Olympic Flame

Opening ceremony tomorrow evening for the Vancouver Olympics, and this non-sport lover will be watching.  No-one expects anything like the over-the-top, let's-impress-the-world extravaganza put on by China two years ago, but who will light the Olympic flame is a closely guarded secret.  Amusing to read in the newspaper this morning the famous Canadians who are suspected of being chosen.

My vote would go to my absolute favourite singer/poet and all-time charmer (not to mention devout Buddhist!) Leonard Cohen ... but I'm sure it won't be him.  Another name mentioned is actor Michael J. Fox who is bravely battling Parkinson disease, but not many people even know that he is Canadian.  The most amusing on the prospect list was Pamela Anderson!!!  Hmmm ...

My guess is that it will be Wayne Gretsky ... he's Canadian, an athlete, beloved hockey player and all-round decent person.  He'll be the popular choice - no doubt about it.

And, the winner is ....

There was a standing ovation for Ian Brown at the Charles Taylor Prize banquet last night.  I am so happy that his book "The Boy in the Moon: A Father's Search for his Disabled Son" (which I enjoyed so much and wrote about here on January 11th) won the coveted and highly prestigious Charles Taylor award for Literary Non-Fiction.

His book had very strong competition, since the other three finalist nominees were acclaimed biographies of popular political giants Pierre Trudeau and Rene Levesque, plus famed media baron William Randolph Hearst, and I feared they would dominate over the memoir of a humble father living with his severely disabled son.  But, they didn't, and that proves encouraging for our humanity!

The National Post reported:
"To explain why they chose his book The Boy in the Moon as this year’s grand prize winner, the jury lauded The Globe and Mail writer for his sensitive exploration of “a netherworld where medicine and morality meet” and for telling the story of his disabled son “with artless candour, quirky humour and unsparing detail.”

Exactly! 

Hurray for Ian Brown, and for parents everywhere trying to cope with a disabled child on the limited resources available from our government!

Is 60 old???

I saw in the paper on Saturday that Ringo Starr is almost 70.  (If you don't know who Ringo is, then I pity you ...)  The headline to the newspaper article was "Still Rockin' it at 69".  The author must have been some young upstart of 25 or so, because the implication was that Ringo maybe shouldn't still be "rockin' it".  He was never my favourite Beatle, but looking at his laughing picture next to the story, bearded, multiple ear-rings, close cropped hair, I thought he looked great!

The reporter quotes him as saying that he'll have less angst about turning 70 than he did about turning 40. 'Forty was: "Oh God, 40!"'

I can relate to that.  Turning 40 was the hardest milestone for me too.  The rest were easy.  Last year I turned 60, and to celebrate I stopped colouring my hair, and now proudly sport a silver/grey mop of it.  (My husband has been grey for years and no-one asks him if he's going to colour his hair.)  Looking in the mirror these days I sometimes wonder where on earth those  sixty years went, but I don't dwell on it - what's the point?  Like Ringo, I laugh and get on with enjoying each day.

This is definitely the very BEST time, and I totally agree with the wonderful writer Ann Morrow Lindburgh ...

"At our age we can get rid of a lot of superficials.  Vanity for one thing ... We can relax in whatever is becoming and comfortable.  We don't have to be 'house-proud' and struggle over possessions ... Many of our duties to family, to town or country, have dropped.  We are freer now to do what we want.  We can choose our pleasures, without guilt, be ourselves without pretence ... "

No wonder the Red Hat Society ladies have so much fun - bring on the red hats and purple boas!

WARNING

When I am an old woman I shall wear purple
With a red hat which doesn't go and doesn't suit me.
And I shall spend my pension on brandy and summer gloves
And satin sandals, and say we've no money for butter.
I shall sit down on the pavement when I'm tired
And gobble up samples in shops and press alarm bells
And run my stick along the public railings
And make up for the sobriety of my youth.
I shall go out in my slippers in the rain
And pick the flowers in other people's gardens . . .

                                                                          - Jenny Joseph

Bye until next time!

Grandmothers To Grandmothers

Have you heard about the Canadian campaign to help the thousands of grandmothers in Africa who are raising their grandchildren after their own children have died of AIDS?  I've read about it a number of times over the years, but it came to my attention again the other day and I checked to see if there is a group in my area.  There isn't.  So, I'm thinking of starting one.

"Toward the end of 2005, Stephen Lewis and his daughter Ilana Landsberg-Lewis (Executive Director of the Stephen Lewis Foundation) began discussions about how to support grandmothers in Africa. During his travels in Africa, Stephen heard first-hand from grandmothers about the challenges they face in raising their orphaned grandchildren.

At the same time, Ilana was reading countless proposals and recognized that grandmothers were increasingly fundamental to programmes working on AIDS at the grassroots. While SLF was already supporting women, orphans and people living with HIV and AIDS, it became clear that a fourth area had to be added to the mandate: support for grandmothers."

From the campaign website:
 www.grandmotherscampaign.org

Thus, the Grannie movement started in 2006, and already there are over 220 Grannie groups across Canada raising money for their counter-parts in Africa, and advocating for them. 

The concept appeals enormously to me.  I suppose because I'm a Grannie myself, and it has obviously spoken to hundreds of other Grannies across Canada, as they are an extremely active bunch of women!  Not only Grannies - many groups also include members who are friends, children or spouses of Grannies.

But, I'm reluctant to commit, something is holding me back.

I'm struggling with the question of whether I'm up to/want the challenge of starting such a group.  Do I want to jump head-first into this? (It's the only way I do things!)  My recent activities have become much more me-focused, which is what I needed, and I have been very careful not to get as heavily involved in community projects here as I was at our last home ... and I'm finding that I like it like that.  It works.

And yet ...

I look at my strengths:  I have been told I have excellent organizational skills (you don't survive a class full of 6 year olds for long if you haven't!! ;-). I'm told my enthusiasm is contagious and it draws people to me;  I have been quite successful at fund raising in the past; I enjoy a challenge; plus, I have a strong desire to help this cause.

On the negative side is the fact that I don't know many people here yet - I am untested and unknown in this area, and it would take an enormous amount of effort to build necessary contacts etc. (However, I do have two or three excellent neighbour friends who may help me.) And, there's this 'thing' pulling  me back ...

What to do??? 

During my first burst of enthusiasm I contacted the SLF organization and they are sending me material to help set up a group (they are VERY well-organized, which impresses me), I've spoken to the leader of one of the many groups in Ottawa and was given lots of tips and information, and I've been in email contact with other 'high-rollers' in the organization who will help me get started.

Have I made my decision?  Am I simply scared of jumping into it?  Am I thinking too much about it?


Possibly ...
 

I think I'll be a vet when I grow up ...

My dog has to go to the vet tomorrow to have a tooth pulled.  Now, I love my dog, and I sometimes wonder if vets don't play on that love.  'Darcy' has an abscess on a tooth, (apparently) and the swelling on her face was what prompted the vet's visit today.  She didn't seem to be in any pain, and I'm ashamed to admit that the lump has been there for some time, but even though family funds are short right now, my husband felt she ought to be seen. (Note I'm blaming my husband for this one.)

The vet examined her teeth (as much as Darcy would let him), felt around the lump and pronounced that it was "probably an abscess caused by a broken tooth. That will be $96 please." (Well, he didn't actually say the last bit, but his receptionist was quick to add it.)  I think the few generic anti-biotic tablets he gave us for her were included in that price.  $96 for a ten minute visit.  Why, that's $576 an hour - I doubt if my own family doctor makes anything close to that much!

Tomorrow she'll have the tooth pulled at a cost of over $700.

Friends of ours have a 14 year old dog who pulled a tendon in his leg before Christmas.  The dog is recovering fairly well, but has a limp and can't walk as far as he used to - well, he is 98 in people years after all, I don't suppose many 98 year olds can walk too far.  However, this couple is paying over $4,000 for an operation on the dog's leg to help him walk better - and there's no guarantees!

Has the world gone mad?  Have I gone mad?

Would people in Haiti think us mad?

Maybe I'm just thick ...

Just returned from my weekly yoga class, and my whole body, from the tip of my  head to my toes is whispering thank you, thank you!

Why is it we often don't know what we are missing until we find it again?

I haven't been to yoga since before Ray's operation, almost 2 months.  Driving him around and with Christmas stuff to do I didn't put out enough effort to get to class.  But, as soon as we started into the stretches this morning my body sighed with recognition and joy and I realized then that this was what it had been needing.

Maybe I'm just thick, but it's the same with getting outside for a lovely long walk.  I look out the window and think "Nope, way too cold, takes too much effort", but if I shut my mind off, and force myself, it feels great to be striding out through the countryside breathing the crisp, cold air.

I don't think my brain is my best friend ...

Bye for now!

Season's tickets?

Now that we live in Canada's capital, and feeling very grateful for having all this culture on our doorstep, I purchased theatre season's tickets last fall for Ray and I to see 5 plays at the National Arts Centre.  (Ottawa has as many theatres as some cities have pubs and there are lots of choices, but we thought we'd start at the top and work our way down.)

Are season's tickets ever a good buy????

I'm struggling with that.  The pros are obvious.  Buy the tickets, save money (usually getting 5 plays, or more, for the price of 4), often get priority seats, you write the dates on the calendar, put the tickets in a safe place, and there you have it - a season of entertainment and you can then forget all about it until your designated theatre night.

However, the cons are beginning to surface for us.  First, you only save money if you actually attend all plays, and although most theatres allow you to swap nights, it often involves driving downtown to the box office and physically switching tickets for another date.  Sometimes you have a choice of plays, but in our case at the NAC it came as a package of 5, and you must be open-minded and take your chances that it will be something you will enjoy (or, as in some cases, at least understand!)

Which brings me to last night.

Ray and I attended out 3rd play of the season, it was called "Mother Courage and her Children".  It featured a woman during the 17th century pulling her cart and three grown children around Europe following the waring armies (either side, she wasn't fussy) selling everyday items and alcohol to the soldiers.  A tinker of sorts, but always profiting from the war.  Whilst set in the Thirty Years War, it is the story of war everywhere and at all times. It was stark, raw and bleak.  It was also very long!  The director used a modern stage setting consisting of six pianos which were occasionally played, but generally turned around and their backs provided stage divisions.  I spent a good part of the first half wondering about the piano's significance. (Why choose pianos?  Is it as a contrast to the harshness of war, since pianos often bring joy?)  I had to agree with one comment I overheard as we filed out for a much needed break during Intermission, "This is arduous!"  Indeed it was.  Many must have thought so, as the theatre (only half full to begin with) had an even smaller audience after Intermission.  We drove home after the play in a rather dour mood, trying to make sense of all the plays' symbols and wondering if we are stupid, or was the play just too obscure.  Whatever, it definitely was NOT one we'd freely pick.

Returning to the topic of season's tickets - we were not able to attend the 2nd play of the season because my husband had just had surgery, so gave the tickets to family members.  That leaves us with two plays left, (I have to admit that the first of the season was fabulous!!) 

Hmmm, are season's tickets ever worth it???

Bye for now ...

I've just been looking at some of the horrific photographs coming out of Haiti these days after the 7.0 earthquake stuck their poor already ravaged country.  So, I was feeling rather sober and not a little down, when I suddenly spied a headline which instantly lightened my mood - in fact it made me laugh my head off!!!

"PARENTHOOD LOWERS BLOOD PRESSURE: STUDY"

Now, I love the 3 children I gave life to as much as the next person does theirs ... but, did they lower my blood pressure??  What??  Is this a joke????  It HAD to be written by a man ...

So, wiping my eyes, I read on ...

"It is thought the fulfilment of children giving life meaning makes parents more content which has an effect on blood pressure, researchers from Brigham Young University in Utah said."

I kid you not, this is apparently a true study, printed in today's UK 'Telegraph'.  Now, don't misunderstand me, I wouldn't trade the experience of being a mother for anything, but, as someone once said: "Motherhood is not for Wimps!" (I think I still have some notelets somewhere from my 'young mum' days which showed a woman in boxing gear, complete with boxing gloves, standing in her toy/food/clothes strewn kitchen ... I used them for encouragement notes to my other 'stay-at-home-mum' friends)

Actually, I have been conducting my own unofficial study for many years now.  Basically, it involves reading the obituaries (isn't it funny how once your age starts getting 'up there' that page takes on more meaning?)  I note people are adding photographs more often these days, and that really helps with my study, because I search out the ones of elderly women, particularly those who still look good for their age.  Invariably I find a photograph of an aged, well-lined face but with a serene, confident (dare I say, smug??) smile, and upon checking I note the woman's age as being way up in the 90's, with NO mention of children!  But, instead, a long list of accomplishments and accolades collected throughout a long and very active life. So, my conclusions are that childless/husband-less women: a) live longer, b) keep their looks, and c) die with a smug ("I know something you don't know") smile on their face.

I accept that this is a totally unscientific study, and the Telegraph would never publish it ... but next time you read the paper, look in the Obituaries, and checkout the smug looking women who died in their 90's. I bet they were childless!

Now, if the headline had said:

"GRAND PARENTHOOD LOWERS BLOOD PRESSURE"

well, then I could totally understand it - because everyone knows that!  (They are our reward for having children! ;-)

Bye for now ...

I've just finished reading "The Boy in the Moon" ... wow, Ian Brown really writes a mean sentence!  I watch him on T.V.O. introducing The Human Edge and The View from Here and have always admired his brutal honesty and no-nonsense talk.  That's exactly how he writes about his profoundly disabled son, Walker, in this book.  From the first 10 pages in which Brown describes the incredibly complex and frustrating steps he must go through to get his boy a drink of warm milk and change his diaper during the night, he has you hooked.  You are with him ... you feel his frustrations, his worries, his joys, his fatigue, and also his incredible love for this child.

But, this is not simply a father/son love story.  The sub-title is "A Father's Search for his Disabled Son", and that is the real theme of the book.  Brown's search for the person inside, the boy behind the crying, the hitting, the feeding tube and the diapers that is his son. He asks, "Are you there Walker?  Do you know me? What is going on in your mind?"   And, we anguish with him as he watches constantly for signs beyond the simple clicks that father and son have developed as a type of communication.  Ian Brown allows us into his own mind, into his thoughts, feelings and fears ... his honesty is at times disarming, but I found I could not stop reading, even through my tears.

An extraordinary book, it opens a small window into daily living with a profoundly disabled child, and I guarantee it will make you reflect, weep, engage ... and, yes, even cheer.

Paula Todd  wrote an excellent review of this book in the 'Globe and Mail' and summed it up perfectly.  http://www.theglobeandmail.com/books/review-the-boy-in-the-moon-by-ian-brown/article1301478/

I'm back!

Hello again, it's been a while since I posted anything here. But, now that the winter winds are blowing outside, and the snow is piling up at the door (along with the rest of the world's doors, it seems) I have lots of extra time on my hands ... and there is nothing I like better than writing (after reading and gardening!)

Does anyone else have a problem remembering all the different security codes we need to use these days??? I'm extremely bad and do what I've been told I'm NOT to do, and use the same series of numbers and letters for just about everything (hackers/forgers etc. forget it, I have no money, so move onto someone else!) Anyway, we recently received a new credit card which has one of those ultra, super-duper security chips in it, so instead of just swiping I must now punch in yet another series of numbers to use it. My husband set it up, and for the life of me I cannot remember the numbers he chose! Apparently, writing them down and hiding them in my purse is a complete no-no, so, he gave me a verbal clue to remember them.

An hour ago I was out buying a rather delicious bottle of wine (my favourite kind of errand.) At the check-out I tentatively put my charge card in the machine, thought of the verbal clue hubby had provided me, and confidently punched in the required numbers. It told me I had made a mistake. So, I took my time and did it again, slowly - again I was reprimanded by the machine - wrong security code. It told me I had one last chance to get it right - seriously, the tiny machine actually chastised me!! (Luckily, the sales clerk was a lady of advanced years and unlimited patience, and had probably seen this many times, she smiled sympathetically at me.) The 3rd try was also rejected. Now, this was getting very embarrassing as I had no cash to pay for the wine. So, I reluctantly removed my card from the feisty little machine and replaced it with my debit card. As soon as I saw my debit card I realized what I had done - yup, I had punched in my debit card code for the charge card code. The sales clerk was as happy as I was when it was accepted and I high-tailed it out of there asap!!

Did I ever tell you how much I hate numbers??? I loath them, they make my head go dizzy, I can't remember them, they confuse me ... I even had to take my math GCE exam twice!!! (Thank heavens I'm married to an engineer!!)



Until next time, bye for now.

A Real-Life Thriller ...

Went to a wonderfully old cinema this evening to watch the documentary film "Burma VJ" about the Burmese uprising in Sept. 2007 - wow, really powerful stuff! This doc. won best editing award at the 2009 Sundance Film Festival, which it totally deserved. The film grabs you from almost the first few frames and it doesn't put you down until 85 minutes later when the credits roll. Even though we've seen the story on the news two years ago (and know how it sadly ends) experiencing it as it happens, through the voices and cameras of the video reporters actually in the midst is totally riveting.

I think this reviewer summed it up best:

"Armed with pocket-sized video cameras, a tenacious band of Burmese reporters face down death to expose the repressive regime controlling their country. In 2007, after decades of self-imposed silence, Burma became headline news across the globe when peaceful Buddhist monks led a massive rebellion. More than 100,000 people took to the streets protesting a cruel dictatorship that has held the country hostage for more than 40 years. Foreign news crews were banned, the Internet was shut down, and Burma was closed to the outside world. So how did we witness these events? Enter the Democratic Voice of Burma (DVB), aka the Burma VJs. Compiled from the shaky handheld footage of the DVB, acclaimed filmmaker Anders Ostergaard’s Burma VJ pulls us into the heat of the moment as the VJs themselves become the target of the Burmese government. Their tactical leader, code-named Joshua, oversees operations from a safe hiding place in Thailand. Via clandestine phone calls, Joshua dispenses his posse of video warriors, who covertly film the abuses in their country, then smuggle their footage across the border into Thailand. Joshua ships the footage to Norway, where it is broadcast back to Burma and the world via satellite. Burma VJ plays like a thriller, all the more scary because it is true."

If you get the chance - run, don't walk, to view it!!

Home Sweet Home

It's hard to believe that just two weeks ago we were still boxing up the last remaining belongings and hoping for a good move the next day. Hmmmm, I suppose there have been worse moving stories - indeed, our move 8 years ago to Old Man's Lake was horrendous - but this time the unthinkable happened and we had too much 'stuff' for the moving truck. Those who have read my previous blogs know how we struggled to cut our belongings down, giving a lot away, donating stuff to Salvation Army thrift stores, and throwing away the rest! Well, it was obviously not enough. I won't bore you with the details ... we're safely here now ... and so many times a day I get a jolt of joy with the pure pleasure our new life is giving me.

It's wonderful!! How can I explain it? Life seems simpler and easier in this smaller home. The area is quiet, the scene serene, our main living area became orderly very quickly, and we try not to think about the mountain of unopened boxes waiting for our attention in the basement (we'll get to them - eventually!) We have acres of grass to cut, and it was getting very long, so a brand new lawn tractor has joined Ray's 'man-toys'. He's thrilled with it, and cutting the grass has become great fun (Well, it's a novelty right now!) Even Darcy seems very happy here. We thought she would miss the lake and being able to go for a swim whenever she wanted to, but after a week of nervously staying within two inches of me, she has settled down well and seems quite relaxed.

Last night we had our first taste of the Ottawa "cultural" scene, and we drove the 35 mins. to downtown and attended one of the performances being staged at various venues throughout the city as part of the 'Magnetic North Theatre Festival'. Now, you have to know that Ottawa has festivals as frequently as other cities have bumps in the road - there's the tulip festival, dragon boat race festival, choir festival, dance festival, busker festival, Turkish festival, Ottawa bluefest, folk festival and so on. And that's just the summer! (The winter festival in February has enormous ice sculptures.) It's one of the reasons we moved here. Anyway, we had no idea what the Magnetic North Theatre Festival was all about, but it was live theatre, and we knew we loved that! (Actually, we found out that it is a venue for new contemporary theatre written by young Canadians.) We saw "The Erotic Anguish of Don Juan" - now, who can resist something with a title like that? It was an adult puppet show, and I have always been a huge fan of puppetry, and think it is a fantastic art form when it is in the hands of talented artists, and the Old Trout Puppet Workshop company from Calgary were just that. This production was fantastic. It demonstrated just what puppetry can be - imaginative, hugely creative, witty, and very inventive. We wondered how the group would show Don Juan's romantic antics using puppets, and they handled it with humour and finesse - hugely funny and entertaining!

So, feeling in a wonderfully adventurous mood after the performance, we stopped in at the local pub and restaurant in our nearby village for a night cap. It looked a bit seedy from the outside, so we weren't sure what to expect, but were pleasantly surprised, and have put it on our list of 'must do again'.

I have a very old 'Home Sweet Home' cross stitch sampler which I stitched almost 30 years ago, it has certainly seen better days and is getting a bit faded, but irregardless has been hung in each house we've lived in. Last week when my daughter was helping me select pictures and paintings to decorate our new walls, she pulled a face when I picked it out of it's box. "You're not putting THAT up, are you?" I certainly was!! This place really is a home sweet home!

Bye for now ...

Last Blog Entry from Old Man's Lake!

We leave for our new home in rural Ottawa in 3 more days ... and at times I thought this day would never arrive!!

What a journey this whole thing has been. From deciding to move in January, to finding (and buying!) our lovely new bungalow in February, to totally de-cluttering our cluttered home and finishing/painting all the bits still left to do throughout March, to listing it in April and actually selling it in one week!! Now comes May, and we've been boxing up our belongings over the last few weeks ... saying goodbye to the wonderful friends we've made here, and trying to come to terms with the whirlwind 5 months we've just lived through!

Yes, there have been moments when we've looked at each other and asked "Are we doing the right thing?" Especially when the snow finally all thawed in April and my multitude of daffodils started to bloom. But, they have now been followed by the 'dreaded biting blackflies' which swarm around you, crawl in your ears and down your shirt, and are not repelled by anything you put on your skin! They are now joined by buzzing mosquitoes ... yes, we are REALLY ready to move!

I am SO excited to begin all the new experiences awaiting us in our new home, and I will try to write here about them, and my reactions to living closer to the capital city of Canada ... so, check back often!

Earlier this week our 6 year old granddaughter phoned and when I answered I heard this plaintive little voice ask, "How many more sleeps until you move closer to us Gran?"

Oh yes, I am really looking forward to it all!!!

Crazy Days and Potato Peel Pie

Hi friends ... it's been almost three weeks since I last blogged, and re-reading what I wrote reminded me what a pensive mood I was in that day. Well, no time for such frivolity these days!!! We've been transforming our cozy, cluttered home into a masterful show-piece (I think!) What did people do before rental mini-storage units??? Ours has been a saviour, and we've been wearing out the road between us and it with car load after car load of boxes, chairs etc. Just "stuff" I can't part with, and extra furniture removed to make our place look "light and airy" (as the magazines say.)

Meanwhile Ray has been working like a mad-man finishing the house! We have a lovely large balcony which leads from our bedroom which I made into my library - two floor-to-ceiling walls of books. I splurged on a lovely leather recliner chair for that area and a super reading lamp, and I can't tell you the joy and peace I receive curled up in my comfy chair, high above the living area, surrounded by my books. Books have that affect on me, they calm me, but they also give me a thrill inside as I contemplate all the hidden delights they contain (many people think I'm nuts!!)

Well, it would have given me much more joy and peace if the area had been finished! It seems Ray ran out of steam a few years ago when he got to that area (books aren't a priority with him) so the area still had the basic drywall, and plywood floor. But, he's been hard at work there, and now it looks gorgeous!! So, once this place is listed for sale (next Friday) I'm going to spend as many hours as I can up there enjoying it before we move and leave it for someone else to enjoy :-(

As crazy as it has all been I have still found time to discover an amazing new book.

It has the most wonderful name "The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society" - now, who could resist delving into a book with a name like that??? Not me. It has quickly become one of my favourites, and at first I didn't think it would. It is written as a series of letters between the Guernsey group and a writer in London, and it is through the letters that the story unravels. It is not a writing technique that I am usually fond of, as I find I often forget who is who and have to keep flipping back to find out. BUT, the author, Mary Ann Shaffer, has done such an amazing job of character development that you instantly conjure up a visual of each new character as she brings them in and they stay in your mind as a fully fleshed-out person. Fabulous job.

I didn't know much about Guernsey before this book - except that it is one of the Channel islands belonging to Britain but situated close to France. I certainly did not know that it was invaded by Germany during WWII, and that the Germans stayed there thinking it would make an ideal stepping stone to invading Britain. The story is set in 1946, and memories of the recent occupation (which lasted until the war ended) were very fresh and raw. The Guernsey characters in the story are so wonderful and often so wacky, they make me want to meet them!

Anyway, I thoroughly recommend the book ... and it seems I'm not alone because on the book's website there is a section to which readers can write their own letters, and it is full of people gushing like I have. This was Mary Ann Shaffer's first novel, and sadly she died last February before it was published. She had always wanted to write a book, and as her health failed she asked her niece, Annie Barrows (a children's author) to help her finish it.

This book has taken me away from the tiresome jobs I've had to do in the house these past weeks ... and I've got another very promising one sitting on my bedside table waiting for me, it's called "The Cellist of Sarajevo" ... oh, I can't wait to get my teeth into it!

Bye for now.

I've just returned from a lovely late afternoon walk with my dog. The sun is still shining, snow is turning wet and mushy, and everywhere you hear the tell tale drip, drip, drip of the coming spring. I'm feeling extremely nostalgic for this place, and I haven't even left yet.

How can I leave this gorgeous piece of heaven? Was it my destiny to find this special corner of the world only to turn my back on it again?

The waiting is very difficult. Those of us who have emigrated to this country and who have the majority of their family living overseas know the heartbreak of saying goodbye at the airport after the enjoyment of one of their too rare visits. The rush to get to the airport, get checked in, get rid of all the luggage is followed by an almost unbearable awkwardness. They have to go through the gates where you cannot follow. Goodbyes have to be said, tears have to flow, hugs which must last until you next meet will be given ... and everyone wants this moment to end, but no-one wants to say good-bye because in the back of your mind is the always present question, "Will we see each other again?" ... so, you all wait, standing around, making small talk because you've said all there is to say. Until finally, with unspoken relief, someone glances at the clock and says they really must be going.

It feels like this now. I feel like I'm waiting to say goodbye to this amazing place ... awkwardly filling the days and weeks until we can leave ... dreading the time when we will leave, but wishing it would come soon to end the agony.

And outside my window the winter continues to drip, drip away ... and the birds are practising their spring mating songs ... and I wait to say goodbye.

To keep or not to keep ... that is the question!

I used to know women who thoroughly cleaned out all their drawers and cupboards regularly every spring. Honest! Do people still do that, spring clean, I mean, do they go through everything every spring and throw old stuff away?

When I was a young mum at home looking after my three little children, my next door neighbour had an amazing cleaning routine. (She didn't attest to my 'routine' of clean thoroughly only when you're having visitors, and in between, if things get really bad - leave and take the kids to the park - come back only when it's dark and you can't see the dust!) No, my neighbour cleaned different parts of her home every day - living room on Monday, kitchen and floors on Tuesday etc. and she stuck to it religiously!! She was amazing, I thought she was the best housewife ever, and I envied her with every ounce of my being!! Company could call on her any day or time of the week, her house was spotless and she even had frozen meals (cooked on Fridays) in her freezer to feed surprise guests - even dessert!!!

I tried, I really did. I wrote out my own cleaning schedule, posted it boldly on my fridge, and started to follow it. But, after a couple of days, it might be a sunny day and the children were restless so I'd skip the windows that day and head outside with them instead! Or, a friend would phone to invite me over for coffee, and off I'd go again. Sure, I could have said "No, I have to change the bed linen today," ... as my organized neighbour often did when I invited her over ... but, I guess I just didn't have her willpower.

Anyway, that is a very long round-about way for me to say that I am at present spring cleaning my drawers and cupboards - no applause please - and that over the years my cleaning mentality has unfortunately never changed. We have just 6 weeks to get this place extra spic and span, clutter-free, and ready for showing prospective buyers. Buyers who will have no reluctance at opening drawers or cupboards! So, I am sorting through 8 years of 'stuff'... stuff that I've either hidden in closets to make the place look tidier when people came, (then forgotten it,) or stuff that I've put into drawers because I can't decide what else to do with it!!

Which brings me to the whole point of this blog ... how much 'stuff' should one keep??? I know, we've been down this path before, a few weeks ago when I wrote about hoarding and the perils of Syllogomania. But, this is different. I've just spent an hour going through a drawer containing cards my offspring gave me when they were young. My 'throw-away' pile was extremely small - how can you throw away this stuff??? I look at the crayon drawings of stick figures, flowers (plus the always present sun), and the carefully printed words "I love you Mum". Who can throw this stuff away??? The cute letters to Santa when they were young, then the cheeky funny ones when they were older. The funny birthday cards from when they were teenagers, now the mushy ones as they become parents themselves and realize what hard work it is! Yes, that drawer is still full.

The other day I had to clear out a drawer containing cards, notes, photographs from my years in the classroom. It took a long time to go through that drawer, as I read the notes I saw again in my mind the particular student who wrote it. The class pictures with everyone wearing their bests clothes, hair pasted down and smiling as though they actually enjoyed school. That was a huge part of my life - do I throw these out???

My mother was visiting when I was sorting through the school stuff, and as she passed my door I said, "Look at all this, so many wonderful memories." She just said it's all in the past, all gone, throw it all out.

HOW??? I look at this stuff and it makes me feel good ...

Well, I've decided I'm going to find myself a large, (very large) wooden storage chest, label it 'Keepsakes' and fill it to the brim with all this stuff. Then, next winter when the winds are howling, and the snow is piled up at the door, I'll open it and spend a fabulous afternoon tripping down Memory Lane.

I had better not tell Ray though, because he still has to clean out the garage - and HIS stuff can definitely all be thrown away!!! :-)

Bye for now - hurrah, it's March at last!

When were YOU born?

What was your birth order in your family? Were you the oldest, middle, youngest? Or, maybe an only child, or in the middle somewhere of a large family? Wherever your position it has long been a held belief that this position has a marked influence on your personality, type of job you choose, and even the person you choose as a life-partner.

How do I know this? Well, apart from formal medical research (which I'll get to later) I base these assumptions on: 1. my own personal experience growing up, 2. raising three children and 3. spending seven hours a day for twenty-two years in a classroom of young children.

Think of the people you know, and particularly those who were the oldest in their family ... are they a bit bossy, a bit neurotic, rather compulsive in their behaviours? I can say all this because I am "an oldest child" and my husband would say that I fit that description exactly (he is a "youngest" and we all know about them!!) As a Primary teacher I saw the eldest child in the family come to school often trying hard to please, getting over-upset when reprimanded, usually an over-achiever ... and I can't tell you how many times at interview times parents would say to me, "Wait until the second one comes!" And, generally they were correct ... the second child breezed into the classroom brimming with confidence, popular with his classmates, sometimes a little cheeky, and not worrying too much whether his work was right or not!

Of course I am generalizing, and there are lots of exceptions ... but certainly my own younger sister fitted the above description, and early family photos show her confidently smiling at the camera beside my own very self-conscious body language. Usually, she'll be seen casually holding on to one of our parents, while I will be off to one side a little, not touching anyone. One doesn't need a PhD in psychology to figure out how these differences occur again and again in families ... we make all our mistakes on our oldest children! As new parents, we hover and chart and worry and watch. Second child comes along to much more relaxed experienced parents, much busier parents - certainly too busy to hover and chart etc, sometimes even much older parents. Oldest children 'blaze the trail' and new parents over-react to all their normal stages of growing up.

Now, I have written this from an oldest child's point-of-view ... looking down at my happy, relaxed, spoilt younger sister. If she were here today, she'd give a very different point of view. She always maintained that as the oldest I got to do way more than she did, got the new clothes whilst she got the hand-me-downs, got way more attention than she did, and so it went on. When we were older she told me that she always envied me when we were growing up - I got higher grades, married first, was made more fuss of by the grandparents (really???)

But, don't take my word for it ... Alfred Adler was an Austrian Medical doctor and Psychologist who together with Freud and others co-founded the psychoanalytic movement. He later broke from Freud, and became well-known for his work on emphasizing the importance of equality in preventing various forms of psychopathology ...

"Adler often emphasized one's birth order as having an influence on the Style of Life and the strengths and weaknesses in one's psychological make up. Birth Order referred to the placement of siblings within the family. Adler believed that the firstborn child would be loved and nurtured by the family until the arrival of a second child. This second child would cause the first born to suffer feelings of dethronement, no longer being the center of attention. Adler believed that in a three-child family, the oldest child would be the most likely to suffer from neuroticism and substance addiction which he reasoned was a compensation for the feelings of excessive responsibility "the weight of the world on one's shoulders" (e.g. having to look after the younger ones) and the melancholic loss of that once supremely pampered position. As a result, he predicted that this child was the most likely to end up in jail or an asylum. Youngest children would tend to be overindulged, leading to poor social empathy. Consequently, the middle child, who would experience neither dethronement nor overindulgence, was most likely to develop into a successful individual yet also most likely to be a rebel and to feel squeezed-out. Adler himself was the second in a family of six children."

Which leads me to the middle child that I gave birth to. He reads this blog regularly (bless his great big heart, he's my only offspring who does!) and he commented today on my constant use of the expression "son #1" in my blog when referring to his older brother. Now, if you are a parent reading this you will understand that parents cannot do anything right when it comes to NOT showing any favouritism to their offspring!!! Even as good ol' Adler said above - whatever your family position you are doomed to either be a neurotic, a spoilt brat with no social empathy, or a successful rebel.

However, to maintain family peace ... I hearby express to the entire world that when I use the expression "son #1" I only refer to his birth order, NOT to the position he holds in my favour! (Thank goodness son #1 - ooops! - doesn't read this!)

MOVING UPDATE: Today our offer on the beautiful Ottawa bungalow which has captured our hearts was accepted, and Ray and I are ecstatic. But, I just realized that this new home will put us very close to son's # 1 and 2 ... hmmmm, I wonder if it's too late to withdraw the offer ...

Bye until next time

It Happened ...!!

Yes, it happened. I knew it would. We found a house in Ottawa which we absolutely fell in love with and which is absolutely perfect for us.

We spent all day Saturday being driven around by a Realtor looking at 12 houses which she had chosen based on a criteria list we had given to her. Most were nice homes, but the properties weren't quite what we were looking for ... too close to other homes, or not enough trees, or we could hear traffic on the highway, or the house was too big or too dark. Then, on number 8 or 9 we saw it. A perfect little bungalow, on 13 acres of wooded property. It has 3 bedrooms, a beautiful bright kitchen and dining area, a bright living room, and (what Ray was looking for) a full, unfinished basement which he can design and finish as he likes.

It is exactly 30 mins from #1 son's front door, and 40 mins to downtown Ottawa - perfect!! Only 10 mins. from the highway, but you cannot hear any traffic, and only 12 mins from a small town for groceries etc - perfect!

Yes, it's perfect. The only problem is we still have to sell this property we are living on. I knew this would happen ... (the Realtor comes tomorrow to appraise our present home.) But, it was a lovely weekend with the family, especially when our two sons and their families came with us on Sunday morning as we returned for a second look at the bungalow - what excitement, with our little grand-daughter excitedly running around yelling, "Which room will I sleep in Gran?" Everyone agreed it was perfect for us ... but, there is still the 'small' problem of the seller accepting our offer, not to mention us selling this place!

So, the "fun" begins. I don't want to wish my life away, but I wish I could fast-forward it over the next six months. It's so exciting, and so scary at the same time - so many unknowns!

Until next time, bye for now.

Big Decisions ...

Last month Ray and I made a big decision. We decided we are ready to leave our beautiful oasis in the woods and move to Ottawa. "What?" I hear you shout, "Leave that beautiful piece of heaven and move to a city???" Those exact thoughts have gone through our own minds many times over the last 6 weeks - are we crazy??? Are we making a HUGE mistake??? Will we always regret leaving here???

Our reasons for deciding to make the move are many-fold, and are generally connected with the reasons we moved here in the first place. Back in 2001, after 30 years of marriage, after overcoming some very serious health problems, after raising 3 children, after juggling two demanding careers, and after the unexpected early deaths of several close family members, we had had it! We both very badly needed some quiet, some peace and some shelter from life's storms ... and we certainly found it here. It's been wonderful. The people here are uncomplicated and friendly, the community events are fun, and the serene day-to-day living close to nature has healed our battered souls.

But, we have found that it is time to move on - to jump back into the fray and join the big world again ... plus, be closer to our growing family. We thought we would stay here into our dotage years, but obviously the universe has other ideas.

Why is it that the biggest decisions are often the easiest to make? I can spend hours deciding which dress to buy, or which meal to cook, but once that quiet inner voice whispered to me: "It's time to move on" it just felt so right, and the decision was easy. Ray needed a bit more time to get used to the idea, as he always does - to think it over, savour it for a few days, think of all the pros and cons, but then he agreed with me. He doesn't trust his intuition as I do - my intuition has NEVER steered me wrong - truly! It told me that Ray was the man I should marry; that the time was right to start a family; that teaching was the career for me; that Canada was the right country for us; that we should sell and move to the woods; and now it tells me very clearly that we will be happier living closer to our grand children, sons, daughters-in-law and all the excitement that a vibrant city like Ottawa can offer (not to mention excellent medical facilities for our ageing bodies!)

Yet, it will be so hard to leave here (if only we were millionaires and could afford to keep this lovely place just for vacations!!) Of course, 2009 is a crazy year to decide to sell a house on a lake with eight acres of wooded land around it!! With the sagging economy and all. Ah, but it is a great time to BUY!! So many lovely homes on the market right now, at very good prices, so people are obviously still moving around.

Which brings me to this weekend - we are off to Ottawa on Friday to scour out some of Ottawa's neighbourhoods and see which appeal to us. A Realtor recommended by son #1 has a full day lined up for us on Saturday. It's exciting and scary at the same time - what if we see our "dream home"?? We can't buy it until we sell our house! This is a 'look and see' expedition only ...

Hmmm, watch this space ... I think this subject is going to dominate my blogs for quite some months ... wish us luck this weekend.

Bye for now!

YES!!!!!!

I sat glued to my TV screen yesterday watching the inauguration of Barack Obama ... and at the risk of stating what has already been stated over and over again - this man mesmerizes me!!! He exudes charm, charisma, intelligence, confidence, compassion, energy ... the list could go on and on, and as an avid people-watcher this man fascinates me. I don't care too much about politics, although I think his polices are spot on, but as a person, as the leader of the most powerful nation in the world, he is totally unique.

Yesterday Ray and I listened as he delivered an amazingly strong and encouraging 18 mins. speech to the millions of people standing in Washington's bitter cold and the many more millions around the world watching on television, what an orator ... but it was what happened after that impressed me even more than the speech or it's delivery. As he turned away from the podium he bent to kiss his oldest daughter and she clearly said, "Good speech dad!" Dad and Daughter's eyes met and Obama automatically broke into his wonderfully wide grin, just like any father would at the amusingly under-stated praise from his precocious offspring ... and just for those split seconds he wasn't the President, he wasn't being watched by the world, he was simply a loving, caring dad. Then, the moment passed, he straightened up, his sober Presidential face returned and he resumed receiving congratulations from those around him. But, that moment made him 'real' for me. It said that this man is 'grounded', it said his daughter feels comfortable enough with him to comment at a time like that, that he has his priorities right, he'll be OK ... oh, if only every country in the world were as lucky to have such a leader!

Our own Prime Minister here in Canada leaves much to be desired, and I think a letter writer to one of today's national newspapers said it best:

"One cannot help but compare Obama's bright light with that of our Prime Minister, Stephen Harper. Obama seeks to unite his nation while Harper practices the politics of division. Obama welcomes ideas and opinions in contrast to his own; Harper divides our nation into pieces: east vs west; French vs English; rich vs poor."

I pray to everything that's out there to keep him safe ...

Syllogomania

Did you relate at all to my previous blog on hoarding? I just found and watched a very well presented short video on my computer that I think has cured me for ever. Watch this and I guarantee you'll rush to de-clutter your entire home ... or, at least sit back and smugly realize that you're not so bad after all.

http://alexwrege.com/index.php/category/syllogomania

It's too bad such a horrible condition has such a neat sounding name ...

Seven Dumpsters and a Corpse

I watch much less TV than I used to, there seems like such rubbish on most days. So, I was not optimistic as I flipped the TV dials the other evening looking for something worth watching. The Documentary channel was just beginning a piece called "Seven Dumpsters and a Corpse" - now, who could resist peeking to see what that was all about?

The programme's storyline said:

"In this darkly comic and irreverent look at life and death, filmmaker Thomas Haemmerli is informed of his reclusive and somewhat estranged mother's demise on the eve of his 40th birthday. When he and his brother arrive at her flat they are horrified to discover that she was a pack rat of the worst order; her apartment is filthy and crammed with junk dating back more than 70 years."

I was a bit reluctant to watch at first, as I tend to be a bit of a hoarder myself ...hmmmm,in 30 some years will my sons arrive at my apartment to find bits of me rotting behind piles of old newspapers??? "Don't be silly Pauline", I sternly reprimanded myself, and bravely tuned in to watch the programme.

It was an amazing documentary!! Not so much for the content, but for the way Haemmerli had brilliantly edited all the many hours of recorded film. The reality was that their mother's small place in Switzerland was literally disgusting, and it actually took seven full dumpsters, plus much more burned in the fireplace, to clear out the apartment. The film shows the two bothers as they worked tirelessly for a full month at cleaning out the mess. But, another more enticing storyline wove through the film - their mother was an avid amateur photographer and the men found piles of old home movies and photographs from their childhood in the 60's and beyond, and these were intermittently shown as the brothers worked. Gazing into the eyes of the vibrant, happy woman on the screen there were few clues that she would end her life in such a dismal way ... alone, a rotting corpse, amongst the debris of her life.

Pretty depressing stuff, but totally fascinating at the same time. Old movies of her mother (their grandmother), a well-to-do Swiss Countess, showed her enjoying a full and joyous life, whilst their mother was languishing in a children's home after her father had died. Was this the beginning of her problems?

It seems hoarding rubbish actually has a medical name, 'syllogomania', and it is believed to be a type of obsessive-compulsive disorder - well, that makes sense! But, what about people like me who can't quite part with sentimental things ... cards which still bring tears to my eyes, little drawings my children did in primary school (I've boxes of those!) That's different, you say, "Ah, but is this the thin edge of the wedge???" What about my husband who saves every little bit of off-cut wood in case he needs it someday (Oh no, will we BOTH be found one day on the floor behind the newspapers, him clutching his wood and me my drawings?) Are we both aspiring syllogomaniacs??

When we moved from our last home, a very good friend helped me sort through the 22 years of typical family clutter I had accumulated whilst living there. She was great, as I picked up each item she sternly repeated the mantra, "Does it make you feel good?" I had to answer quickly, and only if it did was the piece put into the 'saved' pile. The only problem was, I ran out of time and with moving day fast approaching, I made the sweeping decision that everything that was left made me feel good and just dumped it all into a moving box and brought it here to the new house.

And here it all sits ... in boxes, in the basement, unopened for nearly eight years, silently gathering dust, staring reproachfully at me whenever I venture downstairs. Now you know why this film scared me so much.

Ummm, think I had better go and deal with some unfinished business ...!

Food ... Glorious Food!!!

Happy New Year Everyone!

Have you had enough of the fabulous rich food which we all tend to indulge in at holiday times? I certainly have ... or rather, my body is loudly, and in no uncertain terms, telling me I have. The scales say that I have gained 7lbs over the Christmas and New Year - yikes! Who can afford that many extra pounds? Certainly not me! However, it is a new year, and although I have decided NOT to make any resolutions for 2009 (because I never keep them and only end up feeling disappointed with myself) I really must get my regular diet back on track. So, that means no more rich desserts, luscious chocolates, huge brunch-style breakfasts with little exercise except lifting my knife and fork!!

Oh, but we did have a wonderful holiday with all the family here, and I hope you did too.

Talking of glorious food (do you remember that "Oliver Twist" song from the musical? - that was the first date my husband took me on in 1969 - but I digress ...) I just adore Thai food, and when we were in Thailand in Nov. one of our highlights was a full day spent at a cooking class. There were so many offered in Chiang Mai and I'm sure they are all good, but "A Lot Of Thai" was the one we chose, and mainly because it started with a trip to a local market, and the teacher, Yui, was so very interesting and informative - she just adores working with food and her enthusiasm was very contagious! I think I enjoyed the 2 hours we spent at the market almost as much as the actual cooking part later, as Yui led us from stall to stall introducing us to many spices and vegetables we had never used before, and giving many tips on their uses, etc. The variety available was amazing, and all so very fresh. The Market offered lots of prepared food for sale also, just as everywhere else in Thailand - on any street - you see simple carts set up with a brazier or propane burner and delicious smells wafting up from whatever is being cooked and offered for sale. A local Thai told me many of the people in the cities eat out all the time because most only live in simple rooms with no cooking facilities. With so much offered at such low prices, who needs to cook?

There were only eight of us in the class, we made six completely different Thai dishes, and of course got to eat our 'creations' after preparing each dish - they were delicious (if I do say so myself) How wonderful and easy it is to cook when all the ingredients are prepared for you, already measured and laid out in little dishes, vegetables cleaned, chopped and ready just to pop into the wok - I could get used to that - just like on the TV cooking shows ... plus there was no cleaning up afterwards as the dirty dishes 'magically' disappeared when we were eating, and clean ones set out in their place. Now, that's my idea of cooking!

I was surprised, and quite delighted, that Ray decided to join me at the cooking school, as he really enjoyed himself. Actually there were four men in our class, and I must say the men took it all way more seriously than we women did!

I wonder if that's why most of the world's top chefs are men? I used to love to cook, and when the children were young I was the regular 'earth-mother' making my own baby food, even making yogurt (so easy to do) delicious home-made granola muffins when they came home from school - oh yes, I did it all - but I've moved on and now only cook when I have to (like supper time every day!) But, cooking the Thai food was different and a lot of fun to do ...


... now, if I can just find someone to come and prepare all the vegetables, spices etc. - plus clean up after me - I would be very happy to throw it all into the wok and stir it for 5 minutes.

Hey presto, supper's ready!

Karen Connelly

Whenever we travel I always try to find an independent bookstore and purchase some books (novels or otherwise) written by local or national authors about the place I'm in. Sometimes they are rather poorly written and locally published, but still help me to learn more of the flavour of my temporary home, but occasionally I've hit upon a real gem.

Such was the case in Chiang Mai last month. I found a wonderful little bookstore with an excellent selection of English books, and much to Ray's chagrin (he tends to worry about the weight of everything I buy) I chose 5 new books about various aspects of life in Thailand. One was actually written by a Canadian, Karen Connelly, about her experiences living for one full year in a small village in Northern Thailand. Not too unique in itself, except Karen was only 17 years old at the time, had never been to Thailand before, and was awarded this experience by her local Albertan Rotary club.

It caught my attention as I wondered about the courage, maturity and determination a young person would need to embark on such an adventure. After reading a few short passages, the intelligence and insight of the young writer were quickly evident ... added to which she definitely wrote with a poet's touch. I was hooked, and the book did not disappoint on any level.

"Touch the Dragon" was a fabulously refreshing read, and I travelled with Karen Connelly throughout her year in Thailand as it touched and changed her on so many levels, similarly as Ray and I continued on our own travels through the same countryside, also being touched and changed by our own experiences. "Touch the Dragon" won the Canadian Governor General's award in 1993, and I couldn't wait to get home and get on my computer to investigate this new (to me) Canadian author.

I found out that Connelly has since written 5 books of poetry which have won a number of awards (I knew she had to be a poet) and after Thailand she went on to travel, live and write in Spain, France and Greece as a young woman, returning many times to her beloved Thailand. She recently lived for two years on the Thai-Burma border among Burmese exiles and dissidents, and visited Burma many times until she was denied a visa by the military regime. When I saw that she had published her first novel in 2005 called "The Lizard Cage" I immediately ordered it, and have just finished reading it.

This is an extremely horrific book (made all the more so knowing that although a fictitious story, Connelly used information gathered from her interviews with many Burmese dissidents) At times it grabs you by the throat leaving you gasping for air, but just as you can't stand any more the story retreats into the safe sweet past, and allows you to breathe once more. Yet, strangely, there's beauty and hope here too. It tells of a young political prisoner, a popular singer who dared to write and sing songs against the Burmese military regime, now serving 20 years in solitary confinement in a brutal Burmese prison. "The Lizard Cage" is so graphic and raw at times that I just had to put it down ... but, after a break I was always drawn back to it's pages. Why? Why continue with a book which equally repelled and fascinated me? I think because of it's overwhelming power, it's poetic compassion, complete integrity, horror yet hope, and the author's poetical heart which shines through with every word. It's also a psychological thriller which keeps you hanging and hoping almost to the last page!

This is a book which had to be written, and should be read ... in the same way as Auschwitz has to be visited and remembered. These things are happening now, (see my blog Wednesday, 26 September 2007 "We watch and wait ...") - and unfortunately not only in Burma.

But, how glad I am to have found this amazing author, one who writes with such flair, such intelligence, and with such a social conscience.

Christmas?????

How does one settle in to the Christmas season after experiences which are so outside one's realm of being??? I'm finding it very hard ... we picked our tree and decorated it today - but I am only going through the motions. Our family arrive in 5 days to celebrate Christmas - but my mind is still in Thailand ...

How can you forget an exceptional day like the one we spent with Suwanna, and the other 199 children at the Children's Centre in Chiang Rai???

I first met Suwanna 2 years ago when I visited the Children's Centre with a friend who volunteered there, in the very north of Thailand. It's a huge complex run by a wonderful Italian Catholic priest and a small group of Thai nuns. These children are all from nearby Hill Tribes, and are sent by their families to live at the Centre 10 months of the year so they can attend the local village school, and hopefully educate themselves out of a life of poverty. Suwanna had only recently arrived when we first visited, she was 5 years old then, and her personality and spunk immediately attracted me. She became an easy choice for our family to sponsor ... and we have been sending money ever since to pay for her food, school uniforms and other extras. It was so wonderful to see her again ... and Br. Gianni met us in a large van with 10 of the youngest girls from the Centre and drove us to Suwanna's village for a visit with her mother.



Her mother was very sweet, and Suwanna showed Ray and I her hill tribe home, her little brother and the other members of her village. She was so proud of it all, and we were so overwhelmed ... Each member of the little village came and shook our hand, and in their own way thanked us for helping one of their children. We saw red chillies and peanuts spread out to dry in the hot sun, chickens running freely in the dust, sacks of rice piled up in her one-room home, older women carrying their grandchildren on their backs, and bare foot toddlers everywhere.



Back at the Centre we watched Suwanna and the other 199 children eat dinner on the concrete floor, and she showed us her 12" by 12" cubby hole which was all she had for personal possessions (how was she to fit all her gifts from Canada in there??) but all too soon the time came for us to say goodbye and return to Chiang Rai.

Suwanna clasped my hand on the drive back to our guest house, and as she had all day long, she did not let go. We had not exchanged a single word all day, but we had communicated continually - our smiles and mime gestures had said it all. Suwanna kissed me on the cheek when we parted, and I tearfully wondered how long it would be before we meet again.

I'm finding it so hard to get excited about Christmas ...

Loy Krathong

It is a beautiful full moon tonight, and it reminds me of being in Chiang Mai just one month ago for the celebration of the Loy Krathong Festival. Not only was this a feast for all our senses, but we had some wonderful random acts of kindness paid to us during this time which will always stay with me.

Loy Krathong is celebrated annually in Thailand on the full moon night of November - although in Chiang Mai celebrations continue almost all week. It's origins, like so many such festivals, are a bit ambiguous ... but thought to originate in Hindu India. The Thai people float krathongs, or little boats made of a slice of banana tree trunk covered and decorated with banana leaves, flowers, candles and incense sticks (I was told it had to have 3 sticks). The sailing of these krathongs seems to be for various reasons, 1. a means of letting go of all your anger or grudges, or 2. to create good luck for you and your family, or 3. to thank the goddess of water. (Or, maybe just to have a lot of fun!!)

They were amazingly beautiful works of art, with banana leaves folded intricately around the edges and orchids or marigolds as decorations in the centre around the candles. They were on sale everywhere for about 20 baht (about 75 cents!) Of course I bought one, and joined the throngs of people who were placing them in the water to let our grudges go/bring good luck/thank the goddess of water ... how beautiful mine looked, and how proud I felt - until a splash of water put the candles out about 2 mins. after I let it go - I suppose there is a knack to it!

Along with the water-bound krathongs were the stunningly beautiful paper hot-air lanterns which were lit and released to sail up into the dark night sky. In the northern city of Chiang Mai we were lucky to find out about the "Yi Peng" ceremony which takes place just north of the city, and unlike the celebrations in the city, this had more of a Buddhist connotation and was not touristy in any way. There was a lovely parade followed by a Buddhist ceremony presided over by a large group of Buddhist monks, then on a signal about 5,000 of these lanterns were lit and released in unison. The sight was unbelievable!



Everywhere we looked were luminous lanterns floating into the air - thousands of them ... and excited squeals all around us. Ray and I were wishing we could participate, when suddenly a nearby young Thai man motioned to us to please come and help him launch his lantern. We carefully held the lantern's edges as he handed his lighter to Ray and indicated that he should light the flammable pellet which hung in the centre. As the air in the lantern grew hotter we felt it straining to get away from us, to lift and fly into the heavens. Suddenly, our new Thai friend counted 1, 2, 3, and we all let go at the same time and watched mesmerized as 'our' lantern drifted slowing up to join the thousands which sparkled in the sky above us.



Excited and exhilarated we slowly edged our way along with the huge crowd back to where the shuttle bus had dropped us off, vaguely wondering how we were going to get back to the city that night. As we reached the parking lot, a young Thai woman who had been near us in the slow-moving mass of people came up and asked us (in very good English) if we had a ride back to the city. Did she read our thoughts??? She said she had a truck and we were welcome to ride with them. How kind, we thought. Then, she and her two friends hopped into the cab of the pick-up truck indicating that we were very welcome to climb into the open back.

Hmmmmm, coming from a Western (and extremely safety-conscious) country like Canada, neither Ray nor I had ever sat in the open back of a pick-up truck - and certainly not when it is hurtling down the highway at very high speeds. But, since arriving in Thailand we had immediately observed (and who could miss it) that safety often flew out the window there to make way for practical needs. If a family needs to get from A to B and they only have one motorbike, then all 4 (or 5) members will squeeze onto the bike ... what could be simpler???(!) We assumed there were laws against this sort of thing, but the police seemed to be busy chasing bigger crimes...

Well, our motto is "when in Rome ..." so we hopped into the truck and had a very exciting ride home. The young lady staunchly refused when we tried to help pay for the gas, so we could only say a very heart-felt thank you, and off they went.

What a night it had been ... I simply couldn't sleep ... images of those lovely lanterns, beautiful krathongs and the very kind, gentle people we had met filled my head. Those are times one never forgets ...

Reflections of Thailand 1

Hello again!!! I'm back!!! (Hope you like the new look) Let's roll ...

Ray and I have just returned from 31 days in Thailand (literally just returned - last week)and my head is still so full of sights, sounds, smells of all we did and experienced that if I don't get them down on paper soon I will quite possibly burst!!! So, what I intend is not a travel log of "we did this on day 1 and this on day 2" but more, as the title says, my reflections of what we did and saw. This will often be about the people ... because I always feel that it's the people who make a place what it is. Even with my extremely limited Thai, and most Thai's limited English we were able to have marvellous interactions using mime language and facial expressions, and it's those interactions which I still see in my mind when I try to sleep at night - it's like a video playing over and over in my head.

So, these reflections will be fairly random, and you can dip in and have a read at your leisure.



Having said that - where to start??? Maybe at the end ... because on the evening of Nov.25th Ray and I finally packed up a month's worth of grubby clothes and souvenir treasures, ordered a taxi for 8:30am to take us to the Bangkok airport, and settled in to get a good sleep before the long flights home. But, I was too excited to sleep ... so got up and was surfing the Internet when I clicked onto the 'Bangkok Post' website and saw that protesters had taken over the airport and all planes were cancelled!! With Ray snoring soundly in bed, I had no-one to share this devastating news with!! Not much sleep that night ...

Wed. 26th we went down to breakfast at our guest house to be greeted with sympathy from the wonderful owner and her staff. She had the news on the TV and everyone was watching as the startling events unfolded. Well, first things first, they had room for us to stay there for another night - but we had to change rooms, no problem as everything was packed up anyway!

That first day no-one was really worried, as the feeling was that this would blow over in 48 hours, the protesters would leave, and planes would resume flights. There was even a giddy sense of adventure at being caught-up in such a world-wide event. We decided to make the most of our extra day in Bangkok, went out to do some more sight-seeing, and had interesting discussions with many other stranded tourists from around the world. But, I have to say that as the days dragged on, any air of adventure totally evaporated, and frustration and mild panic set in ... this looked like it was never going to end - and with a huge group of opposing protesters setting up camp in a different part of Bangkok, there was even talk of civil war!!

GET ME OUT OF HERE!

We gave up any thoughts of more sight-seeing - even though Bangkok seemed totally normal, we didn't have the heart for it, and Ray spent long hours on the telephone trying to get through to Cathay Pacific. There were rumours of flights leaving from a military airbase; people were arranging to travel by car/bus to Malaysia and Singapore then fly onto Hong Kong; a travel agent we visited was extremely creative in her plans for our travel back to Toronto and maybe if we were 20 again and with just 2 backpacks we might have taken her advice; we received panic emails from family back home - some saying stay put don't go out in the streets, others saying just get into a taxi and get out of the city; my poor elderly mother thought we were in India and caught up in the dreadful attacks taking place at the same time in Mumbai!!

Thank goodness for the local massage parlour close by our guest house, they kept us sane ...ooooh, I so love those Thai foot massages!!! The girls there got to know us well, and were so sympathetic and sweet (or, as sympathetic and sweet as you can be with about 4 words which you can both communicate with!) I even screwed up my courage and had a proper full Thai massage during that time. Now, if you're not familiar with this type of massage, let me tell you it can be quite painful as they apply pressure on your body with various parts of their body, and push and pull your limbs into yogic positions. But, my young girl said quietly, "Soft??" I nodded with relief, and it was wonderful!!!!

I must say that when Ray finally got through to speak with a Cathay Pacific representative they were very helpful ... and finally on the 5th day we were told that they had booked us on a flight from Phuket to Hong Kong, and a flight from Hong Kong to Toronto. Hallelujah!! All we had to do was get ourselves and our grubby clothes half way down the country to Phuket.

But, the wonderful people at our guest house helped us again and arranged for a taxi driver whom they knew to drive us the 12 hours south to Phuket, leaving at 6am the next morning. He wanted 8,000 Baht to do the trip ($270), and we could probably have bargained and found someone cheaper, but at that point we were so exhausted we would have paid him a million $$$ to get us there! He turned out to be quite a character, and drove like a madman - hitting speeds of 160km hr. on the straight road to Phuket - he made the journey in 10 hours!!



When we arrived at the airport and Ray was paying him, all the other local taxi drivers gathered around as he counted the 1,000 Baht notes Ray had just given him - a huge roar of approval and slaps of congratulations rang out as he reached 8 ... we felt a little odd ... obviously we had just grossly overpaid him and he was being congratulated for 'sucking' the silly tourists, but for us $270 for such a long trip was a very low price. Anyway, we consoled ourselves with the knowledge that we had made him very happy, we were there in one piece, ... and the Bangkok nightmare was over!