November 30th, 2007 writerspice
Last July, Jason and I spent some time hiking in hundred degree heat in southern Utah.
It wasn’t just to get away. Nor was it an exercise in self-flagellation. Like Gary Ferguson, the writer of Outbound, a poignant and lovely essay I recently discovered in the Summer issue of Camas, the University of Montana’s lit journal, we went to remember someone.
The experience of wandering the red rock canyons and watching “the sun lighting clusters of rabbitbrush and Apache plume” in Capitol Reef National Park came back to me as I read this essay. So did the feeling of grief which left me seated on a small island in the creek that ran through our campsite up on Boulder Mountain, crying for my uncle until I heard in my head what he would say: get up, live your life!
Somehow I feel connected to Mr. Ferguson. Apart from our taking a similar trip for similar reasons, there’s also the fact that I grew up in the “dark woods of Northern Ontario,” where he lost his wife.
He’s also a very good writer. One that brings two kinds of terrain to life: that which hosts its ‘huddles of juniper’, the other which dwells within.
Posted in Recommended, United States, Writing Life | No Comments »
November 28th, 2007 writerspice
These days, the city of lights is once again the city of street fires.
And as the rioting continues in Paris, I listen to a politician from the right-wing French National Assembly saying things like “tribalism” and “racism against French culture” and “it’s easier to make a living through drugs” on a CBC radio interview.
It’s not an economic issue, he says, dismissing any claims that this outpouring of rage and such a violent and hopeless attempt at change has anything to do with high unemployment among teenagers and widespread poverty and the alienation that many immigrants face.
A lot of other people, of course, are saying that this is exactly where the problems start.
Even former president Jacques Chirac, after the last wave of rioting in 2005 (also sparked by the accidental deaths of two teenagers) came out and admitted the obvious inequities.
“There is a need to respond strongly and rapidly to the undeniable problems faced by many residents of underprivileged neighborhoods around our city,” he said to the media.
At that time, Nicolas Sarkozy, now the country’s president, took a tough stand, asking for the deportation of “foreigners” (I guess he meant immigrants) involved in the riots.
As experts argue, policeman and teenagers continue the war, with many falling from injuries. And this whole thing is nothing new.
This summer, I spent some time in Benton Harbor, Michigan, a former industrial town that saw their factories leave and unemployment rise. In 2003, when a kid on a motorcycle was killed in a police chase (sound familiar?), the remorse and rage drove rioters out into the street.
Thanks to grants and the immense commitment of both locals and outside parties, Benton Harbor is being revitalized. Three galleries and open studios have opened up, as well as a glass school that offers lessons to young people at risk of being sucked into the downward spiral of poverty.
The answers are not easy, but they begin in the same place: an acknowledgment of the humanity of those driven to such extreme action and a condemnation of violence. Physical violence, yes, but also the violence of a system that abandons those who need help the most.
Photo by webbmb
Posted in Issues, World | No Comments »
November 26th, 2007 writerspice
I’ve been going through my pictures recently – you know, that ubiquitous crate full of matte paper snaps left over from pretty much every moment before digital cameras came of age – and found a bunch from my trip to Ecuador in 2000.
A remedy for a broken heart (I left on Valentine’s Day), this trip was a whirlwind two weeks in the cheapest, closest country I could think of. Mostly I stayed in Baños, a small town in the central-south region, with hot springs and hardly any people around. Tungurahua, the active volcano nearby in the Andes, had erupted in the fall and kept threatening to go again so many people had evacuated. Weirdly festive banners showing the proper route to take should the crater start oozing still hung in the streets. In the town’s cathedral, murals painted over hundreds of years showed scenes from the previous 15 eruptions – think women in old-fashioned dress running from fire-tongues while frightened angels looked on. But by then, with the last eruption five-months past, the town still bustled a little bit with tourists and locals who ran restaurants, hotels and bars.
What a trip that was! In Quito, I met and immediately clicked with a Spanish-speaking French Canadian woman and the two of us travelled together for pretty much the entire time, basing ourselves in one spot, lolling about in the steaming hot springs, getting to know the locals and even helping some Ecuadorians open up a nightclub, where bands played folk music and the wait staff served deadly traditional drink in clay jugs. Our hotel room, our home away from home for the fortnight, cost us each $2 US.
I also did a five-day trek into the jungle. The picture above was taken during that excursion. Andres, from Brazil, is standing closest to the camera. Despite a total language gap – no Portuguese for me, no English for him – we got along famously. A kindred spirit, he reminded me so much of my dear friend Darrin, a happy-go-lucky traveller who once wandered his way from Vancouver, B.C. to Panama and back.
This trek was tough and beautiful, with lots of rubber-boot-sucking mud and hard uphill climbs and one particular fruit that seemed to come from a fairy land: it tasted exactly like vanilla ice cream. When I complained, using plenty of miming and sneezing and blowing of the nose, about a nagging sinus infection, Eduardo, our Shuar guide, peeled back the bark of a tree, scraped some of its fleshy green insides into a rolled up banana leaf, mixed it with water and gestured that I snort it up my nose. I did. It was a bit like combining some illicit drug with super-extra-strength nasal spray. Apart from the minor fire that flared in my brain (or maybe because of it), my breathing passages opened right up.
But that was then. Things have changed a lot since this pic was snapped. Tungurahua has not been quiet, causing the local tourist trade to die down. The country’s decision to adopt the U.S. dollar has also created some chaos. But still, Ecuador remains a beautiful and compelling country, well worth exploring and extremely photogenic.
Posted in Pretty Pictures, World | 2 Comments »
November 23rd, 2007 writerspice
I’ve posted before on the great deals that can be had this time of year in Las Vegas.But after hearing stories of the loads of available freebies from some friends who went recently, I was glad to see this post – Backpacking Las Vegas…Cheaply – by Ubertramp – a veritable catalogue of how to do Vegas a little bit differently: without blowing that wad ‘o cash…
Posted in Bargains!, United States | 1 Comment »
November 23rd, 2007 writerspice
A peaceful morning moment in Orillia, Ontario. One thing I love about this town: how the streets turn into an old-fashioned tableaux as soon as the first snow arrives.
Posted in Orillia, Pretty Pictures, Seasons | No Comments »
November 22nd, 2007 writerspice
Like a bunch of bullies, the current Canadian power mongers government in power has decided not to invite anyone out of the in-club to the upcoming major important meeting on climate change in Bali, Indonesia.
The reason? The last time they invited opposition MPs to an international environmental conference, they were held accountable for their crappy policies and others – like the French environmental government guy – also got in on the critic’s game.
Seems the Conservatives didn’t like what they were saying. This being that, um, you guys might want to rethink a plan that has Canada meeting our emissions cuts by 2020 or 2025. By then, who knows what kind of burning, drought-ridden, flood-prone, hurricane-haunted world we’ll be living in. THAT’S 18 YEARS FROM NOW. NEARLY AN ENTIRE GENERATION.
Last week, some serious faces at the U.N. stepped forward to say things like “irreversible”, “frightening”, “defining challenge of our age” and to call for much tougher action to mitigate this dire and urgent problem which is already causing record numbers of droughts, floods and fires.
But instead of embracing all the help and dialogue that they can get and trying to move toward, uh, the opposite of ANNIHILATION, our government is crossing their arms, barring the door and firmly shutting down the debate.
All so they can avoid being criticised and keep a firm grip on their flimsy power.
Makes sense to me. After all, when I’m being an idiot and my husband calls me on it, sometimes I just leave him at home, too. But then again, the two of us aren’t holding the FATE OF THE WORLD in our hands.
Posted in Contemplations, Going Green, Issues, World | No Comments »
November 21st, 2007 writerspice
These days, there isn’t much to love around here. Think sky like dirty laundry and earth muddy with non-stop rain. Those autumn leaves are still lying around, but they’re losing their colour as quickly as weathered copper.
Maybe with the arrival of the beast pictured above (currently assaulting Des Moines, Iowa, where “ice fog” is listed as one of the weather conditions) the world will at least gain a little light… Sweeping in over the midwest, this mess will be ours by tomorrow.
Interview on the other side of the county cancelled. Check. Ice cream purchased. Check. Articles to write. Check (but then again, there are also those DVDs of Arrested Development…)
And one final note: thank you, Canadian forefathers, for making our Thanksgiving early enough to avoid mixing it up with the onset of winter. Good luck, my southern neighbours, with all your turkey travels. Maybe by the weekend, mother nature will be delivering her scourge only up here.
Posted in Seasons | No Comments »
November 19th, 2007 writerspice
For a few days before the cyclone hit the shoreline of Bangladesh, the local weather folks were talking about it. Their normally Toronto-centric radar images had suddenly swung into the far east, pointers rising as they told us how the full brunt of the wind would hit the Ganges delta and push upriver.
And, uh, yeah, it sure did. Late last week, Cyclone Sidr hit, leaving a death toll that continues to climb. The latest numbers are reaching above 3000.
Meanwhile, back in Mexico, health officials are now fumigating a vast area of the state of Tabasco to kill mosquitos born out of flooding that has affected an estimated million people, mostly poor.
What’s all this got to do with travel? Usually, sadly, not much.
While the floods were covering Mexico and reports came swarming in about death, destruction, dire straights, I found myself reading somebody’s blog entry about great food in the most southerly North American country. And as the death toll climbs to staggering numbers in that small country on the southeastern edge of India, I cruise to another blog recounting a current journey a stone’s throw from the scene of such mind-numbing devastation. Amid discussion of how tough travelling in India is, there’s no mention of it at all.
This, I don’t get.
I remember being on a press trip a few years ago into a desperate part of the United States, where jobs were nil, poverty was pretty much a tradition and tourism is viewed as the new hope. During the entire week no mention was made of said suffering until a park ranger made one slip. When asked whether they still stumble upon moonshine stills in the woods, she said, “these days, it’s more likely to be crystal meth labs.”
That one moment of truth brought the whole place to life for me.
Right then I was able to see the people, to share in their experience, to become rooted in what life must be like for them. And this, I feel, is what travel should be about – a sharing of place, its trials and its great tribulations. Not an insulated journey that involves us simply staring out of ourselves, still locked in our own home, despite being thousands of miles away.
Photo by Selena Mora. See more photos of the flooding in Tabasco at http://www.flickr.com/groups/tabascodisaster
Posted in Issues, World | No Comments »
November 15th, 2007 writerspice
Imagine this: you’re standing in a train station, minding your own business, reading a magazine or staring at your fingernails, when all of a sudden the whole place begins to rumble with the arrival of a locomotive. A whistle blows. Steam billows into the air. Everyone watches as the behemoth pulls to a screaming stop, opens its doors and emits a rowdy, eager, excited crowd of bright-eyed revellers.
Ladies and Gentleman, it’s the Santa Claus Express. Buckle up, put away your reading material and get ready for the ride. From where I’m standing, it seems that this is the weekend the holiday madness celebrations officially start.
Here in Orillia, a candle lit procession along our historical main street will start at the Legion on Saturday evening at 6:00 pm. The town crier (yep, we still have one of those), minstrels and carolers will lead everyone to the Opera House, where Father Christmas, the Holly Queen and a bunch of official folk will ring an official start to the season (don’t forget to bring your donation of a non-perishable food item). The next afternoon, Santa is dropping in during the Santa Claus Parade to give a few ho-ho-hos before things really get hectic.
The guy has a busy schedule. At varying times on the same day, he’s also showing up in Oakville, Sudbury, Cambridge, Niagara Falls, Woodstock and Thunder Bay. In Ottawa, this Saturday’s Help Santa Toy Parade, organized by the Fire Fighters’ Association for nearly 40 years, is expected to fulfill its tradition of bringing out thousands who line the streets to give their donations of new toys or money to people collecting along the parade route.
But Santa’s starring appearance on Saturday will happen in the nation’s biggest city, during the world’s largest Christmas parade (warning: very creepy elf on this website).
Started in 1905 as a way to advertise the arrival of Santa at the Eaton’s department store, the Toronto Santa Claus Parade has persevered through two world wars and the end of Eaton’s sponsorship (1982: soon followed by the end of Eaton’s). Along the way, Santa’s been pulled by live reindeer shipped in from Labrador (1913) and brought in by aeroplane (1919). During World War 2, when supplies were scarce, costumes were made out of paper (1939). These days, about half a million people throng the streets to watch a multitude of marching bands and over 20 elaborate floats wind their way through the downtown streets.
Whatever you do this weekend and however you celebrate (or don’t) this time of the year, it’s pretty clear that from here on in, things are gonna get nuts.
Photo by Shopping Diva
Posted in Ontario, Orillia, Seasons | 3 Comments »
November 13th, 2007 writerspice
(Eaten while in Ecuador: Pan-fried Maggots on a Bed of Wild Onions, Served on Banana Leaf. Come to think of it, this was likely gluten-free…)
In my early days of travelling, eating was one of my favourite things. In Italy, a budget breakfast called for fresh olives from the market washed down with delicious cappuccino. In Ecuador, while trekking in the jungle, I sampled fruit that tasted like ice cream along with maggot-like critters harvested from rotten logs (cooked, mind you). Try everything has long been my motto.
But lately, I’ve discovered that I have a not-so-small problem with gluten. And this sensitivity has eliminated my ability to eat bread, anything breaded, anything thickened with flour or flavoured with some suspicious spice mix probably containing some sort of evil wheat. Eating while on the road is now a bit of a trial. It involves lengthy conversations with the wait staff before being told that my choices are limited to two things and the second has dairy, so, well, um, one.
Don’t get me wrong. That one thing is usually pretty good. Maybe it’s chicken with steamed veggies and rice or some such simple thing. But it isn’t the $1,000 bagel currently selling in New York City. And it isn’t that fresh croissant pulled out of an oven in Paris. And it isn’t that village-brewed beer I swilled a whole lot of during my days in the Czech Republic. Nor is it the chicken paprikash my husband and I packed ourselves with while hiking in Hungary… By now you get the point. Who I am becoming became instantly clear to me the last time I hit a Starbucks in some airport in the U.S. Instead of my usual coffee with cream, I ordered a grande-decaf-latte-with-soy. Oh, dear.
After spending so many years in denial, it makes sense that I am now fully grieving the loss of my former easy-going eating ways. On the other end of this, I’m sure, is acceptance. But part of that acceptance is finding places I can go where the chefs and servers are fully aware of this disease that affects an estimated one in every 133 people in North America.
Without gluten, my body feels like it’s brand new. That’s something to love. But so is eating out with gusto again. Here are a few resources I’ve found so far:
- 4D Gluten Free: the Durnford family is selling a table full of gluten free pleasure at the Orillia Farmers’ Market every Saturday. I went last week and stocked up on drop-dead delicious chocolate cake, four-berry pie and a bag full of banana-chocolate chip muffins. It’s now Tuesday and it’s all gone.
- In Traverse City, Michigan, popular riverside 310 Restaurant and Lounge actually has its own gluten-free menu! I wish I’d known that when I was there in September but, then again, I was still in denial (and therefore now have the memory of my last beloved beer).
- And for our next night out in the big city, I’ll be checking out the Canadian Celiac Association’s Toronto chapter’s whole list of restaurants willing and able to cooperate. Some highlights: Il Fornello Restaurant, where gluten-free pizza is always an option. They also mention the Outback Steakhouse chain because of its thorough listing of ingredients and attention to the issue. Who knew?
If you know of more resources or restaurants, please do comment. After all, enjoyable eating is at steak, er, stake!
Posted in Food | 3 Comments »
