While waiting to meet up with a friend of mine after her various appointments, I was geocaching around her (and what used to be my) neighbourhood of Marpole. Wandering over the cyclist-tolerant-but-intended-for-cars bridge to Sea Island, I found a cache with a peculiar prefix in its title - CoRGQ - and that evening I checked online to find it was part of a series planted around our neighbouring city of Richmond:
Each cache container has a secret word, collect all 30 words from the 30 caches around the city in a passport that can be turned into the Nature Center for a limited edition geocoin! While supplies last!
Now those that know me know that even silly little tokens can be a great motivation for me to try, with all my drive and stubbornness and dedication and effort. I really don't need another awarded _thing_ in my life, to clean or keep or lose, nor even the bragging rights that I've completed a task however great or small. I suppose it's just a knee-jerk compulsion to rise to a challenge. A quest! Worse yet was that I'd found out about it about two weeks after these caches were published, and hardcore cachers had likely been on this same quest for MY geocoin with a two week headstart! I emailed the organizer and asked how many had been minted and how many were still available. Overnight came the response; 150 made, 30 remained. Hence the added element of urgency!
Good thing I didn't have much else planned that weekend. Friday found me up in the wee hours and on a Skytrain around dawn with a small bicycle, kicking myself for not getting up even earlier. I quickly found two in the center of town and got back to the Skytrain to use the same fare transfer back to the start of the western dyke trail, and was cycling from 8am to 6pm - haven't cycled in awhile, my ass was still sore a day or two later. Sat
morning I got a ride to a few remote ones in the east and we searched
again a few I didn't find the day before. Then I
kept walking, getting the central urban ones alone. Sunday was finishing up
the last 6 on foot, spread out and thus less searching and more
walking. Most were easy, some were clever/tricky, and I found my first
floating cache: a piece of vertical pipe sealed off on one end with a
slow drip hole, you have to BYO water and fill it faster than it can
drain, and grab the watertight cache quick before it disappears again.
Plenty of opportunity to be resourceful - I had no water or vessel to
carry it, but found a used Slurpee cup on the side of the highway, and a
plastic baggie+hair elastic in my purse to temporarily seal the drain
and buy more time. Worked fine, yay!
Beautifully clear but cold, it was okay as long as I kept moving but
waiting for bus I noticed the cold more. I enjoyed the frosty parks
most of which I've never been to, found a few I'd like to revisit in the
spring or summer growing season. Saw the great congregation of snow
geese in a grass field. People along the trails were friendly.
My phone finally ran out of the prepaid account I purchased in June - of course while I was
in a forest at dusk, wearing a furry hat which the young barred owls would love to swoop at - so I know now that with conservative use $25 will last
from Jun till Nov. Now I put $50 on it, good till Nov next year.
When I turned in my completed passport at the nature center I chat with
the guy who started the project, and I watched the songbirds and squirrels at the seed feeding station in the cold evening. They all knew to leave with the light, before the owls start hunting. I was the last to leave the park. Got my Geocoin... now I'm hesitant to release it to travel because I know I spent so much time and effort to get it.
Amidst all this was my friend's goodbye party(s) and the civic elections.
Now I can resume real life, and on with Christmas preparations.
Tuesday, December 2, 2014
Saturday, November 29, 2014
Lest we forget
Remembrance Day in Vancouver, indeed observances all across Canada, was especially well attended this year in light of the cowardly shooting of a soldier guarding the war memorial in Ottawa in late October. The legion was flooded with requests for their poppy pins earlier than the launch of the fundraising campaign. For weeks there was overall a sense of pride and resilience, akin to the British 'stiff upper lip'.
The weather was clear and bright that morning, and as I watched the marching military procession I felt sober yet light just by listening to the choirs sing. The maple keys gently twirling down among the crowd were a whimsical contrast to a grim poem about mustard gas. The ceremonial artillery fire spooked the confused flock of pigeons that moved as a unit among the stylish old heritage buildings in Gastown. The prayer was thoughtful and moving though seemed rushed to keep schedule with the flyby planes already in the air. To top it off Christopher Gaze, of Bard on the Beach fame, read a Robert Service poem about the war with such amazing delivery it reverently hushed the crowd.
Later I happened to notice the marquis sign for a church in my neighborhood announcing a Chor Leoni concert for that evening, "A Great Service". They are arguably one of the most polished choral acts in Vancouver and I'd heard great reviews for them but never seen their live performance before. Further investigation found that there were still tickets available, they weren't as expensive as I'd expected, and lo and behold Christopher Gaze was reading more Robert Service poems there as well!
Well that sealed it, and I'm glad I went. The performances by both were spellbinding, alternating between songs and poetry with precision timing and smooth transition. No applause till the end; it was just a good feeling of despair, passion, hope, in a grand space designed for an audience to arrive as individuals and leave as a group of people together impressed and smiling from the gift the performers have given them.
Thank you.
The weather was clear and bright that morning, and as I watched the marching military procession I felt sober yet light just by listening to the choirs sing. The maple keys gently twirling down among the crowd were a whimsical contrast to a grim poem about mustard gas. The ceremonial artillery fire spooked the confused flock of pigeons that moved as a unit among the stylish old heritage buildings in Gastown. The prayer was thoughtful and moving though seemed rushed to keep schedule with the flyby planes already in the air. To top it off Christopher Gaze, of Bard on the Beach fame, read a Robert Service poem about the war with such amazing delivery it reverently hushed the crowd.
Later I happened to notice the marquis sign for a church in my neighborhood announcing a Chor Leoni concert for that evening, "A Great Service". They are arguably one of the most polished choral acts in Vancouver and I'd heard great reviews for them but never seen their live performance before. Further investigation found that there were still tickets available, they weren't as expensive as I'd expected, and lo and behold Christopher Gaze was reading more Robert Service poems there as well!
Well that sealed it, and I'm glad I went. The performances by both were spellbinding, alternating between songs and poetry with precision timing and smooth transition. No applause till the end; it was just a good feeling of despair, passion, hope, in a grand space designed for an audience to arrive as individuals and leave as a group of people together impressed and smiling from the gift the performers have given them.
Thank you.
Monday, October 27, 2014
For the spirits departed
October already - much has happened, small trips and explorations, and yet my writing muse has evaded me. Even in my dutiful pleasure of writing postcards to friends and family, I just haven't been moved to write. I will catch up on it all soon.
The rains and winds have come, with the occasional sunny reprieve. Saturday found me in a downpour, for a long walk to Mountain View Cemetery for a non-denominational observance for the dead called All Souls. I'd seen it advertised on posters around bus shelters, etc and having never been before I thought I'd check it out. Like Christmas, I like my holidays to have more tradition/substance that the commercialized candy-coated stuff that's so easily accessible yet leaves me empty-hearted.
The premise here seemed simple; light a candle, leave a flower. The organizers had set up several temporary shrines around the vast grounds, the wind billowing the fabric walls and menacing the tenacious candles. The first (and permanent) structure the little pathway lanterns led me to was a Chinese shrine, where we were welcome to light incense for the dead by an alter with oranges, and pork and chicken covered in plastic. A trio of women sang a beautiful ancient song from a German abbotrice in the 12th century...? It seemed fitting and didn't contrast at all. A smart visitor standing behind me brought a thermos of mulled wine which mingled with the scent of incense.
Following little lanterns that the wind was extinguishing I found more shrines, similar yet each different. One was manned by a woman pouring herbal tea made from herbs associated with healing medicine, I was glad for the hot drink. This was the shrine for infants or stillborn babes, near a 'dry creek bed with a stone for each child' made in 2006.
More shrines leading up to the Mandarin Hall, a warm bright building that offered more tea and cookies as I entered, and several tables were set up with craft materials to decorate and personalize paper inserts for glass candle holders. All this while I've been made aware that death has touched me so lightly and seldom, so I wrote a general prayer for everyone, living and dead that they may find peace. Warmed with tea and satisfied with my offering, I left it in a shrine I liked best for no particular reason, and was told the event organizers would keep the candles lit till Halloween, then burn all the messages in ritual and reuse the glassware for next year.
Few people I know have died. One grandparent, when I was a child and wasn't really invited to participate in mourning. A friend I'd been chatting on forums with awhile, who I haven't met in person. And two dead pet rabbits, one I knew for only a night and another for seven years. I refrained from keeping living persons too close in heart that evening, lest my thoughts lump them in with the dead.
That afternoon my friend had captured a Northern Flicker that he'd seen previously having trouble perching to feed upright, and brought it into the wildlife rescue shelter for assessment and care. I found out today that they'd assessed it wouldn't recover from the compound fracture of its leg likely sustained from a collision with a car, and thus put it to sleep. I feel quite conflicted about that, which is what finally spurred me to write tonight; on one hand a wild animal would have drastically different demands than a domestic pet, and the rescue workers probably thought they were doing him a favour by making that decision for him. On the other hand, I know my friend would care well for the crippled bird for the rest of its life, and when it eventually died sooner or later it would be comfortable in its own territory with its mate likely in the yard nearby. I suppose this is an age-old question on palliative care, and it's easy to anthropomorphize animals we care about, and difficult to make decisions for those who cannot speak for themselves about their suffering.
May those that have gone before find respite from their suffering and peace the cumulative joys in their life.
May those that remain be grateful for the time they have left.
The rains and winds have come, with the occasional sunny reprieve. Saturday found me in a downpour, for a long walk to Mountain View Cemetery for a non-denominational observance for the dead called All Souls. I'd seen it advertised on posters around bus shelters, etc and having never been before I thought I'd check it out. Like Christmas, I like my holidays to have more tradition/substance that the commercialized candy-coated stuff that's so easily accessible yet leaves me empty-hearted.
The premise here seemed simple; light a candle, leave a flower. The organizers had set up several temporary shrines around the vast grounds, the wind billowing the fabric walls and menacing the tenacious candles. The first (and permanent) structure the little pathway lanterns led me to was a Chinese shrine, where we were welcome to light incense for the dead by an alter with oranges, and pork and chicken covered in plastic. A trio of women sang a beautiful ancient song from a German abbotrice in the 12th century...? It seemed fitting and didn't contrast at all. A smart visitor standing behind me brought a thermos of mulled wine which mingled with the scent of incense.
Following little lanterns that the wind was extinguishing I found more shrines, similar yet each different. One was manned by a woman pouring herbal tea made from herbs associated with healing medicine, I was glad for the hot drink. This was the shrine for infants or stillborn babes, near a 'dry creek bed with a stone for each child' made in 2006.
More shrines leading up to the Mandarin Hall, a warm bright building that offered more tea and cookies as I entered, and several tables were set up with craft materials to decorate and personalize paper inserts for glass candle holders. All this while I've been made aware that death has touched me so lightly and seldom, so I wrote a general prayer for everyone, living and dead that they may find peace. Warmed with tea and satisfied with my offering, I left it in a shrine I liked best for no particular reason, and was told the event organizers would keep the candles lit till Halloween, then burn all the messages in ritual and reuse the glassware for next year.
Few people I know have died. One grandparent, when I was a child and wasn't really invited to participate in mourning. A friend I'd been chatting on forums with awhile, who I haven't met in person. And two dead pet rabbits, one I knew for only a night and another for seven years. I refrained from keeping living persons too close in heart that evening, lest my thoughts lump them in with the dead.
That afternoon my friend had captured a Northern Flicker that he'd seen previously having trouble perching to feed upright, and brought it into the wildlife rescue shelter for assessment and care. I found out today that they'd assessed it wouldn't recover from the compound fracture of its leg likely sustained from a collision with a car, and thus put it to sleep. I feel quite conflicted about that, which is what finally spurred me to write tonight; on one hand a wild animal would have drastically different demands than a domestic pet, and the rescue workers probably thought they were doing him a favour by making that decision for him. On the other hand, I know my friend would care well for the crippled bird for the rest of its life, and when it eventually died sooner or later it would be comfortable in its own territory with its mate likely in the yard nearby. I suppose this is an age-old question on palliative care, and it's easy to anthropomorphize animals we care about, and difficult to make decisions for those who cannot speak for themselves about their suffering.May those that have gone before find respite from their suffering and peace the cumulative joys in their life.
May those that remain be grateful for the time they have left.
Thursday, September 11, 2014
More wines of Cawston+south Okanagan
Both the coast and the Okanagan valley have had a roasting hot summer, and while Vancouver was edging back into a brief reprieve of cloud+rain I headed back to the valley to visit for the weekend. Time to hit a few wineries that we'd either missed visiting in the spring the last time we were out this way, or else they weren't open at the time as new businesses pop up (and occasionally fold) frequently.
St. Lazlo - Looks from the outside like a small family operation, I got the sense that they weren't chomping at the bit to draw in or educate customers but nevertheless let me sample their wares; featuring eastern European grapes Perle von Zala and the signature Tokay, both thick nectar that seemed more alcoholic than they were.
Fairview Cidery - Have been growing traditional cider varietals to supply other companies, the cidery just started producing under it's own name. Small clean tasting bar, welcoming service and tasty offerings.
Hugging Tree - Barely been open two weeks, their new tasting room is still being set up and looking elegant, though I caught a peaceful earthy hippie-vibe from the young enthusiastic presenter who was eager to support and recommend their winemaking friends in the area too. Estate-grown grapes right up onto the rocks of the hillside produced small yield but nice work.
C+C Jentch - In what used to be an orchard produce warehouse along the highway, clean and well presented. Had an unusual blend of Syrah and Viognier that piqued my interest, though wines were on the pricier side of average for the area.
Covert Farms - Nestled in a quiet valley surrounded by hills, we got a little lost following paths to the work yard and farm stand and eventually the wine room, but there's a beautiful building and patio there. A bit of meat and cheese, and assorted products from the fruit grown on site. Again a bit pricier wines but organic, and the reds were very smooth.
Hidden Chapel - A beautiful site ideal for a picnic with an adorable tiny chapel, and friendly presenter. Again the gentle reds, and small production means they sell out quick.
Intersection - The tasting room was just open 3 weeks, clean but very bare bones, but I'll revisit them again once they get their feet under them. Limited varietals to offer, mostly Merlots, had a nice red blend.
Kismet - Another new operation that just opened May 1st, they had a nice Malbec+Syrah I would've loved to get but they were sold out, and I was disappointed to hear that they'll change the ratio next season so it won't be the same.. still worth checking in on in the future.
Maverick - Just opened August 1st, the independent project from the former winemaker of Burrowing Owl. Fine product, well done.
St. Lazlo - Looks from the outside like a small family operation, I got the sense that they weren't chomping at the bit to draw in or educate customers but nevertheless let me sample their wares; featuring eastern European grapes Perle von Zala and the signature Tokay, both thick nectar that seemed more alcoholic than they were.
Fairview Cidery - Have been growing traditional cider varietals to supply other companies, the cidery just started producing under it's own name. Small clean tasting bar, welcoming service and tasty offerings.
Hugging Tree - Barely been open two weeks, their new tasting room is still being set up and looking elegant, though I caught a peaceful earthy hippie-vibe from the young enthusiastic presenter who was eager to support and recommend their winemaking friends in the area too. Estate-grown grapes right up onto the rocks of the hillside produced small yield but nice work.
C+C Jentch - In what used to be an orchard produce warehouse along the highway, clean and well presented. Had an unusual blend of Syrah and Viognier that piqued my interest, though wines were on the pricier side of average for the area.
Covert Farms - Nestled in a quiet valley surrounded by hills, we got a little lost following paths to the work yard and farm stand and eventually the wine room, but there's a beautiful building and patio there. A bit of meat and cheese, and assorted products from the fruit grown on site. Again a bit pricier wines but organic, and the reds were very smooth.
Hidden Chapel - A beautiful site ideal for a picnic with an adorable tiny chapel, and friendly presenter. Again the gentle reds, and small production means they sell out quick.
Intersection - The tasting room was just open 3 weeks, clean but very bare bones, but I'll revisit them again once they get their feet under them. Limited varietals to offer, mostly Merlots, had a nice red blend.
Kismet - Another new operation that just opened May 1st, they had a nice Malbec+Syrah I would've loved to get but they were sold out, and I was disappointed to hear that they'll change the ratio next season so it won't be the same.. still worth checking in on in the future.
Maverick - Just opened August 1st, the independent project from the former winemaker of Burrowing Owl. Fine product, well done.
Saturday, August 16, 2014
August long weekend back in Newcastle
August is typically busy for me. The summer is when Vancouver really comes alive with all sorts of activities and events, and if you don't stay in town it's the best time to explore the surrounding area because the weather is finally HOT and SUNNY! Even if I'm stranded far from a safe roof over my head, 'tis the time to camp out on a park bench.
The start of August is a long weekend here, which we made into a 5-day weekend and sailed over the Newcastle Island - revisiting where I went in May, this time in a boat, to meet with a group of people. The same location is now a very different experience than being alone, as I expected it would be; more stability and organization, but less spontaneity and independence. It was very relaxing, and I had a leisurely time drinking on the docks and a short hike to find the other three geocaches I missed finding in May - one up a tree with branches I had no faith in to support my weight, so I figured I wouldn't reach without a corps of engineers and a system of pulleys and lines to get me up there. Maybe someday. I saw raccoons, bats and otters, and there was a protected colony of purple martins, the largest swallows in North America, in the pilings of the marina - noisy but a gentle way to wake up in the morning.
Monday, July 14, 2014
Floating in a lake
For the past few summers my friend and I have marked summer with a leisurely float on the lake. The amount of consideration and planning ahead of time is inverse how much you need to consider when at the lake itself, hence we make mental notes on minor improvements from year to year, and look forward to day of _blah_ in the sun!
He'd already refined his procedure well before I came on scene; the lake is Sasamat Lake in Port Moody, so we set aside an hour to get there from his place in Surrey. He brings two bright green inflatable tubes and a little boat, an electric air pump and battery, rope, sunscreen, knife+cutting board and beers+snacks. I bring my ever-charming presence and more beers+snacks, in particular a mini watermelon (since one year I erroneously unpacked our melon from the car trunk, was distracted and subsequently left it in the parking lot and we were thus watermelonless. My bad. Hence I am now the designated melon provider). He wraps the rope around whatever large rock he finds on shore, we load all gear into the little boat and paddle the whole works out into the lake away from the noisy crowds. The rock anchor overboard keeps the booze boat from drifting about, and we hook our ankles over the side of booze boat to keep ourselves close in a sort of shifting triangle. He slices up the watermelon on the cutting board propped on his tummy like some sort of otter bashing his meal with a rock.
And we float there and doze off and bake our poor burned bodies and have a lovely time.
In the dazzling sunshine and blistering heat I would've even just enjoyed the drive. Listening to Weird Al Yankovic I am struck by how I recall lyrics from my childhood and wonder if I could've applied that part of my brain to research+science instead perhaps we'd have a cure for cancer by now. The construction closures and absentminded missed turns were a reminder to pay attention to the present moment, and the driving faux pas witnessed (and recorded on his dashboard camera) were a source of jeering entertainment.
We had stopped to pick up a deli-made fresh sandwich from Safeway to share, and in that span of a few minutes added onto travel time the parking lot had filled and the park gate closed. Catastrophe! Improvement for next year #1 - arrive before 11am on a Sunday. Faced with cancelling our day's outing, we stripped down our gear to bare essentials (Improvement #2 - we learned the washrooms have an electrical outlet thus we don't need to bring the heavy portable battery), parked on the road and hiked it all in together. There was a fairly shaded lakeside trail that let us walk unencumbered by vehicles leaving the parking lot (leaving, but none permitted to enter, hmmm...). When we got to the beach we decided we'd earned our beers well, inflated our vessels with no trouble and settled in the lake right where we ought to be. We had our sandwiches and watermelon: Improvement #3 - slice watermelon at home and then we won't need to bring knife+cutting board.
And now we stop thinking, just float and do nothing and enjoy for hours in the sun.
Having done this for a few years it's surprising that we are the only ones this organized. We brought more food and beer than we required and were the envy of every other lake user that afternoon. Improvement #4 - fresh pineapple. We set alerts on his phone to reapply sunscreen every hour, and I emerged with minimal sunburn on an armpit I missed. The hike back to the car was lighter and cooler. Great way to spend a summer afternoon.
He'd already refined his procedure well before I came on scene; the lake is Sasamat Lake in Port Moody, so we set aside an hour to get there from his place in Surrey. He brings two bright green inflatable tubes and a little boat, an electric air pump and battery, rope, sunscreen, knife+cutting board and beers+snacks. I bring my ever-charming presence and more beers+snacks, in particular a mini watermelon (since one year I erroneously unpacked our melon from the car trunk, was distracted and subsequently left it in the parking lot and we were thus watermelonless. My bad. Hence I am now the designated melon provider). He wraps the rope around whatever large rock he finds on shore, we load all gear into the little boat and paddle the whole works out into the lake away from the noisy crowds. The rock anchor overboard keeps the booze boat from drifting about, and we hook our ankles over the side of booze boat to keep ourselves close in a sort of shifting triangle. He slices up the watermelon on the cutting board propped on his tummy like some sort of otter bashing his meal with a rock. And we float there and doze off and bake our poor burned bodies and have a lovely time.
In the dazzling sunshine and blistering heat I would've even just enjoyed the drive. Listening to Weird Al Yankovic I am struck by how I recall lyrics from my childhood and wonder if I could've applied that part of my brain to research+science instead perhaps we'd have a cure for cancer by now. The construction closures and absentminded missed turns were a reminder to pay attention to the present moment, and the driving faux pas witnessed (and recorded on his dashboard camera) were a source of jeering entertainment.
We had stopped to pick up a deli-made fresh sandwich from Safeway to share, and in that span of a few minutes added onto travel time the parking lot had filled and the park gate closed. Catastrophe! Improvement for next year #1 - arrive before 11am on a Sunday. Faced with cancelling our day's outing, we stripped down our gear to bare essentials (Improvement #2 - we learned the washrooms have an electrical outlet thus we don't need to bring the heavy portable battery), parked on the road and hiked it all in together. There was a fairly shaded lakeside trail that let us walk unencumbered by vehicles leaving the parking lot (leaving, but none permitted to enter, hmmm...). When we got to the beach we decided we'd earned our beers well, inflated our vessels with no trouble and settled in the lake right where we ought to be. We had our sandwiches and watermelon: Improvement #3 - slice watermelon at home and then we won't need to bring knife+cutting board.
Having done this for a few years it's surprising that we are the only ones this organized. We brought more food and beer than we required and were the envy of every other lake user that afternoon. Improvement #4 - fresh pineapple. We set alerts on his phone to reapply sunscreen every hour, and I emerged with minimal sunburn on an armpit I missed. The hike back to the car was lighter and cooler. Great way to spend a summer afternoon.
Thursday, June 26, 2014
So my purse was stolen...
I lost my purse while gardening with the Fresh Roots volunteers a few weekends ago. As usual, I am slow to blog, though have been meaning to jot down some thoughts.
First the facts; I had placed it on a picnic table in the community garden that Fresh Roots (see last years post) was overseeing, about 40 ft from where I was weeding carrot beds along with two other gardeners. It being a drizzly Saturday morning on school grounds, there was nary a soul to be seen but us dedicated gardeners. About an hour into work, two shady-looking characters came around our area while loudly announcing their search for a sports bag they'd left there previously. We downed tools and returned to the picnic table where all our belongings were and sure enough I noticed my purse already gone.
I confronted the suspects as politely as I could muster and explained that my bag was missing as well, and that they're the only people we'd seen all morning so kindly remain on scene while the authorities are called for appropriate actions. One man's reaction was theatrically insulted, howling about stereotypes and peppered with expletives as he made clear that he had little interest or involvement in my missing articles and only cared about the bag he'd carefully hid in our bushes three days ago. The other man took a seat at the picnic table as we informed both that the police are coming (note: police never came), was quiet and expressed condolences over my lost purse while denying any involvement as well. I could relate to leaving large heavy bags in public spaces hoping they'd be there upon my return - usually they were, but once or twice they were not. Grouchy guy remained feverishly searching for his lost bag, but both never left our sight.
I found the difference in attitude and subsequent behaviour between these two men fascinating. Grouchy guy fit the very _profile_ he was rallying against; independent from the homeless-drug-addict appearance that most passersbys would stigmatize, his language and conduct made him an overall unattractive person. Perhaps he chose that, subconsciously or otherwise. Quiet guy conducted himself with humility and patience that I feel all humans can both expect and afford to others, and in the end I shook his hand and wished him well in his travels. We may have distinctly different paths, but in uncertain times who knows from what conditions may we find ourselves in the same situation.
Sure they could've been lying straight to my face, but eroding myself with suspicion can only carry me so far. They were visibly not in immediate possession of my purse, had no bulges under their jackets and I had no grounds to search their persons or belongings. I also couldn't/wouldn't assault them, which perhaps more impulsive types would be inclined. They stayed on scene somewhat cooperatively for an hour awaiting cops that never came, and left after finding the contents of their sports bag in the school's dumpster.
I cancelled my bank+credit cards and phone, on a gardener's borrowed phone. We gardeners spent several hours searching and researching the premises, in case they ditched the purse to retrieve it after we'd left. A hole in the wire fence leading to an alley... a school playground... park nearby... the possibilities were endless. I searched around the block, spoke with some residents, and parted with the gardening duo leaving them to resume weeding carrot beds. I was not in the mood to weed anymore. I lost the contents of my purse, including my camera, phone, wallet, keys, etc., but the worst part is that my white bunny was on my bag, now likely unceremoniously ditched after travelling with me for a decade.
I went to the police station to make a declaration or file stolen property, not that I expected it'll do much good now since the main suspects got away... Filling out my personal details under the heading of VICTIM was somehow irritating. I waited to be served and my take-a-number ticket was 100, but displayed on the ticket was '00'. I somehow felt that symbolic, so I kept the ticket.
I went to the public library and emailed everyone to inform them of the theft and not to try reaching me on my phone - and almost immediately a friend emailed back with the offer of a phone he'd give me for free. I had a few offers of finding a new bunny too. More than any other time that afternoon it was at this point that I almost cried in that library, feeling very _rich_ in my few-but-strong friends that care about me. I was fortunate to already have established a dinner date that evening with a fella with keys to the apartment so I could go home. Fortunate again that I had bus passes on my bookshelf there to get out to Surrey to get a new phone within 24 hours. Fortunate I have enough cash at home to live off of till my cards are replaced. Fortunate that a special pendant I'd gotten for Christmas and had been ferrying around in my bag then was safely at home too.
In the days that followed, that I barrelled through with little concern of this as long as my important cards were cancelled, I nevertheless thought a great deal about it all. We assume that good things will happen to good people, and I felt I've been a good person - perhaps on the cosmic scale of things, was I not good enough? Could I have avoided this if I'd tipped my waitresses more? Or perhaps it was just my turn to fall, long overdue from my optimistically trusting travels. Or is it our limited view that regards this as necessarily a 'bad' thing - it was a bizarre liberation to have no phone, even briefly. It was kinda interesting to have no legally recognized 'identity' either, makes one examine what we chose to identify ourselves with - aside from being a number in Canada, I am also a friend, sister, daughter, among other roles that defy title or registration, that are far more important to me. What is necessary, and what we can do without. Perhaps this was a sign I was somehow too dependant on my supplies/resources/equipment I lug around in my purse, preparing for every eventuality except theft. I consider it more of a test/challenge than a bad thing (aside from costs incurred in replacing things). I am also patient, and have faith that over time I will accumulate back that which was lost.
First the facts; I had placed it on a picnic table in the community garden that Fresh Roots (see last years post) was overseeing, about 40 ft from where I was weeding carrot beds along with two other gardeners. It being a drizzly Saturday morning on school grounds, there was nary a soul to be seen but us dedicated gardeners. About an hour into work, two shady-looking characters came around our area while loudly announcing their search for a sports bag they'd left there previously. We downed tools and returned to the picnic table where all our belongings were and sure enough I noticed my purse already gone.
I confronted the suspects as politely as I could muster and explained that my bag was missing as well, and that they're the only people we'd seen all morning so kindly remain on scene while the authorities are called for appropriate actions. One man's reaction was theatrically insulted, howling about stereotypes and peppered with expletives as he made clear that he had little interest or involvement in my missing articles and only cared about the bag he'd carefully hid in our bushes three days ago. The other man took a seat at the picnic table as we informed both that the police are coming (note: police never came), was quiet and expressed condolences over my lost purse while denying any involvement as well. I could relate to leaving large heavy bags in public spaces hoping they'd be there upon my return - usually they were, but once or twice they were not. Grouchy guy remained feverishly searching for his lost bag, but both never left our sight.
I found the difference in attitude and subsequent behaviour between these two men fascinating. Grouchy guy fit the very _profile_ he was rallying against; independent from the homeless-drug-addict appearance that most passersbys would stigmatize, his language and conduct made him an overall unattractive person. Perhaps he chose that, subconsciously or otherwise. Quiet guy conducted himself with humility and patience that I feel all humans can both expect and afford to others, and in the end I shook his hand and wished him well in his travels. We may have distinctly different paths, but in uncertain times who knows from what conditions may we find ourselves in the same situation.
Sure they could've been lying straight to my face, but eroding myself with suspicion can only carry me so far. They were visibly not in immediate possession of my purse, had no bulges under their jackets and I had no grounds to search their persons or belongings. I also couldn't/wouldn't assault them, which perhaps more impulsive types would be inclined. They stayed on scene somewhat cooperatively for an hour awaiting cops that never came, and left after finding the contents of their sports bag in the school's dumpster.
I cancelled my bank+credit cards and phone, on a gardener's borrowed phone. We gardeners spent several hours searching and researching the premises, in case they ditched the purse to retrieve it after we'd left. A hole in the wire fence leading to an alley... a school playground... park nearby... the possibilities were endless. I searched around the block, spoke with some residents, and parted with the gardening duo leaving them to resume weeding carrot beds. I was not in the mood to weed anymore. I lost the contents of my purse, including my camera, phone, wallet, keys, etc., but the worst part is that my white bunny was on my bag, now likely unceremoniously ditched after travelling with me for a decade.
I went to the police station to make a declaration or file stolen property, not that I expected it'll do much good now since the main suspects got away... Filling out my personal details under the heading of VICTIM was somehow irritating. I waited to be served and my take-a-number ticket was 100, but displayed on the ticket was '00'. I somehow felt that symbolic, so I kept the ticket.
I went to the public library and emailed everyone to inform them of the theft and not to try reaching me on my phone - and almost immediately a friend emailed back with the offer of a phone he'd give me for free. I had a few offers of finding a new bunny too. More than any other time that afternoon it was at this point that I almost cried in that library, feeling very _rich_ in my few-but-strong friends that care about me. I was fortunate to already have established a dinner date that evening with a fella with keys to the apartment so I could go home. Fortunate again that I had bus passes on my bookshelf there to get out to Surrey to get a new phone within 24 hours. Fortunate I have enough cash at home to live off of till my cards are replaced. Fortunate that a special pendant I'd gotten for Christmas and had been ferrying around in my bag then was safely at home too.
In the days that followed, that I barrelled through with little concern of this as long as my important cards were cancelled, I nevertheless thought a great deal about it all. We assume that good things will happen to good people, and I felt I've been a good person - perhaps on the cosmic scale of things, was I not good enough? Could I have avoided this if I'd tipped my waitresses more? Or perhaps it was just my turn to fall, long overdue from my optimistically trusting travels. Or is it our limited view that regards this as necessarily a 'bad' thing - it was a bizarre liberation to have no phone, even briefly. It was kinda interesting to have no legally recognized 'identity' either, makes one examine what we chose to identify ourselves with - aside from being a number in Canada, I am also a friend, sister, daughter, among other roles that defy title or registration, that are far more important to me. What is necessary, and what we can do without. Perhaps this was a sign I was somehow too dependant on my supplies/resources/equipment I lug around in my purse, preparing for every eventuality except theft. I consider it more of a test/challenge than a bad thing (aside from costs incurred in replacing things). I am also patient, and have faith that over time I will accumulate back that which was lost.
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