Grande Prairie trip part 2 - We're Coming Home ...

 (in case you didn't get Part 1 - it's here.)

Instead of grabbing a few hours of sleep at Grande Prairie, we just fueled up and headed south to Jasper for a different route home. The trick was to find a pull-out on Highway 40 before Neil's drive time ran out - which we did. This happened to be in the middle of nowhere - well, actually, not the middle of nowhere, but a few hours south of Grand Prairie, beside one of many clear cut expanses. There were no road side toilets here, and not even any bushes to squat behind (not that I would - I think there are bears and moose up this way.)

We drove by signs for Kelly's Bathtub - I thought that was an interesting name, and pondered its meaning for quite a while. When I got home and googled it, turns out it's a lake in a park - no doubt a beautiful lake in a beautiful park, but quite a disappointment. I had imagine Mr Kelly transporting (maybe by some of the camels that disappeared from the Gold Rush Trail) a fabulous claw foot tub to a hot spring in the wilds, just so he could soak and pumice his feet in comfort after a hard day at the mines. 

(I find place names really interesting. On the way to Prince George, we pass a sign for Likely - I think a couple of gold seekers were seeking somewhere to spend the night, and the older one decided a spot by a big old cave would be good. But when the younger one saw a bear nearby, he said, 'Not likely.' So they kept on slogging, until they found a pretty lake with lots of blueberry bushes nearby. And the younger one said, 'Likely.' And the name stuck.However, this is all a figment of my imagination.)

Our next pit stop was Hinton, where there was a Husky - my favourite place to pee, so all I had to do was not think about waterfalls, thundershowers, or the bottle of water sloshing in the door compartment by my side. Then it was on to Jasper, another park in the foothills of Alberta.

I guess it's always windy in the foothills - at least when I travel across them. This morning was no exception - and like Neil said, he was towing a big sail behind us. However, like I tell people, he is an Experienced Driver, and I have all my faith in him.

I didn't see any wildlife driving along, although we saw some wild driving, like the little old man who decided a solid yellow line was the perfect place to pass us, even though a Wide Truck warning truck and the Wide Truck it was warning us about were coming towards us all. A few miles later, we saw his little truck pulled over, and he and little old wife were changing places. I think she probably had taken the time to change her underwear, too - I probably would have.

Neil, however, saw a herd of caribou, but by the time he said 'Look over there' and I thought he meant 'Look up there', and I looked up in the sky for maybe a bald eagle, we were long gone by.

The scenery was awesome, though, as we all expect, even though the skies were grey.

This was such a beautiful lake - the colour was amazing!

And we did lose the rain and the grey skies ...

If a picture's worth a thousand words, here's a few thousand words -

I do love bridges .. this one was over a train track, if I remember correctly.

As we neared Valemont (back in BC) we passed a billboard -

RIVER SAFARI

ONE AMAZING HOUR

and pasted across the bottom - only 35 minutes. Okay. Maybe the hour is so amazing, it only seems like 35 minutes, but if a person can get easily confused, this would be very confusing. However, I figured out that the actual tourist attraction was 35 minutes away. (I guess that would depend on how fast one was driving, though ...)

I really would love to go on this adventure though - yup, I could certainly see me here ...

However, for now I'll settle for the long lonesome highway ...

We stopped for a break at a pullout near Mount Robson, where there is a memorial to Terry Fox and the starting point of the Terry Fox Trail. I'd love to explore this area more - maybe another bucket list item? Who knows.

And we just kept on Yellowheading IT -

In all the miles I've travelled with Neil, this is the only moose I saw. I was pleased that it stayed still long enough for me to snap it.

It was either in or near Clearwater. It's been a while. I really should take notes when we travel ...

More rain ..

Of course we can't forget the town of Waverby, which isn't even google-able, unless of course I spelled it wrong. (And of course I spelled it wrong - it's actually Vanenby) What makes it noteworthy is the Shook's Ranch Trail Rides. Now that's what I call truth in advertising, because believe me, when I went trail riding at Back in the Saddle Again, I certainly shook a lot. A whole lot.

And for everyone who isn't happy with their job - believe me, it could be worse .... you could be the poor fellow way up in this Tonka-On-Steroids. I know you can't see him, but believe me, I could.

Once again, a change of scenery as we drive westward ...

A bit foggy ...

Yup, definitely a bit foggy .... we seemed to catch all kinds of weather this trip, except snow.

And here we are at the nicest brake stop of all - Zopkios. A very nice toilet, clean and wonderfully flushable - but only Arctic cold water in the taps. And don't think you can warm your hands with their electric hand blower dryers, because it's only Arctic air in those. Brrrrr. My fingers didn't think it was possible to get any colder without cracking off.

 

So, thank you, Neil, for another great trip - and I still got home in time for Howard's Salt Fish Cakes! Life is good indeed.

At The Hospital Part 3 - Indignities, Insults, An Angiogram, and Bring on the Salt!

First thing Monday morning, two ambulance people came in and wheeled my roomie out for her trip to Vancouver for her angiogram, and a couple of hours later my turn came. I was heading for New Westminster for my adventure ... I mean angiogram. After a few days stuck in a hospital ward, it was nice to feel rain on my face, to tell the truth. (And when I said stuck in a ward, I meant it. When the fam came to visit the day before, which was Sunday, I decided I would walk down to the main floor with them - who knows, I may even have smuggled in a couple of packs of salt from the cafeteria - but as soon as the elevator left our floor, something on me began to beep. Seems like the little portable heart monitor was warning the cardio staff there was an escapee ... so I had to elevate myself back up to the fourth floor before they sent out the swat team.)

However, here I was in the ambulance, with a guy from the same ward who was heading to the same place for almost the same thing - he was going for angioplasty, which was the insertion of these little stent thingies that stretch your blocked arteries open again so they could once again be used for blood transportation. Seems he had come to the hospital as a heart attack patient the week before, and had already 'been there, done that' regarding the trip to New West - he already had 5 stents shoved up his arm, and was on the way for 5 more.

After we got to the ward, all we basically had to do was lie on our uncomfortable beds and wait for our turn. A few nurses stopped by to do a bit o this'n'that - one of them filled out a chart for me.

'Your height?'

'5' 3"' (Well, I used to be 5'3". I don't think I quite make it anymore, but I was pretty sure they wouldn't measure me. And since I was lying down, she should have been more clear and asked for my length. That would probably have been 5' 3" anyway, as I was pretty much stretched out from head to toe.)

But here comes the zinger ....

'Your weight?'

'170'

'Is that pounds or kilograms?'

Okay. It's not like my butt was overhanging the bed on both sides. Do you realize how many pounds 170 kgs are? Well, we're talking about 374lbs, 12.574oz. And yes, I meant pounds.

And to add to my indignity, here comes a gal with a razor. Now I knew this 'procedure' was going to take place through my right wrist ... however, she informed me that if that wasn't going to work, they would use the artery in the front of my leg right where it joins the torso ... try not to picture it, please. I felt like telling her to buzz off, but figured she had the upper call.

And finally, off I go on a stretcher, wearing absolutely nothing except a stupid hospital gown and a blanket. Oh yes, and a pair of socks. I guarantee you would never see such an outfit on a Paris catwalk ....

The waiting room for the 'procedure' was cold - more paperwork, more waiting. The guy they had just brought out had been told his blockages were too severe for angioplasty - he was headed for open heart surgery. He said the angioplasty was a 'piece of cake.' He obviously had big fat arteries.

And now my turn. I was looking forward to the sedative they promised me - memories of long ago D&Cs came back. The nice nurses in these hospital wards would give you a shot of something, and as you were wheeled to the OR, you were floating on a sea of clouds, your arms and legs feeling like sea anemones in a warm, calm sea.

And then, once you hit the operating table, you were told to count backwards from 100 ... and about 98 or so you were out cold. Oh those were the days!

However, I scootch over on the table, surrounded by all these machines and computers and people, and a nurse comes over with a needle. She pops it in through my IV, and tells me it's the strongest dose. I just lay there waiting ... waiting ... waiting. In fact, I'm still waiting, and that was over a month ago. Now comes the little doctor, who sits beside my right arm, which is waiting on its own little table thingie. He gives my poor little wrist a shot that just about causes my whole body to elevate at least 5" off the table - this was supposed to be a needle to deaden pain, not cause a whole amount of it. It did its job in what I felt was at least 20 minutes, but was probably a shorter elapse of time.

I felt him poking about - and then heard words you never want to hear when your lying on an operating table.

'I'm going to need a scalpel.'

WHEN in God's name was that drug gonna work????

But that wasn't the worst part. I don't like to think of the feeling of that catheter being pushed inch by inch up inside my arm. The closest thing I can think off to describe it was trying to shove a wiener inside a piece of limp spaghetti. And not giving up. However, once that thing reached my upper arm, I couldn't feel its progress any more, and all of a sudden .... I got the Oh My God I Peed The Bed Feeling.

My nurse had warned me of this. She told me when they injected the dye up the catheter, it would feel like I peed the bed. And though I'm not one who usually wets the bed, I know now what it would feel like.

(I was in bed when my water broke when I went into labour with Steve. My only regret regarding this - that Howard wasn't also in bed.)

Anyway, this was when they told me I had a beautiful heart, so I did get a big smug, even though now I had a hole in my artery, and didn't really feel like going dancing.

Next was a Don't Move That Arm period of time, when a nurse would come along with a needle of some sort, and I do believe draw blood out of whatever thing they had wrapped around my wrist. I didn't really feel like asking or looking - and after a few hours, the ambulance drivers showed up again, this time to take me home... I mean, back to Surrey General.

Nurse said, 'Now, keep that hand still for at least 24 hours - from now on we treat it like a fracture.'

A nice paramedic took my poor hand and laid it on my chest.

'There,' he said, 'leave it over your heart.'

'But ... but ....', I spluttered. 'I won't be able to text.'

I think they thought I was joking. But I wasn't.

The next morning, the cardiologist came in, and started laughing when he saw me.

'You were right,' he said, 'no blockages.'

I love these words, no matter who says them. After the word APPROVED  on the debit card machine, they're the best words in the English language.

So ... the next day I got to go home. Someday, they'll find out what went wrong, and hopefully fix it. Until then, I'll just keep the number for 911 close at hand.

At the Hospital - Part 2 - Blood, Sweat and ... well, no Tears yet ....

No, I didn't forget Part 2 of my hospital stay - how could I?

I spent 5 days lying on a sheet-covered plastic mattress, for one thing. Do you realize how sweaty that can make you? I don't shower every single day (I know I should, but I don't. I'm not going to shower just so I can smell sweet for doing laundry, dusting, and watering the plants) but I do shower at least every second day, and every day when I work, and that's actually 3 days in a row. However, there I was, stuck in bed with an IV port stuck in my arm, and a heart monitor stuck all over my torso and legs, and I really needed a shower.

If I knew I had to go 24 hours with no heart pain before I could shower, I certainly wouldn't have had any worth mentioning, but that seems to be the rule. No amount of cajoling could change my nurse's mind - I even tried to bribe her with my iPad, but she still refused.

'Well, do you have some Febreeze I can use?' I was trying to be funny. Doesn't always work, though.

And she actually said, 'Yes, we do have a spray.'

Well, that scared me even more. I certainly didn't want to walk around in a waft of artificial rose. So I succumbed to her wishes and once more had a scrub down at the bathroom sink.

I had tons of visitors, but most of them were after something - blood, mostly. I watched in horror as two people wheeled in a gigantic machine that looked like a Kitchen Aid mixer on steroids, and I realized they were heading for my bed.

'Have you ever had a chest x-ray?' one of them asked. (Sigh of relief.)

'Yes,' I answered, 'but I've never had one delivered before.,

 Whew.

And shortly after that, this tiny little Chinese boy wheeled in yet another machine - and proceeded to hook me up so he could do an ultrasound of my beautiful heart. (No one knew it was beautiful yet, though.)

He apologized every time he had to shove my boobs out of the way - it would have been quite funny, actually, if it were someone else's boobs he had to manhandle.

However, the weekend passed, and on Monday morning, Dr Tam (the cardiologist) came in and told me he was sure they would find blockages when they did the angiogram that day - I told him I didn't think they would. He said, 'You'd be surprised, they'll find at least one, but don't worry, they can fix it right away.'

I wouldn't argue with him.

And I guess there's a Part 3 of this coming somewhere down the line .....

Start with a trip to Grande Prairie - End with a Newfoundland lesson ( for those of you who aren't that lucky ... )

I was so happy last week to leave on another road trip with Neil, this time to Grand Prairie in Alberta, another place I have never been. First Neil picked me up in Surrey, and then he picked a trailer up in Langley. I was loaded with three kinds of home baked cookies (I spent all morning in the kitchen), and the trailer was loaded with a whack of grub for Save On Foods, and it was, as Willie sings, On The Road Again.

We met Autumn on the way -

We've often driven towards some beautiful skies, and Tuesday evening was no exception -

There wasn't a lot of daylight driving, as we didn't leave Langley until about 5 o'clock. Because there had to be an 8 hour sleepy-time, Neil pulled over a couple of hours before Prince George, and we bunked up at a roadside rest stop.

Now, FYI, roadside rest stops do not have nice white porcelain flushy toilets. No, they have these deep open pits with fly infested openings, and rats, spiders and raccoons living in the depths below. At least that's what my mind believes. I haven't always had this peculiar fear of outhouses - in fact, I used them often as I was growing up. The little house we lived in first after we married had an outhouse - it was really a shed with a 'toilet' in the corner. I remember once I was sitting pretty in one corner, and noticed a rat sitting pretty kitty-kat corner away from me. I didn't even freak out - much. But then, I'd much rather see one than feel one. Or feel something that could be one.

Thank goodness I didn't have to go before I went to sleep - however, when morning came around, it was a different story. I am happy to say I braved up - I think I deserve a certificate or something. That was much harder than walking over the Capilano Suspension Bridge, and I got a certificate for that.

We weren't far out from Prince George when Neil informed me that I was now on a brand new (for me) road. This was the the Hart Highway, (Highway 97 North), which starts at Prince George and winds its way northeast to Dawson Creek where it becomes the Alaska Highway. This 406 km (252 miles) highway leads through farmlands, forests, over mountain passes to the foothills and open prairies.(Excuse all the links, I pasted this from another site.)

And yes, we were on the Alaska Highway for maybe 5 minutes. How exciting was that??? (Not much, actually, but if it had been on my bucket list I could have checked it off.) 

It wasn't long until the vegetation started to change - the road was no longer bordered with  conifers in 50 shades of green. Here we had lots of yellow and browns and greys - all ready to hibernate under an azure sky.

We stopped for a break at this map of the Peace River District -

One place (should I say another place?) I really would love to explore is Chetwynd - just to see all the wood carvings lining the highway through the town. Amazing.

We didn't see any bears or salmon here, although as we were driving along we did see three beautiful swans in a lake at the side of the road.

Another stop for a brake check.

And next - Dawson Creek, where we drove the wee bit of the Alaska Highway. We also drove a wee bit of muddy detours around construction sites. It amazes me how anyone can squirm a semi with a 53' trailer around these tight curves.

Don't get this town confused with the old TV series, Dawson's Creek, which despite it's name, was not filmed in Dawson Creek. It was filmed in North and South Carolina and Massachusetts.

This Dawson Creek has the Alberta Pool Elevator  which was the first grain elevator in BC, built in 1930. As you can see, it how houses an art gallery. Modern times have made these building obsolete, and very few remain of the hundreds that were built in BC and the Prairie Provinces.

After Dawson Creek and its treacherous muddy detours (very short but very curvy) we head on towards the Alberta border and Grande Prairie.

We pass through Beaverlodge on the way - home of this giant beaver.

And on we travelled, until we reached Grande Prairie. While the trailer was being unloaded, we visited with family from 'back home' - Elaine and Wilson, who drove to the loading dock of Save On Foods with 2 hot plates of Chinese food, a container of the most delicious Carrot Muffins I have ever tasted, and a bag of frozen delicacies - cod tongues, cod cheeks, fresh fish, and frozen bakeapples. All very much appreciated, for sure. We had a great chat in the White Shadow (Neil's semi),

Now, I know I have some splainin' to do, as Ricky would say to Lucy. If you had seen the fresh fish Elaine gave us, you might have argued it was frozen. It was indeed frozen. It was, in fact, frozen fresh fish. As opposed to salt fish, which wouldn't have been frozen, but which would have stunk up Neil's semi quite a lot on the 14 hours of drive time and the 8 hours of sleep time on the way back home. So I thank them both for that.

You might also wonder what kind of fish it was. If you did, I would know you weren't a Newfoundlander. Because Newfoundlanders know there is only one kind of fish - North Atlantic Cod. Many other swimmy things live in the cold Atlantic waters, yummy things like salmon and halibut and sea trout - but as far as we are concerned, cod is the important one, the one that brought livelihood to generations of Newfoundlanders. So there. 

Any fish?
No, not one. Just a few salmon.

And I'm going to end this post with that little lesson. Next one will be the trip back through Jasper.

Tamar Goes To Hospital - part 1

A midnight trip to the hospital, the man driving even though half asleep, the wife almost crumpled in a breathless (literally) heap on the floor mat below the passenger seat. Half a block from the emergency doors, he slows down enough for her to open the door and do a jump and roll, and as he turns around and heads back to his warm comfy wife-less bed, she staggers and stumbles to the emergency room entrance, where the kind doctors and nurses spend a night bringing her back to life.
A phone call home the next morning at 6am.
"Can you come pick me up?"
"Why, where are you?"
You'd almost think I made this stuff up, wouldn't you?

This was part of a blog I posted in 2011, and this proves I don't forget everything. So when my crazy heart went galloping in my chest once again, a couple of Thursdays ago, with a bit of dizziness and pain, I didn't even ask him for a ride to the ER. I went in the bedroom where he was fast asleep, and woke him up enough to tell him I was going to the hospital. He replied,

'Grunt.'

Nikkie dropped me off at the ER entrance, and Steve insisted on accompanying me, even though I tried to tell him I would be okay. That was the first of many attempts trying to tell different people I would be okay. For some reason the ER doctors were convinced I was having a heart attack, and blood work after a 6 hour stint in the most uncomfortable bed in the world showed a rise in enzymes - something that happens after something happens to one's heart. Oops. Could I have been wrong?

(My sister Shirley told me about a time she ended up in ER and the doctors there thought she was having a heart attack. She told them, no, she wasn't, but if they didn't let her go home, she definitely would have one. So they let her go, as long as she came back to do a stress test, which she did. She told me the treadmill was set in front of a big open window, on the third floor, and if she stopped running, she would have been catapulted right through the window. Good incentive, I would think.)
I actually thought they were talking about someone else when I overheard two people saying that someone had to be transferred to the Cardiac ward and that someone would see a Cardiologist in the morning. Because I was almost ready to go home.

I offered to walk to the ward, but that idea was vetoed. I guess that was okay, as my fancy gown didn't have a back in it. But I don't really like lying down and being pushed up and down hospital corridors - it seems like everyone is staring at you. I really wanted to haul the blanket over my head, but I figured people would think I was a corpse and that would probably weird them out. Especially in the elevator.

So. Up to the cardiac ward. Dr Tam came to see me in the morning, and informed me that since it was Friday, there would be no tests that day - I would have to wait until Monday. He didn't think it was a good idea to let me go home for the weekend, although I thought that was a very good idea indeed. That's when he told me I had had a series of minor heart attacks. So I told him that it was probably a good idea to stay,since he put it like that.

I really didn't feel like I had a small series of heart attacks, but you can't argue with a doctor. They have the ability to order very painful tests.

Just after he left, a breakfast tray appeared on my bedside table, and I had my first Heart Diet meal - a bran muffin. A really small bran muffin. There was also a box of Bran Flakes, a milk, a juice, and a coffee.

Now, I'm not one to complain, but I don't like Bran Flakes. I really don't. I did eat the muffin, though, and was pleasantly surprised to see coffee in the cup, and even more surprised when I tasted it and found it ... not too bad at all. I've had worse coffee in my travels, that's for sure.

Later on, I was really glad I had eaten the muffin, because then I found out all about hospital Heart food. That began my 4 day diet of tinned fruit, yogurt, Corn Flakes, juice, skim milk and coffee. 

 Friday night's dinner was supposed to be some kind of stew. I did try to eat it - I took what I thought was a piece of potato, but after tasting it, wasn't sure if it was potato. Thanks to the amazing camera on my iPhone, this picture doesn't look as bad as the real thing. However, it still looked better than Saturday's offering.

This was some kind of pasta. I couldn't eat it. It really looked like something the dog threw up. And I've never before considered carrots a side dish for pasta, have you?

Unfortunately, the nurse checked my tray every meal time to see how much I had eaten. I didn't want to hurt anyone's feeling by saying the food was disgusting, so just told her I didn't have much of an appetite. I had to talk louder though, to cover up the sound of my belly rumbling from hunger. At this point, I considered asking Howard to try and sneak a salt shaker through security. 

I actually thought maybe the doctor was right about my poor old heart, when Howard showed up with a pot of flowers. I know how much he hates hospitals - at that point I thought everyone but me thought I was at death's door. 

It's so good being right!

.... stay tuned .....

Pizza, BBQ, Jiggs Dinner - from one adventure to another etc etc .... a week of Go Go Go

What a busy last week it was. On Tuesday, after work, I met my buddy Pauline, we bought a Green Earth Pizza from the best artisan pizza place this side of anywhere - Steveston Pizza - and drove over to Gary Point Park for a pizza picnic. The weather was great, and we had a fine chat. Our friend Esther joined us after her yoga class. I'm happy to say I got home before dark - well, almost. The mosquitoes were happy I was out so late, as they had their share of my pizza skin while I was waiting for the bus at Chatham Street.

On Wednesday, I took off on bus and sky train once more, this time to New Westminster. I did a little bit of a walk around, and ended up watching a movie -  The Giver. It was okay, but of all the movies I've seen that I would willingly watch twice, this one wasn't one of them. I just got called in by Jeff Bridges and Meryl Streep.

On Thursday, Nikkie, the kids and I went to the PNE - you can check that out here. It was a great day, but very tiring. The only down part was not being to get something from every food vendor. After all, we know the PNE is all about the ..... FOOD.

I think I slept on Friday.

And on Saturday? Well, since it was a holiday weekend Saturday, it was a family get together day. We even bought three chicken siblings for the barbecue - here is Chicken Number 1 with Neil ....

 Howard does the Definitely The Last Mile with Number 2 -

 And Steve tries to do a Steve'n'Chicken selfie as he heads for the grill.

Al

 There, they made it safe and sound. All lined up for an Irish dance recital.

And a few hours later? Nice tan, huh?

We rounded up that meal (or should I say that meal helped round us up?) with baked potatoes and some delicious salads. Burp.

It was such a nice day, with Neil, Shannon, Clayton, Tanner, Dominik, Bosco, Steve, Nikkie, Chris, Lizzie, and us, of course. Love these holiday Saturdays and the second traditional get together of the summer.

Meanwhile, holiday Mondays are also becoming exciting - Chris, Penny, Marina and I, co-workers from Crafts'n'More - went on an adventure. This gal welcomed us at the gate - you may think this was a cooking adventure, but no ....

 It was a go-cart adventure at Richmond Go Karts.

Although we sorta cooked with these 40lb helmets on our heads.

The biggest worry for some of us was how on earth we were going to get in these low contraptions. Once you start to  get in, you can't stop, so it was a sort of straddle and drop kind of entrance. After one was in, the biggest worry was how on earth one was going to get out. Of course, one wasn't worrying then about keeping ones cart on the track while speeding around the hairpin curves. That comes later.

Although I wasn't the fastest driver on the track, there were a few minutes when I was way in front. Of course that was when every one else passed me ..... the first time. Oh well, I didn't get a 43% discount on my insurance for nothing. After the first lap, I kept the GO pedal to the floor on the straight track, but couldn't convince myself to do so on the curvy parts. Penny and Marina did a whole lot better, but Chris proved to be the one with the most Need For Speed. Vrrrrrooooooooom.

After we extracted ourselves from these flat racers, we headed back to Surrey, where I had designated Howard and Steve to make us a Jiggs Dinner and a Steamed Molasses Pudding. Some of us weren't sure what to expect - after all, 3 of us weren't from Newfoundland, and Peas Pudding does sound a bit scary. However, I do believe they were very pleasantly surprised! After a bit of a wait, which we whined and wined away (well, I didn't wine, but I'm sure I whined), we had a feast! Thanks, you guys, for the great food and great service!

Marina

Me

Penny

Chris   

 

Something really upset me today .... you won't need any smiles for this one!

Love is better than anger. Hope is better than fear. Optimism is better than despair. So let us be loving, hopeful and optimistic. And we’ll change the world. ~~~Jack Layton.

These wonderful words are on a Face Book page - along with a rant which really troubles me.  

... is a guy wearing that damn towel around his head. My blood boiled! You are in Canada buddy, take the damn thing of, wear a baseball cap or something. YOU are not in your country now.

We have to remember Canada was built by immigrants. If you are a Canadian, and not a Native American, rest assured your ancestors came from another country. Actually, even if you are a Native American, your ancestors came from another country - thousands of years before us white skins did. 

I am Canadian, but I was born in Scotland. I suppose I was lucky we weren't visible minorities - the only thing that gave us away was our highland accents. Mom kept hers until the end, but we weren't long losing most of ours. I say most, because even now someone picks up the scattered word. Especially the ones that rhyme with book.

The only racism I knew while growing up in Newfoundland was from Archie Bunker's mouth. This was comedy - everyone knew he had a heart of gold inside that tough exterior. We were all the same colour in our little town, and we all wore the same 'baseball caps.' 

We flew to British Columbia in 1994. We had a lay-over at Toronto, and that was where my then 8-year old son saw his first turban-wearing man. He wondered why he had such a big bandage on his head. It wasn't long before he was settled into a classroom with people of all cultures - although in Richmond, mostly Chinese. He brought many friends through our doors - and he didn't care if they were different. Like all children, he had kind eyes.

We lived in Richmond for 17 years. We learned that not all Chinese people are good drivers - but believe it or not, white people wreck their cars too. We learned that a lot of Chinese people try to bargain for everything they buy - sometimes it works, so why not? The biggest thing I learned though, was we Anglo Saxons aren't the only ones who may practice a bit of racism - we were kind enough (Newfoundland hospitality and all that) to invite a young Asian girl to eat supper with us one night. She was the girlfriend of the young man who rented a room in our house for a year. As she tucked into her chicken, she told us that all Newfoundlanders are drunks. Hmmm. I said, 'Well, I don't drink, although I guess I'm only half a Newfoundlander as I was born in Scotland.' So then she included me when she said that all Scottish people are drunks, too. 

Fortunately she didn't choke on a chicken bone.

Now we live in Surrey, which has a very high East Indian population. The kids' friends have names I find hard to pronounce. But Surrey, even though it is the fastest growing of all the Lower Mainland suburbs, seems to be more low key. The people are quiet spoken and gentle. One of our neighbours is an old man from Afghanistan, who flew for the Air Force fighting the Taliban. He gave thousands of dollars to a smuggler to bring his family safely through harsh mountainous country - he was told if his children cried they would be shot. You know, I really don't mind sharing this beautiful country with this brave man. I'm glad he can live in peace and know his grandchildren can laugh and cry and sing whenever they want.

One of my heroes is Commander Chris Hadfield. I imagine the first time he and his ISS team looked at our planet from way above the clouds, their minds weren't on finding the one little spot where they grew up. I imagine they saw Earth, one big wonderful Earth, full of ... why, Earthlings. Because no matter where we were born, where we grow up, or where we die, we are all children of the Earth. 


So let us be loving, hopeful and optimistic. And we’ll change the world.

* *

Canada is known around the world as a country with excellent opportunities, political stability, a healthy economy, and a very polite population.  Where the US is understood to be a melting pot of different cultures, each culture blending with the new comers, Canada has become a mosaic, where immigrants are able to live within their beliefs and cultural norms without being assimilated into the existing culture.  Immigrants to Canada are able to enjoy the familiar dynamics of their home country or participate in the Canadian culture without the need to commit to one over the other.


Sir John A MacDonald -
The first Canadian Prime Minister, Sir John Macdonald – or plain old John Macdonald as he was then known – emigrated to Canada as a child in the 1820s from Glasgow. Regarded as one of modern-day Canada’s founding fathers, Sir John left school at just 15 years of age but in 1867 became the dominion of Canada’s first Prime Minister. Macdonald is also recognised as the founder of the famous Canadian Mounted Police Force, better known as the ‘Mounties’.

Alexander Graham Bell -
 The Scottish-born inventor of the telephone, moved to southern Ontario in 1870 at the age of 23, when his parents purchased a 10.5 acre farm. He became a naturalised citizen 12 years later. Ironic, that an immigrant should be credited with inventing the technology that would allow so many other immigrants to keep in touch with their family over the years, don’t you think?

Adrienne Clarkson -
Born in Hong Kong in 1939, Clarkson came to Canada as a refugee with her parents in 1942.  After settling in Ottawa, Ontario, Clarkson went on to create a career in broadcasting, journalism, the arts and public service.

Robert Herjavec -
Robert Herjavec is known to many Canadians as the good looking, nice dragon on the popular CBC series Dragons’ Den. Born in Zbjeg, Croatia, Herjavex immigrated to Canada with his family at the age of ten.  They settled in a small home in Toronto, Ontario. Herjavec is estimated to have a personal net worth of over $100 million.  Pretty impressive for a Croatian immigrant that landed with his family in Canada with only $20.
  
Peter Mansbridge -
Mansbridge was born in London, England in 1948, and raised in Ottawa, Ontario.
Mansbridge’s on-air career began when he was discovered by a radio executive who heard the, at that time, baggage handling Mansbridge make an announcement at the Churchill, Manitoba airport in 1968.  He was soon heard on the northern service of CBC Radio, and then was transplanted to Winnipeg, Manitoba as a reporter, still on CBC Radio, and eventually becoming a reporter on CBC Television.
In 1975 he became a reporter for The National, and then a parliamentary correspondent in Ottawa, and eventually became the anchor of CBC Prime Time News, The National, and in 1999 launched his own program, Mansbridge One on One, where he interviews major players in the current news.
Despite dropping out of the Glebe Collegiate Institute before graduating, Mansbridge has received an honorary Doctor of Laws degree from the University of Western Ontario and the University of Windsor.

( from  http://www.sureimmigration.com/blog/2010/11/famous-canadian-immigrants/)

A Day at the PNE - aka, there goes the kids' college fund ....

Last year, after a day at the PNE, which included one ride only - a couple of trips around in the Ferris Wheel - I told (not suggested, but TOLD) Nikkie that this year we were going to get ride tickets and do all the scary ones, including the wooden Roller Coaster. She just shivered and shook her head in denial.
,
But just in case that didn't work for me, she went and got .... up the builders. (How quaint - an Irish way of saying up the stump, up the duff, in the pudding club, or having a bun in the oven.) No matter how one says it, it's enough of an excuse not to go on wild rides at the PNE. 

So this year we decided to take two kiddies and their daddy's bank account, and off we went for the day. 

Seems like we weren't the only ones.

Well, to be honest about it, this picture was much later in the day. There weren't nearly that many people there when we arrived about noon - or I would have just turned around and went home.

We had a sorta kinda plan - first, let the kids 'play' some games ('play' in this case means 'buying' a prize before they throw the basketball, the dart, or the ball - the more you pay, the bigger the prize), so we headed to the Midway.

 There. That did it. They were really good at these games - Chris killed tons of balloons with hard little balls and darts, threw basketballs galore into nets, and Lizzie excelled at racing her little horse. However, that skill didn't transfer, as you'll see later.

This hammer was hugged so much it got a bit .... smooshy as the day went on. Fortunately there was a remedy available.

After the midway (should I say the first visit to the midway?) we decided to check out one of the three MAIN REASONS to visit the PNE - the food vendors. Of course, it was chips on a stick for Nikkie and me - the kids stayed with the mundane, burger and fries for Chris, cheese pizza for Lizzie.

 

After lunch, we headed for Playland. I would have bought ride passes for the kids, but we didn't think they'd be brave enough to try out all the different rides - and we were right. However, they did get on these crazy spinny teacups - and Nikkie and I got on with them. For those of you with limited budgets - take a kid to the PNE. They get in for free - and you get to go on the kiddie rides with them for free, as long as they are 4' or under.  And let me tell ya, these tea cups do go crazy. Whew.

Then it was a Merry Go Round. Lizzie clamoured on board a tall horse, and I stood beside her. Chris sat in a 'sleigh' with his mom. When Lizzie saw he was sitting in a sleigh, she wanted to get off her high horse and sit with them, but I persuaded her to stay, as it would be more fun. She really needs more horse time, I think. That thing went pretty fast though, let me tell you, and I'm not ashamed to say I got a tad dizzy before it finally, thank God, stopped.

After those strenuous activities, we stopped for refreshment. The sun had popped out, and it was a lot hotter. Because the promise of rain seemed to have blown away, a lot more people had showed up, and now there were more line-ups for our Slushies (Nikkie and Chris)

and ice-cream (Strawberry Sundae for Lizzie, Orange Float for me.)

If we had waited for this little princess to finish her ice-cream we'd still be there.

However, just like life, we moved on. This time we went to the Safeway barn, where there were lots of animals to see and smell. Lovely. And what should we see ... but pony rides! 

Chris said no in a very absolute way. I knew there was no way to talk him into it. Lizzie is much easier to persuade, though, and she seemed fine with it - until the lady there popped her onto the saddle, then she started to wail for her mother. So Nikkie was allowed to walk around the pen with her .... and when they saw me in the sidelines with the camera, Lizzie was kind enough to turn her tear-filled fear-filled face into a wan little smile.

Of course as soon as she got off, I asked her if she wanted to go again, and she said .... Yes.

For all you fancy knitters, this is where Angora wool comes from.

Aren't they the cutest of all?

And if you knit with llama wool, thank these beasties.

And of course, the alpacas. They obviously had already donated to all the knitaholics.

After the barn, with its bees, chicks, doves, cows, etc, we headed to the arena to await the Superdogs. I know every dog is a super dog - but boy can these ones move! and jump!

When we left the Superdogs, it was time to check out the second MAIN REASON for visiting the PNE - the food vendors. Nikkie and Lizzie had fish and chips, Chris had fries, and I had my yearly (well, maybe semi-yearly) dose of Poutine.

As we walked to the next exhibition, we passed the eco-scultptures. These were amazing.

- quite a few pictures following - I loved the yarn bombing ones!

Then we went to the Get Animated exhibit, where we found Sponge Bob's underwater realm -

- the Simpsons' living room -

- and Mr Toad's Wild Ride.

I'm not sure what his wild ride was.

The Walt Disney Family Museum was interesting -

 - but I don't know what this is, besides being very cool.

And of course, we cannot forget the third MAIN REASON  for visiting the PNE - the food vendors. This was our first experience with the Deep Fried Mars Bar. Nikkie and Chris turned their noses up at it, but Lizzie was game, and ate about half of it. I had about half what was left. Seems like she is brave like me!

After our last snack, we headed back to the midway, through millions of people, because one little boy wanted to play one more game. Then it was on to our last wild ride of the night - busing and sky training and busing back home, and a long tired walk up a long tiring hill to our home. Yawn.

But all in all - a very successful day, wouldn't you think?