1600/IMG_2539.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJmxZa3ahIIke7R4cRGc_juhn2tsP32VRsmOAiXioJwPG3z9E-1O5I9IJGHiMecmbFHk5vuYte2x3Q33fYAx1PA0K2X1GaUiRCQh0q3Z66tYPaydW2_My6XhyphenhyphenPfXuMoPqo2DsU/s320/IMG_2539.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5508466867282450978" /></a><br /><br />Hours later, with the sun at it’s peak, TBA was on Nike Center Court for the division finals. After positive team talk and opponent strategy, we stepped on the court to face Acme Concrete Paving (Montana Alumi Hollie Tyler, Julie Deming, Laura Valley and Corrie Villegas) – the same team we lost to in the championship final last year. I’m not one to make excuses, but last summer we literally handed them the trophy. Going on a complete tear all weekend, we choked in the final. We couldn’t hit a shot and missed 8 free throws in a game to 20 (1’s and 2’s). It killed us. Even with all the mistakes we made, we almost won. TBA was up 17-15 before eventually falling 20-17.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2ij68fpqwFfrpP7A0vVdhTyfooGjp_ISAeoSaDz2P3H1oDIY2dml05AEYIfeaSHew2WfAlErC9YRQ1XYJMfS_Qt8HWXQbcyoAYGvLd31q6XfkIwP6Klseinu1tAtf-NEyxw6W/s1600/41287_418010327156_558262156_4867097_2723778_n.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 209px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2ij68fpqwFfrpP7A0vVdhTyfooGjp_ISAeoSaDz2P3H1oDIY2dml05AEYIfeaSHew2WfAlErC9YRQ1XYJMfS_Qt8HWXQbcyoAYGvLd31q6XfkIwP6Klseinu1tAtf-NEyxw6W/s320/41287_418010327156_558262156_4867097_2723778_n.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5508467192566013378" /></a> <br /><br />This year we were determined not to let history repeat itself. With a comfortable lead most of the game, we hit a plateau at 14 and it was déjà-vu all over again. Making our FTs at an 80% clip all weekend, we went 0-for-7 in the final and almost gave away the game. Thankfully, our stellar defense and hustle plays saved us took us to the promised land. Driving from the left side on game point, Lindsey stopped on a dime, pulled up and hit her signature jumper. And guesssss what? TBA had captured the 2010 Hoopfest crown! Ballin’!<br /><br />Click <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ipCaT-Z8WGY">here</a> to listen to Amy T’s second Hoopfest single, summarizing our Championship run.<br />Click <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3xye5liA9Uk">here</a> and <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ec6u_WXEH2k">here</a> for TV highlights of our Hoopfest Championship Final.<br /><br />Until next summer, I’m counting down the days…<br /><br />-BW<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3UfreLaNtuKUC4l5S03dCsgrMrlwe54SFgbO_g5ge3D5Pzz4TCP2nquLWhE1OoA7Igz84MyYz7fh1JjDGXgMB0StuU60nKYrYz_aCxk1xpmVGd2oP_h0XIbiMiv_932sFTBon/s1600/photo+(6).jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3UfreLaNtuKUC4l5S03dCsgrMrlwe54SFgbO_g5ge3D5Pzz4TCP2nquLWhE1OoA7Igz84MyYz7fh1JjDGXgMB0StuU60nKYrYz_aCxk1xpmVGd2oP_h0XIbiMiv_932sFTBon/s200/photo+(6).jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5508469847657265938" /></a><span style="font-weight:bold;">Sidenote:</span> It’s worth mentioning that TBA also took their talents to Los Angeles for the Nike 3 on 3 tournament, L.A. Live at Staples Center. Without much difficulty, we were able to bring home another title. It was a great weekend spent with old and new friends alike. Ironically, <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Stacey_Dales">Stacey Dales</a>, my childhood basketball hero (from Ontario, played for Oklahoma and in the WNBA) currently lives in LA and is an anchor and host for the NFL Network. She also happens to be friends with Lindsey. Imagine my surprise when Linds picked Amy and I up in Stacey Dales' car with Stacey in it. I couldn’t believe it! After getting over my initial shock of meeting her by staying mute for almost 10 minutes (those of you who know me know that I am never at a loss for words ☺), I finally relaxed and started to socialize over lunch. Stacey is super cool and offered me some great perspectives on life and a career in the media field. There’s nothing like meeting someone you idolize and realizing how down to earth and normal they are. She was a wealth of information and someone I am thankful I was able to connect with.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Sidenote 2: </span>In addition to the two previous links provided for Amy's songs, click <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=a0s_QrtdYVk">here </a> and<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DrEaa9_u5EE"> here</a> to listen to the final 2 tracks of the TBA album - written about our weekend in Los Angeles for L.A. Live!BreDub3http://www.blogger.com/profile/10548357764703147155noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20541962.post-79137463657111000862010-08-14T21:18:00.018-07:002010-08-15T23:02:46.000-07:00On to the Next One…<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuKmVkWV_rN5Y2HaVrh3me0N36jMtdMESTZy8TLWPm1h82nqZYz6kD_z5dx2cZzcYVezFNY_C6hA2cYMDuUhkEOV3Ea6ucJaLjijSrNVpw39_1bsWR1wqYLR2Uqwl8-oiSZEJ2/s1600/lux+173.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuKmVkWV_rN5Y2HaVrh3me0N36jMtdMESTZy8TLWPm1h82nqZYz6kD_z5dx2cZzcYVezFNY_C6hA2cYMDuUhkEOV3Ea6ucJaLjijSrNVpw39_1bsWR1wqYLR2Uqwl8-oiSZEJ2/s320/lux+173.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5505495716423143266" /></a>Wow, this post is LONG overdue. I apologize for my tardiness. Originally I had intended to publish my last entry about Luxembourg once I arrived on Canadian soil. However, this did not happen. As soon as I landed in Vancouver, I was immediately sidetracked and delightfully overwhelmed with catching up with family and friends. A lot has happened in my life since I departed Lux. It’s been a busy, eventful summer full of sun, fun, travel and basketball – and I wouldn’t have wanted it any other way. Bre Dub’s Blog has been inactive for much too long and its resurrection begins now… <br /><br />So without further delay, below you’ll find the annual list of Pros and Cons for my 3rd season playing abroad in Luxembourg…<br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">PROS:</span><br /><br />• Travel – <a href="http://www.nationsonline.org/maps/countries_europe_map.jpg">Lux</a> is essentially in the middle of Europe and was a perfect place to travel out of. With so much free time, I was able to visit most of Western Europe and enjoy the culture and values of new cities and countries every other week. It was awesome.<br />• Pastries – everywhere you turn in Europe, there’s a bakery filled with fresh baked goods. The smell, texture, taste…you can’t walk by without buying one…or two…<br />• Champagne – I mean <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Luxembourg_wine">Crémant</a>…it’s not just for celebration anymore. In Luxembourg this is a drink of choice, just like sipping on wine or beer.<br />• <a href="http://www.becherovka.ws/">Bercherovka</a> – Slovakian liquor shared amongst close friends, almost always leading to a fun filled night. Committee!!!<br />• Hummel Burger – best burger in Lux, or dare I say Europe??? Extra andalouse please!!!<br />• <a href="http://www.wikifood.lu/wikifood/en/struts/viewUserfood.do?id=853308">Andalouse</a> – period.<br />• <a href="http://www.raclettecorner.com/">Raclette</a> – cousin of the fondue. A fabulous melted cheese, family style dish enjoyed amongst friends. Very tasty and a great way to bring people together.<br />• <a href="http://www.rivesdeclausen.eu/2-6-Home.php">Clausen</a> – one of the coolest nightlife areas I’ve ever experienced. The atmosphere is amazing and I always had a great time whenever out in this downtown area of Lux.<br />• <a href="http://www.moselle-tourist.lu/bateau/UK/index.php">Remich</a> – beautiful wine country region in Luxembourg, which sits on the Moselle River.<br />• Boating on the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Moselle_(river)">Moselle</a> – no better way to spend a beautiful day with good friends. Great memories.<br />• Dudelange morning shooting – perfect way to get some shots up while socializing with friends. Shoot, hang, grab lunch, repeat.<br />• B Team Ballers – our men’s 1st division team was full of great guys. But the 2nd team were my boys! Every time I hung out with these fellas it always led to an eventful night. Thursdays aren’t the same without you! Miss you all! (Marc, Yann, Gerard, Edmond…etc)<br />• Concerts – big names in small venues. Affordable tickets and a great atmosphere. I was lucky enough to see Rihanna, Pink and Timbaland in close quarters.<br />• <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Team_handball">Handball</a> – an extremely physical sport that I gained respect for and became a fan of. <a href="http://www.hbredboys.lu/">Allez Red Boys</a>!<br />• Visitors – the most that have come visit in a season yet! Mom, Auntie Karen, Lindsey, Kyle, Masumi and friends. Unforgettable weekends.<br />• Esch bar – by far, the best bar in Lux! I became very close with the Slovakian bartenders and often found myself spending the night on a bar stool just to spend time with them. Esch bar was where the dance party was always on! Great food, great drinks and a fabulous environment. Never a dull moment with Otto and Dana.<br />• Road trips – anywhere and everywhere within driving distance. Jordan and I took trips to Belgium, France, Germany and the Netherlands. <a href="http://www.keshasparty.com/ca/home">Ke$ha</a> kept us company and essentially cemented our friendship.<br />• The people – Gaelle and Gilles, Michelle and Edmond, Marc and Tanja, Mae and Peter, Otto and Dana, Marc, Yann, Gerard…the list goes on. I can’t even express how thankful I am to have had these people in my life. They are good friends and wonderful people that made my experience in Luxembourg. I have never felt so welcome in a country. I miss you all dearly. ♥<br />• Mon petit frère Ben – my little brother from another mother. Ben and I became extremely close during my time in Lux. Though only 10 years old, I really do consider him my friend. I attended his games and he mine. Though we didn’t share a same language, we were still always able to communicate and enjoy each others company. I love him and miss him SO much!<br />• Jordan – I don’t even know where to begin on this one. So I’ll keep it short. I wouldn’t have survived Luxembourg without my fellow party girl. Even as a rival import player from a neighboring town, Jordan and I became fast friends. The two of us straight up left our mark on Lux. I love you J-woww. Vegas was sick…and it’s just the beginning! Miss you my friend!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmHJ88vQWbystt-cqTArFTdLv4ySU-A7k_InV0WRXT-pXMhyL1X577b-jCl8NNltw8-d4QD_n_SwoM1reU7Z1HviVCm5QnW7Lo8L8MotGTZTNvLk9m2RhPrfOJn40GzI282ECb/s1600/P1020878.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmHJ88vQWbystt-cqTArFTdLv4ySU-A7k_InV0WRXT-pXMhyL1X577b-jCl8NNltw8-d4QD_n_SwoM1reU7Z1HviVCm5QnW7Lo8L8MotGTZTNvLk9m2RhPrfOJn40GzI282ECb/s320/P1020878.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5505496576158414722" /></a><br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">CONS:</span><br /><br />• Competition level – as a competitive basketball player, each year I have hopes of moving up to a more competitive and challenging league. Though Lux had its moments, it was not the strongest league I’ve played in.<br />• Only import – most European teams employ 2 or 3 import players (North Americans) every year. However, in Lux you’re only allowed one. This was a difficult adjustment. It’s tough going through the ups and downs of a season in a foreign country alone. Especially when you have no one to bounce frustrations off of.<br />• Losing the finals. Twice – self-explanatory. We lost the Cup Finals and League Finals to the same team. It’s never fun losing, especially a title game.<br />• Extended season – this year was the longest time I had spent abroad. I didn’t get home until June 13th! Most European professionals arrive home at the end of March/April – thus the last 2 months were a real mental and physical grind.<br />• Computer crash – when you’re abroad, your laptop is your link to home. My computer decided flame out with 2 months remaining in the season. Talk about feeling lost and disconnected...<br />• Expensive – us North Americans used to joke that it cost money to walk on the sidewalk in Luxembourg. The country is very affluent, thus the standard of living was quite high. However, it was a very nice place to live. <br />• Injuries – this year I experienced the most injuries I’ve ever had in one season. I think it was a combination of playing 40 minutes every game and the length of schedule. I received stitches under my eye, sprained my right ankle 3 times and sprained my MCL. I’m back at 100%, but physically, my body just broke down.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwPjeQLjflgsYBSGHEPWO0Bf4e0d9f1dJ1XD-d8iNL8QqAISmTyKvX_Rj0W8JSJ011wtw6PrrIGWD3tu87NCws84FUkVbJ9XZJta7e7GtvDfkJY5yoDzbRWLIwSaF2GY4V9ZKG/s1600/lux+187.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwPjeQLjflgsYBSGHEPWO0Bf4e0d9f1dJ1XD-d8iNL8QqAISmTyKvX_Rj0W8JSJ011wtw6PrrIGWD3tu87NCws84FUkVbJ9XZJta7e7GtvDfkJY5yoDzbRWLIwSaF2GY4V9ZKG/s320/lux+187.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5505497257566878242" /></a><br /><br />I’m so thankful for the memorable 8 months I spent in Luxembourg. I will always have fond memories of this unique, welcoming country that I will keep with me for the rest of my life. <br /><br />Lux Life 2010!<br /><br />-BW<br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Sidenote:</span> Check back in the next couple days for an update on summer hoops and the championships my best friends and I won this summer!BreDub3http://www.blogger.com/profile/10548357764703147155noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20541962.post-2063372586430290202010-06-04T08:36:00.011-07:002010-06-05T01:27:40.615-07:00Revolving Doors<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUfkrYwK5wp3g3Lb3mDYJjqd0oWH9YHBzyPO5UcyseVFIZJM2Vi5t1l12GsmvDgV4DjXXIcNyf8kDWSoBKgRcUN7C5SRiFMpgg7GEIu-sCtzRE9UzIexOX9DgDy5g77DnCNFOQ/s1600/1.bmp"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 247px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUfkrYwK5wp3g3Lb3mDYJjqd0oWH9YHBzyPO5UcyseVFIZJM2Vi5t1l12GsmvDgV4DjXXIcNyf8kDWSoBKgRcUN7C5SRiFMpgg7GEIu-sCtzRE9UzIexOX9DgDy5g77DnCNFOQ/s320/1.bmp" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5478950499187013698" /></a>As each season comes to a close, I inevitably reflect upon those who have passed through my life during that time. Though everyone has experienced the highs of meeting a new friend and lows of losing touch with an old pal – my current lifestyle as a professional athlete makes this turnover much higher. <br /><br />For the past 7 years, I haven’t really had a ‘home base.’ Of course Vancouver will always be home, but each offseason I find myself spending more and more time in Seattle and traveling the U.S. to catch up with good friends. It’s tough, as most of my best friends live south of the border – in a country that makes it very difficult for me to work there legally. <br /><br />Friendships are extremely important to me. I love meeting new people and developing relationships with those I find interesting and fun to be around. I think the most difficult thing about living abroad - or even living in Vancouver, is not being able to spend enough quality time with those I hold closest to me. As each year passes and friends start to dive into their respected careers, relocate to different cities or start thinking about marriage, it’s a reality check. I’m reminded that I no longer live in the comfortable college bubble - the place where everyone promises to live in the same city and continue to be best friends after graduation. Looking back, I can’t believe how naïve we were – but we had real hope that these plans would become reality.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimyObPzfqoxVW8GkqCGb-p7SCDUySJ_JhyphenhyphenYqaQpf-26ppjhORwPFIVOn86bRhvjoaj6_BPQDojmvDPnlX7vQyz2wyWf9KhqY5OBK15Zh00pHU5D0SiNu6olRJB2dprxu3Fkm7p/s1600/P1020652.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimyObPzfqoxVW8GkqCGb-p7SCDUySJ_JhyphenhyphenYqaQpf-26ppjhORwPFIVOn86bRhvjoaj6_BPQDojmvDPnlX7vQyz2wyWf9KhqY5OBK15Zh00pHU5D0SiNu6olRJB2dprxu3Fkm7p/s320/P1020652.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5478950888280639218" /></a> <br /><br />Though I’m fortunate many of my close pals live a short 2.5 hour drive down the I-5, I miss them. What’s especially tough is not seeing those that now live in New York, Las Vegas, Chicago, Australia and Argentina. I’m lucky if I get to visit them once a year, as chatting over skype is not nearly the same as meeting up for coffee or catching up over lunch. I of course also make things complicated when spending 8 months of the year in Europe, but we all have to adjust, making new friends along the way. The most interesting thing about being so far from home is that you really find out who those closest to you are – they’re the ones who make the effort to stay in contact and check in to see how you’re doing…<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjbR5TYAoNB6U1h9FtlQLLv_yeieiJxQ7zZeElBTi0oS7eiSizeGyU27Xca7r9rA9mCsyx_dIJ1dmwEusVjtT7sRhiza-WmzC0lXeh1uTER6X9EK7gjxdSXPvhLVBtMkoECtq1/s1600/dubb.bmp"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjbR5TYAoNB6U1h9FtlQLLv_yeieiJxQ7zZeElBTi0oS7eiSizeGyU27Xca7r9rA9mCsyx_dIJ1dmwEusVjtT7sRhiza-WmzC0lXeh1uTER6X9EK7gjxdSXPvhLVBtMkoECtq1/s320/dubb.bmp" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5478951400637611762" /></a><br /><br />Nevertheless, this is the lifestyle I’ve chosen to live right now. Even though it’s difficult staying in touch with those at ‘home’ it’s just as difficult developing relationships with the people I meet abroad. It’s like there’s an expiration date on our friendship. Going into it, we both know it’ll likely last 8 months, then slowly dissipate once I return home. Of course when its time to say goodbye, there’s always the promise to keep in touch and meet up in the near future. But frankly, the chances of this happening are slim to none. Saying so is much easier than doing so. For example, the people I was very close with in Portugal last season, I now rarely speak to. It’s not that I don’t want to, it’s just that we’ve gone our separate ways and are living our lives in different parts of North America. Likewise, I hear very little (aside from 1 person) from those I spent time with in Finland and Sweden. As time passes, sadly, some friendships meet their end.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipqTGJLxaZABYR7ns-Ha8MYKo_opCmKVO7zWBVdjtay9Wss1-Ipnvb8aHoNXPeaC_ftFSHIphC9q3y3AWar6hE33rP475mAz0Odb7f9fq8du4nizQB_N13jMe2Vwyfc2E7O509/s1600/bredub2.bmp"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipqTGJLxaZABYR7ns-Ha8MYKo_opCmKVO7zWBVdjtay9Wss1-Ipnvb8aHoNXPeaC_ftFSHIphC9q3y3AWar6hE33rP475mAz0Odb7f9fq8du4nizQB_N13jMe2Vwyfc2E7O509/s320/bredub2.bmp" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5478952040174877346" /></a> <br /><br />I’m no relationship expert, but it takes two people to keep one alive. Whether through text messages, phone calls, emails, planned rendez-vous, etc – both people have to make the effort. I consider myself a good friend, so when I lose touch with someone I was once close with, it sucks. Yet, I understand this is the circle of life (haha). Friendships come and go and you realize that the strongest ones are the ones that weather the storm and never waver. <br /><br />Which brings us to goodbyes. Goodbyes are never fun, especially when saying them to the people who have left a mark on your life. I must admit, I’m an emotional person and though I’m ecstatic to be flying home to Vancouver Tuesday, I’m saddened to say goodbye to those who made my time in Luxembourg memorable. With tear ducts on the verge of overflowing as I finish up this post – here’s to “see you soon” and not “goodbye.”<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjK0oh8at1MV1AXqoBWenkwyvhtN6DhrK3XwOHjJ1tw3rEW8-U2RIjXoddAMPcabTQ-SvKEsRmxPxgd_VmxJu_bVSjSrjIcjiUpm3dr9lwTTOBg3-KMuji3L5DWJ8UB-1W0Y38-/s1600/28913_515803611603_333200076_776511_5903978_n%5B1%5D.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjK0oh8at1MV1AXqoBWenkwyvhtN6DhrK3XwOHjJ1tw3rEW8-U2RIjXoddAMPcabTQ-SvKEsRmxPxgd_VmxJu_bVSjSrjIcjiUpm3dr9lwTTOBg3-KMuji3L5DWJ8UB-1W0Y38-/s200/28913_515803611603_333200076_776511_5903978_n%5B1%5D.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5478953035005579938" /></a> <br /><br />Thank you to everyone in Luxembourg who has been so welcoming and kept me busy off the basketball court. Forever in my heart...<br /><br />LUX LIFE!<br />-BW<br /><br /><strong>Basketball Update: </strong> Last weekend my team lost the opening game of the league finals to Musel Pikes. We played a turnover prone, uninspired first half that put us in a huge hole going into halftime. Though down 20 at one point, we’re able to close the gap to 10 points with 5 minutes left. However, that would be the closest we would get. Unfortunately I sprained my right ankle for the 3rd time this season in the last 3 minutes of the game. I’ve been off it all week, but it’s still swollen and sore. Nevertheless, I have to suck it up, as game 2 is tomorrow – win or go home. Game 3, if need be is Sunday the 6th. Wish us luck!<br /><br /><strong>Sidenote:</strong> Visit next week for my annual end of the year pros/cons post about my 3rd season overseas!BreDub3http://www.blogger.com/profile/10548357764703147155noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20541962.post-79294822047062215902010-05-25T13:25:00.015-07:002010-06-04T13:38:43.997-07:00Mon Amour<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9VfFi_PGXwC9HVhaHZuE3SuVCtzCfWkuUKEhj_PoU6p3r68yQUaWL4wJySaZ27jrsqZJjyk2QgidvWCfSzZLcrkWjLzrYm3CdjEAuHcWfPjdk5wnfOrlSaqbAUYxRDfMbTdmM/s1600/IMG_1528.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9VfFi_PGXwC9HVhaHZuE3SuVCtzCfWkuUKEhj_PoU6p3r68yQUaWL4wJySaZ27jrsqZJjyk2QgidvWCfSzZLcrkWjLzrYm3CdjEAuHcWfPjdk5wnfOrlSaqbAUYxRDfMbTdmM/s320/IMG_1528.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5475311800530152834" /></a>Paris, the city of love. Though only a 2-hour train ride from Luxembourg, I managed to visit Athens, Berlin, Munich, Dublin, Belfast, Brussels, Brugge and Amsterdam before finally finding my way to the French capital. Paris has always been the one city on my list that had strict criteria to fill before becoming a realistic destination. I had decided I would not visit alone, I would wait for good weather and I would spend a minimum of 2 full days on my adventure. The reasons? I didn't want to feel rushed and I really wanted to enjoy the city, sights and people at my own pace.<br /> <br />Fortunately, the trip filled every expectation - and then some. With a bit of luck on my side, I saw Paris exactly I had always imagined it...<br /><br />With my 3rd season abroad coming to a close, I’ve had numerous friends and acquaintances spend a weekend on the couch, regardless of the country I was residing in at the time. Yet none of my family members have ever been able to visit since I’ve located to Europe. No matter how many times trips and travel plans had been discussed, they’d always fall through at the last instant, or completely conflict with ideal dates. This year however, the streak was broken – twice. After months of brainstorming, negotiating, schedule swapping, itinerary planning and granted vacation days, my mother was finally able to work out a visit. I couldn’t of been more excited after receiving her confirmation email. As a bonus, close family friend ‘Auntie’ Karen would be traveling with mom – the more the merrier! Wanting to get the most out of the 10 days with family, I put on my event planner hat and went to work. Taking my basketball schedule into account, I managed to create a busy itinerary filled with travel, sightseeing and good food.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhGjYmCTLhrquW4juFjqMeR7Wd7OE9zTzT8CyqCXbVQMaO6W5C-b5NBnDrda7sVdiBiFYuamrw4iBjeUF-AhknribLEy80uvjIBYxe_zR-MGwnCNG9S-ekHt6At9e3lHKg2neN/s1600/IMG_1598.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhGjYmCTLhrquW4juFjqMeR7Wd7OE9zTzT8CyqCXbVQMaO6W5C-b5NBnDrda7sVdiBiFYuamrw4iBjeUF-AhknribLEy80uvjIBYxe_zR-MGwnCNG9S-ekHt6At9e3lHKg2neN/s320/IMG_1598.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5475321083913779634" /></a><br /> <br />With the flights booked and schedule dates landing perfectly during a small break in my season, I couldn’t believe how easily things were coming together...almost too easy....Just when I thought it would be smooth sailing until their arrival, <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Eyjafjallaj%C3%B6kull">Eyjafjallajokull</a> (try saying that 5 times fast!) decided to erupt and put all travel plans in jeopardy. With a non-refundable trip for 3 booked to Paris, not only was I going to miss seeing my family, but I'd be out 700 Euros! Determined to will my mom's plane to Luxembourg, I spent every free moment watching the <a href="http://www.bbc.co.uk/">BBC</a> and scouring the Internet for any and every article relating to Iceland, volcanoes and air travel. With news of stranded travellers and cancelled flights, things were not looking good. The day before mom was to fly out, flights were still grounded.<br /> <br />The next morning I woke up miserable. Nevertheless, I continued my daily routine and turned on BBC. Surprisingly, they were reporting that Schiphol had declared itself 'open' and that the majority of <a href="http://www.klm.com/travel/us_en/index.htm">KLM</a> flights were scheduled for departure and arrival. Feeling a tiny bit of hope, I jumped online, typed in mom's KLM confirmation number and saw her trip was still planned. With fingers and toes crossed all day, I was on pins and needles until the following morning (the 9 hour time difference had the plane departing at 4am my time) when I found the plane did in fact take off! Their flight to Amsterdam went off without a hitch, as did the connecting flight to Lux. Both mom and Auntie Karen arrived on time - I couldn’t have been happier! <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_10Kb5PSml6Co_ejARP8JcrX-sgumMwt6IJbf71hveeyZl_OmHuyZQzwwEO_vY57shp1-kvoYfjjrp8wGaTT-cSPrhsE-FVq-RCGHblh_FYt9P5eMxnnOJG5hQlnfCLdXy6M2/s1600/IMG_1856.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_10Kb5PSml6Co_ejARP8JcrX-sgumMwt6IJbf71hveeyZl_OmHuyZQzwwEO_vY57shp1-kvoYfjjrp8wGaTT-cSPrhsE-FVq-RCGHblh_FYt9P5eMxnnOJG5hQlnfCLdXy6M2/s320/IMG_1856.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5475324046423615090" /></a> <br /><br />Spending time with my mom in Lux was awesome. She's my best friend and I missed just being around her. During their stay, my mom and aunt were able to watch us play 2 games (one being the Cup Final!), visit Brussels, Belgium, Trier, Germany, Remich and Luxembourg City, while also getting to know my friends in Lux. To top it all off, we were able to spend 2.5 days in Paris, France. It was a busy, eventful week and a half, which was exactly what I needed to give me that extra push through to the end of the season.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpQt0o3FsW8cS_BitCcuwDxhbuGZyCzbLwpp-cYnriTHk2rx8dJcAjGBCSKf0q4nYaSLJ5Y7z59qWU99r64CG0Zv42mjfKJoQMryhQrUrF-b2JP2FTsOyex2lMj5kIAJ71PJ6m/s1600/IMG_3083.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpQt0o3FsW8cS_BitCcuwDxhbuGZyCzbLwpp-cYnriTHk2rx8dJcAjGBCSKf0q4nYaSLJ5Y7z59qWU99r64CG0Zv42mjfKJoQMryhQrUrF-b2JP2FTsOyex2lMj5kIAJ71PJ6m/s200/IMG_3083.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5479020561991941026" /></a> <br /><br />I don't even know where to begin in describing my time in Paris. I've been fortunate enough to have travelled quite extensively in the past 5 years and of all the countries and cities I have been able to visit around the world, Paris is by far my favorite. It's hard to describe what exactly it is about this city that makes it so wonderful. Not only did we have amazing weather (25°C/77°F), but we managed to see all sites we had planned on and were able to enjoy the city without feeling rushed. It was fabulous. I don't know where the stereotype of Parisians being rude comes from, as everyone I encountered was quite friendly (perhaps it was because they felt sorry for me when I butchered their beautiful language while asking questions), but they were nothing but helpful. If I could recommend any place in the world to visit, it would be Paris in the spring. I don't know if I would have enjoyed it as much if it were rainy and cold, but I will always speak highly of the the city and can't wait to go back...<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2nU0f3mp7Xb4uYkffYtocEs9Hl1FW4jSmOduirHXoGJRsMSy2ALPGjGVOr9X1BZn3eETYBzf-hfJ2mrmmN2pEnLL__mCeJoSCGrq5ERATfAgCKCqZLYuIYG259i0tDhi9rHmo/s1600/CIMG2744.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2nU0f3mp7Xb4uYkffYtocEs9Hl1FW4jSmOduirHXoGJRsMSy2ALPGjGVOr9X1BZn3eETYBzf-hfJ2mrmmN2pEnLL__mCeJoSCGrq5ERATfAgCKCqZLYuIYG259i0tDhi9rHmo/s200/CIMG2744.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5475326721005823538" /></a><br /> <br />Which is what I did...one week later! Earlier I mentioned that my streak of family members visiting me abroad was broken twice, that's because after hearing how fabulous our trip was going in Lux (before we had even visited Paris) my brother booked a flight to come after my mom's departure! Determined he would have an awesome first experience in Europe, I once again moved into planning mode. Not only did Kyle have a great time in Lux (Rihanna concert, touring Lux City, wine tasting in Remich, dinners with friends, experiencing the European nightlife and seeing me play), I managed to get us tickets to the <a href="http://www.euroleague.net/">Euroleague men's basketball final </a>in Paris. Getting up early Sunday morning Kyle, my friend Jordan and I jumped in the car and were off to Paris. Three hours later we had arrived in the city and were driving down the Champs Elysee. After meeting up with Kyle's buddy, we went up the Arc de Triumph and later wandered around the Eiffel Tower after enjoying a fabulous French meal. With a couple hours to game time, we climbed on the metro and were off to Palais Omnisports for the game. Sitting in the rowdy <a href="http://www.euroleague.net/competition/teams/showteam?clubcode=OLY&seasoncode=e2009">Olympiakos</a> section while cheering for Ricky Rubio and <a href="http://www.euroleague.net/competition/teams/showteam?clubcode=BAR&seasoncode=e2009">Regal FC Barcelona</a>, I couldn't believe I was witnessing the the best two teams in the world (yeah I said it, Euroleague teams, in my opinion, are the best TEAMS in the world) fight for the European title. After a loud, exciting game and Barcelona victory, Kyle and I said our goodbyes. He would be spending the next 4 days in Paris with 2 of his close high school friends. Though only in Paris for 24 hours, the visit was as memorable as the first. J'adore Paris...<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEga_rnvQI7PwJztanaFNooJnhXMcNxFMKm_6TsYn4FEzF7MOBZ0V4dIBbVuE-vQHGNO1mHVnDMe8NUucvjNneobDAch5Sjtx3TtePudaS4YzW1bzXI0_V8XI4s7sBKAWc9fm98q/s1600/CIMG2718.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEga_rnvQI7PwJztanaFNooJnhXMcNxFMKm_6TsYn4FEzF7MOBZ0V4dIBbVuE-vQHGNO1mHVnDMe8NUucvjNneobDAch5Sjtx3TtePudaS4YzW1bzXI0_V8XI4s7sBKAWc9fm98q/s320/CIMG2718.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5475324894540643426" /></a><br /> <br /><strong>Basketball Update:</strong> First, I must again apologize for my 3 week absence. Sadly, 2 weeks ago my hard drive on my laptop crashed - thus making my computer unusable. I took it to get repaired, but in Lux it's way more expensive than home. I'll wait until I'm back. That being said, I've been computer-less for close to 3 weeks and it has been a bit of a struggle. I somewhat depend on my computer, as it is my connection to home and is very important when abroad! After sporadically visiting Internet cafes and randomly using friends computers, I've finally been able to put together this blog. I hope to have another post up next week. A lot has happened in the past month. Without going into too much detail, my team breezed through the first round of playoffs and survived a war of a semi-final, winning a nail biting deciding game 3 by just 3 points! Down 10 with 7 minutes to go, my team and I battled back to take a 3 point lead with 5 seconds left. Without any timeouts, Etzella managed to get off a 3 point shot that thankfully, bounced off the rim and out. Phew! On to the finals vs. Musel Pikes. Game 1 on Sunday.<br /> <br />-BWBreDub3http://www.blogger.com/profile/10548357764703147155noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20541962.post-61166429677457801512010-05-03T06:14:00.011-07:002010-05-05T03:51:25.976-07:00Merging<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuKbWoU7fz9owI41bc2J0IMt45am64zPsatjjdveUpkngR2u4U91uX0ZhpY6gR4p8Vy0OsbH9P25cXOZJygySZoMnKxhUvqSbA0wZSULKH7QHzKuYinJNUxszFKjjU3HAKjQea/s1600/IMG_3044.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuKbWoU7fz9owI41bc2J0IMt45am64zPsatjjdveUpkngR2u4U91uX0ZhpY6gR4p8Vy0OsbH9P25cXOZJygySZoMnKxhUvqSbA0wZSULKH7QHzKuYinJNUxszFKjjU3HAKjQea/s320/IMG_3044.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5467032226716138930" /></a>With a mother who has spent her entire career working for the largest <a href="http://icbc.com/">auto insurance corporation</a> in British Columbia, I was raised a defensive driver the moment I set foot in a car. <br /><br />Despite her constant corrections and backseat driving that drove me nuts growing up, I’m now thankful and appreciative of the good habits she ingrained into my subconscious. Though somewhat heavy on the gas pedal, I honestly believe I’m a safe driver. When behind the wheel I’m constantly alert, routinely checking my mirrors and always sure to wear seatbelt. I’ll never put a passenger at risk or jeopardize my wellbeing when driving; it’s not worth it. Erring on the side of caution is smart – especially when you have no idea whom you’re sharing the road with. <br /><br />Realistically, everyone has bad driving practices – some worse than others. However, I’m convinced that drivers in Europe are among the boldest and most aggressive behind a steering wheel. Admittedly so, I am a fast driver. At least that’s what I thought until I started driving through Luxembourg, Germany, France and Belgium. The drivers here are insane! The difference between North American and European drivers is quite startling. Aside from the busy, narrow streets of downtown city centers, the majority of European countries are expressways, where posted speed limits are few and far between. Thus, no matter how fast you believe you’re traveling, it’s likely much too slow by European standards.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHJAe8yLjXA0MLL4iIgKCeVGKdijneKmQFgqy_-1cLvPcTvoofHkh4epU7yLsXrK0BfVrUV9q1uod4h9xr8rUiFrM9iupLYpD9SsYLlcxzLT0sCZOHFeMM3Z0e7svuanBRlcw4/s1600/P1010777.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHJAe8yLjXA0MLL4iIgKCeVGKdijneKmQFgqy_-1cLvPcTvoofHkh4epU7yLsXrK0BfVrUV9q1uod4h9xr8rUiFrM9iupLYpD9SsYLlcxzLT0sCZOHFeMM3Z0e7svuanBRlcw4/s320/P1010777.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5467035884315148898" /></a><br /><br />Since I’m driving the highly powerful and much sought after <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Renault_Twingo">Renault Twingo</a>, I don’t quite have the pick up or acceleration the majority of cars in Europe possess (read: BMW’s, Mercedes, Audi’s, Porches and Volkswagons…). Therefore when cruising on the expressway at speeds up to 140km/hr, I’m often startled when a powerful Luxury car screams by me at an AVERAGE of 170+ km/hr (105mph). I literally feel my car shake as they pass and can only exhale with relief that I wasn’t clipped in the process. There’s no way my Twingo would survive a bump by a car moving at these incomparable speeds. <br /><br />Most North American’s know 140km/hr (87mph) is a pretty good clip to be traveling at. At home, this is considered fast – especially with other cars in close proximity. However, here in Europe, I spend most of my time in the right lane (slow lane) except when passing drivers slower than me (which surprisingly, do exist). The moment I change to the left lane, inevitably, a huge luxury car will zoom up from out of nowhere and literally sit inches from my bumper while impatiently flashing its headlights. Really? Give me 5 seconds to pass the car on my right and I’ll get out of the way! It’s times like these when the intimidation factor plays a huge part in my driving decisions abroad. I get angry and upset with aggressive, impatient drivers. These situations make driving a stressful experience and at times, I don’t feel safe on the road. Even when I turn to glare at drivers as they pass, there is no reaction. It's the way of the road here and expected that when sitting inches from someone’s bumper, you make way. Ridiculous!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiem9vh9ZjtY3dtNL5L9n7SDXAn-dq3PqFJFHdWiY-fMTT7vSNmj5uQuRacvWJfy-mPtcIMt-m_vSKgcRv9AHj4hf1PJqolBfs7tBGRrcL-k5V2gcw2bnIFEb6MEKT5NucE5Q_F/s1600/IMG_1392.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 242px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiem9vh9ZjtY3dtNL5L9n7SDXAn-dq3PqFJFHdWiY-fMTT7vSNmj5uQuRacvWJfy-mPtcIMt-m_vSKgcRv9AHj4hf1PJqolBfs7tBGRrcL-k5V2gcw2bnIFEb6MEKT5NucE5Q_F/s320/IMG_1392.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5467036550876519826" /></a><br /><br />While these actions may work for Europeans, I find them quite dangerous. Whether someone is buzzing by at a high speed, quickly switching lanes to cut me off, or passing only to change into my lane and reduce speed so I have to brake, I find it extremely inconsiderate and rude. In addition, a high percentage of drivers here ignore the yield sign when merging onto expressways. Without so much as a glance towards the lane they’re changing into, they'll move over. I’ve been inches from colliding with another car, as I’ve been unable to change into the left lane as they start to merge. After all this, they look at me as if I’m at fault. Hell-ooooo, you have to yield to me! Defensive driving is a survival instinct in Europe and everyday I thank my mom for her incessant nattering, which created important driving habits I use everyday.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Basketball Update:</span> I apologize for my absence and lack of posts the last few weeks. I’ve been busy with the Cup Finals, a trip to Paris with my mom and aunt while visiting Luxembourg. My brother arrives tonight, so I’ll have another visitor to keep me company for the next few days. As excited as our team was for the Cup Final, we played terrible. It definitely was not our day and Musel Pikes deserved the victory. Though managing to pull within 4 points with 4 minutes remaining, we were unable to get any closer. I was double and triple teamed all night inside and didn’t get many touches in the second half. It was a frustrating game. That being said, we bounced back last Friday and snagged a much-needed ‘W’ against Contern. We're currently sitting in second place and have secured a spot in the league semi-finals with one regular season match remaining. My body is starting to protest with the end of the season so near. I’m tired and my muscles are sore, but it’s crunch time!<br /><br />-BW <br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Sidenote:</span> Props to my girl Lindsey Wilson who made her debut with the Seattle Storm last night. <a href="http://seattletimes.nwsource.com/html/storm/2011764483_storm03.html">Seven points in 13 minutes</a>…holla!BreDub3http://www.blogger.com/profile/10548357764703147155noreply@blogger.com1