Liebster Award 2015

My friend Eeva nominated me for a Liebster Award 2015 for this blog - thanks Eeva!
Alas, as per award stipulations I can't nominate hers back and I don't really browse others' blogs often enough to have a favorite 11, but here are my responses to Wander the World's questions:

1. If you could visit one destination in the world, where would it be? Iceland.  Their culture has been proudly self-contained for ages, and their geography and landscape is dynamic and beautiful, and yet the land is small enough I can perhaps "do it all" in one go.

2. Which book is your favourite and why? "Lamb: The Gospel According to Biff, Christ's Childhood Pal", by Christopher Moore. I find it accessible to anyone who doesn't mind a humorous take on Christ's unaccounted-for years, and it's silly, but also thoughtful and well done.

3. Can you speak another language(s) and if so, which one(s)? A bit of German, enough to get by, and Grade 11 Canadian French, though is a bit rusty.

4. What is the most bizarre food you’ve eaten? "Bizarre" is relative.  I've eaten eight feet of raw stinging nettles in an hour at the Stinging Nettle Eating Championship in Marshwood, England.  They're high in vitamin D and would pair well with a Sauvignon Blanc.

5. Would you travel solo? I prefer travelling solo.  Less people to consult/cater to every decision.

6. What are your 3 essentials you take with you when travelling? Passport.  Water bottle.  Little toy bunny on my bag I can talk to when the going gets rough.

7. Do you prefer sweet or savory foods? Years ago I would've said sweet, but nowadays I find savoury more satisfying, less of that cloying mouth-feel and sugar spike-crash.  I sometimes convince myself that they're more healthy too.

8. Is your preference beers, wines or cocktails? Wine.

9. How did you start blogging? It was recommended as a tip for marketing and exposure to get a career foothold as a 'professional'... in whatever my profession is.  Hmm.  Some folks think I should court the travel mags to see if they'd like to publish my articles - any takers?

10. How many languages can you say “thank you” in? Five.  I can say "cheers" in more.

11. Where have you experienced the most extreme culture shock? Maybe Mexico, as many practices there we would consider unsafe here, especially with cars. Safety features like rear view mirrors and seatbelts and even seats are merely a suggestion!!  Most of my travels have been to countries with cultures similar to mine (Europe, and I'm English blood), so perhaps slight variations in gender roles, how ladies should dress and how macho the guys are. A wise man told me "People are pretty much the same, wherever you go" - the differences are amusing, but the similarities are just human.

Thanks for the nomination!

Silver for the season

As I write this, the grey rains have returned.  When I was younger I always disliked November as "nothing good happens" or ""I have nothing to look forward to", yet now I see it's up to me to make my own fun and make the choice to burn brightly despite the blah.  And so we start winding up for the Christmas season - not the frantic commercialism that'll set in like a panic the week before, but the positive festive aspects. 
One of my most anticipated tasks is decorating a tree.  Big or small, real or fake, it doesn't matter.  I'll decorate anyone's tree who will let me, that way we can enjoy it all December.
So here is one done; she has two steamer trunks full of ornaments accumulated over years that won't all fit onto a tiny tree, so I can pick and choose what I want to use each year.  This year's motif was sparkly: glass, crisp white, shiny silver, soft grey, and a few hits of red to catch the eye.  It'll go with the sparkling wine for her party.

I recalled years ago hearing a German folktale about silver pinecones; while not specifically for Christmas I enjoy the thought of benevolent and charitable spirits in winter.

Silver Pinecones
Once upon a time there was a man and woman living in their home near the forested mountains, and they had many children.  The man worked as a miner, but fell ill and was confined to his bed.  The family soon ran out of money to feed their children, but more pressing was the dwindling firewood to heat their home in the cold nights.  The wife set out into the woods to collect pinecones that would burn brightly and perhaps she could sell for some food.
In the dark woods she was afraid as she began to collect pinecones, and even moreso when one of the forest folk appeared and demanded to know why she was taking his pinecones.  When she explained her situation he suggested she instead collect the pinecones in the next forest over, just a bit further up the mountain.  She climbed there, and was so tired she set her basket down and immediately pinecones rained down around her and filled her basket.
As she carried her full basket back down the mountain she thought the load seemed to get heavier with every step.  When she finally poured out her basket, the pinecones had turned to solid silver!
She had enough to buy food for the whole winter and medicine to heal her husband, and they had so many silver pinecones left that the family was never poor or hungry again.
To this day, many still keep a silver pinecone in their homes for good luck.

And I just found this one today, though a few variations on the tale:
Christmas Spiders
A woman was cleaning her house before Christmas and the spiders around her home fled lest they be swept away.  The watched from high dark corners as she set up the Christmas tree, and when she'd gone to bed they raced along the boughs and excitedly admired the ornaments on the decorated tree, trailing their dusty webs behind them.
When Father Christmas arrived, he was glad to see that the spiders were so happy but knew the woman would be heartbroken to see her tree covered with webs, so with one touch he turned the webs to silver and gold.  The tree was even more beautiful than before.

Return to Bowen + Barnston

November had some fine trips out, but are winding down the travels for now.

One self-imposed quest was to find some challenging geocaches around the northwestern area on Bowen Island, as this was tied in with the last sailing trip of the year it allowed only one day to try, so we soldiered on despite the rain. This was hard, downpour rain that washed out hiking trails, sometimes a fast-moving creek cutting across, and sometimes a long stretch of shallow flood as the runoff from the steep hill chose the trail to be its new creek bed.  Beautiful misty green forest, though we didn't stop for many photos.  As the west coast of BC is a rainforest we can't afford to be too crippled by the weather, nonetheless we were glad to return to the boat, peel off soaking clothes for a wardrobe change then head up to our usual rented 'Summer House' at the Union Steam Ship Company for a warm potluck dinner in front of a wood-burning fireplace.  I am usually stationed right in from of said fire.  An easy end to a gruelling yet triumphant hike.  We're usually only there in March or November, yet the locals insist that it is occasionally dry and sunny there if we came during the summer!

Beach of river silt, soft and fine like flour.

Remembrance Day fell in the middle of the week this year - I could devote a post or page to current events and politics and war, but I don't wish to join the deluge of the media storm, I'm sure you can find another blog for that.  I had a steak omelette at the Skyhawk Restaurant and watched the vintage warplanes take off for their flypast before 11am.  Here we had cool but mild autumn weather, and went cycling around Barnston Island.  I remember the last time we were here, I recall the circuit taking us a lot longer to complete.  This was a pleasant cycle with four geocaches (where I left toy soldiers, to follow the seasonal theme), and a quiet pause at each end of the island.  Ended the day at my brother's house for my nephew's birthday with the family.

Recently we also made baked a large lasagna from scratch, which lasted the three of us for several meals.  With the rising cost of cheese and a half bottle o'wine in the sauce, it's definitely a luxury.  The joy is not only in the eating but in the process of creating, and I think it's a good sign of a healthy friendship if you're able to cook together! 'Tis the season for warm hearty comfort food.

Be not afraid..?

Bear viewed safely from car, across a river with a zoom lens.

Thanksgiving weekend found me fleeing rain in Vancouver and heading back to the Okanagan to spend the holiday with my parents.  Great way to escape the rain for days on end, typical on the coast - in Oliver we just had a cloudburst of hard fat drops that was over briefly.  I was geocaching alone in a wilderness preservation area that edged the US border.  Despite being protected by law and blocked from town mostly by a ridge, I saw and heard no animals here.  Perhaps they were just laying low for the impending rain.
One geocache lead me to a cave perched atop a steep slope of wobbly rocks, and I psyched myself out with thoughts of bears and rattlesnakes.  Save for two ATVs that came and went, there was no one around for miles and only a few would know vaguely where I was if I ran into trouble, and I had no bear spray or gun.  I edged closer to the mouth of the cave where my GPS suggested - even if the cache was inside, I'm not going in there! Then the rain began - I don't care, I'm not going in there! I fussed outside along the slope awkwardly, listening for any sound that I didn't make, poking into holes (is that one lined with fur?? At this point I'd be terrified of a grumpy marmot).  The light and clouds shifted and illuminated further into the cave... which was no deeper than a few feet.  No dark recesses harbouring bears.  No holes for snakes.  Barely big enough for a closet.
With that pivotal information I then examined the area and quickly found the cache.  Having found what I had sought and having other places to be, I felt no need to linger there.
What I felt was not a familiar feeling; I recognized it as the come-down off of fear.  I am not afraid often, or if so it's more like a dull nagging concern, to be noted and weighed carefully.  I am not an adrenaline junkie or even particularly sporty thrill-seeker, I am not extreme (save for perhaps culinary experiences?).  So this made me think on the nature of fear; chiding myself for wasting time being afraid, and yet this wasn't an irrational fear, as there are still bears in the area, close to town fattening up on fruit while they can and I could've possibly encountered one.  My dad says this caution has kept me alive so far.  Perhaps it's better to feel fear than nothing at all - afterwards I noticed the awesome smell of the desert sage and antelope bush more sharply, the breeze on the ridge like a hug from the sky, and it's easy to smile.
For my next trick, stay tuned as I visit Churchill, Manitoba next year, on a quest to find polar bears! Those are much scarier, as they're fearless and will stalk you for miles if they're so inclined.

The next day had a great cycle trip along the river promenade - also saw no bears or snakes.  Easy trail, flat and either paved or well gravelled, with lightly dappled shade trees.  This is my kind of path.  We could see along the hills where the summer's brush fires had been, though the trees were remarkably resilient.  Part of the route back had us on a path that disintegrated at some point, and we let ourselves through into a horse paddock.  Two horses watched us intently and leaned in for hugs.  I ought to hang out with horses more often.

Pre-Thanksgiving peace at Gibsons.

We sailed to Gibsons, which I've discussed before here, for a small pre-Thanksgiving gathering.  Much of what we come for stays the same, though city has granted the proposal for developing a large housing/commercial/conference center along the waterfront, and residents are now moving to court action to protest it.  As a visitor there's only so much I can contribute into this, other than to advise all readers to visit the town before it changes too much (though they wouldn't dare ruin Molly's Reach).  We had dinner at our traditional spot, the Waterfront Restaurant where Art knows our group and is very good to us, then the famous Molly's Reach for breakfast.  We also tried a new café uptown and a Greek restaurant, both of which we were pleased with and would gladly revisit again.  We found a park of networking paths that joined the old waterfront to the 'new' town without the dusty main highway and gruelling slope, so had an afternoon walk in the woods.  I remind myself that I should do this more often.
The trip over forecasted a strong wind so we took the cautious inner passage around Bowen Island, and found it dead calm there.  The sky was a flat grey that blended into the hill islands of Howe Sound like a watercolor painting.  No waves, just water like a lake, broken by a silent seal head cutting through.  The return trip gave us a fine breeze all the way from one marina to another, we only needed engine to dock. 

Rafting down the Thompson

'Tis my friend's vacation time; he figured he'd take time off and yet had little desire to go or do anything far from home - while every other travel bug I know is screaming to get as far away from the daily routine as possible.  "Why sit by a pool drinking in Mexico when I can do the same thing here?"  Maddening, yes I know!
Yet he came up with this bright gem, to go white water rafting on the Thompson River up the canyon here in BC.  He'd never been rafting before.  I'd only been rafting once with my mother down Montana's Snake River when I was 14, so I was eager to go again.
Many were invited, yet only he and I went.  We departed at 6:30am to reach the Kumsheen Rafting Resort near Lytton by 10am.  It was nice to see the sunrise.  A few kilometers south of Hope we narrowly avoided hitting a bear as it ran across the highway, it ran into the truck behind/beside us but I didn't see it on the road so I hope it's okay.  It made me think that everyone everywhere should have a number for wildlife rescue saved into their phones, because how do you search for that quickly on a highway? Just out of Hope we encountered fog; deep river valley, autumn morning fog.  It slowed our progress, the turn of roads revealing just fragments of scenery like a story unfolding only as fast as a storyteller can tell it; a few close rocks or trees here and there, all that drop off steeply into grey below over the edge of the road.  I knew we'd have a different view coming back home the other way, so I enjoyed it for what it was.
We got to the rafting campground in time, set up tent, went rafting; we'd got the paddle+motor package and got both boats to ourselves since no one else signed up for that day, so we paddled the slower parts in the morning and had a great view of the sculpted canyon walls and green/grey water and it was still pretty quiet, some easy rapids.  We saw a lone female Merganser, one of the few waterfowl that don't mind the fast-moving water.  Saw an eagle, and a dying salmon that lingered near our oars.  It was a a gentle beginning to the day yet I felt giddy.  This is just so nice!
Lunch break was at their kitchen/dining hall facilities, simple make-your-own tortilla wraps.  Perhaps it would've been more elaborate if more guests had been there, but this was fresh and simple and one wouldn't want a heavy weight in their stomach going over the next stretch of white water.  I had tea and that suits me fine.

After lunch we were on the larger power boat, which just ploughed right through the cresting waves, I laughed so much I couldn't keep my mouth shut and kept getting a mouthful of water, tasted clean and wild.  Water held on my eyelashes that I could only brush away once we'd cleared the rapids, so much I saw with one eye open and just enjoyed feeling the bow of the boat drop and get pummeled.  My friend had a GoPro camera recording on his helmet so I trusted the footage would be fine to review later.  For now is just feeling the thrill.

The trip ended where the Thompson meets the Fraser.  I'm sure that had we paddled the silt-brown Fraser that water wouldn't have tasted as nice.  A van returned us to the resort.
The resort and town of Lytton itself is busy for the River Days on the labour day long weekend, but alas we were at the end of season.  The hot tub didn't seem as warm as I'd hoped, the restaurant was closed and we drove further onto another sleepy town of Spences Bridge to find food after 7pm.  Retired to our tent early for lack of anything else to do, but didn't sleep as the trains on either side of the canyon ran frequently as well as the large trucks with their engine brakes.  In the morning while we found a couple of geocaches in Lytton, a woman at the visitor's center confirmed you'd have to be quite far from town to escape the sound of the trains.

View from the back of our campsite, looking left...

and looking to the right.  Note how close the train tracks are.

As in our Sasamat lake floating excursions, we are always on the lookout to refine and improve for next time.  Next time we'd like to come during the River Days, when there's a live music stage in the center of town.  Next time we'd like to have more people to get the group discount and play cards with in the evening and make big-batch camp cooking worthwhile.  Next time we'd like to be far from trains. 
But I was happy with this time, just the way it was.

Out east to Nova Scotia

Thick sculpted clouds as our plane lands.

Late summer finds another trip to Nova Scotia began with a tight weekend schedule including a wedding on McNabs Island, followed by a casual reunion of high school friends, and then a mad dash across the province (yes it's a skinny province) to a small, beautiful old town, Annapolis Royal.

McNabs Island
Despite being in busy Halifax Harbour, McNabs Island seems like a very vast and remote space when you're there, quiet and wild.  Perhaps because it's only accessible by boat (limited ferry service, mostly private arrangements), and there's no facilities for visitors once there, just a simple tenting campsite and hiking trails.  It's a provincial park with rich history including a 1920s carnival, a soda pop factory, a cholera quarantine/cemetery, and several military bases.  The old building foundations marry into the surrounding nature like poetry, accessible to anyone who discovers them.  We had great weather for a friend's wedding and took a brief, easy geocache walk before ensuring that we were on the dock to then be on the dinghy to then be on the boat that would return us to shore.  Great way to start off our touring/exploring vacation.  Being a rather long island, we haven't hiked even half the distance so far so we will be sure to revisit sometime.

Annapolis Royal

                       
We stayed at one of the many bed+breakfasts here - the houses are gorgeous Victorian homes, many with heritage status, and I suppose the best way to keep up maintenance costs and property taxes is to turn them into businesses as well.  Annapolis Royal is in a geographically ideal end of the fertile Annapolis Valley (formerly apples, now increasingly wine) and a shallow harbour.  Annapolis Royal started out as a French fort/trading post Port Royal followed by a Scottish settlement across the water where the main town is now, both that have been fought over and captured by the French and English many times over.

After geocaching around the French Basin marsh, we had a very nice dinner that served local seafood with a European flair, hence I got scallops+spaetzle with gruner veltliner wine.

The highlight here was a graveyard tour of the garrison cemetery in Fort Anne, hosted by a high member of the historical society, who issued each of us candle lanterns and led us carefully around the grounds.  Easy walk on a warm night, this wasn't a spooky ghost tour, but rather a fantastic delivery that really brought the history to life through the stories told by these headstones.  Informative and engaging, this is a must-see to gain a full appreciation of the town, that really sets it apart from any other small town of funky boutiques and art galleries.


Then we had a day or two rest at our home base in Sackville, near Halifax. Time to chase around friends and family and scheduling and plannning our whereabouts, with a brief bout of bushwhacking geocaching.  Then onwards further northwest;

Spencers Island, Cape D'Or, and Joggins
I will treat all three of these together, as that visit was a very brief blur: we had intended to meet someone at home who wasn't there, and had commitments bookending this mini-trip.  It was late afternoon by the time we got to the Masstown Market, an excellent place for lunch, snacks, groceries, imports, crafts and gourmet foodie delights.  'Twas a hot afternoon I had spent geocaching, dehydrated and eaten alive by ravenous mosquitoes, so I felt instantly restored by a margarita ice cream.   Mmmmm, creamy limey goodness...

This is the last landmark as we depart from the main highway and take the old highway 2 then onto the old 209  that follows the coast of the Minas Basin.  Here are tiny towns all seemingly similar to one another with one road in/out, a church and volunteer fire hall, convenience store, and not much else.  Signs warned us to be sure we had enough gas, as the next stop wouldn't be for a long drive.  These were feeder towns to the larger town of Springhill that was a coal mining town.  The land is scrubby low-bush blueberries, I'm not sure if anyone owns them, and lush green forests over hills.  The shore drops off in cliffs of layered ancient geology that was once part of Africa, and we lost sight of the land on the other side of the Minas Basin as the sun softened the horizon.  It seemed like the end of the earth (the 'end' would be Cape Chignecto Provincial Park, where a friend was out on a camping trip at that time.  More on him and his mushrooms later).

We arrived at our B+B at Spencers Island - a small community on the mainland that views Spencers Island itself, which looks quite uninhabited - at around 7pm, the owner was friendly and helpful and there's no restaurant to eat in that town at that hour, or the next town Advocate Harbour, so she called ahead to a fella that runs the restaurant at the lighthouse and told him we'd be on our way.  "Be kind, he's understaffed tonight". What followed was a twisty drive on gravel/dirt road in dying daylight with the wall of fog rolling in, ending in a lighthouse that because of the foghorn we could hear more than see, and a restaurant that shined like a warm beacon for us.  The poor fella inside was indeed very busy but his meals were excellent, I had a poached salmon with dill sauce and vegetables, and shared a dessert of rhubarb crumble.

Looking west, same cliff, less spooky.

Looking west.

A hot steamy shower soothed my mosquito bites.  Bed felt good.
Morning was a homecooked breakfast and a walk along the rocky beach while the tide was out, then to drive again the road we took last night to the lighthouse to geocache and enjoy the view.
Back to the 209 as is comes away from the coast and skirts the provincial park and wilderness area, turning north.  Barely any other traffic, no wildlife, just green and a couple of small communities.  Onto Joggins.

Joggins is a slightly bigger town, with more than one road, and most notably a state-of-the-art environmentally green building housing the museum for the famous Joggins fossil cliffs.  We hit the beach and follow along - but not too closely - cliffs that are steadily chipping away with every season or storm, revealing more fossils.  Not every one is a dinosaur of course, this is from the Coal Age of ancient swamp and sea bed and our eyes adjust to the rocks we recognize what to look for, the darkish stains on grey that are patterns of grass or other plant structure.  Some were giant slabs we could walk on, these fossils are protected but there are many similar beaches around where I could just imagine some homeowner loading up her 4x4 with slabs of fossils to use as decorative paving stones for her walkway...
Minding our time we hit the highway and made it back to Sackville in time for dinner reservations for my obligatory Nova Scotia lobster dinner.  Love me some lobster.

After this we went to the cottage in Chester, and a cabin... in the middle of nowhere, sorta close to New Ross.  This is time to see family and had a great time moving slowly without much rush at all.  Biggest note here was the wonderful summer storm at the cabin, with much booming thunder, hard angry rain and a peculiar and uneasy hue of yellow in the sky that no one's camera could truly capture.  You just had to be there.

Lunenburg

A quick drive from the cottage bring us to Lunenburg, home of the Bluenose that graces the face of our 10 cent piece.  Once a great racer she's been resurrected for sailing tours at great expense and plagued by safety codes bringing an ancient icon into the modern age.  I got to walk aboard while she was in harbour.  Lunenburg was a main shipbuilding port for dories as well, the red boatsheds a famous landmark.
The houses are mostly heritage homes, all done in bright ice cream colors that cut through even the foggiest days.  We had good weather while we were there as the storm had passed.  We had beer+oyster happy hour at the Old Fish Factory then crossed the street for sushi at the Rumrunner Inn and Restaurant because they advertised a dessert that caught the eye. Alas the dessert was made daily and sold out by the time we got there at barely dinnertime, yet the sushi was fresh and well composed and the service was excellent.  I'll be sure to note them for my next visit.


(Big) Tancook Island

A small island community with ferry service but we took a private boat over, making great time in favorable sailing conditions.  I loved just listening to the gentle lap of hull cutting through water, I don't even need music or conversation, just that tranquil not-quite-silence.
Great weather for a walk and plenty of geocaches for all ranges of skill level.  The mosquitoes hid in wait for us in the woods just off the dry hot road.  Met two characters on the island that were as different as night and day.  Quirky, friendly island folk.  Had scallops+chips, in years past they'd been battered but are now just lightly pan-fried.  The primary restaurant serves no alcohol, so hope you weren't hoping for beer on a hot day.

Leisurely evening at the cottage, then found ourselves in an annoying gas shortage that had us scrambling to find fuel to get back to Debert - right near Masstown where we'd been just a week before - the only place  private/recreational pilots can fly from in NS.  We flew over the old 2 and 209 we'd just driven by car, but the further we progressed west we found more cloud.  By the time we had abandoned the planned route the cloud had found us and swallowed us altogether, much like someone who doesn't like dogs tries avoiding dogs, only to be pounced on by a friendly happy slobbery one.  Yep, we're in a cloud now.  We spotted land again over the Five Islands without crashing into them, and a good time was had by all!

Grand Pre

Bounce back across the province to Grand Pre, we're always glad to visit a family out there.  They have an old farmhouse that's been renovated just enough to be a beautiful functional mix of modern convenience and proud heritage.  Their yard is huge with plenty of gardens for veggies and herbs, grapes along the trellis, and chickens.  When I visit them I somehow rekindle the thought that I too can DIY from garden to table all sorts of ambitious projects!!!, though realistically I'm sure they just make it *look* easy!
The men went out shopping for local corn at one roadside stand and to get nice steaks from his favorite butcher, and we ladies left them to catch up on the year and reminisce about college while we went out geocaching.  We'd introduced their daughters to geocaching last summer, and they're a pleasure to have.  We found three geocaches and were foiled by a fourth before we returned for dinner.

This friend has gone camping at Cape Chignecto and came across wild chanterelle mushrooms, happily harvesting plenty an having them positively ID'd by the farmer's market expert, that was our highlight of dinner.  Lightly sauteed in shallots and butter and balanced on baguette rounds.  Then onto salad and corn barbecued outside, seated at the backyard picnic table.  Likely the most well-crafted dinner of our trip.
Even the coffee in the morning was foamy and strong and unmistakably _coffee_ that I wouldn't bastardize with heaps of anything-to-make-coffee-not-taste-like-coffee.  Breakfast was fresh eggs from the hens that lay more eggs than the family of four can eat, so we were sent home with a dozen as well as some of their homegrown garlic.

Our friend made many of the information signs posted around Grand Pre, we drove out to see them and it was great to see how much of this land that had been brilliantly reclaimed from the sea by aboiteau construction, likely the largest endeavour outside of Holland.  We sought a geocache that was at the historic site at Grand Pre, I'd never been there before but it's a beautiful spot loaded with the sad history of the Acadian deportation.  This was inadvetantly our third UNESCO heritage site on this trip.  Great to walk the grounds and enjoy the gardens, the church there is a very pretty token though isn't a functional church and I'm told it's about 1/5 the size of the original.  Someday I'll get around to reading Longfellow's epic poem "Evangeline".

So with a couple of days left winding down in our trip we retire to the home in Sackville and attended a lecture in the downtown Halifax library on natural disaster prediction (mostly flooding) and preparedness.  The library is a newer building, open and bright, and as I left the lecture walking past the small selection of books and magazines in foreign languages, it occurred to me that I like the sense of libraries.  In an age where media is pushing opinions on you and advertisements are pushing products on you, here is a peaceful oasis where no one idea/agenda demands any more attention than another.  They're all just spines of books facing you, not splashy billboards or glaring lights, and you have to seek them out for them to be discovered.  Books are displayed like offerings all free for the taking, that may or may not catch your fancy, ready to be found or smoothly passed by.  As well, lectures are interesting and free, and the staff are eager to help.  I should spend more time in libraries.  I tried relaying this on to someone else, who brought up that libraries will let you take e-books out on your account and they can be viewed straight from home, no need to come to the library at all! - I think he missed my point.
We ended the trip with a weekend at the cottage in Chester, the weather is sunny and we enjoyed the pool. Then I returned to Vancouver on the heels of a big windstorm, typical autumn weather. 

On the water in August.

Another quick post - places to go, people to see.  The first two weekends of August included a trip to Newcastle Island and Sasamat Lake, both of which I've posted entries here last year.  Some things change, but mostly stay the same, a sort of tradition.

Bright moon on a purple sky.

The sail over was fairly smooth for the most part, we had a warm night and a bright moon in Silva Bay after our hike/geocaching afternoon.  Our sailing trip to Newcastle Island was marked by a visit with guests from England on their tour of BC who joined us at the Dinghy Dock Pub for dinner, and by finally reaching a geocache up a tree that's been taunting me for my past two trips to the island - in plain sight and easily reached by brave+limber people.  This time we came prepared with a spare sailing halyard and too-skinny rope ladder.  I'm glad I had help for that one, I couldn't have done it alone.  And now I never have to do it again!

Sculpted rocks and sea asparagus.

We got two more geocaches around Protection Island, and I found some sea asparagus that is a salty burst eaten raw and a great addition to our foil-wrapped veggie packets we grill on the sea-BBQ.  We saw otters, raccoons, kingfishers and the ever-present purple martins, and spooked a deer on Protection Island.  We were next to the main party boat, and had a casual stream of people lounging around for beers and snacks.
The trip to Sasamat Lake had been moved twice this summer because of grey and/or rain, despite our hot blue sky weather coming unusually early this year.  Got the watermelon, and pineapple this year, sandwiches from Big Star Sandwich Co ("which will ruin you for sandwiches from anywhere else"), assorted snacks and chocolate-covered cookies that melted, beer+cider.  Music on ipod w/speaker stuffed in his sandal, timer on to reapply sunscreen.  Returned home for barbeque chicken dinner as good as any restaurant - my friend's a fantastic cook.

A hot and busy July

Oh July... what have I done..? Nothing!
Which is  to say, nothing grand or life-altering.  Just nothing particularly noteworthy to post here.  For my Mexico trip that lasted sixteen days, it took me four months to report on it in manageable chunks.  Let's keep this post brief.
July has been reconnecting with friends and family as much as I can.  I'm still missing some, our schedules just aren't lining up right.  Such is life.
I saw my friend who's been travelling for the past six months, we went for tea at our usual tea place Shaktea down on Main St.  The next weekend she and a friend prepared dishes from countries they'd traveled, namely eastern Europe and India, with exotic names that are lost on me now but all were delicious.
I saw my parents out in their desert - it's already hot enough everywhere in BC now, let alone a desert.  There I was hiking/geocaching for six hours along the White Lake/Mahoney Lake loop trail, a fine afternoon both challenging (the grade is a terrible grind if you go clockwise!) and rewarding.  I saw a bear.
I saw my friend in White Rock, a welcoming oasis from the city-life.
I hiked/geocached more up around Cypress mountain, finishing up a multi-stage geocache I'd been ticking away at for a few days.  I saw a coyote.
I attended a Pink Martini concert; brilliant musicianship and great vocals, of festive jazzy/bossa nova style that invited us to form a congo line onstage, and a Keb Mo concert which is probably the most positive/optimistic blues I've ever heard.
I attended a gathering of geocachers for a Winter Games - in the summer.  That was a fantastic time and I laughed and cheered much.  Kudos to the organizers for their creativity of these snow-themed events without snow (wearing milk jugs on our feet for a 'snowshoe' race?!)
I have emails trickling in from some faraway friends.  Hello out there!
Little trips and events, all enjoyable.  Now I plan and prepare for August, which will be travelling farther elsewhere.

Mexico, Part IV: winding down, then home.

And onward, south.
It didn't take me long to catch a ride coming down this coastal road, with few towns/villages along the way most traffic would head straight to Lazaro Cardenas.  Including this sleek, clean white car with a well put-together man driving with a gloved hand, and shiny crystal rosary from the rear-view mirror.
Maybe he's a drug lord, higher up on the food chain! Or maybe he's an angel..?
Turns out he's a captain in the Mexican Navy.  He's got a frigate! How freakin' cool is that??

The drive was several hours, but in daylight and I was awake for it so I could see everything I'd missed on the dark bus ride up a few days before.  Dear driver echoed the cautions of the Red Zone, and pointed out the subtle roadchecks by whatever armed authorities.  We had no trouble.  I guess I don't look like a druggie.  He spoke fine English and we talked all about our families, his work and Mexico.  We stopped for a beer at a little roadside stand, with a spectacular view of the coastline.  Said hi to Mary again.
He dropped me off in Lazaro Cardenas wishing me well, and I continued walking and catching several shorter rides.  I was glad to have good maps of Mexico loaded onto my GPS, it was so useful for navigating in and out of urban areas so I don't continue on for miles down the wrong highway.  One young fella with no English possibly mistook me for a prostitute (haha, nope!), and disappointedly dropped me off with a warning about 'other' people in this part of town.  No problem, got another ride shortly with a father+son pair that barely spoke at all but got me onto the old parallel road to the highway that I could walk on and carried me to an intersection in the desert they were turning off on.  I kept walking.  Now there was barely any traffic and no towns, and I'm running out of water in the heat of the day and _almost_ concerned about that, while optimistically following the little blue arrow on my GPS screen.
Then a trucker pulls over, sweet! I've had great luck with truckers in other countries.  This one had a full bunk with three other guys there, and I think they just wanted to practice their English and have some company.  They took me as far into Zihuatanejo as they could and still manage to turn the big rig around and back to their destination.

Zihuatanejo 
First off, find an internet spot to inform loved ones of my whereabouts, then find a geocache in town to drop more geocaching trackables, then find a BEER and some fish tacos (I still want seafood on the coast).  In that order.  Then maybe I'll figure out where I'm sleeping tonight.

Having been vandalized several times the geocache is now held behind the counter of Los Banditos and you have to request it.  The staff probably saw me coming and knew exactly what for; exhausted and thirsty, full packs of gear, clutching my little electronic device and having that proud I-found-it! look.  I greatly appreciated a chair to sit and a table to spread my assorted bits and pieces onto, a full-on blaaaaahhh.  Pause, and stare at it a bit.  Nice bar owner brought me a tall glass of very cold water I was so glad for, it kickstarted my brain.  Sign geocache logbook, inspect treasure items and swap/leave some of my own.  A plate of delicious pico de gallo and tostada chips appeared on my table quietly.  I spoke with the manager inquiring after cheap fish tacos and a cheap place to stay.  He kindly offered a menu but admitted they weren't cheap, and I agreed.  A waitress recommended two hotels, one that her boyfriend worked at.  They also said that they would have live music on later that evening.  They let me keep my bag safely tucked away behind the bar till I can find a place to settle (and cheap fish tacos), and I looked forward to the music later.

I found the beach first, and noted it looked nothing like in the movie.  In fact I think that bay looked more like Faro de Bucerias I'd come from.  Someone told be later that the script used the place name but likely filmed in some US tropical beach, like the Virgin Islands, which I suppose makes sense.  Zihuatanejo is paired with neighboring Ixtapa, a planned resort town that from what I gather can give a luxurious vacation but many tourists want a slightly more authentic experience of this country, so they gravitate towards the old town, which in turn has grown up to accommodate their needs and thus not nearly as 'authentic' as I've encountered here.  Plenty of visiting tourists, snowbirds, and retired ex-pats from America and Canada, all easily speaking English and having adopted this town as their own and were happy to give directions.  They surely figured I must be new here, as I hadn't adopted the typical sandals yet.  This likely would've been a good spot to start my Mexico trip to get my feet wet, but as is it was a gentler way to wind down my trip.  I followed some wafting music through streets to a band performing at an Italian restaurant, that manager was extra-extra friendly with no sense of personal space and rather grabby (perhaps a cultural quirk from wherever he's from?) and was smoothly inviting himself into seeing me later.  Haha, nope!

Still in search of fish tacos, the locals informed me the best place was at the fish section of the market, which was now closed by evening.  Perhaps fish tacos are for breakfast/lunch, while the day's catch is fresh.  I had an order of shaved donair-meat tacos, a bit deflated but hungry for hot cheap food.
Still navigating streets with GPS, I headed back to Los Banditos and noticed a small burger grill on the corner, and I saw a sign above saying they have fish tacos, although now I'd just eaten.  I will note this place for future use.  Coming closer for inspection, the fella working there said he'd noticed me passing by earlier, because he sees everything from his street corner.  Apparently I walk very quickly and determined over the same streets repeatedly, and he was curious what I was doing, so I told him, which turned into telling him all about my travels so far.  Since I hadn't arranged a place to stay yet, he offered I could stay at his place, so I came home with him at the end of his shift at around midnight.  I picked up my bag from Los Banditos, and was sorry I'd missed the live music which had finished by then.
Caught a cab with my new burger-flipper friend to his place.  He wants the hippie lifestyle living off his simple burger-flipping job and making jewelry and administering tattoos.  He's willing to let his skin be an experimental canvas for anyone just starting out in tattooing, so is covered in doodles that likely don't really _mean_ anything.  He even has the currently-not-working VW van in his driveway, for a someday road trip.  His dog's name translates to a colloquial "whatever", and fit the easygoing dog's personality well.  His place had no running water, so bathing was more of a simple wipe-down in the shower stall with a bowl+bucket drawn from the in-suite reservoir.  He slept on a low cot and he set up a massage table to be my bed, it was high and stark but when I'm tired it doesn't matter.

The next day he negotiated getting the day off work to be my tour guide, and we hit the beach.  It was quite a walk along a promenade that petered off into sand or road at Playa La Ropa, then over some rough rocks to Playa Las Gatas.  The sand here is as fine as milled flour, and I indulged in a rare occasion of barefooted-ness.

This dog demolishes coconuts too.

And then we went swimming! I am not much of a water spirit and haven't swam in the ocean since I was a kid, but this was a warm sheltered tropical bay that was more like a bathtub.  It was fun to bob along the waves caused by powerboats, and I could have spent all afternoon there.  We threw rocks for his intent dog, who would dive down to retrieve them.  I'm surprised he doesn't chip a tooth.

We toured an abandoned beach resort.  I'm not sure whether it's from poor construction methods or the nature of climate and weather here, but buildings and structures seem to age much more quickly than in Vancouver, this place had been closed for only a few years.  Still not sure who owns the property, it's likely purchased and private and maybe we were trespassing, but no one noticed... Not sure what future plans are for it either.  It's a waste to see it just decay.  

I'd mentioned before my craving for seafood, and he'd managed to get two snapper which he grilled at work.  He had an arrangement with friends at another food establishment to exchange making meals for each other (a burger man must get tired of looking at burgers all day), so they cooked up some sole and rice+beans+salad.

The next day we hit the beach again but just as far as Playa La Ropa, he was looking for a friend to play beach volleyball with.  Through any manner of connections or past associations, he seemed to know everyone in town and was a bit of a local celebrity.  One such friend of his offered a green coconut, which he proceeded to then hack off the top with what looked like an automotive tailpipe.  I drank my fill and the rest of coconut water was then incorporated into a mojito-type drink later back at the burger joint.  I spent most of my time there perched on a stool chatting with others; his friends, customers, locals, just anyone.  I heard some strong opinions on the American president and economy that flirted with conspiracy theories.  I can entertain all sorts of opinions either to learn from, adopt, or simply to entertain.  I also got wind of a girl who worked at the hostel who would read tarot, and since my usual tarot-reading friend would be away for our usual birthday ritual of tarot+tea, I'd visit her tomorrow before I leave.
My last day there I found my way to the hostel, which looks like a great funky place I'd stay at if I hadn't lucked into staying with the local.  Got my tarot read, that'll give me something to chew on for a while.
The all-round summary card for focus this year will be Patience.
On my way back a hanger-on tried to steer me into the bars.  His entire English repertoire consisted of "What's you're name?" "Where you from?", followed promptly with "Ohmigod!", to which I expected some bizarre coincidence or something relevant to follow... Nope. He then repeated these with seemingly no recognition that I'd answered these questions.  I have a feeling that despite his best efforts this conversation is headed nowhere.  Minor irritation.  I think from now on whenever I hear "Ohmigod!" it'll remind me of this guy.  The only time it was fitting what when a cat scampering from a trash can startled him.
Back to the burger joint, wait for my host to finish his shift, caught a cab back to his place to retrieve my bag and he escorted me to the bus station to see me off.  If I had known that I'd have ended up on the west coast I'd have booked my return flight from the airport right there, but the fee to alter flights would've likely been more, or at least comparable.  By this time I had arrived at the bus station the slightly cheaper bus had filled up and I had to catch an unnecessarily uber-comfy one for $735 Mxn that leaves a few hours later.  I found that very annoying - though really I just scolded myself for leaving it too late.  My host just cheerily pointed out that as least it'll be nicer to sleep on, what a great attitude.  We parted well and I waited alone among the crowd, mostly just hating these bus stations further for having no clocks posted for the public, and this particular bus for being late (learned later it was delayed out of Ixtapa, but no one could tell me that), and those security guards for just telling me to "Go sit".
Patience.  That which will be is already in the works, slowly becoming. Desired results hopefully, eventually.  I'm in the right place and I've paid my fare and can't make the bus move faster, so now will just Go Sit.

Mexico City
The bus fare included a premade snack, a sandwich, some cookies, water and juice, and bag of chips.  I ate that and slept as I could throughout the night.  We had some mechanical failure, I'm not sure where we were along the way.  Stopped at security checkpoints and toll booths with no problems.  Arrived in Mexico City around 10am-ish.  I managed to get their Skytrain figured out alright, and was glad 5 pesos was a lot cheaper and less traffic than the I took when I first arrived to weeks ago.  I think travel companies recommend taking a cab because they assume visitors have more luggage than I do.

View from hostel kitchen balcony - left, the Catedral.

View from hostel kitchen balcony - Zocalo Square, big flag.

I arrived at the hostel that my Zihua host recommended, found easily just where he said it would be, and in a central and popular area Zocalo; boasting the Palacio Nacional on one side and the Catedral Metropolitana on another, a large bare central square with a huge Mexican flag the military procession raise and lower daily.

Aah, a civilized cup of coffee in my new lodging. 

The hostel was like any other HI I had encountered in other countries, the familiarity a great relief.  I know the drill.  Friendly receptionist that spoke English and likely several other languages, and likely not from this country and is just working his way around his own travels.  I was early for the 2pm check-in time, so they put my bag in safe storage and I could roam freely.  Linens provided.  Free internet computers with no time limit - now in my last day I can finally write something intelligible emails and spend some time to find the apostrophe key on Spanish keyboards without carefully watching the pay-as-you-go clock.  Communal kitchen and fridge, with guests' groceries in bags clearly labeled with name and date - if I had looked further I would've likely found the donation bin of free food, a collection of leftover ingredients and condiments that the desperate can scrape together a meal from (any seasoned traveller has been there at some time).  Here had a coffee maker with a continual pot of free coffee, so I enjoyed that from the kitchen's balcony that overlooks the square, then another guest offered me an enchilada his cousin had given him to take home with him, nice lunch.  There's even a rooftop patio with a bar, and that'll serve breakfast tomorrow 8-10am.
When I checked in to my dorm room I had a shower.  Shower felt good.  Top bunk as always.
The hostel also had a posted calendar of events, a good introduction to the city and fun activities to keep one from being bored if just killing time for whatever reason.  Today was a free guided walking tour of the main market, and after that a guacamole-making contest.  Sure, I'm game.

The market is absolutely huge, and crammed full of vendors so I'm glad to have had a guide, who was gathering ingredients for the guacamole tonight.  Even just the produce section was enormous, many vendors selling the same items and it would've taken me all day to find the best quality for the best price.  There were sections for accessories and apparel, hair products, iphone covers and decals and assorted baubles.  Down one alley we found the religious icons and folk remedies, amulets, books, herbs..maybe Santeria? There was some dead animal skinned and stretched over a stick, I have no idea what that would be for.  I'll spare posting the photo here.  Plenty of little ceramic Dia de los Muertos ceramic skulls.  I got a little Mary of Guadalupe, seeing as how she'd been following me throughout my trip.  Down one street we found the livestock, pens of baby goats and tightly crated chickens, doves, and rabbits.  The vendors made a happy show of their hot and cramped animals for us tourists.  That's one of the cultural norms that I found disturbing, so I hurried on past that.  I hope someone gives these animals a loving home or a merciful end.

Mango beer.  I love mango.

Fried grasshoppers.  Salt + light oil.

Spicy crispy fish.  Try not to look 'em in the eye.

Guacamole, in a killer turtle bowl.

A full meal of snacks.

La Cucaracha.

Back at Zocalo we went to a bar that had a great selection of craft beers, and complimentary appies for our group.  I had a sort of mango-flavoured radler, very mild and fruity, and the appies were dried/fried small fish with the heads still on, and fried grasshoppers.  Also had elegant crispy tostada rolls with hibiscus flower filling, guacamole served in a heavy stone turtle bowl that one could use as a weapon, a sort of soup with cheese that we were all invited to try, and a flaming shot of kahlua+tequila called the Cucaracha.
After that we returned to the upstairs bar at the hostel and dove into the guacamole competition.  I was expecting some sort of educational instruction or guidelines maybe, but we were just given the ingredients and expected to sort out the ratios in a free-for-all to grab the cilantro before one person hogged it all for himself... our guide was the judge, and no I didn't win.  We all hung out on the couches and I wandered back to bed.  I'd had enough late nights.  One girl I'd been talking with on the walking tour came in later and quietly slunk out with her bags to spend the night in the boys' dorm.  Another girl came in at 3am with great ruckus, perhaps she's new at this whole communal-living courtesy thing, or else was so tired as to not give a damn anymore.  We've all been there.

Next morning was my last day here, I had breakfast on the rooftop and slowly the party animals surfaced back to daylight.  I checked out of my room and bags back into storage, then onto explore town.  I went geocaching around Zocalo and Alameda, and a tour guide outside the Palacio de Bellas Artes said there would be a free admission and tour at 1pm.  Very well, I shall return then.  I returned to the hostel, spent some time on the internet trying to pick seats for my flight and decided this would all be easier at the airport in person.  Returned at the appointed hour for the tour of the beautiful building and took photos for my theater-loving friend, and although I couldn't understand the presentation that was Spanish it seemed to be engaging for others.  I got that the curtain is all glass commissioned by Tiffany of New York, and the Art Deco interior had a patriotically Mexican flavour, like featuring cactus and agave instead of papyrus reeds that idolized exotic ancient Egypt.

Mosaic and fresco.

Stained-glass stage curtain, depicting the Valley of Mexico.

A sort of Montezuma-looking Jesus figure?

Prickly pear cacti, Art Deco style.

After that I visited the Catedral, the largest in Latin America.  It's a bit overwhelming, partially from the huge scale but also that it is absolutely crammed floor to ceiling with stuff - every structural element carved and gilded, flowers fruit and leaves, statues of Mary and Christ in every incarnation, as well as converted rulers and assorted saints, and some important persons' bones in a glass case.  Perhaps I was in the wrong mindset or just don't belong there, but I didn't find anything to particularly resonate with me.  Meh. 
I had glowing sand and a brilliant moon as the surf thundered on the shore.
And with that I decided it's time to go.  Done Mexico, at least for now, and don't need to linger further.

Over and over and over...

I got my bag from the hostel storage and the coat-check fella gave me directions to the airport.  Yes I'm walking.  Yes it's a long way.  And I walked, with my handy GPS to guide me.  I've got all evening, my flight doesn't leave till after 11pm.  Any trepidation about travel advisories I've moved well beyond now, I don't need the Skytrain or the cabs.  Away from Zocalo the melancholy, hypnotic tune of a busker with a sort-of hurdy-gurdy instrument faded, that repetative tune having wafted through the square morning till dark.  Colonial city blocks with high-end stores gave way to dingier buildings, but still in better condition than the villages I'd seen along my way.  I passed through neighbourhoods, talking to no one, sky darkening, getting hungry, the sound of airplanes is getting closer.  I reachd the airport with plenty of time to spare and get to the ticket counters to sort out my seating.  Done.  I passed over the walkway back to the street to a tiny taco stand and asked if I could get anything for my last few coins - from experience I know the currency exchange won't take coins, so I saved my bills to convert back to CAD, I was quite proud to have some funds leftover after my time here!  I got a singular chorizo taco, and heaped on the veggies and beans and rice.

My last meal in Mexico.

Back to the airport I waited, taking this time to clean out my papers and receipts.  Patience.  Gave a spare bottle of water to a woman waiting, I couldn't bring it through security anyway.  I passed through security when I could.  On the other side there was the duty-free and a woman sampling out tequila, more shops of souvenirs I don't need.  Then we boarded the plane and flew home, during which I tried to sleep but had a brutal sunburn from Zihua on my back that was starting to peel and was terribly itchy.  I squirmed the whole time, the fella next to me likely thought I had worms.


Vancouver was clear and cold, a far cry from living in my bathing suit bottoms+wrap for the past week!
Strangely enough while unpacking I couldn't seem to find my envelope o'money that had been in my money belt for the entire trip.  I know I had it at the MEX airport, and suspect it got lost in the shuffle between three airports and two planes, and juggling customs documents and passports and whatnot.  A bit annoying, but since I'd allocated those funds for my time in Mexico then it's not so bad that it's gone, just not willfully _spent_.  Makes up for all the free rides I lucked into (and that I'm not a big tipper), and maybe it'll be a much-needed boon for whoever finds it.

* * * * *

Thanks everyone for your patience with my Mexico entries,  I hope you enjoyed them.