Enter: “Experience” Gifts

December 12, 2024 by Leave a Comment

Now that decorating the Christmas tree is over, as in “tree with lights”, some using a method I call, “Keep wrapping the tree in lights in a haphazard manner until you can see it from outer space and they look kind of even.” (Trademark pending), you may be silently panicking as you still need to find some gifts.

Something Beautiiful. Something Useful. Something Unique. Something Meaningful.
Enter “Experience” gifts.
Unlike material possessions, which often lose their luster over time, experiences tend to appreciate value. The anticipation leading up to an experience, the moment of enjoyment during it, and the cherished memories that linger long after are all part of the equation. 
And according to www.Scrooge.com, gifting experiences instead of “stuff” serves for better relationships, and possibly makes people become slightly less annoying.
My fav Christmas gift to date was an experience. 

On Christmas Eve morning, one of my daughters arrived, presenting us with our personal Starbucks to take on our drive to Mt. Norquay. Because…we were going SNOW TUBING!Quickly getting dressed in a multitude of layers – leg warmers, wrist warmers, and forehead warmers, nine of us divided up into our cars. I quickly put on Mariah Carey, rivaled for the Queen of Christmas title only by the Virgin Mary herself, and with an uncanny ability to mangle lyrics beyond recognition, sang along until thankfully, said some, we reached the hill.All afternoon we tubed, fortified with steaming cups of hot chocolate with a little extra bit of “spike” (the drink of reason), on what we all agreed, was the most glorious mountain day ever seen in the history of mountains.
Exhilarated and exhausted, we then were treated to a fine dinner, including “ski shots”, then ended the day with a glorious hot tub soak.   
Another year, in that I was going to be in the Whitsundays, I was gifted a plane ride over The Great Barrier Reef. It remains to this day, one of my top three life experiences.
Now, if this seems like a great idea, first think about the personality of the person or people to whom you’re giving the experience. Look for clues, like what they like to do in their spare time.

Do they like walking in nature? Then maybe they would like to learn how to make spruce ice cream, which is made from the tree and tastes like a Christmas candle. Now that takes the gold plated gingerbread.

What hobbies do they enjoy? Assembling tasteful peony arrangements? Doing a 5000 piece jigsaw puzzle just because they want to? Collecting strip mall mannequins?

Do they have a decorative pillow habit? Do they like wine and cheese events? (Although most of them have a bit too much cheese, not quite enough wine.)

Now that’s a gap in the market.
Do you have someone that is homesick, away at university, or just bought their first house in another city? Whatever the case, and if that’s so—there is almost nothing better than a Homesick candle. These come in a variety of scents that evoke the character of any city. FYI: Los Angeles smells much better in candle-form.
Does this special someone need a bit of rest and relaxation to close out the year? Or likes swimming? I hear Nelson has a fine Polar Bear Swim January 1.
Giving experiences can be a pretty thrilling mission. That said, here’s the best part: how exactly to wrap an experience gift, because it only makes sense that unwrapping it should be just as exciting as the experience itself.But is it really possible to wrap an intangible?

You bet. Pair an experience gift’s certificate with a solid partner in an “use what you already have” box, bag or wrap in humble materials such as newspaper, brown paper, or paper you saved from last Christmas.

Examples: 
Food Tour: Pack a picnic basket. 
Skydiving: Go old school. A Tom Petty CD featuring “Free Falling.”
Cooking Class: A monogrammed apron.
Wellness Gift Card: Some bubble bath.
Golf Lesson: A box of golfballs or new golf glove is a tee-rific idea. Hot Air Balloon Ride: Tie the printable certificate to the end of a helium balloon bouquet.
Sushi Rolling Lesson: Tie together with a set of fancy chopsticks.
Mani-Pedi: A gift bag full of nail polish.
Hiking, Spelunking or Cavern Adventure: A head lamp.
Brewery Tour: A personalized pint glass. 
Fishing Excursion: A “Big Mouth Billy Bass” wall mount singing the praises of fly fishing.
Rock Climbing Lesson: A box of Clif bars.
Bicycle Tour: A bike bell.
Photography Class: The old-school photographer will adore rolls of film. Photo paper is a great back-up idea.
Wine and Paint Night: A blank canvas or pack of brushes.
Escape Room: A magnifying glass or an old-fashioned detective hat.
Massage: Gorgeously-scented candles. 
Splatter Paint Room: A rain poncho.
Spa Facial: An eye mask. 
Pottery Lesson: Modeling clay or PlayDoh.
Glass Blowing Class: An icicle ornament.
Paintball Outing:  A NERF gun.
Whitewater Rafting: A doughnut tube or a lounging raft.
 
A few creative touches to the gift, such as tying with hemp twine, adding pinecones, cedar branches, boxwood, dried oranges, or any nature-inspired treasures, is not only a beautiful creative package to give away, but one which has the environment (and us) foremost in mind.
Now put on your Dance Christmas playlist, make a mug of chocolate peppermint candy cane whipped no foam latte minaret with whipped cream…and that’s a wrap!
I’ll now open it up to questions from the audience.
Filed Under: Blog

“And then they took my father.”

December 2, 2024 by 4 Comments

People like to talk about their travels, but few of us like to listen to them, must less “read” about them. Such resembles pedagogy, or just plain bragging.

Writing is the best instrument I have for metabolizing my experience and clarifying my mind. To process. But writing about some of the dark places in Vietnam and Cambodia I visited…is proving to be difficult. I hardly have the language to articulate it. Any sentences I think to write, soon prove unusable, dry, inconsequential.  

But it is these places that are proving to be memory keepers and will probably stay within me forever. At least I hope so.  

That’s the thing about travel—it shoudn’t always be easy. Sometimes it’s necessary.  

Just because we can see (or not see) the past does not mean it is still not alive.
We need to think about the implications of visiting such dark sites. Are we honoring the victims, or are we simply voyeuristically indulging in the macabre? Are we inadvertently glorifying their oppressor? Is it exploitation for commercial gain? Disrespectful? Is tragedy now a destination?  

Or does it force us to confront the uncomfortable reality of dark history, a warning about the human capacity for cruelty? 

Going to these places instantly slammed the question, “How much am I willing to feel…or not to feel?”
While in Poland In my early twenties, I had the chance to visit the concentration camp in Auschwitz. I chose not to go. I still am not sure if that was the right decision. 

Since, I have been at the Sarajevo “roses” and in Warsaw, both cities with shrapnel holes still on buildings, ghosts of the past around every corner. I have seen Robben Island, been to Pompeii, Pearl Harbour, Alcatraz Island, The Tower of London, Anne Frank Huis, and the Roman Colosseum—commodification of places of pain and shame. 
Stories once silenced and suppressed. Places that housed incomphensible atrocities. The people valued less than a grain of rice. Where the impossible happened.

There is a palpable energy that stays long with you after visiting such a place. It weighs heavy on your heart. 

But until you actually go there, all your knowledge comes from secondhand sources, like memoirs and sanitized movies. Now you see it first hand, standing on a part of history instead of apart from it. There is a depth and breadth that gives a whole new authority, poignancy and authenticity.
It is here where forgetting is just as important as remembering.  

But nobody enters these places, they enter you.
Yes, I went biking along rice paddies, sailed around the limestone karsts of Halong Bay, browsed the labyrinthine lanes of Hoi An’s Old Town, ate fish amok, walked miles at Angkor Wat in Siem Reap and around temples and temples and temples.
 

But I also went here.
 
“And then they took my father.”
“To keep you is no benefit, to destroy you is no loss.”
People were executed here by the autocratic, xenophobic, and repressive Khmer Rouge, using the most brutal of methods. Between 1975 and 1979, more than 2 million Cambodians were killed or died of starvation and disease under the Khmer Rouge regime.  The soldiers of the Khmer Rouge pushed people into wells and ponds, suffocating them to death. They baked them alive in local tile ovens, some with livers cut out while still alive. Some, they struck down with hammers at the edge of mass graves. Children were smashed against tree trunks or pierced wth sharp bamboo sticks to save bullets. Women were raped before execution, and things done to pregnant women and their fetuses that should not ever have to enter our imaginings. Children abducted and indoctrinated, and forced to commit atrocities. Families torn apart to silence them. It plumbed the depths of horror. It was a world on fire.
“When pulling out the weeds, remove the roots and all.” 
A saying of the Khmer Rouge in an effort to justify the murder of children.                                                                                    
The Tuol Sleng (S21)The hell state “prison” where people were held for weeks and months for grueling interrogations before they were either tortured to death or sent for re-education—meaning execution. It is raw and shocking. The shower size cells, the barren and stained rooms used to interrogate them, the metal shackles used to tie prisoners to their cots.

Blood is still on the walls and torture tools dot the site. There are paintings that depict the methods of torture used on the prisoners: some had electric shocks administered to their tongues; some had their fingernails pulled out with clamps; and others had their heads plunged under water until they passed out. Some were subjected to medical experiments, including “live autopsies” done without anesthesia and experiments with homemade medications. People bled to death. Of the approximately 14,000 people imprisoned at S-21, only twelve are known to have survived.
The Cu Chi TunnelsJust outside Ho Chi Minh City is a complicated spiderwork of tunnels built within 25 years from 1948 during the war against the French. The tunnels were extended to over 250 kms. during what is known locally as the “American War”. Many skillful, deadly, and dangerous traps were arranged to keep those inside safe. In heavily bombed areas, people spent much of their life there, housing entire underground villages, with living quarters, kitchens, ordnance factories, hospitals and bomb shelters. 

This was a first-hand look at both the resourcefulness of the Viet Cong and the horrors of war for both soldiers and civilians on all sides. Trying to imagine the endurance, challenges, resilience and adaptability of the people trying to survive for years in those harsh jungle conditions was painfully sobering.

Now, nearly 50 years on, Vietnam and Cambodia are still recovering from their barbaric past and continue to grapple with poverty and inequality. They don’t have political freedom and still live in an environment of repression and fear. In many ways, they are still grappling with its dark time and the psychological trauma experienced by survivors and their families. In fact, many Vietnamese locals are reluctant to talk about the American War, and today Cambodian schoolchildren learn only a cursory overview of the Khmer Rouge years. Although education is free for Cambodian children, you still see parents sending them out to work selling trinkets and food to tourists. 
 
You don’t visit these places for enjoyment or pleasure. You visit them to remember, to learn, and maybe grow more towards responsible activism and compassion. I don’t want my travel to be a boomerang dropping me off right where I started, disguising it in a narrative about how I am seeing edifying things—with the photos to prove it.  

But if one usually avoids museums, then suddenly seek them out for the purpose of experiencing a change, what are you going to make of the exhibits? You might as well be in a room full of Hersey Bars. If you are going to see something you neither value nor aspire to value, you are not doing much of anything besides locomoting. It’s locomotion all the way down. 

If travel (not an welcome escape vacation), is merely the pursuit of unchanging change, embracing nothing, you might as well use your passport as a coaster or to level wobbly table legs. 
Filed Under: Blog

Unwrapping Christmas: Ultimate Holiday Decorating Tips

November 19, 2024 by

I’ve been visiting trade shows across the country, attending trend talks galore, chatting with other decorating experts, and basically scouring every corner of the internet. All to bring you the latest Christmas décor tips.

Holiday decorating is, well, an art, as well as a fantastic opportunity to have me over to do it.

The line between tacky and tasteful can be an awfully thin one and blurred by personal opinion, so I’m not judging (much). I mean, what kind of cold-hearted zealot tries to restrain the exuberant joy of Christmas through good taste? I mean, if the spirit is moving you to hang a Christmas-themed Elvis black velvet painting (with blinking lights), I won’t stop you. 

Over the years, I have seen some take holiday decorating to new seasonal heights, most looking like a glowing snow globe has thrown up.Over-the-top yuletide enthusiasm is commendable, but exhibiting excessive and overly colourful outdoor decorations can be like wrapping a house in a “cringe-worthy Christmas sweater”, as well as traumatizing your neighbours. 

But just Ho-ho-hold up a minute. You don’t want to be a total Scrooge. A little can go a long way if you do it right. And I’m here to help.

1. Grinchmas

All that glitters is not gold (and is now stuck on everything you own).

What can start out as a small piece of seasonal decor here and there, can easily escalate and feel like something out of Christmas Vacation. 

‘Tis the season for giving…away your cacophony of tacky decorations. Go all KonMari and decorate with Only Things That Provoke Joy. Just because you have it, doesn’t mean you should put it all out. No more than 10, please.

For an elegant, sophisticated holiday style, keep the gaudy glory of decorations and Christmas propanganda door signs to a minimum. If the decor is done right, then everyone should know what time of year it is

2. Yuletide Your Way

Outdoor holiday decor has really blown up over the last decade. We all know the drill. As soon as winter rolls around, the lawn inflatables come out. Embracing their inner Clark Griswold, up goes the 10-foot tall dancing polar bears, a giant Santa impersonator on the roof, and Frosty casting his candy cane to the heavens as a sacrifice to the Sugar God. 

Then Snowmen, The Grinch, and the ubiquous red-nosed majestic stag. And some people think they need to get an entire herd. I’m sure this can be resolved with a few therapy sessions.

Instead place one or two large eye-catching pieces like a festive door wreath, a green garland draped around the door or stair railing, a couple of large lanterns, or urns laden with evergreen boughs and branches.

 

3. Blame it on the mistletoe

Decorating the mantle is simply the icing on the fruitcake. Drape fresh or faux garland across the fireplace mantle along with pine cones, battery-operated candles and a few Christmas balls to give instant animation. Less can be more. And please, no Elf’s-On-A-Shelf, designed to strike fear into the hearts of man and all small children. 

4. Stockings hung with care

Ahhh, Christmas stockings never get old, even if we do. Or sentimental tree decorations.

Urban legend has it that I bought the top of the tree ornament at the corner liquor store. It was a green felt tree puppet. It has long lost it’s pom-pom nose and one leg, nevertheless, he still performs his holiday duties with aplomb. 

5. Cuddle up, cozy down

For years people have been hemorrhaging Christmas holiday-themed items and spreading them throughout their home during the holidays. Filling them, stacking them, layering them. One or two could be tasteful, but too many feel as if we have stumbled upon three estate sales happening at once.

There is just something odd about people buying pillows shaped like Santa’s head. (A healthy amount of criticism of one’s self and the government makes the world go around.)Instead, showcase vignettes of coziness with chunky, textured wool throws, fluffy pillows, or touches of fur layered placed strategically throughout your home. It’s like a divorce. You’re trading them in for younger models. It can make you want to curl up and stay for a while. Resistance is futile.

6. Blinded by the lights

Since electricity was invented, people have been intrigued with twinkling and coloured lights. Year after year, people lose their minds and make Christmas lights into their entire personalities. If so, chances are, you’ll get a handwritten thank-you note from your local electric company every January.

But no one’s house should be seen from space.

For my money, I vote for warm white fairy lights, instead of those frenzied flashing and multi-coloured lights possibly scrouged from the bottom of the rack at Wal-Mart several years in a row. They burn people’s corneas just looking at them.

By the way, if you compete with your neighbours over who has the most outdoor lights, maybe this year  you should cede the award.

 

7. Have the right size tree.

As much as you may want that Hallmark movie look, an oversized Christmas tree can be overwhelming.  It’s hard for the tree not to be the focal point, so it also shouldn’t be too large for the room, impede a traffic path or conceal the liquor cabinet.

Then there is the coloured fake Christmas tree. I do not get it. They do not exist in real life. But yet, is Santa real? I know I’m walking right into that one.

And no tinsel. If you’re wondering what tinsel is, you must be pretty young, but those of us born in the early 1900’s know it as those flimsy plastic streamers that shine on Christmas trees. It’s all just so bad and belongs in the garbage can along with the potato peels. It just makes me want to drown myself in eggnog.



8. Baby, it’s cold outside.  

After you’ve finished decorating (or hired me) to suit your grown-up Christmas wish, reward yourself. A couple glasses of mulled wine and chocolate should do the trick. Merry Christmas to you!
Filed Under: Blog

Flash of Lightning – Gratitude

October 12, 2024 by

We are in the season of gratitude and thank goodness for that. 

“Count your blessings” is an age-old bromide, the stuff of greeting cards, and is sometimes a hard sell, especially when things aren’t going so great. Our mixed grill of messy character defects, jealousies and spitefulness, greedy-grabbies, melting ice caps, how thin our lashes are getting, and running out of single-origin Nicaraguan decaf coffee beans.

Flash of lightning. Clap of thunder. Enter Gratitude.

If there’s a day on which Gratitude is splashed all over social media and on Etsy wooden plaques, surely it’s Thanksgiving. But Thanksgiving shouldn’t have the market cornered on giving thanks.

Gratitude is an interesting concept. It’s one of those qualities that everyone accepts you should do, but rarely do. Basically because we are often like little chemistry experiments, reacting everywhere we go. But the benefits that showing and feeling gratitude should not be reserved only for the day it’s most culturally expressed.

“As we express our our gratitude, we must never forget that the highest appreciation is not other words, but to live by them.” -John F. Kennedy 

To be clear, and I may be preaching to the choir, I’m not saying that taking time to reflect and show appreciation for the good in life on Thanksgiving isn’t worthwhile, it’s surely a noble act. I love the rhythms, rituals and respite as much as anyone, it’s just that the very things that make the cornucopia of Thanksgiving so wonderful — the presence of family and friends, time off from work, and grateful that the meal is not salt beef, biscuits and mushy peas like the first Canadian Thanksgiving in 1578, (Martin Frobisher, I’m looking at you)—should not have purposeful expressions of gratitude only on this day. 

So, enjoy the congregational company of other people — a live Russian roulette of strange cousins, people you haven’t seen since you were six, an aunt who has an unique way of expressing herself sartorially, or your recently divorced uncle’s new girlfriend.

Remember, Thanksgiving wouldn’t be a holiday meal without a little emotional scarring. And I mean this in the nicest possible way.

“After a good dinner, one can forgive anybody, even one’s own relations.” -Oscar Wilde

We are supposed to gather, support one another, and relax. Yet on the other 364 days of the year, the ones when we might feel lonely, stressed, over-caffeinated—pausing to cultivate a sense of gratitude can make a big difference.

Giving thanks on all the other days can help ensure that in the future you’ll have many things to be grateful for because expressing gratitude acts as a kind of course correction, easing away our minds inculcated to see the wine glass as half empty. (Probably because we drank half of it.)

Gratitude does not mean Pollyanna sugar-coating the sadness, frustrations, and disappointments of life, pretending all is fine. But expressing a little gratitude offers a recess, like water to a soul. All evidence to the contrary, it doesn’t require much of anything. It’s a choice and costs nothing, except conscious attention and habit of often just ornate ordinary moments—and sometimes, these are the most important moments.   

People who are consistently grateful are relatively happier, more energetic, and report experiencing a compelling desire to host Thanksgiving dinner—for the seventh year in a row.

“Nobody sees a flower really. It is so small. We haven’t time, and to see takes time.” -Georgia O’Keefe                                                                         

Take a walk. A hike. A trek.
(Well, maybe not a trek.) Put on your chunky cable-knit sweater, a scarf forged in the fires of Anthropologie, comfortable underpants and sensible shoes, leg warmers, wrist warmers, and forehead warmers, and be astonished by the world. You can remember everything that is true and beautiful about life on any 30-minute walk in the city, in the country, among trees. Enjoy the views and the sacrament of dawdle, the mantle of maturity. 

Dallying—now that’s the key. Then go home and take a nap.  

“Be joyful, though you have considered all the facts.” -Wendell Berry

Appreciate Yourself
Put on a better pair of glasses and say five good things to yourself first thing every morning as Anne Lamont quips “as if you were somebody you are fond of and wish to encourage.” Note: try to do this before checking your phone. 

“Some people coud look at a mud puddle and see an ocean with ships.” -Zora Neale Hurston                                                                                           

Start a Gratitude Journal
Write five things you are grateful for before going to bed. It is an incredibly small exercise—and sometimes incredibly hard, especially on those days when Uber Eats forgets to include one of the major items in your sandwich. It is doesn’t have to be great big huge—someone waved your car through backed up traffic, the customer in line allowed you to go ahead of them, your best friend texted you to see if they can drop off some not-dark chocolate. 

“I always prefer to believe the best of everybody; it saves so much trouble.” -Rudyard Kipling                                                                

Tweak how we speak and think. 
What we think and say, are things we mostly focus on. If we always talk about how bad a day we’ve had, how annoyed so-and-so and how such-and-such made us feel, this will inevitably make us soiled and smudged, bringing up even more feelings of irritation. Down that road, lies madness. Pay more heed to the loveliness of people, rather than the crankiness of people. We don’t have that kind of time to waste in our “one wild and precious life”. 

“Almost everything will work again if you unplug it for a few minutes—including you.” -Anne Lamont                                                                      

Do something for someone else.
Sometimes we are just tapped out. When this happens we need to loosen our waistband and get out of our head. The best way to do this is by focusing on someone else and doing something else. Pick up litter. Hold the door open for someone. Buy someone a coffee. Take blankets that you haven’t used in five years and drive them to the Mustard Seed. Something helpful. Something useful. Something kind. Something you can actually do.

I know the Dalai Lama is a big fan.

“Do not do unto others as you would have them do unto you; they may have very different tastes.” – Bernard Shaw                                               

Say “Thank you” more often.
Saying “Thank you” is a basic block of polite society, one of the only things that separates us from squirrels. But often it is just a club password and not very meaningful. It’s not enough to simply feel grateful, we must express it as well. People aren’t mind readers. Don’t assume they know we are grateful. Try making a habit of a “Thank you” as the first and last email, text, or phone call of each day, and make it specific. 

“Too much of anything is bad, but too much good whiskey is barely enough.” -Mark Twain                                                                             
Savour positive moments. 
It’s a mindset, slowing down, being present, savoring the moment. Forget slurping a pumpkin spice latte looking at your phone. Sit down somewhere cozy. Nibble a delicious cookie. Look around.
When success comes, really take the time to celebrate it. Any celebration, big or small, is really about taking a beat to notice the good stuff, a reminder of our talents and abilities, skills and persistence.
(All I know is that champagne is never a mistake.)

“There are three things I’ve learned never to discuss with people: religion, politics, and the Great Pumpkin.” -Lucy, It’s the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown                                                                                                                        

Pay attention.
When you meet with another person, give them your undivided attention, even if they are talking about municipal zoning ordinances. Stop consulting the oracle of your iPhone, unless you are eagerly waiting to hear that they’ve procured an organ for your impending transplant. At the very least, the act of gratitude produces significant epigenetic changes in our health and body—and we just might be healing others along the way, keeping the whole shebang afloat.

We have a choice on what to focus on—the things that suck, or robins and sticky buns?

By the way, if anyone is alone on Thanksgiving, let me know. I need to borrow some chairs.
Filed Under: Blog

Roads I have known and loved

September 6, 2024 by

One of the simplest rules of life is to keep moving.

Every now and then, it’s nice to venture out and find what’s going on in the real world. Summer is technically over. But there is still time before we’re knee deep in snow and ice. 
The open road beckons. To just go. To collect oneself. To be disencumbered. Questing.
Yes, you have to be happy in your own kitchen, but there are also times when it is good to get out of the kitchen, especially when there’s nothing for dinner. 
There are many reasons to say yes to a semi-peripatetic adventure. I believe Socrates called this “The Creative Process.”
My first step was to figure out what to wear. In other words, to maintain my own personal style, which if overheard mutterings are to be believed, often is known to defy description. But nothing adds intrigue quite like a soot coloured vintage garment with far too many miscellaneous stains on it.
Believe me, it makes quite a statement. My benchmark – consistency.
Setting out, I am always driven by the hope that I might see or hear something I’ve never seen or heard before. To furl a bit of rope. To escape, if only for a short while, the deadening quality of Netflix reruns.
Travelling alone allows me to be as insufferable as I like, boring only myself with maps (which I can’t read anyway) and dirt roads. It allows me to be as antisocial and ornery as I want to be. Or more than usual. 
I am free of the need to entertain or converse, apologize for the weather or the frigid lake water. As if it was my fault. 
I’m “The Emirates Effect” companion for myself, as I don’t argue with myself and I don’t disagree. We’ve grown to enjoy each other’s company with vibrancy and care, although sometimes it’s a breeding ground for competition. In other words, a very arousing person with a cache of exhilarating stories to tell anyone who will listen, always making sure to tell the story from my point of view. 
Secondly, I am free to ignore street signs and landmarks, double-dip in the guacamole, and can sing to my favourite tunes with no one asking to change the playlist or to please stop singing. It’s cathartic.

My mind is no longer on guard, mostly occupied with staying on my side of the road while holding my lidless coffee that I have no choice but to spill.
Historically I have missed more turn-offs than many have had opportunities. Squinting at my navigation system, it stares back at me like a threat. I realized what a traitor it can be. On top of that, knowing my drive would be improved by listening to an audiobook, I was confounded by my inability to follow the plot, putting this down to my advancing years. It was only when I stopped for gas that I realized it was on “shuffle” mode.
Nonetheless, solo travel does have its baggage. One, it gives you ample time to consider what you need to work on to improve as a person. And who needs that? 
And two – there often is bad Wi-fi, the chance of getting attacked by bandits, and a deep longing for fresher Cheetos.
People ask me all the time – don’t you ever get lonely travelling by yourself? 
No, not really. I’ve never had a bout of loneliness that lasted more than a few years. Also, in a world of seven billion people, you’re going to talk to someone you connect with eventually. 
Filed Under: Blog

Where to Get Rid of Stuff

August 30, 2024 by

The gift economy—a system whereby goods are not sold but given away—has been around for as long as we’ve had things.

The reasons for donating are manifold, ranging from the goodness of your heart to the benefit of selling a home quickly.

And the best way to get rid of things you don’t need, is to get rid of things you don’t need.

Altruism can often feel much better than the hassle of trying to sell stuff. You could probably make more money per hour by babysitting. And having a garage sale is a testament to the hours of preparation it takes to make $35. 

Stuff like mauve ruffled bedskirts. Tiny pillows with tassels. Letters that include details of your sister’s weight-loss journey. Spray starch left over from a former relationship. Souvenir dishtowels. Ill fitting bathing suits.  A bewildering range of skin care products.  

As you surely have heard, the younger generations have little  interest in inheriting the loot amassed by their baby-boomer parents. Silver, crystal, fondue sets, avocado slicers, partially consumed tub of cheese balls, nine-foot-tall toy giraffes you won at the Calgary Stampede—they want none of it. 

Finding new homes for your stuff can be a challenge. So where can all of this go? 

Mattresses
The environmental impact of hauling an old mattress to the dump is substantial.  It takes years for a mattress in a landfill to decompose, or else it’s burned, which is equally bad for the planet. Rest easy and take  old mattresses and futons to Re-Matt.

Bits and Bobs 
Tricky Trash, will take away the stuff you can’t give away — old batteries, old paint, expired medications, used razors — and make sure they’re delivered to the proper processing centre or recycler. Tricky Trash supplies you with a “Bits, Bobs, and Batteries” box, and, once full, takes it away  on an electic bike for a $5 collection fee .

Books
If you don’t have the patience to sell your books to a reseller like Fair’s Fair or Pages, Books Between Friends will take your books off your hands. it’s a volunteer-run bookstore that gives profits to a variety of charitable organizations.  Or stock some of the many Little Free Libraries scattered throughout Calgary.

Craft and Sewing Supplies
From that unfinished quilt project to extra fabric to 
the sewing machine gathering dust, the Ujamaa Grandmas Fabric and Yarn Sale will gladly take it for their annual spring fundraiser for the Stephen Lewis Foundation Grandmothers to Grandmothers campaign. I

Ikea Furniture
IKEA now has a sell-back program: you email them pictures and they email you back with what it’s worth in store credit. Note that the item needs to be brought into the store fully assembled — although not very convenient if you don’t own a truck.

Electronics
Electronic Recycling Association will take  old electronics, and either fix, recycle or donate them to schools and charities in need. As part of a pilot project with Alberta Recycling Management Authority, The City of Calgary will also accept most anything with a power cord or battery — free of charge. 

Clothing and Household Items
Donate to an organization like The Kidney Foundationor Diabetes Canada which sells cast-offs to Value Village and uses the proceeds for research. They’ll even come pick the stuff up. Investigate your charity well and put your items where they will do the most good. Two organizations to look into are WINS and Dress for Success, which both help women grow in our community.
Filed Under: Blog

What The Cod!

August 27, 2024 by

“Who knit you?” 
There is a little place on a big island. A place where people who love words and who love stories and who love music come every year in August. At a dead end road. In Newfoundland. For a writers festival. 

Literary festivals are the beating heart of the literary world. They are among our last remaining democratic spaces and are the lungs of our societies, providing much needed oxygen, like evergreen forests, in an age increasingly shaped by hyper-information and speedy consumption. They are celebrations of words, stories, and the shared human experience, and by extension, the general population’s perception of the arts and their importance. And there’s no place in the world like the inimitable “Writers at Woody Point Festival”.
“Writers of Woody Point” is about story, it’s about the power of story, it’s about the power of story to change our lives.” – Shelagh Rogers                                      
There is enchantment here. This place knits us back into the fabric of life. It’s more than just buying the T-shirt.  It’s difficult to capture the essence of this festival in words, when it is indeed a festival celebrating words, to describe the magic one feels so profoundly in this place, which is why I keep coming back. I’m never unmoved or underwhelmed. It’s something that has to be experienced and lived in a sense. 

Once you get here, you know. It’s special. It can only happen here. This place is a convergence of something remarkable. Community-owned, rooted in places and families, gleefully independent. A celebration of the best of Newfoundland and Canadian literature, as well as music, poetry, art and everything in between.
“If a Newfoundland writer is given 30 minutes on stage, they will read for two minutes and tell a story spontaneously, just talk in a really entertaining way for the other 28 minutes.” – Lawrence Hill                                                                                            
There is no grand separation here between author and reader, nor a formal pedestal that authors are placed on. Here there is a level of attention and warmth. It’s a symbiotic thing. A back and forth. A balance of fun and profound. Of reverence and valuing of culture and storytelling. Of the efforts of people who value a paired down sense of home. 

So just how did a little festival in a little town on a dead-end road in Western Newfoundland start with almost no money and no real plan, turn into the “Writers at Woody Point” festival we know today? 

 It may be something about being surrounded by the verdant and humbling landscape of Gros Morne National Park, or the upheaval of the earth’s crust that produced the Tablelands, the water, the heritage buildings, or just being under a canopy of stars.

It does something to you. It makes you conscious of time in different ways, rethinking your organic relationships to place, to reflect on where you’ve come from, and where you might like to go next. 
People have lived on this site for thousands of years. The Beothuk, the Mikmaq, the Maritime Archaic, the Dorset and the Groswater. It’s a place where people came. Twelve generations now. We really should call it “Oldfoundland”.  

Over the years, Writers of Woody Point built on this natural setting, its wholesome community, and the willingness of authors and musicians to accept their invitation on faith.   

Gord Downie once opened the festival with Bobcaygeon, and Gordon Pinsent, the patron saint of the festival, once closed it with a recitation from the Tempest.
“For a Canadian author, being invited to attend the Writers at Woody Point event in August is the equivalent of winning the Nobel Prize.”  – Douglas Gibson, former president and publisher of McClelland and Stewart.         
A lot of big name writers and performers have come here since its inception in 2004. The list is long and illustrious.  

Gordon Pinsent. Rick Mercer. Peter Mansbridge. Louise Penny. Serena Ryder. Michael Crummey. Anne-Marie MacDonald. Waubgeshig Rice. Donna Morrissey. Bernard McClaverty. Elizabeth Hay. Guy Vanderhaegh. Wayne Johnston. Jim Cuddy. Des Walsh. Gail Anderson-Dargatz. Alastair MacLeod. Lawrence Hill. Sarah Polley. Bruce Cockburn. Gord Downie. Will Ferguson. Suzette Mayr. Sylvia Tyson. Michael Ondaatje. Miriam Toews. Margaret Atwood. Annie Proulx. William Prince. Alan Doyle. Mark Critch. Meg Wolitzer. The Once. Linden Macintyre. Madeleine Thien.  Stephen Fearing. Ron Sexsmith. Sarah Harmer. 

It is magical because of the communal experience. There is trust between the audience, the authors, the musicians, and the artists. It’s a intimate gathering like we are old friends sitting in their living room. It’s a place to tell stories their way. Stories and songs of belonging and survival, of fragility and of strength. A place where you listen with a slight vulnerability, and with your heart. And to remember. There are numerous belly-laughs, there are tears, and for those who listen carefully, there is the ocean.
 

Perhaps the most unique event of the festival is Writers in the Wild, a guided hike on one of the pristine Gros Morne trails with stops to witness dramatic, musical and literary performances.

And on the final morning of the festival, the audience experiences David Ferry’s latest rendition of ShortWaves/Short Stories. Part live theatre, part radio drama, the production at times reminiscent of a Greek chorus. And then, the infamous late night multi-talented traditional music circle.
 
If you want to “come home” next year, my advice would be to book accommodations about now. Festival tickets go online in May and are sold within minutes, as the venues are small.

And that is how they want it.

Which is another reason why it is the best festival in the world. And why, the deep roots of it all, cannot be found anywhere else, a fulcrum for writers, readers, and musicians, holding a mountain of stories and natural beauty, along with the province’s legendary kitchen-party hospitality of warmth, charm, humour, and unique turns of phrase.

Woody Point gets it “write”. 

This is my last day here, so I’m going to go pick up some fish and chips, breathe a little more sea air, and take a walk along the coast, discovering again the “knitted version of me” in the bottom of a pair of hiking boots – and a good book. 
 
Filed Under: Blog

Hiking on the Roof of Europe

August 3, 2024 by

“The mountains belong to nobody, it is well-known, but the experiences belong to everyone. Many others can climb the mountains, but nobody can ever capture experiences that are remain ours.”  – Walter Bonatti

My flight was cancelled just hours before take-off due to the global software outage. Panicked, I finally managed to connect the airlines via phone. Within minutes they had rebooked me on another airline. So I re-laced my boots, picked up my suitcase and was off — to “hike on the roof of Europe”.  During my long overseas flight, I had to talk to someone sitting next to me who was intensely confessional, had never read Joan Didion and who’d had—get this—veneers! They didn’t care if I’d been anywhere, or had ever listened to anything, or whether I even had eyes or ears —genuinely uninterested.

I was trapped, unable to protect myself from one of life’s most unpleasant sensations. I mean, I have important things to do. Yes, you can talk to people, but they’re not always the people you want to talk to. Contrary to one’s most utmost wishes, it’s easier to find a traveling (seat) companion than to get rid of one. A muffin top of unpleasantness. Can you ever really be neutral on a moving plane?

“Howdy, folks, this is your captain speaking. I’m going to go ahead and turn off the Fasten-Seat-Belt sign now. Whoops, that was the windshield wipers. Maybe I’ll just go ahead and leave the sign on. Buckle up for a fairly smooth eighteen hour flight from Calgary to Paris.”

“Know that you are a special and unique snowflake, our first priority, and are the only people who truly care about you.” 

“Over the next eight, no ten hours, you will receive periodic updates…” 

“Sorry, folks, but our flight will be two hours late due to a mechanical issue. It appears that a few bolts somehow worked themselves loose during the last flight.” 

“Update: The bolts don’t seem very important, so the flight is scheduled to arrive on schedule.” 

“My apologies for the “mild turbulence” we’re going through. Sorry, sorry, sorry. Coming up on our left are the Rockies. Umm…maybe the Alps. No, no, do not look out the window—trust me.”

Now I started to wonder. Do I need to keep a laser-tight focus on the flight attendant up front who looks sort of upset? Could it be something in her personal life, or did the pilot just inform her that the plane is going down? 

By the way, sitting for long stretches on a plane interferes with a body’s production of an enzyme called T.P.E.L., which you need or something. In fact, if you were to remain seated for the amount of time it takes to get to Paris, you could develop Type 2 diabetes. 

 

As background, given I had managed to come away mostly unscathed on my recent “W” trek in Patagonian Chile, except for hitting my head on a boulder and looking like I went five rounds in a boxing match, stressing my left knee on the second day enough that it hurt to walk down hill and on level ground (lucky that the trek didn’t have any straight patches and the uphill was only 50% of the trek), and forgetting to bring a large bottle of gin, I chose the mythical Mont Blanc massif, traversing three countries, France, Italy and Switzerland, thinking it couldn’t possibly be as brutal.  

Mont Blanc is the spiritual home of mountaineering, the birthplace of alpinism. Scenically, it has few rivals in the entire world. My home base was the storied town of Chamonix, tucked secretly away at the base of the sloping mountains.

  

There is this insane thing called the Mont Blanc Running Tour, a trail that wraps like a 172 km. long lasso around the tallest mountain in the Alps. The fastest runners do it in less than 24 hours, climbing more than 10,000m., passing 71 glaciers and encountering 400 summits, chocolate box villages, sublime alpine meadows, snow-covered peaks, craggy fissures, and breath taking views of the stunning and imposing Mont Blanc. The race takes place every year over the last weekend of August and attracts up to 5000 competitors.

Now on my first Mont Blanc trail, it didn’t take long to figure out that the operative word was not “hiking”. It was “climbing”.

Slogging straight UP steep in uneven terrain, and cautiously straight DOWN steep in uneven terrain – a high cumulative altitude difference. In other words, a knee-grinder, the intense “paths” more in keeping with rock climbing walls. You wonder if you’re ever going to catch your breath. And yes, my trekking pole, like on the “W”, was my best friend. 

 

This adventure is not recommended for people with vertigo, altitude sickness, or afraid of the dark.

We climbed ladders, stumbled through a very long pitch black tunnel, crampon-walked a glacier, clambered on wooden steps anchored into slippery rock faces, maneuvered loose gravel, rode a train running along the edge of the mountain, a tramway, a breath-stopping funicular rising at an astonishing 87 degrees, and the highest cable car in France, holding the world record for the highest vertical ascent, taking a spectacular 30 minutes. 

 

High above the green pastures on the bucolic valley floor is a balcony view of the mesmerizing fairytale landscapes punctuated by creaking glaciers, lush forest, bubbling streams, transparent mountain lakes offering razor-sharp reflections, rock debris, eternal snow-capped vertiginous peaks, and flower-strewn trails. A botanical blissful rainbow of sorts. A panoramic postcard. 

 

Something about a big, heart-gulping view can freeze you in place. As Robert Macfarlane put it in Mountains of the Mind, these landscapes can make one marvel at the forces necessary to knead sandstone.

Where has this been my entire life? There was so much world. 

The changing flank of the mountains form a long sweeping cradle, so high that clouds frequently got stuck trying to pass over the great sleeping beasts. More than enough fuel for wanderlust.  Going within and meeting no one else for hours is not possible here. You won’t find much solitary “wilderbliss” or alone-time here. An estimated 200,000 hikers, mountain bikers, and trail runners travel some sections of the TMB each year. I was just one more. 

 

“Beautiful as what we see. More beautiful is what we understand. Most beautiful is what we do not comprehend.” –  Nicolas Steno 

Nevertheless, I choose to live in presence with the collaging tangle of trees and sky, earth and breath, luxuriating in the magnificent wild. I heard the distant roar of waterfalls born high in the mountains crashing below, and supine cows serenading with arrhythmic cowbells foretelling delicious cheese.

I walked past a stone fortification, a reminder of darker days when Italy fought against France and the Allies during World War II, across streams of opalescent waters, clambered across boulders, admired aiguilles (mountaintop needles), followed twisting paths, sampled wild raspberries, strawberries and blueberries, and stopped often to enjoy the sea of alpine foliage, the sun high and strong, the soft katabati wind cooling my skin.

Micro experiences that knocked my socks off. 

The real genius of the trails is that whenever you sense indifference with the vestiges of verdant lush foliage, bluebird skies, and the jaw dropping views of the iconic mountain and its neighbouring spires, it quickly takes umbrage and shakes you back to life.

A reminder that you can both have your head in the clouds and feet on the ground.

 

I will miss feeling so involved in something so big: the most spectacular and quintessentially alpine landscapes, the constant sweat and burn of sustained effort and the joyous reward of a newly earned and compelling mountain vista.  

From the moment I laced up my hiking boots to my final Apersol Spritz, every steep step was about the Dostoyevsky-ian necessary and inevitable “the pain is the point” empowerment, embracing perfect freedom, and the beauty of “the journey is the destination”, making for a once-in-a-lifetime experience. An infinite succession of presents. 

These are the moments that matter. Another adventure to look back on for the rest of my life. And to remember who I am.

Simply put, “C’est incroyable!” 

Au revoir. Caio. Auf wiedersehen.
 
Filed Under: Blog

The Right To Roam

July 29, 2024 by

The thing about travel—it’s not always easy. Most of us skid in like Kramer from Seinfeld, oblivious to our fraught relationship with travel. It has its perils and it has its pitfalls.

Sometimes I wonder, looking down the tracks to nowhere familar, where did such breathtaking self-assurance come from? 

I know, you want an explanation why listening (while uttering something about spelling, punctuation and my tendency to ramble) to  any of my travel advice is a good idea, in that I have been living in an unparalleled cosmos of missed turns, surprises, letdowns, failed efforts, “scenic tours”, and wrong destinations for decades, citing many to advise, with great tact and delicacy, to retire my luggage.  

He who seeks will probably find — something else. You know what they say: with great power, comes great ways to get lost.  

Long distance flights are the kind we Canadians have to take in order to get anywhere, really. Also, it’s the only way to get away from the snow and zero temperatures to get to pellucid waters — the fulfillment of some dubious romantic dream.  I’m always reading about pellucid waters in exotic places, but I’m not quite sure what it means. One more drink and I’ll be pellucid?

Travelling is one of the greatest joys in life. The novelty being that you will be not doing what you want to do most at great expense in blistering heat in a foreign country whilst not having any idea where the corkscrew is and this experience will in turn make you wonder: What’s the point of life on earth?
Nevertheless, I’m not a fan of minute plans, decisions out of a guidebook, of seeing the same things with the mob, the environmental impact of set-jetting, the selfie culture, hitch hiking on the top of a truck, or conquering unknown lands. A daily itinerary is kryptonite to me.  

I also require inhibition-melting fortification to travellers whose curiosity about a foreign country is limited to what they can eat or buy. 

Organizational skills are also commendable, but do you ever really need to pack three flashlights? You know there’s a light on your phone, right? 

It is also helpful to be able to say things in many languages, like “Hello”, “Lite mayonnaise”,  and “What is the Wi-Fi password? Because who doesn’t need to know that Eddie Murphy got married again. He has ten children. I’m just sharing that because that is a lot of children. 

It is also preferable to not feel compelled to do anything you are uncomfortable doing, like missions to find keys, seashells and blackberries. In that order. 

Nevertheless, voyeuristic with itchy feet, I prefer to wander around and find what I find, trying to get beneath the surface of a place, to figure out what it’s like to live there. It’s an act of processing the world around me.  

I seem to gravite to The Road Less Travelled, mainly because nobody else seems to be on it—ever. 

I am not a traveller who always travels alone, but one who travels in solitude. As they say, discretion is the better part of valour. 

Yes, there is justification for an escorted tour: economy, security, companionship, someone to handle the customs, language, luggage and meals, but for me, it’s a last resort. Unless it’s North Korea.  

Nevertheless, at the end of the day, travel’s pleasures are undeniable. To settle for less is a chore.
Filed Under: Blog

Think Outside the Lawn

June 11, 2024 by

The Bane of the Brown Thumb You know good landscaping when you see it. First impressions begin as soon as buyers pull up to a home, and poor landscaping is one of the biggest turn-offs. You want buyers to imagine themselves making the house their future home – not clouding those thoughts with judgments.  Ultimately, it’s staging the front yard, and this is just as important as what’s inside. 
                 BEFORE                                                         AFTER

Plant somethingOne of the quickest and most impactful things to spice things up is to add colour and interest by planting flowers and shrubs. They breathe life into the property.

A thoughtfully composed front garden affects first impressions. It conveys a welcoming feeling as well as protraying stability and care.

It’s quick and cost-effective.
Create a Cohesive Color Scheme Aim for colour, contrast, and balance. Contrast dictates what our eye sees first, like a pot of yellow flowers against red brick.The best gardens are full of layers, mixing different heights and textures, the tallest in the back and the shortest plants in the front.Once planted, surrounding the flowers and shrubs with fresh mulch or wood chips, a scattering of large rocks or stepping stones can really tie it all together.Mulch and medium-size wood chips give extra colour, texture and contrast—also helping with the spread of weeds and keeping the soil moist. Avoid dyed mulches, which contain contaminants.
A great trick is to add decorative pots planted with annuals in any bare spots. 

Setting out ceramic or wicker planters filled with flowers or plants on the porch, in the garden, or flanking the front door is an instant “best bang for your buck.”

Install window boxes or hang baskets filled with flowers and trailing plants.
Filed Under: Blog
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