tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-200351292024-03-07T11:37:04.815-08:00may the road rise to meet usAnother Hill family roadtrip - this time, to the mother's motherland. Ireland.Leannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15938072793165170811noreply@blogger.comBlogger71125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20035129.post-69663907179890702682016-05-28T11:37:00.002-07:002016-05-28T11:38:36.957-07:00The End/Beginning<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
One of the best things about going away is the gift of coming home. I've said it before, but it bears repeating: we are SO BLESSED to have a home that we love to come back to. I know it's not a mistake that we love our little Langy, and home; we put lots of energy into making it a home we feel cozy in. It's partly the ease of familiarity, sinking back into an environment that we know inside and out, where the kitchen knives are sharp and the toys & books are plentiful. It was especially wonderful for me to come home to a seriously thriving garden (thanks to our caring and wonderful friend who offered to help out!)<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;">So much lettuce! </span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The journey home was long, and I'm not going to down-play the wretchedness of jetlag with kids! But it was worth it! </td></tr>
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The last leg of our journey, to Bushmills in Northern Ireland and back down to Dublin, was great. I can definitely and wholeheartedly recommend road tripping in Ireland. The Giant's Causeway was stunning. Our energy had started to flag by that point so we were slowing down in our excursions. Fortunately the house that we'd booked in Portballintrae (County Antrim) was beautiful and stocked with lego & toddler toys! It gave us the luxury of a few slow start days. I now have a much better idea of what makes a great airbnb (or VRBO/holiday home). </div>
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It was very interesting to see & feel the difference between the Republic of Ireland and Northern Ireland. There's no border, but the motorway changes names, and directional signs in NI are in English only, whereas the signs in the Republic are all in Irish & English. We really didn't dig into local sentiment & politics, but there are perceptible differences from a traveler's perspective (beyond the staggering Pound Sterling to Canadian exchange rate). I imagine that the building code & development policy is pretty different, though I don't have facts to back that up. I found the Northern Irish small town to be less attractive, and I couldn't put my finger on it really...we heard that a few towns on the coast are almost entirely holiday towns, one such was devoted to amusement games - kind of like the Reno of indoor amusement halls. We drove into Portrush & Portstewart on a Sunday afternoon to look for a pub for a pint (probably first mistake, Sunday). What we did find was the Sunday outting crowd. Cars parked every which way along the oceanside promenade, filled with families of all ages. Just sitting on the promenade, watching the world go by. I remember my Nana & Grandpa going for Sunday drives, seems like a tradition that's alive and well. It was pretty chilly and windy as we walked along the street, though that didn't stop the ice cream shops from turning a good business! </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Carrick-A-Rede</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Deluce Castle in the mid-distance</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Giant's Causeway</td></tr>
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The trip on the whole was marvelous. Really an easy trip with the two boys, made easier with the help & love of the fam. No drive was longer than 5 hours, and the boys were welcome everywhere. </div>
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Some things we miss already: </div>
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OH MY GOODNESS the dairy: I took "pouring cream" with my coffee, thinking at first that that was the normal cream, but no. It is thick, heavy and delicious cream. Upon coming home we picked up some whipping cream to see if it compares, but it doesn't. The cheese was also so tasty and affordable. </div>
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Dramatic and shifting coastline. Incomparable. </div>
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The food! So much local produce/meat/dairy available and accessible. And the red ale & stout that were sold only at the brewpub in Lisdoonvarna. (Seriously, Irish Red Ale is delicious). </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lisdoonvarna Roadside Tavern. Lisdoonvarna is also the host of a month-long matchmaking festival.</td></tr>
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The people & the welcome. Though we didn't meet as many people as we might have, or have in the past, maybe because we were mostly self-catering and staying in homes without present hosts. The folks that we did cross paths with were rich with stories & offerings. </div>
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The quiet slow time that we found around every corner. </div>
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Yeats'<i> The Lake Isle of Innisfree</i> really does capture it most beautifully: </div>
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... </div>
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<i>And I shall have some peace there, for peace comes dropping slow,</i></div>
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<i>Dropping from the veils of the morning to where the cricket sings; </i></div>
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<i>There midnight's all a glimmer, and noon a purple glow, </i></div>
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<i>And evening full of the linnet's wings. </i></div>
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... </div>
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What a gift. I'll close this holiday here and begin our summer-at-home - which we're already loving. Until next time!</div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18434894976619421631noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20035129.post-40597565962776696362016-05-20T01:25:00.000-07:002016-05-20T06:47:16.731-07:00Dingle to Doolin <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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We have experienced and seen so much in the past week:
distinct geology, accents, styles of music (so we’re told, though my untrained
ear can’t tell the difference), animal life, and all over the span of about 220
kilometres door to door. <o:p></o:p><br />
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Earlier I had written about the idyllic green pasture, blue ocean landscape that we had arrived to in Dingle. Little did I know we’d also meet bare limestone - moon walk - volcanic sneeze landscape in the UNESCO geo-region of The Burren. I’ve been continuously stunned and awed by Ireland’s beauty. A change of light changing a view I’d come to expect.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Burren above our holiday cottage in Fanore</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sisters who climber together - Janet & Tricia</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cliffs of Moher from the sea - also an incredible seabird haven</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Doolin</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Connor's pass in Dingle Peninsula</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The only trad music the kids have heard because everything starts after 8:30</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnSRw2uoXzUJdxzKggyIiFMoGD_ZdWS4UAfA0IljL0ZhsXELnRXFkCNj2T6ADnjGKtWTGMLAncAeSVdvkCfwPU4Ti_hFj6TUDxv0FIHLlBmSjWrdcsg5MQxltTPnz6ByXeFJOM/s1600/20160514_111005.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnSRw2uoXzUJdxzKggyIiFMoGD_ZdWS4UAfA0IljL0ZhsXELnRXFkCNj2T6ADnjGKtWTGMLAncAeSVdvkCfwPU4Ti_hFj6TUDxv0FIHLlBmSjWrdcsg5MQxltTPnz6ByXeFJOM/s320/20160514_111005.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">That time we hunted for standing stones in farmers' fields - Dingle peninsula</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0ty_CkaQJGkBApMNDXzSMIa4Gsl9tTDDEGnUGPCTDq2pPNMPA5czOGH0i-NBttgpv4yliJYp6bMs8fsQkRXQN_0GbIoTC_I_ky6xgdvTBYTg0O_V3-b266qzKIap04ahNUeau/s1600/20160513_161556.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0ty_CkaQJGkBApMNDXzSMIa4Gsl9tTDDEGnUGPCTDq2pPNMPA5czOGH0i-NBttgpv4yliJYp6bMs8fsQkRXQN_0GbIoTC_I_ky6xgdvTBYTg0O_V3-b266qzKIap04ahNUeau/s320/20160513_161556.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dingle town</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Mom, Tricia and I overheard locals talking in the pub in
Fanore, speaking with their heaviest peer-to-peer accents and complaining about
tourists. I can really only catch snippets of the local chat, lots of “feck”
and laughter peppering a conversation. From what we caught, they were
exclaiming over a tourist’s desire to drive unreasonable distances to see
something new. Unreasonable to them was what we had called a pretty gentle
travel day. I can see why, given that what we’ve seen in a short time, over a
short distance is saturated with story & life.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi88E76pTFxyuJs0ZsdN-EWihNHHjP7haKBj0iycSOF1o0otDrZ_hJemRCbw1jXCxpY-lcg_Frl59MDB4CLXln8n1mEY5evWmX-jxHSFTUPUidJrCvlycL6bruFv_DGRyj3ZYOb/s1600/20160514_112658.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi88E76pTFxyuJs0ZsdN-EWihNHHjP7haKBj0iycSOF1o0otDrZ_hJemRCbw1jXCxpY-lcg_Frl59MDB4CLXln8n1mEY5evWmX-jxHSFTUPUidJrCvlycL6bruFv_DGRyj3ZYOb/s320/20160514_112658.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Standing stones found through the most rudimentary directions. In a cow field in Dingle. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaJh5OOrSx7cSQStNEAJN2B3JS6bL7HefSquC7Wk7JwT1p598DxJtpf1VaqrcTb-vPcIbT_c47VReHOmYBmuExwJZFKLe6rdAG0TTEUFtXr5G7prtNd3UXSydRY7V44wr1HUqs/s1600/20160514_142441.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaJh5OOrSx7cSQStNEAJN2B3JS6bL7HefSquC7Wk7JwT1p598DxJtpf1VaqrcTb-vPcIbT_c47VReHOmYBmuExwJZFKLe6rdAG0TTEUFtXr5G7prtNd3UXSydRY7V44wr1HUqs/s320/20160514_142441.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We could not have guessed that we'd come to ireland and get a suntan (Inch strand)</td></tr>
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We hit our groove last week, a pretty great feat given that
we all have strong minds. We travel in two cars which gives us some
flexibility, though we’ve spent at least part of each day doing something
together (oooo family roadtrip tip: walkie talkies! They’ve been AMAZING!).
Fortunately, enough of our interests overlap. Our little family unit (well,
Brian and I) really like finding interesting places to eat & watch &
listen, which sometimes takes some slowing down and meandering. This more or
less works out with the kids since a reasonable expectation for them is to “do”
one thing a day. Mom & Tricia are particularly energetic so they’ve shared
stories and photos of their own wanderings, with the willing Hans in tow.<br />
<br />
The boys have been overall really solid. Let me tell you – the difference between travelling with the boys last year and this year is ENORMOUS. There have been a couple days where Brian and I have had to remind ourselves why we’re doing this (remember how last year’s road-trip was hard when we went through it, but is now a really beautiful series of memories?). But I haven’t lost my cool, and we’re experiencing more high moments than low moments. That’s a win. It’s due in large part to three things: we have beautiful, willing & capable family with us who entertain, cajole, and cook; the boys are both a year older; and we’re staying in homes larger than 13 feet long.<br />
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<o:p></o:p></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkMMsueopjFV9HWgZPC1EpNsxrdJw2gYv-b3nAYMjTr9-6yGYgaW70Uw2Q1xlcqnkuQQYx7feXvSk_CTEPBnNrTpyRxAPbmrQofAhNOmoeFBWcYrG50wBvLLwSbZyVrwS2_zYy/s1600/20160515_182313.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkMMsueopjFV9HWgZPC1EpNsxrdJw2gYv-b3nAYMjTr9-6yGYgaW70Uw2Q1xlcqnkuQQYx7feXvSk_CTEPBnNrTpyRxAPbmrQofAhNOmoeFBWcYrG50wBvLLwSbZyVrwS2_zYy/s320/20160515_182313.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We had an evening out at the local pub in Fanore </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWNRuXilVXgT609yuiij-KoTxWNQ1A4PmCWtlfcg-bxgzeM6ht1IkbGHDSobOyv6pf1_5Z0ngN9z-DuKLuLn_MfSJRVDbJR0I84BBWGdo1I0lDXuBQCoiZvj_paibktd_lOljM/s1600/20160519_125559.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWNRuXilVXgT609yuiij-KoTxWNQ1A4PmCWtlfcg-bxgzeM6ht1IkbGHDSobOyv6pf1_5Z0ngN9z-DuKLuLn_MfSJRVDbJR0I84BBWGdo1I0lDXuBQCoiZvj_paibktd_lOljM/s320/20160519_125559.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Just couldn't help ourselves! </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAGhtL6YOD5kuTcKYlOtYvvqgOq57c7GYinNX4AoZqFS1sX1hDXDdmGEtXfpWEAciiRxsNN1aXXvyAE03P5uHMKutAEPHSylcaG5hebunrTWnGeUQ-5S5pqZWxoccrAOeNx7gK/s1600/20160515_172239.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAGhtL6YOD5kuTcKYlOtYvvqgOq57c7GYinNX4AoZqFS1sX1hDXDdmGEtXfpWEAciiRxsNN1aXXvyAE03P5uHMKutAEPHSylcaG5hebunrTWnGeUQ-5S5pqZWxoccrAOeNx7gK/s320/20160515_172239.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fanore</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiW_CnuGl3sSpNa5S4spC8iCfmo45Ds3QhBfIkfrCMI-SAD0m4HKnMWQAaLpA2iWKmJlgmlvoLAiUSEQ-FUZySUReBJ183KrsZ5QPRWgrRw9TcOn5wJXeQEGTAC2LX2emKqDKLe/s1600/20160515_163900.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiW_CnuGl3sSpNa5S4spC8iCfmo45Ds3QhBfIkfrCMI-SAD0m4HKnMWQAaLpA2iWKmJlgmlvoLAiUSEQ-FUZySUReBJ183KrsZ5QPRWgrRw9TcOn5wJXeQEGTAC2LX2emKqDKLe/s320/20160515_163900.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lots of playtime for Jamma and the boys!</td></tr>
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Tricia left us yesterday to wrap up her trip in Dublin, so here
we are – now in Sligo – a group of 6. Before she left we went to W.B Yeats’ gravestone and recited “The Lake Isle of Innisfree” in honour of my grandpa, a lover of
literature. We continue to trip around and get absorbed by whatever catches our
fancy. And actually, I think that’s a good way to describe travelling in
Ireland, there’s something around <i>every</i>
corner to absorb interest, and to inspire imagination & reflection. This place is made of
magic. And people. And stone. And grass and sheep and cows and horses and sky
and ocean! We are so privileged to be here.</div>
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Until next time! <o:p></o:p></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18434894976619421631noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20035129.post-89535679763508818192016-05-13T12:36:00.002-07:002016-05-14T02:10:43.862-07:00The penny has dropped: History's not simple to understand. <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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We have just spent a marvelous day in the Dingle Peninsula.
This is the Ireland that we see in movies, the mythic Ireland that we’ve been
shown as North Americans. The drive in offered rolling hills on the right and
green pasture up to the ocean’s edge on the left: houses were positioned on the
hill-side of the road, with the pasture for the sheep on the water-side. Mom
says Grandpa would exclaim about the North American habit of building right on
the waterfront “the waterfront should be for everyone”. We are certainly
drinking in every vista. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEio_MTfQylBfDm_OxK9Pzsmk9VfmzL2zwRZQWq7M6xq-f8exmGGRJCQOn1bN8cdEaG17suIAnwCnym610koap0uKCbcWUj2JgBChLQq9hRpWdklHqjZBGyqlHUmnwSi4FDVw_Bi/s1600/20160512_191436.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEio_MTfQylBfDm_OxK9Pzsmk9VfmzL2zwRZQWq7M6xq-f8exmGGRJCQOn1bN8cdEaG17suIAnwCnym610koap0uKCbcWUj2JgBChLQq9hRpWdklHqjZBGyqlHUmnwSi4FDVw_Bi/s320/20160512_191436.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZEwszyLSvO5NvbZdQtBMLUT4FYrwz-vq2C0W_yOq6WjO5oqviyZgxYUD5zsrsZavmGVkHn3AJAQxBw2Iu5PdixCyvYtHJXYHnkgj2mKSfjRSVwOuuXF4Ata5JJWbdaRo1mbjY/s1600/20160512_190333.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZEwszyLSvO5NvbZdQtBMLUT4FYrwz-vq2C0W_yOq6WjO5oqviyZgxYUD5zsrsZavmGVkHn3AJAQxBw2Iu5PdixCyvYtHJXYHnkgj2mKSfjRSVwOuuXF4Ata5JJWbdaRo1mbjY/s320/20160512_190333.jpg" width="180" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We don't stop an awful lot unless it's time to let the boys run...so photo taken from moving car - check. </td></tr>
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The town of Dingle is exceptionally picturesque in the real
sense of the word. On the road from Dublin, to Wexford and now to Dingle we’ve
seen variation in towns that buzz and seem to thrive, and towns that look like
they’ve got their heads down, just trying to make it through the next hump. We
went to a pub in Tomhaggard (a very small village near Butlerstown where we stayed
in County Wexford). One half of the pub ownership told us, as we walked in to
see her and a friend hastily butting out, that they now sometimes sneak a smoke
in the pub, since the inspectors don’t come by anymore: they used to come
checking all the time, when business was booming. I asked when they were
booming, she said “2003-2008…It really hit its lowest in 2010”. Right, the
downturn, as we euphemistically call it. By the end of the night (nearing
midnight on a Wednesday) there had been a total of 10 visitors since we’d
arrived. The publican gave us a lift home at the end of the night. Wild! <o:p></o:p></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdrLpKyCRa9SR4bma4NB9vHMNOlSvG6oWXeeEzOgoqE6224Vtp6yyt7kgW17kq0HoxNO04_fntsfp1sSKyT3JMeCpa5tX-Qn66MHX_BTJXtO0TRJqnuYQgUd02F_6vnzsxjav1/s1600/20160511_220243.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdrLpKyCRa9SR4bma4NB9vHMNOlSvG6oWXeeEzOgoqE6224Vtp6yyt7kgW17kq0HoxNO04_fntsfp1sSKyT3JMeCpa5tX-Qn66MHX_BTJXtO0TRJqnuYQgUd02F_6vnzsxjav1/s320/20160511_220243.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The pub in Tomhaggard, a 20 minute walk down the back lane</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5VILGELuIXNWLcYNDbkUSx3b8KZkL57tlnbcWJsrQX1322oh0fT_N5M2UH_uUZXA9wk6DjDQ3FCL9Cj01J52NIaywJTxSMfdVQ025ycylM78xNRjpJ0RLqp_bmTq2GWqglSaM/s1600/20160511_224806.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5VILGELuIXNWLcYNDbkUSx3b8KZkL57tlnbcWJsrQX1322oh0fT_N5M2UH_uUZXA9wk6DjDQ3FCL9Cj01J52NIaywJTxSMfdVQ025ycylM78xNRjpJ0RLqp_bmTq2GWqglSaM/s320/20160511_224806.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">From the same pub: Linziestown is another name for Lingstown - right next to snowshoes! There was a Northwest Territories licence plate on the door too. Was this place meant for my Mom or what?! </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzOe4SXhrP8YfpYHBOisiRCVv9jBSmXZyGoIgCaXId_cnNAUinwW1myB9cnjJ1Rw2edosXHa1jV4lSKnMPihQDyxO-K7sI3Y-Vk-noXLBBkjuJi5UX5fwupxxvfq_-js7JwDou/s1600/20160510_102941.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzOe4SXhrP8YfpYHBOisiRCVv9jBSmXZyGoIgCaXId_cnNAUinwW1myB9cnjJ1Rw2edosXHa1jV4lSKnMPihQDyxO-K7sI3Y-Vk-noXLBBkjuJi5UX5fwupxxvfq_-js7JwDou/s320/20160510_102941.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">In Butlerstown Castle (drawing room?) looking at the family tree with Tricia, Anna & Helen</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCJrD0oeJFil1hI8kHUySM9SmmaZHkcUBzZlcZcJYDnI8cOMuF-LMjEBAHEc2SwnINWqhz8laxVe2u4n3O_zAXbZDG6oF_GidigCaDZpe2aC7Wfh6xjnNOpMqMuLsdTyVJ5o60/s1600/20160509_140742.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCJrD0oeJFil1hI8kHUySM9SmmaZHkcUBzZlcZcJYDnI8cOMuF-LMjEBAHEc2SwnINWqhz8laxVe2u4n3O_zAXbZDG6oF_GidigCaDZpe2aC7Wfh6xjnNOpMqMuLsdTyVJ5o60/s320/20160509_140742.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">In the Butlerstown Boxwell graveyard and church</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjntFDC1OasKHDv2kqpjdaAeBhOu55bV6VSZRcJi4gXkjzMp0E1Z0rgGsHisNSLpL9PXGlz_ArwEAN4s-hnQA6DJ5gq-RccoglGnZ6VrkuANft1PLZSpxep-1Ms6uza1WfpIXpZ/s1600/20160509_140851.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjntFDC1OasKHDv2kqpjdaAeBhOu55bV6VSZRcJi4gXkjzMp0E1Z0rgGsHisNSLpL9PXGlz_ArwEAN4s-hnQA6DJ5gq-RccoglGnZ6VrkuANft1PLZSpxep-1Ms6uza1WfpIXpZ/s320/20160509_140851.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dorothea Janet Boxwell, died at 12 years. Mom did a grave rubbing of her stone. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhD52NC4x07cqbRg3iMpdQUbcz-HOHGuXSxyAx78285a8s2p3Md2uYh93BnNBZ-KQ-fyx0E3V5HHBj4HYVWWiDjtvjny3BqJm3v48nrnyQndzLEVUhyphenhyphenJ7_pu2burDlwy_wYGu7k/s1600/20160509_110654.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhD52NC4x07cqbRg3iMpdQUbcz-HOHGuXSxyAx78285a8s2p3Md2uYh93BnNBZ-KQ-fyx0E3V5HHBj4HYVWWiDjtvjny3BqJm3v48nrnyQndzLEVUhyphenhyphenJ7_pu2burDlwy_wYGu7k/s320/20160509_110654.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">It's not at all uncommon for us to find two children on our laps whenever we find a cozy nook</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7KSDMMn32cI-m2uLmql8YSeWegeHE4Xkm4cdEeE0XOrFS-XsqjMsAIXrMem3_m6Pnh1FAZolieuNvqaKoFDFE5v6u92lt38CGeLWymjfRbZ6bqa-LQwvX0wHrFWmv9-_sfpxm/s1600/20160508_184202.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7KSDMMn32cI-m2uLmql8YSeWegeHE4Xkm4cdEeE0XOrFS-XsqjMsAIXrMem3_m6Pnh1FAZolieuNvqaKoFDFE5v6u92lt38CGeLWymjfRbZ6bqa-LQwvX0wHrFWmv9-_sfpxm/s320/20160508_184202.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bagenal Harvey & Boxwell Cottages</td></tr>
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We had a remarkable time staying in Butlerstown Castle cottages – named for our relations no less! Bagenal Harvey Cottage was a renovated cowshed, with a wonderful enclosed front yard and access to feeding donkeys! What a delight for us parents – keeping kids inside is hard, so so much easier to be able to let them roam free from time to time. Helen Boxwell, our host’s sprightly, and short of short-term
memory, 90 year old mother, has written the better part of the Boxwell family
history in Ireland and spent the day with us as we explored backroads in quest
of Ballymacane and other Boxwell haunts. </div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNMoLtFNdEdw9rLepmwZVzSxGHve-USvvd2SWfumJ5p20uk3LJPqrfeeyUFu6X38-S_tWdy7cnZHNIz2BdxsJn70OrFn_H7SBesSWR55GhuiF0SocSpvSPmwDXhchY370S_lVo/s1600/20160510_121659.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNMoLtFNdEdw9rLepmwZVzSxGHve-USvvd2SWfumJ5p20uk3LJPqrfeeyUFu6X38-S_tWdy7cnZHNIz2BdxsJn70OrFn_H7SBesSWR55GhuiF0SocSpvSPmwDXhchY370S_lVo/s320/20160510_121659.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The left side of the house is the original Ballymacane, where my Grandpa & Nana lived for a short while. It was financially untenable for them to maintain the land, and their loan requests were denied. They sold in 1963. Nana was pregnant with my Mom. The Devereux family welcomed us in with smiles, tea & biscuits. </td></tr>
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My particular exploration has also
been an inquiry into the waves of colonizers of this wild green land – my family
belonging to one of those waves. Helen told us, with a wry smile, that John
Boxwell came to Ireland in the 1600’s after being ousted from England for being
a Catholic (on the losing side of a change in reign). He left England as a
Catholic, and arrived in Ireland a Protestant. It was a business decision,
Helen surmises. He married, procreated – and the rest is history. It was at Lingstown
castle that I came to the conclusion that roughly 400 years’ residence will do
when asking the question “where is my family <i>from</i>?”. Our Irish roots (at least those that were traced through
the male lineage) are Saxon (as opposed to Norman, Viking, Celtic, Pict…), part
of a wave of latest-colonizers. What I realized, is that Ireland was very much
a British colony. This will no doubt sound naïve, but I hadn’t fully
comprehended the reason behind the religious divide that is so much more
commonly talked about. Ireland was as much a British colony as India was, or
Canada was in terms of treatment of indigenous people & their land. Life was brutal. There’s a reason for the
strain. <o:p></o:p></div>
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And with this realization, I’m ready to let this simmer. I’ve
found a great tree growing out of my ancestor’s home. There’s something poetic
about this. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwn7_bcieVKzWJUmcNC9rH5GsF08pQ0WpE-nkbltE5afTzOG4q6E6VJbfSpljTIoTPDFbh0oliKwGb96-DLzswkhOYXUlp3L7Bv01BPAa9kYyaZ-X-7TNBVuoedqSmLgkIS8lu/s1600/20160510_114409.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwn7_bcieVKzWJUmcNC9rH5GsF08pQ0WpE-nkbltE5afTzOG4q6E6VJbfSpljTIoTPDFbh0oliKwGb96-DLzswkhOYXUlp3L7Bv01BPAa9kYyaZ-X-7TNBVuoedqSmLgkIS8lu/s320/20160510_114409.jpg" width="180" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lingstown Castle</td></tr>
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We’re finding our flow as a travelling family of 7, not
always simple, but every day brings something beautiful. </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlmvvuA-YyDPmA_nUrO-j-s89pFdd-Ei1wXbQ55PGWAIUzXg8JS31rmweVZjTtONZhUFHenR3RnCLe6DFsYxXcVQv5FNDCd-uPWZgi0g9TVbKSO1KT2_-Wl3c-gTD0ism2wbRN/s1600/20160512_144642.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlmvvuA-YyDPmA_nUrO-j-s89pFdd-Ei1wXbQ55PGWAIUzXg8JS31rmweVZjTtONZhUFHenR3RnCLe6DFsYxXcVQv5FNDCd-uPWZgi0g9TVbKSO1KT2_-Wl3c-gTD0ism2wbRN/s320/20160512_144642.jpg" width="180" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">That's right! The Blarney Castle! Actually a great stop on the way to Dingle. They boys ran free, and it was WAY less touristy than I thought it would be. L-R: Janet, Tricia, Hans, Brian & Otis & yours truly with Russell!</td></tr>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18434894976619421631noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20035129.post-52699654955317571272016-05-09T10:27:00.002-07:002016-05-13T11:57:32.960-07:00From the Cowshed<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Our last 2 days in & around Dublin were great. Contrary
to what I anticipated (and despite the excellent marketing of which I was suspicious),
the Guinness Storehouse was a super engaging experience for the whole fam. It
went way beyond the typical cellar tour/tasting room that we’re familiar with –
clearly no expense was spared. It also reminded me of the skill behind curation
& interpretation, bringing the Guinness story into the context of daily
life through the years. AND making that interesting for adults & children
alike – the transportation display & Guinness marketing through the years’
floors were easy wins. We wandered through Dublin and found some lovely
pockets, and some less-lovely areas (ironically, the most touristy Temple Bar
neighbourhood was least friendly to our little fam). We took our first roadtrip
(driving on the left!) to visit my uncle Allen (my Dad’s brother) & family in
Rathnally. We were so warmly welcomed & feasted to our bellies content! <o:p></o:p></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibbekTyqXwtjjTWjzkHPUpvwQD_meZ-WtgVaS-D-62NWLimAayuVLXQLh7rSwGmhDnneAxVn7Vt1cV7poY8sojiYf5-EYoQC26uRV8BM9J4e2yfye0dbgOzd3dJ3KjiYG6IvVB/s1600/20160507_155102.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibbekTyqXwtjjTWjzkHPUpvwQD_meZ-WtgVaS-D-62NWLimAayuVLXQLh7rSwGmhDnneAxVn7Vt1cV7poY8sojiYf5-EYoQC26uRV8BM9J4e2yfye0dbgOzd3dJ3KjiYG6IvVB/s320/20160507_155102.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Allen, Margaret and their girls Charlotte & Serena</td></tr>
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We also went searching for my great-grandparents’ home back
in Dublin, where they raised their 9 children – my grandpa was the youngest. We
found it, thanks to Tricia’s research & connection with our extended
family. The family who lives there now kindly welcomed us to the home that they’ve
since renovated, and suggested we also try down the street, where an elder
still lives from the time she was a child. Doreen, 95 years old, remembers our
family, and the hijinks her and my great auntie got up to. Remarkable. What
really struck me, though, was learning about the history of the housing in that
neighbourhood – East Wall. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJGgTw7aY1JLw9QQ32qOvqvEdDrYxPIVrJoeV712lCbKz7A2WUxGlP9XUNKo9pRPEniyOzw-vAVc0u7uaPq55bgsjWS3naYPwSRb1XFVGVQdvUd64c3D7yZP9HL4JbqP1L2S19/s1600/20160508_124556.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJGgTw7aY1JLw9QQ32qOvqvEdDrYxPIVrJoeV712lCbKz7A2WUxGlP9XUNKo9pRPEniyOzw-vAVc0u7uaPq55bgsjWS3naYPwSRb1XFVGVQdvUd64c3D7yZP9HL4JbqP1L2S19/s320/20160508_124556.jpg" width="180" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Where my grandpa Boxwell was raised </td></tr>
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A clergyman, Canon Hall, was disgusted at the conditions of
the tenement housing (slums) that arose as a result of a change in policies
from London in the late 1800’s (I believe). A hundred people might live in a
three story building in appalling conditions. I gather he had some
architectural skills, and most likely some great advocacy and persuasive
skills. He designed new individual family housing, with input from women (!). This
initial movement became instrumental in re-homing families and in formulating
future housing developments. Furthermore, though Canon Hall was protestant, the
housing was for families regardless of either religious affiliation. Something that
was pretty radical for the time, I gather. We might assume that my family was a
beneficiary of this effort. That feels powerful to me. <o:p></o:p></div>
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I find myself becoming more and more interested in the
sociopolitical context of the cities & communities that we visit. There’s a
lot to learn here. <o:p></o:p></div>
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We’re now in Tomhaggard, in County Wexford, staying in a
renovated cow-shed adjacent to Butlerstown Castle. Boxwells have lived in this
Castle for 300 years – tomorrow we’ll meet with the current owners, Helen
Boxwell and our hosts, Anna & Jim and we’ll see where we’re related. We’ll
also go on the hunt for Ballymacane Castle – the land that my grandfather inherited,
and then sold in the 60’s. I’m sure there’s so much nuance in here, I feel a
little like a lumbering bear with my questions & curiosity. Fortunately,
Helen is the local historian and is in the process of writing a book about the
Boxwells! </div>
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So – I’ll leave you with that. Slainte, and until next time! <o:p></o:p></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18434894976619421631noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20035129.post-60198339067048710612016-05-06T02:17:00.000-07:002016-05-06T06:13:31.353-07:00Dublin 2 days in<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgODudry_nzdZ0NMlS_XFuQgqiIDvNUF4icFB1SkZHjQ2Zh9tL7M1qQYolCSC6nXv3RwyLdILkj-k9guuXUDgkG3TTInQyg03aIA6sOtunXYk_9vHO-vPEP_iLUbzC7QExRFKO_/s1600/20160503_162357.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgODudry_nzdZ0NMlS_XFuQgqiIDvNUF4icFB1SkZHjQ2Zh9tL7M1qQYolCSC6nXv3RwyLdILkj-k9guuXUDgkG3TTInQyg03aIA6sOtunXYk_9vHO-vPEP_iLUbzC7QExRFKO_/s320/20160503_162357.jpg" width="180" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mom wrangling Hill boys on the flight to Toronto</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggCcz_U2AlYkITvoJkt0GCnBfHeUKp6mTUHtyZS4dot2Zk76HoWydxLt9YJK5W0-VZhjMZv5PWBfCH7gzaLTBP0J2PNxmslSPyzlLzkCk8__Ng93CHba-GwdfAqMtHNJl1JY8B/s1600/20160503_235954.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggCcz_U2AlYkITvoJkt0GCnBfHeUKp6mTUHtyZS4dot2Zk76HoWydxLt9YJK5W0-VZhjMZv5PWBfCH7gzaLTBP0J2PNxmslSPyzlLzkCk8__Ng93CHba-GwdfAqMtHNJl1JY8B/s320/20160503_235954.jpg" width="180" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Otis did sleep for about 4 hours on the overnight flight.</td></tr>
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I write from the dining room table at our airbnb in Dublin (in Ballybough, pronounced "Ballybuck"). We've made it through two fairly intense days and nights, and have really enjoyed our first day out of the very strange and very real twighlight of jetlag. Before leaving, I read a few kid-travel blogs, and I <i>think </i>I've heard<i> </i>from a few people sharing tales of first days; the rumours are that kids are pretty jetlag resilient. I guess I just took that and filed it away in my optimism brain compartment, because let me tell you: maybe the kids are fine with the jetlag. But these two parents, starved for sleep after an initial sleepless night flying, are NOT OKAY WITH JETLAGGED KIDS. Otis was up for 5 hours <i>after </i>we were ready to sleep. Brian and I tag-teamed, and Otis was so lost that all he could do was alternate between raging, and squirming. Poor dude! Thankfully Tricia came down from her attic retreat just at the right time, and took a shift so B and I slept with a fitful Russell between us (hurray for the village!!). Otis finally went to sleep - just after his usual Victoria bedtime.<br />
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But you know what else works in our favour? We're so recently out of our own sleep-deprivation-due-to-infant-child that getting a final stretch of 4 hours of sleep was enough to carry us through a great day! </div>
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We're a 20 minute walk into Dublin and we spent the morning at Trinity College. It's an interesting city-scape here. Brick row houses, fairly short. Few gardens in the enclosed front 'yards', and no food gardens at all. We were surmising that maybe it's because there are a ton of affordable local Irish food options available - even in the convenience stores. So if there's a focus on local food in the city, it's in the production of local food in existing agricultural practices. That's my guess, anyways. I look forward to heading out into the smaller towns to see what we learn there! </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQdVXvqbHTrA4LMlRK_jHs-eeYrO4dZ-DHEJU0CYK-tmGfFwVnEidJC5JexTdZgt_13ofW42hYoz5epy-IGhhEo6zLw_ioRrapTDxjefPsywUwNsk2CPwwISLiB4_rSPz-mDGt/s1600/20160504_191629.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQdVXvqbHTrA4LMlRK_jHs-eeYrO4dZ-DHEJU0CYK-tmGfFwVnEidJC5JexTdZgt_13ofW42hYoz5epy-IGhhEo6zLw_ioRrapTDxjefPsywUwNsk2CPwwISLiB4_rSPz-mDGt/s320/20160504_191629.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Janet & Tricia lifting a glass at The Celt - our first night out</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">River Liffey</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhErw2FEd__gR9tTgAMnycm-5KC7Bg3PUVo6UOA6mQ7km78kHt3uknO1K4tXQ9qPDgXbHkpypGRCPGgCvs_41hH3lKOYGqLFXJPbNB5W6qgIygrQSkwPl_m5kppMp5W7RYjkxOJ/s1600/20160504_181455.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhErw2FEd__gR9tTgAMnycm-5KC7Bg3PUVo6UOA6mQ7km78kHt3uknO1K4tXQ9qPDgXbHkpypGRCPGgCvs_41hH3lKOYGqLFXJPbNB5W6qgIygrQSkwPl_m5kppMp5W7RYjkxOJ/s320/20160504_181455.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our neighbourhood</td></tr>
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Trinity College was beautiful. We visited the old library, and the book of Kells. I didn't really get to sink into the displays because Russell was running around like a wild child - but I did love the glimpse of the natural pigments display (<i>incredible </i>colours from minerals, plants). But I was really there for the library floor. It smelled like you might imagine - wood, books, a little churchy. Russell was still a loud boy, but the security guard upstairs kindly smiled and said "He's all yours, it's the only time he'll get away with running around in a library. Let him enjoy himself!" Oh thank you, kind people. We're doing our best! After our erudite explorations, we walked to the Rugby pitch where my Grandpa played in '52-'53 and the boys raaaaan and ran. Mom and Tricia searched for Grandpa's school records and actually ran into an elder professor who had family ties to us through his great-great-grandfather. He told us to connect with Helen Boxwell in Wexford. What are the odds? I guess we'll learn soon enough!</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheg0laPb100cenApLPJONXvM0DFJ9S4BlwPwjs3aAteYRGvMJwC_b5hF6fU3bU4h1aZFtbi4fMy8Uh0coP80FgAD3bPMzxQLHyC3JXLMG5ldxch6ctOBBqrPZGsyHdJVCYr6on/s1600/20160505_143655.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheg0laPb100cenApLPJONXvM0DFJ9S4BlwPwjs3aAteYRGvMJwC_b5hF6fU3bU4h1aZFtbi4fMy8Uh0coP80FgAD3bPMzxQLHyC3JXLMG5ldxch6ctOBBqrPZGsyHdJVCYr6on/s320/20160505_143655.jpg" width="180" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Someone at a pub the night before commented on how we all look alike (the Boxwells, I presume).<br />
This is at Trinity College</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Self-Portrait</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Rugby! </td></tr>
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I'm finishing this post in the morning and am happy, oh so happy, to report a good full night's sleep all around! So the jetlag story that I would share would be along the lines of "well, I hear it can be different, but it might be wise to expect a rough first night."</div>
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Today we're going to the Guinness Storehouse! A little touristy, yes, but... well, Guinness. </div>
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Loving the adventure. </div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18434894976619421631noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20035129.post-52887668735028160532016-05-01T21:20:00.000-07:002016-05-01T21:42:23.721-07:00To Ireland!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Well, I'm beginning to believe it's going to happen. We've packed our bags, the house is tidied (more or less), and the garden's been given some love. Brian and I head to work tomorrow for one last day and then - PAM! - onto a series of airplanes that will ultimately deposit us in Dublin. All 7 of us. So if you were with us in spirit for our familymoon roadtrip last summer, you've probably heard me say 'wow, that was amazing, and so much harder than I thought it would be'. And THAT'S because for the bulk of time we were just 2 parents and 2 very young kids! That's, like, very little recharge time for two parents. Well, it was for us, at any rate.<br />
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So as we planned our next adventure, which is a gift to Brian for achieving a marvelous 50 years!, we asked ourselves, "where should we go?" and almost in the same breath "who should come with us?". Given that we had a spectacular family Christmas holiday with Brian's family already lined up, we floated the idea of a trip to Ireland past my mom, Janet. And it didn't take her 10 minutes to say "YES, let's!". Mom was born in Dublin, and hasn't been back since the family immigrated to Canada when she was three. Her enthusiasm must have been catching, because soon after, mom's partner Hans was part of the plan. </div>
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I've wanted to go to Ireland since I first learned that travelling was something a person could do. Postcards from my aunt Tricia would arrive periodically with stories from around the world that a 6 year old (and 8, 10, 12, 14 yr old) could live on for months. My grandfather graduated from Trinity College in Dublin, and I thought I'd do the same. And while I did travel and live abroad, I never made it to Ireland. Brian's always been interested in going to Ireland, but I think it's really the confluence of people & timing that's propelled us. It's fitting that Tricia will also be joining us, as she embarks on her own first time: travelling without her kids since... kids. </div>
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I can't say with any certainty that Otis, 3.5 years old, and Russell, 16 months old, are looking forward to this trip. I mean, Russell is still really just a rowdy passenger on this family train. But Otis, on the other hand, knows that we're going somewhere. He knows that Jamma & Hans & Tricia are coming with us, and he knows that he gets to play cell phone games on the airplane. I think that's pretty much as far as it gets. His waters run deep though. Sometimes it's hard to know what's going on in his sweet & complex brain. This afternoon he filled his backpack up with books for the trip, and he's been dragging it around behind him since. (Dragging, because it is too heavy for him to lift. Because books.) It is now laying in a heap beside his bed. He's also been super tantrum-full & boundary pushing. Change is tricky for this little dude. I am SO excited, though, at the thought that he might remember some of this adventure. </div>
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And I'm so excited to explore with family, to un-tether ourselves from the usual, and to sink into another territory. Who even knows what's around the bend? </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Russell surveying our domain</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Last 'fun day' in Victoria before the trip</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jamma - what more can I say? </td></tr>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18434894976619421631noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20035129.post-46224421515729325642015-09-01T10:18:00.000-07:002015-09-01T10:18:04.819-07:00Some gratitude, and a few lessons learned<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Let me start off, maybe where I should have begun a few weeks ago, by recognising our privilege out loud. We will have been 6 weeks away from home, away from work, but with work safely waiting for each of us when the time comes. We have been secure of shelter on the road and our little Langy home is still being cared for. We have been met with welcome almost everywhere and the odd unwelcoming experience has only shone a light on how we take our welcomes for granted. I am so grateful. And I hope we pay it forward and back as we go - guests everywhere we alight. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br /> This journey, as we head into our final week, has been sublime. Intense, captivating, spectacular, peaceful, raucous, challenging and easeful - sometimes all in the same day! I look forward to home but I'm still really enjoying our time away. <br /> <br /> We've learned a lot of things about our own family travel dynamic and we've learned a few things about camping in State & National parks with kids. I'm happy to share these practical tips here; if not just for you, then for our future selves too.<br /> <br /> In midsummer, it really is helpful to reserve early, especially if there isn't another nearby public campground. Private sites can be plentiful but the quality of space and nature is super variable. The public sites are so well maintained here and most have showers and all so far have had flush toilets - luxury!<br /> <br /> When booking ahead, try for a site on the outside of a loop. 80% of the time these offer more natural play & wandering spaces. Definitely avoid camping beside or within sight of a playground! This probably would be true if you have young kids or not. Unless your kids can be parent free in the park and are immune to other children's adventure noises when they need some down time.<br /> <br /> Towards the end of summer, things have been a little more roomy - so it's worth it to ask for a better site if you find one! <br /> <br /> In the Redwoods, we spent most of our day trips within the Prairie Creek State campground. If we were to go back, or make a recommendation it would be to stay there. I think we've been spoiled by our Provincial Campgrounds usually offering plentiful walkable activities (hikes, walks, beaches). Not all campgrounds are arranged like this! We spent quite a lot of time driving to hikes in the Redwoods while based in the otherwise central Mill Creek State Park. <br /> <br /> Which brings me to the importance of paying attention to the recreation options offered at sites. Jessie B Honeyman Park in Oregon was so family friendly and wonderful in many ways AND it was an ATV friendly dune. From sunrise to dusk, we heard the high whine of these motors. Fun for some, just not for us. <br /> <br /> These are the main things we'd take into consideration next time we're planning ahead. It's just so tricky for me to know in advance if it's better to just move on, or if the current setup is the better one. We're currently in Nehalem State Park and it is ideal! The sound of crashing waves, a playground a little distance away, a loooong non-motorized beach to walk to and a 5 minute drive into a small, charming town with a grocery store and a couple sweet looking restaurants. <br /> <br /> I'm also adding some photos of our setup for those of you who are curious. We met another Boler family and they invited us in to check out their systems (their son is in his teens and still sleeping on the single bed. I asked him if he fits and he replied emphatically 'no'!).<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsaf3_gxjdx75JEkM50-xJaqthnkUEPH8RR_rIu_NSJtbVKRUG8Tw-W0uryPkYrqub6VCPBnmevTLq8-U4mO3RuW_6j9n15Chp7x39rD2FJHgDQI08CI8XXSFtjlUVe90VxidH/s1600/20150830_180601.jpg"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsaf3_gxjdx75JEkM50-xJaqthnkUEPH8RR_rIu_NSJtbVKRUG8Tw-W0uryPkYrqub6VCPBnmevTLq8-U4mO3RuW_6j9n15Chp7x39rD2FJHgDQI08CI8XXSFtjlUVe90VxidH/s320/20150830_180601.jpg" /></a><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgm_Ex22Gf3suGp03IEbOd9YlNo0DoEyj4KnMcNn8YXxTPQK3psavEzEMKNY3AFdEXV9cBBL3xEfcM83f3oATcg3n4Pttqa8bqrIW3nunHViycXYDnyEBiyHoZcK1YIByx-5GQm/s1600/20150830_180621.jpg"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgm_Ex22Gf3suGp03IEbOd9YlNo0DoEyj4KnMcNn8YXxTPQK3psavEzEMKNY3AFdEXV9cBBL3xEfcM83f3oATcg3n4Pttqa8bqrIW3nunHViycXYDnyEBiyHoZcK1YIByx-5GQm/s320/20150830_180621.jpg" /></a><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjGNCfk3NQjd71Ztnjt9nVwq8MhzhTp96WnOJe-OzrYakcQuErViNFbrVxK6D5oKTrxKv0tV5WMWMGIrr3PbwlX8XZ-bGnSEiyKQ0sO2goUnmQIiE56aLQXmj2n18ngqgXXA7T/s1600/20150830_181540.jpg"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjGNCfk3NQjd71Ztnjt9nVwq8MhzhTp96WnOJe-OzrYakcQuErViNFbrVxK6D5oKTrxKv0tV5WMWMGIrr3PbwlX8XZ-bGnSEiyKQ0sO2goUnmQIiE56aLQXmj2n18ngqgXXA7T/s320/20150830_181540.jpg" /></a><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0a3GE31nd28pEFD3KhbqFmNtKF0hpjtjIDsc2Kk0zuJoD7-Lb4Q6J3Eeq2pbZxoM2QibWTQQzFU4Pmg2th-2Ab2qX0YAsERNGpWW4PBWSK1JnxLusl34cvy7AAGKXFuJnjXWW/s1600/20150830_181607.jpg"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0a3GE31nd28pEFD3KhbqFmNtKF0hpjtjIDsc2Kk0zuJoD7-Lb4Q6J3Eeq2pbZxoM2QibWTQQzFU4Pmg2th-2Ab2qX0YAsERNGpWW4PBWSK1JnxLusl34cvy7AAGKXFuJnjXWW/s320/20150830_181607.jpg" /></a><br /></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18434894976619421631noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20035129.post-86278575483414982232015-08-26T12:24:00.003-07:002015-08-26T12:24:44.903-07:00Endurance<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
A few nights ago I lost my sh*t. It was our second day in Mill Creek campsite in the Redwoods, third night back on our own, and fourth week on the road. Both boys were wrangy and overtired, and I've learned that what's true for them is often true for me (what an annoying and insight-giving mirror this can be!)<br />
It's been an adjustment, being just the 4 of us. Otis is learning how to play on his own again, and remembering how to share time with Brian and I AND Russell. There are a litany of reasons for a tricky series of events, as any parent will know. <br />
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Suffice it to say that by 9pm (way past bedtime), whining, teething and sleep striking got on my last frayed nerve. I yelled angrily. Loudly. "BE QUIET!!". Not helpful. This did absolutely nothing to calm the boys (surprise) and it only made me feel terrible. Some days are just hard, but being away made this one harder. Where else can you go when you're in a Boler?! (Or tent, yurt, hotel room...)<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8000001907349px;">Rock throwing is a surefire activity when we need to get out. We do this a lot.</td></tr>
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The next night, Brian and I steeled ourselves for the dinner-to-bed time crunch. It was only in looking back, as we sat by the fire while both beautiful boys slept peacefully, that I recognized what we had done. We entered into heads down focused parenting. Like in a physical test of endurance, we entered into a flow state, each of us tending to a different and evolving evening verse. Making dinner, pulling out the mega blocks, cajoling Otis onto the potty, putting food into mouths, taking leaves and moss out of Russell's, cleaning up - the kids and the space, gentle conversation, stories. PJ's. Bed. All with absolute minimal extraneous conversation. Around the fire that night we gave one another recognition. We were disheveled and exhausted. And we were proud of making it over the hump. <br />
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And it was just a hump. Russell's tooth finally broke the gum (no more hourly wakeups*), and Otis got his sweet sweet groove back. We played in the Redwoods' greatest playground: the Fern Canyon in Prairie Creek State Park. Otis delighted in walking across all 27 plank bridges layed over the meandering stream. I loved the velvet, rich, saturated greens in every forest shade. My senses were indulged. We had a perfect family adventure day.<br />
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So it's worth it. It's hard work, this being on the road. I guess that's why so many people looked at me with that look "you're doing what with a toddler and baby? Lady, you've got no idea what's coming". And it's a good thing I didn't. I love the feeling of working through a challenge, I love spending so much time outside, I love learning what Brian and the boys love, and I love sharing this adventure with them. <br />
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We leave the Redwoods today and I'm ready - we've hiked and explored. We've seen elk and eaten s'mores (I guess there's no fire ban here because of the omnipresent fog?).And I'm looking forward to our next stop in Oregon - Honeyman state park.<br />
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*I wrote this draft last night at the fire with both kids asleep. I clearly was feeling too optimistic. Russell woke every hour again last night. Could have been the entire cheese quesadilla that we let him eat for dinner. Lesson: don't use absolutes when referring to children's sleep habits. </div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18434894976619421631noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20035129.post-63214071857407318062015-08-20T21:11:00.001-07:002015-08-20T21:11:05.336-07:00Toxic Algae - the stink!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
We left Agency Lake, south of Crater Lake Oregon after one unsettled night. When we planned this trip we agreed that we'd stay a minimum of three nights in each place so as to sink in and breathe. Well let me tell you what happens when a shallow lake ecosystem hits unseasonably high temperatures. Toxic Algae! And that, ladies and gents, is how a picturesque lakeside campsite is marred indelibly by the overpowering smell of swamp and manure.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The region is stunning and rich with bird (and other) life. We saw egrets & pelicans</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">From our picnic table</td></tr>
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We drove south from Corbett past Mount Hood taking in evidence of scrub fires in desertscape; through gorgeous National forest, trying to navigate the delicate balance of pace vs. children's patience. And let's face it: managing my patience was really the task at hand. We blew through forest fire haze, planning to return to see Crater Lake the next day. We just really needed to set up camp and run around, so we pushed on through. We tried to book at Crater Lake about 3 weeks ago but everything was full. A lesson here is that when looking to camp in National Forest campgrounds: reserve early.<br />
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It's a tricky thing for me - the tension between enjoying the drive and sights along the way, and getting to camp. Former roadtrip partners (ahem, Gwen) will remember this about me. Maybe with relief that it's not you in the car at the moment!<br />
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Anyways, we are back on the road, missing Crater Lake altogether (our site hosts explained that with the haze it's not always possible to see the lake). I'm just so happy to be away from the stink of the algae lake, frankly.<br />
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I especially wanted to write about this because it was a visceral reminder of how precious our water is. We take it entirely for granted in BC. Yes, there are restrictions there right now, but the water is still fresh. We also learned in Minnesota last year that fertilizer and manure runoff impacts algae growth, which I had never given a second thought to.<br />
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So here's to shorter showers, sustainable farming practices, and a moment of love for our water. </div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18434894976619421631noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20035129.post-78601717704353024472015-08-19T14:43:00.000-07:002015-08-20T21:23:20.769-07:003 weeks in and going strong<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I've misled you. This adventure has been about much more than our family of 4. We've been referring to it as our familymoon, and I'm not sure that descriptor fits exactly. I've been letting my mind wander over what really stands out over the past 2 weeks: from downtime in Lynn Valley, to wedding celebrations in Vancouver, to Mt Rainier in Washington, and finally to Corbett, Oregon. It has been beautiful - each stop has held magic, and it's become clear that our trip so far has been about the partnership between place and people.<br />
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Family, and friends, and friends of friends have opened their homes to us, and we are no small footprint! We are travelling with 4 clear plastic tupperware bins, a dry food tupperware, and a cooler at the very minimum. The rest hangs out in, or under, the Boler if we're staying in a home. And we can't overlook the omnipresence of the two small boys who accompany us. One asking zillions of questions and wrangling partners in his world of play; the other with bright smiles, five-alarm shrieks, the will to scoot everywhere and chew on anything. And still we have been welcomed with arms and hearts wide open. We've even been out TWICE without the kids, thanks to our beautiful hosts! To Joanna & Tiara's impeccable & totally enjoyable wedding celebration, and to Little Bird in Portland with Becca and Martin (so very tasty). <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jo & Tiara</td></tr>
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While we were a little concerned about the longish drives (we've planned for no longer than 5 hrs), it seems we've worked out a flow that works. Driving to Mount Rainier from Vancouver with a stop in Sedro-Woolley has given us the confidence to keep taking the scenic route. If we time it right, Russell falls asleep almost immediately. When Otis starts to feel sleepy we hear a soft request from the backseat "Mommy, will you hold my foot?". This is new, this foot holding thing, but it works.<br />
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Becca & Martin met us at Mount Rainier National Park for our (so far) annual reunion. It was SPECTACULAR! The campground (Cougar Rock) is nestled at the base of the mountain and the sights and hikes in the park were as wild and beautiful as if we were backpacking in. <br />
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For our little family, it was absolutely ideal. We asked Otis what he particularly noticed about our first hike up to a set of waterfalls, across a wooden plank bridge laid over a raging river. He said "ummm, the rocks". We asked "what else do you notice about this forest?". He responded "...the sticks". Otis spends a lot of time throwing rocks these days.<br />
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We descended from the lofty mountain heights into Corbett, in the Columbia River Gorge. We were so happy to stay at The Stand Farm where Becca's good friends Susan and Janette opened up their home, yard, kitchen and hearts to us. It was a full house for this sweet family with a couple other friends and our little unit, and we couldn't have been shown a more beautiful example of hospitality. <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Janette sharing some bee time with me</td></tr>
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We wandered through Portland with food on our minds, ate at <a href="http://tinshedgardencafe.com/#" target="_blank">the Tin Shed</a> which we would definitely recommend (even if we didn't know Janette whose restaurant it is!) and had a pint at the <a href="http://oregonpublichouse.com/" target="_blank">Oregon non-profit pub</a>. Dreamy! We also spent a couple lazy afternoons at the river, the perfect complement to our holiday pace. Otis and Russell were in seventh heaven with so many willing adults ready to love them up and be bossed around "Ingrid you swim to where it's deep and I'm going to splash you"..." Uncle Martin, throw this rock". Russell's less exacting but no less demanding! It has been such a joy to have all these people with us over the past two weeks.<br />
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And now we've taken our leave, which wasn't easy. But in our regret at saying goodbye to great friends is our gift of simply having such great friendships. We've made new friends on this journey and look forward to hosting any number of wanderers to Little Langy and our Boler guestroom. <br />
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Next stop Crater Lake, OR. Just the four of us for real now.<br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18434894976619421631noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20035129.post-39292969927247233552015-08-03T11:05:00.002-07:002015-08-04T11:26:00.658-07:00Family with a capital F<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Driving away from Doe Bay where roughly 35 of Brian's family members (aunties, uncles, cousins) congregated over the past 5 days, my heart and mind are full of Family. Not only thinking of the people that we're saying 'so long' to for now, but also and overwhelmingly about the concept of Family with a capital F.<br />
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Over the past 6 months I've been revising my understanding of family. I am part of a family bush. This has nurtured in me a very flexible, and still profound, sense of family - regardless of bloodline. A step-family is still my Family. The current revision, due to a moment of shock this winter, is that (surprise!) not everybody sees family in that fluid way. I think I understand now that blood ties matter more to some. And following the same logic, it's probably true that there are as many definitions of family as there are people. Like love.<br />
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My in-laws have a pretty upright kind of family-tree family. A notably kind, and interesting, and entertaining, and loving family. I feel like I'm part of the tree and the community that comes with it, and have been welcomed in with wide open arms. And now my kids are part of its bloodline.<br />
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My reflections have been evolving as I consider the history that Otis and Russell carry in their DNA. And the stories that will be part of their hearts and minds; those are the pieces of family that also belong to me. While I'm part of the family tree's DNA via Otis & Russell, I'm also part of this family's stories and heart. And this has become my revised, more nuanced definition of family. Stories and heart course through my family bush as surely as blood.<br />
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There are a lot of avenues for exploration and reflection here. Little savory bits for me to chew on as we travel along. It was a wonderful family interlude.<br />
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The boys were so happy to be surrounded by willing partners in imagination and play. We stole away some moments of peace and joined in for laughs, adventures and even a dance party. I feel sad to say goodbye. I really like these folks!<br />
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Now we're in Sedro-Woolley with Debbie and Steve (part of that family bush!) and their gaggle of geese, flock of ducks, roost of chickens and waddle of turkeys. A couple days here and then up to Vancouver for a week.<br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18434894976619421631noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20035129.post-75762138707430841422015-07-28T16:36:00.000-07:002015-07-28T16:36:31.702-07:00All's tidy and everything's ahead of us<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
It's a remarkable thing. We've just spent 7 days at home cleaning and packing like never before. Well sure, Brian and I have been away for 6 weeks before, and 5 weeks in Mexico with Otis. So what's the difference? One extra kid? Let me tell you; once we figured out how to pack for one kid, adding a second to the equation was actually not such a big deal. We've already learned that we need about 100% more onesies/spare shirts, a bed of some sort, something to sit in for meal times, diapers, wipes, more wipes, a small collection of indispensable toys & books (we now have two trucks, 1 set of mega blocks, 5 books, crayons and a stuffy for each child), and clothes for all kinds of weather. Oh, and snacks. Once we got that system down for one it was just a matter of adding clothes for the second. Anything else is gravy. <br />
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So the really big difference is that we rented out Little Langy for the duration. A beautiful little family will be living in our home until we get back. This means two things: we wanted to leave it in deep clean state with free closet and fridge space, AND now we know that Francisco-the-cat will be well loved, along with our amazingly high producing garden.<br />
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In these 7 days home we did a spring clean that involved mega cucumber, squash and bean harvesting and processing, moving furniture and sorting through little-visited territory. Turns out that every time my mom comes to visit she leaves a tin of sardines behind. What on earth do we do with sardines?! Pile them up in the pantry, clearly. <br />
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So, a few social visits, a clean house, canning & freezing done, a couple new systems for Boler storage implemented (have I mentioned that Brian's got the knack?), and we're all packed and ready to roll. We celebrated last night - we did this without a whole ton of stress. Amazing! I'm pretty sure this is owing to Brian and I BOTH being off work right now. A one-parent job would have been a different story altogether. <br />
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Which leaves us here: I'm writing from the car in the customs lineup in Anacortes. We're on our way to Orcas Island for Brian's family reunion (Paulapalooza they're calling it). I actually can't wait for the family love fest that awaits us. <br />
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So for real now. No going back. </div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18434894976619421631noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20035129.post-30159545506967106842015-07-17T12:52:00.000-07:002015-07-17T13:23:53.047-07:00A Family of Four, a Boler Trailer Named Bartholomew, and a Summer on the Road<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Well, hello!<br />
You may know that I only document my (and now our) longer adventures on this blog, but even so I hesitate to introduce this trip as our "next" big adventure. Frankly, we've been adventuring pretty constantly ever since Otis joined our family in 2012. And Russell's arrival 6 months ago simply secured this: I sure didn't know how unusual and exciting some moments in my daily life staying at home with two little boys would be. So many surprises of all kinds - welcome, inevitable and learnful!<br />
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So, formally, I introduce instead this, the last of the baby Familymoons. Brian is on parental leave for the next two months and the adventure is on!</div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif-light, sans-serif; font-size: medium; font-weight: lighter;">ad·ven·ture</span><br />
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<div class="lr_dct_ent_ph" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: large;">
<span class="lr_dct_ph">adˈven(t)SHər,ədˈven(t)SHər/</span></div>
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<i>noun</i></div>
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<strong>1</strong>.</div>
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an unusual and exciting, typically hazardous, experience or activity.</div>
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<span style="font-weight: lighter !important;">"In a 4 cylinder 2005 (red) Toyota Matrix, the 4 of them traveled to the West Coast pulling their 1974 Boler Trailer, not entirely sure how they'd handle the steep climb of the Alberni hump. It was a real </span><b>adventure</b><span style="font-weight: lighter !important;">."</span></div>
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<tr><td class="lr_dct_nyms_ttl" style="font-style: italic; padding: 0px 3px 0px 0px; vertical-align: top; white-space: nowrap;">synonyms:</td><td style="padding: 0px;"><a data-ved="0CCEQ_SowAGoVChMI6daf-OLgxgIVjhqSCh15vAKt" href="https://www.google.ca/search?safe=off&espv=2&biw=1920&bih=896&site=webhp&q=define+exploit&sa=X&ved=0CCEQ_SowAGoVChMI6daf-OLgxgIVjhqSCh15vAKt" style="color: #660099; cursor: pointer; text-decoration: none;">exploit</a>, <a data-ved="0CCIQ_SowAGoVChMI6daf-OLgxgIVjhqSCh15vAKt" href="https://www.google.ca/search?safe=off&espv=2&biw=1920&bih=896&site=webhp&q=define+escapade&sa=X&ved=0CCIQ_SowAGoVChMI6daf-OLgxgIVjhqSCh15vAKt" style="color: #660099; cursor: pointer; text-decoration: none;">escapade</a>, <a data-ved="0CCMQ_SowAGoVChMI6daf-OLgxgIVjhqSCh15vAKt" href="https://www.google.ca/search?safe=off&espv=2&biw=1920&bih=896&site=webhp&q=define+deed&sa=X&ved=0CCMQ_SowAGoVChMI6daf-OLgxgIVjhqSCh15vAKt" style="color: #660099; cursor: pointer; text-decoration: none;">deed</a>, <a data-ved="0CCQQ_SowAGoVChMI6daf-OLgxgIVjhqSCh15vAKt" href="https://www.google.ca/search?safe=off&espv=2&biw=1920&bih=896&site=webhp&q=define+feat&sa=X&ved=0CCQQ_SowAGoVChMI6daf-OLgxgIVjhqSCh15vAKt" style="color: #660099; cursor: pointer; text-decoration: none;">feat</a>, <a data-ved="0CCUQ_SowAGoVChMI6daf-OLgxgIVjhqSCh15vAKt" href="https://www.google.ca/search?safe=off&espv=2&biw=1920&bih=896&site=webhp&q=define+experience&sa=X&ved=0CCUQ_SowAGoVChMI6daf-OLgxgIVjhqSCh15vAKt" style="color: #660099; cursor: pointer; text-decoration: none;">experience</a><br />
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"Once they replaced the clutch upon their return back in Victoria, they were ready for the <b>adventures</b> to follow"</div>
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<tr><td class="lr_dct_nyms_ttl" style="font-style: italic; padding: 0px 3px 0px 0px; vertical-align: top; white-space: nowrap;"></td><td style="padding: 0px;"><a data-ved="0CCcQ_SowAGoVChMI6daf-OLgxgIVjhqSCh15vAKt" href="https://www.google.ca/search?safe=off&espv=2&biw=1920&bih=896&site=webhp&q=define+excitement&sa=X&ved=0CCcQ_SowAGoVChMI6daf-OLgxgIVjhqSCh15vAKt" style="color: #660099; cursor: pointer; text-decoration: none;"></a><a data-ved="0CCgQ_SowAGoVChMI6daf-OLgxgIVjhqSCh15vAKt" href="https://www.google.ca/search?safe=off&espv=2&biw=1920&bih=896&site=webhp&q=define+thrill&sa=X&ved=0CCgQ_SowAGoVChMI6daf-OLgxgIVjhqSCh15vAKt" style="color: #660099; cursor: pointer; text-decoration: none;"></a><span data-log-string="synonyms-more-click" jsaction="dob.m"><span class="lr_dct_more_btn" style="color: #1122cc; cursor: pointer; padding-left: 4px;"></span></span><br />
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<span data-log-string="synonyms-more-click" jsaction="dob.m"><a data-ved="0CCoQ_SowAGoVChMI6daf-OLgxgIVjhqSCh15vAKt" href="https://www.google.ca/search?safe=off&espv=2&biw=1920&bih=896&site=webhp&q=define+risk&sa=X&ved=0CCoQ_SowAGoVChMI6daf-OLgxgIVjhqSCh15vAKt" style="color: #660099; cursor: pointer; text-decoration: none;"></a><a data-ved="0CCsQ_SowAGoVChMI6daf-OLgxgIVjhqSCh15vAKt" href="https://www.google.ca/search?safe=off&espv=2&biw=1920&bih=896&site=webhp&q=define+danger&sa=X&ved=0CCsQ_SowAGoVChMI6daf-OLgxgIVjhqSCh15vAKt" style="color: #660099; cursor: pointer; text-decoration: none;"></a><a data-ved="0CCwQ_SowAGoVChMI6daf-OLgxgIVjhqSCh15vAKt" href="https://www.google.ca/search?safe=off&espv=2&biw=1920&bih=896&site=webhp&q=define+hazard&sa=X&ved=0CCwQ_SowAGoVChMI6daf-OLgxgIVjhqSCh15vAKt" style="color: #660099; cursor: pointer; text-decoration: none;"></a><a data-ved="0CC0Q_SowAGoVChMI6daf-OLgxgIVjhqSCh15vAKt" href="https://www.google.ca/search?safe=off&espv=2&biw=1920&bih=896&site=webhp&q=define+peril&sa=X&ved=0CC0Q_SowAGoVChMI6daf-OLgxgIVjhqSCh15vAKt" style="color: #660099; cursor: pointer; text-decoration: none;"></a><a data-ved="0CC4Q_SowAGoVChMI6daf-OLgxgIVjhqSCh15vAKt" href="https://www.google.ca/search?safe=off&espv=2&biw=1920&bih=896&site=webhp&q=define+uncertainty&sa=X&ved=0CC4Q_SowAGoVChMI6daf-OLgxgIVjhqSCh15vAKt" style="color: #660099; cursor: pointer; text-decoration: none;"></a></span></div>
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<i>verb</i><br />
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<strong>1</strong>.</div>
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engage in hazardous and exciting activity, especially the exploration of unknown territory.</div>
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<span style="font-weight: lighter !important;">"While the family had successfully made the trips to Tofino and Hornby, this was old hat. They were ready </span><b>to adventure </b><span style="font-weight: lighter !important;">farther down the coast: Washington, Oregon and California were calling"</span></div>
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So here we are, at Harry & Lorraine's (Grandma & Grandpa to Otis & Russell) in Nanaimo, after a beautiful kick-off on Hornby Island where my Mom (Jamma) joined us. We stayed at <a href="http://www.fordscove.com/" target="_blank">Ford's Cove</a> with a few other wonderful families (Melanie & Vagner, their kids & extended families) and we beached, lollygagged, chatted, laughed, cried, pottied, played, ate and slept a-okay. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvTxP7N5a6cbbj-B1S30ez3x47owPftrL8UDwLSkplUd_EKTpRPuRfUDIFJ9ea1IW0FWNLI_DmUuvnXCmrMzSsqZ8SWyV5yKI2oImkgYqvWQs5oK_aDCH9vTIZqRAT5CYkzxm8/s1600/20150713_182746.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvTxP7N5a6cbbj-B1S30ez3x47owPftrL8UDwLSkplUd_EKTpRPuRfUDIFJ9ea1IW0FWNLI_DmUuvnXCmrMzSsqZ8SWyV5yKI2oImkgYqvWQs5oK_aDCH9vTIZqRAT5CYkzxm8/s320/20150713_182746.jpg" width="180" /></a></div>
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AND this marks about a month of Otis using the potty throughout the day. I am serious when I tell you that my markers of daily success have taken a significantly different turn than a few short years ago. Maybe this is why non-parents get tired of hearing about parents' milestones? (I don't know - do you?) From the outside, it's just not that big a deal? Or maybe other people (including parents who've been there a while back) just KNOW (correctly) that eventually Otis will grow out of using diapers. Let me tell you, all you beautiful believers. It's SO AWESOME! </div>
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Anyways, here we are at my in-laws, my mom included. As I watched my mom and Lorraine be led around the lower garden by our increasingly verbal, and frankly bossy, elder child, I had a moment's pause. I'm learning so much about the gift of grandparents from this side of the family equation. The gift of a grandparent is an untiring ear. Well, I'm sure the ear gets a little overheated and tired out from time to time, but I really don't think Otis would ever know it. 'Cause when Mom and Dad, Auntie & Uncle and passersby have exhausted their listening, Grandparents are still in. Still ready to move at the boys' pace; seemingly uninterested in whatever other thing is calling for their time. It's a total kid immersion. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhe6hSt0xF2VfT2b9-3U2C6FD9LQ2tDXZ_v5V5siCu7tcL9HefsY4z0cCX9wlSnBoHRV5i5D82Xpw_e-QdlLGvXC6HglCB1h_MebKgdy0HWahk1Klnv6ZtfK-vls5ArV2PScSin/s1600/20150716_153051-EFFECTS.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhe6hSt0xF2VfT2b9-3U2C6FD9LQ2tDXZ_v5V5siCu7tcL9HefsY4z0cCX9wlSnBoHRV5i5D82Xpw_e-QdlLGvXC6HglCB1h_MebKgdy0HWahk1Klnv6ZtfK-vls5ArV2PScSin/s320/20150716_153051-EFFECTS.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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"Look Jamma/Grandma/Grandpa, this is how you do it. No wait! First I go, THEN you go. Like this! Come, come on."<br />
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At home we try to disabuse Otis of this idea that he is Grand Chief King of the Universe, something he's learning and will continue to learn as Russell becomes more than an appendage on mom & dad's hip, but with Grandmas and Grandpas? For this short slice of his life, he is. He can walk around the garden and just KNOW that these adults want to know what he's talking about. He can spend this time in total confidence. What a gift of love and mattering! And clearly not just a gift for our kids. This means we get to share the limitless listening. It gives us a chance to refuel. Thank you, thank you to our wonderful parents and parent-types, for this very important role you play. </div>
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So we're on our way to the <a href="http://thefestival.bc.ca/" target="_blank">Vancouver Folk Festival</a> (where we're also celebrating our fifth wedding anniversary! ) and then ping-ponging around for the next few weeks until we begin our roadtrip in earnest - sometime shortly after Jo & Tiara's wedding celebration in Vancouver. As Otis would say, quoting a special book that Auntie Gwen wrote him "Heeeere we go, says Monster John"! </div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18434894976619421631noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20035129.post-82478198573731394172013-08-13T10:33:00.001-07:002013-11-30T21:52:23.134-08:00Hearts full<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
As we sit and wait for Otis to wake from his nap so we can head to the airport, I'm full of gratitude. I recognise how entirely fortunate we are to have spent a month on the road, surrounded by loving family and friends, and by beautiful country.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQAsGiFgE0Fqv6lORhpXusfklfwvKQBCAl1iOZfcK9jHIExhssKH5LcbQrK1W5Lm7-hjfx2s08DQW56Uwca_r55ou9PVSQlgVxdl74E8FCXYW9FK1eR5aEo88Ja87EcGElZ6qm/s1600/Sask+7+041.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQAsGiFgE0Fqv6lORhpXusfklfwvKQBCAl1iOZfcK9jHIExhssKH5LcbQrK1W5Lm7-hjfx2s08DQW56Uwca_r55ou9PVSQlgVxdl74E8FCXYW9FK1eR5aEo88Ja87EcGElZ6qm/s1600/Sask+7+041.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Flamont-love at the Regina Folk Fest</td></tr>
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Otis is a traveling superstar. He's not crawling or walking yet, so he basically just hangs out where we leave him, so long's we provide him with something to get his hands on. He is happy to be held from his many adoring family members. We figure he hasn't learned to scoot around yet because there's always someone to pick him up or entertain him when he gets bored with his near geography. Firstborn issue, I gather.<br />
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I'm going to miss being part of the pack. And I know that Otis is going to miss all these loving faces. He lights up when his cousins enter the room, and there's always someone on hand to help when we need it. <br />
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We're back in Regina and we've covered quite a distance. We've explored rural Saskatchewan with the zeal that must belong to city folk who know they get to return home to conveniences all too soon. I had a brief flash of seeing the threads that connect my son to his family, though he's oblivious to these introductions "this is where your grandpa was born". I do, however, understand Brian's underpinnings a little better. Piecing his family puzzle together town by town, person by person. A few nights ago Kate (sis-in-law) hosted a cousins party where I was happy to sit and witness the reunions. Otis is the youngest offspring by over a decade - where we're beginning, many cousins are planning their empty-nesting pre-grandparent time.<br />
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Not so on my family's side, but that's another story.<br />
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What I feel is full of family. Spending time with my Grandma Dorothy (Councilwoman of Churchbridge) & Arni, and time on farms with multiple generations helping out. I suspect it will feel strange to be back home in Victoria where it's just us 3 again. That being said, I am so excited to be home. So looking forward to routine (and maybe better Otis sleep?). So looking forward to hanging out in the garden and to seeing friends that we've missed over the last few months. It's always one of the gifts of traveling: returning home.<br />
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With gratitude and a heart full of prairie, I sign off for this trip. Until next time! <br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18434894976619421631noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20035129.post-72061289631752031922013-08-09T10:47:00.003-07:002013-11-30T21:51:53.845-08:00A farmer's life for me!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Farming is really hard work. <br />
The kind of work that greets you as you wake, and multiplies as you sleep. If you live on the farm there's no escaping it. What I couldn't wrap my head around was that the grass was mowed around the home and the kitchen garden is in high production <i>as well </i>as all the everyday farmwork that gets done. Heck, we hardly mow our lawn in the best of times. A couple of Brian's cousins still farm their family land. We checked out the farm that Kevin manages (the farm that Harry, B's Dad worked as a kid), a conventional grain farming outfit. The machines were incredible.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAMlX7lCBpjAHfi-V3PEwFmcpFAZ93kxXZ-Wfa-crnD3Be2VWypAhe_HAdJw0vCzLixFGFC43-ulz2OuZIRf_Ol7ixfhjCwMqr8dpyrcPxV8VUmanZ1fZpntqoT9LbzaFdDoPO/s1600/Sask+6+010.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAMlX7lCBpjAHfi-V3PEwFmcpFAZ93kxXZ-Wfa-crnD3Be2VWypAhe_HAdJw0vCzLixFGFC43-ulz2OuZIRf_Ol7ixfhjCwMqr8dpyrcPxV8VUmanZ1fZpntqoT9LbzaFdDoPO/s1600/Sask+6+010.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Kevin explaining how the machines work</td></tr>
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<br />
But what thrilled me was the organic farm that Brian's cousin runs. We drove in past a giant garden, rows of kale, carrots, corn, squash, and greens greens greens. We were met by Keith who led us straight to his leaf cutter bees who pollinate his alfalfa - integral to an organic farming outfit. He laughed when I enthused over the gorgeous huge garden he keeps. He later showed us the many many more rows of tasty delights he keeps out in the fields. The grass fed cattle roam in the back pasture and chickens turn up the soil in the moveable henhouses.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIiAxkQw7QPQ9AjmWUcFldPCpT7bjLkzWdXtzlEzDmXIrSYh9rdg9X605HNok-IXucYxdpnoYmjmXFp3xStOIW9Ys1kZvNT-Q-c1OYvHH4ErB3jEWg_9yQMj-9guVoFDcQHu-V/s1600/Keith's+farm+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIiAxkQw7QPQ9AjmWUcFldPCpT7bjLkzWdXtzlEzDmXIrSYh9rdg9X605HNok-IXucYxdpnoYmjmXFp3xStOIW9Ys1kZvNT-Q-c1OYvHH4ErB3jEWg_9yQMj-9guVoFDcQHu-V/s1600/Keith's+farm+2.jpg" width="298" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Etomami Organic Farm - LOVED it! </td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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We ate like royalty there - everything on our plate came from the farm. Steak, potatoes and a salad that counted more vegetables than most grocery stores. I was in heaven. Keith runs a year-round <a href="http://saskecofarm.com/" target="_blank">CSA program</a> for folks in Saskatoon, Regina and a couple other communities. He's still looking for a few more members - know anyone who wants in? If he was running this in Victoria he'd have to turn people away. I gather than the organic food security approach isn't as widespread here as it is on the coast. Hippies that we are. <br />
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I told Brian that if he decided he needed to farm that I'd support him. (There's very little likelihood of this happening, which makes this a safe offer. I'm pretty sure this whole picture in the winter time would elicit a very different response from this west coast girl). I'll be happy to stick with our own humble front yard garden. <br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18434894976619421631noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20035129.post-85033639273841732212013-08-07T20:59:00.003-07:002013-11-30T21:50:35.941-08:00In search of a homestead & a story<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I've walked around my great-great-grandparent's homestead. I wasn't even hoping for such an outcome, thinking instead that finding a gravestone or some evidence in the town hall would be most likely. Craik is halfway between Regina and Saskatoon, and the administrator of the Rural Municipality Office was happy to oblige when I called ahead and asked him about the Kemsley family. They weren't in the computer, but they were in the town history book, complete with a photograph of my great grandmother as a young girl. We found the section where they homesteaded, and it was occupied. The administrator said that we'd be very welcome at the Schollar's who have been living on that land for the last 60 years. So we did.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjY6T-TM8GrBmUFf5OzfVnIALdxNdtyhK3u4y25imh3ib-O49c-Hx4Z8qP9ruZvwZdrTpZfRZT9xxsWjLnWbhRAu6tXjd3EawAxKv3jQjNSpnUDwz3akvmI2wOFyANl92ny00oT/s1600/photo(30).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjY6T-TM8GrBmUFf5OzfVnIALdxNdtyhK3u4y25imh3ib-O49c-Hx4Z8qP9ruZvwZdrTpZfRZT9xxsWjLnWbhRAu6tXjd3EawAxKv3jQjNSpnUDwz3akvmI2wOFyANl92ny00oT/s1600/photo(30).JPG" width="298" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Evelyn, the youngest, is my Great Grandmother</td></tr>
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I knocked on the door hopefully, and was met by an elderly farmer who invited me in before I had even introduced myself. I sat at the kitchen table and told him who I was and that my husband and kid were in the car (city people that we are, I figured they'd just say "yep, this was their farm" and send us on our merry way). He told me to bring 'em in and he called out the front door to his wife, Mrs. Schollar. He offered us refreshments and started to tell us about the Kemsley's: my great great grandparents and their offspring. He told us about where the barns and original house were and about the state of the well when they first took possession of the farm from the Kemsley descendents in 1954. He told us about how they paid for the road to be built to town even though the town didn't support the idea. $400 it cost. Better than the road that ran through the field, sunken with potholes and seasonal sloughs. Mrs. Schollar came in and took over from there, offering us cookies and Otis toys to play with.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcAaW6MLenyUwTYCMykrMczf2LIUPA3gIH46BXm7vhz40BNKisw8_-sTwr27MOw5W2zt-HYNBC_UqDm7umfknrzg1SvOxiR7gJKud0plTp_9zjgEwbKKUaLhFURm76gp-ehPBi/s1600/Sask+5+029.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcAaW6MLenyUwTYCMykrMczf2LIUPA3gIH46BXm7vhz40BNKisw8_-sTwr27MOw5W2zt-HYNBC_UqDm7umfknrzg1SvOxiR7gJKud0plTp_9zjgEwbKKUaLhFURm76gp-ehPBi/s1600/Sask+5+029.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Schollar's just celebrated their 60th wedding anniversary. One week after the marriage of one of their great-grandchildren.</td></tr>
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<br />
She brought out photo albums to show us glimpses of the original house, behind photos of her children. My great great grandmother, Susannah, was the midwife of the area. They settled 8.5 miles from Craik (farmers here still talk in miles) in 1907. By 1910 the Kemsley's lived with their 5 children in a two room house. We saw the original house, with a top floor added and by this time listing eastward. Full of the flotsam of farming - old tires, clamps, wood stove and ample evidence of small wildlife.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwReCXKLvRG6_MPSHGgvXF5zcMK3ZzlfTFY_MqzMmYpBYKPdqOpb1P_WF20-YVmto_HpxzMwvaHXHiXSqDar3J-8nqlUa0rxz_iYx1aef0bn70M3XV-KAHoa0rsJbGKrE5pR_P/s1600/Sask+5+009.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwReCXKLvRG6_MPSHGgvXF5zcMK3ZzlfTFY_MqzMmYpBYKPdqOpb1P_WF20-YVmto_HpxzMwvaHXHiXSqDar3J-8nqlUa0rxz_iYx1aef0bn70M3XV-KAHoa0rsJbGKrE5pR_P/s1600/Sask+5+009.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This was the original home, with the addition of another homestead tacked on after the first couple years. Still not sure how they did that. </td></tr>
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Retelling this I feel like the experience was surreal. But while at the farm itself, it just felt natural. Of course this couple knows the story of their farm. Naturally they'd be happy to tour us around the farm, even taking us down the grid roads past great great uncle's farm, and past the home where my Nana visited her grandparents when they moved from the original homestead (leaving it to their daughter) in the 1920's. We felt so welcomed, and I am so grateful to Ellen & Sterling (whose middle name is Otis!) for their lesson in warm hospitality. I can't wait until I can pay it forward.<br />
<br />
We went looking for roots, and we found them. I don't know yet, how this makes me feel. Do I feel more connected to my Nana's side of the family? Do I feel more connected to my story as a Canadian - how at least part of my family became Canadian? What about Saskatchewan? It's curious, but I just don't know. Maybe I need to leave this province and go back home to feel it. I'm definitely eager to sit with my Nana and talk to her about this. And would you believe, after all this homesteading my great-great-grandparents moved to Victoria in the late 1950's and spent the rest of their lives there! It looks like I'll have some more exploring to do back home. <br />
<br />
We have been travelling merrily since - visiting Brian's family and exploring his haunts. I will write about this leg of our journey when I next have a moment (Saskatoon, Hill family farm & all-organic-all-the-time). We're currently in Churchbridge with my Grandma Dorothy & Arni - and every moment counts: the goal of this visit? "Have fun every day", says Grandma. <br />
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Until then :) <br />
<br />
<br /></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18434894976619421631noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20035129.post-22208736569674993212013-07-31T10:14:00.003-07:002013-11-30T21:49:49.054-08:00The geography of my heart: Welcome southwestern Saskatchewan<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXoKQ333J_5efF-qeQTXpZ8Drr3zDyF_eJwt0hjYA7zwP21UEmxO86IkI2lSxZIJZsG6gARUFJ3CFkrY-zTdoZ1TdjSF56IdmXd4FpUrv1suv7C3oU93nh3eYapMo4SmTj7LvM/s1600/Sask+4+106.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXoKQ333J_5efF-qeQTXpZ8Drr3zDyF_eJwt0hjYA7zwP21UEmxO86IkI2lSxZIJZsG6gARUFJ3CFkrY-zTdoZ1TdjSF56IdmXd4FpUrv1suv7C3oU93nh3eYapMo4SmTj7LvM/s1600/Sask+4+106.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Yours truly, atop 'Bob"</td></tr>
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The Grasslands National Park was spectacular. I wasn't sure what to expect, overall, about finding magic in Saskatchewan. Let me revise - I anticipated connecting with family and finding beauty in relationships. I didn't expect to be repeatedly breath-taken by Saskatchewan's natural and pastoral scenes. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-aXL52tXagJIe4EpK0OAONP0sptybd7HgGlQ88Y-DGX9hqyjpGYAz9J3oYKz56SrsQRzZgvbtV0Ib1ryf1CA1bZGJrPH80EAnqqEHMsjkqrKEZ2kR8WHOulcmgf9DV1qVw_SR/s1600/Sask+4+023.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-aXL52tXagJIe4EpK0OAONP0sptybd7HgGlQ88Y-DGX9hqyjpGYAz9J3oYKz56SrsQRzZgvbtV0Ib1ryf1CA1bZGJrPH80EAnqqEHMsjkqrKEZ2kR8WHOulcmgf9DV1qVw_SR/s1600/Sask+4+023.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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We left Regina and took the highway past Moose Jaw (Al Capone, tunnels, prohibition) and Chaplin (2nd largest inland salt water lake in SK). We stopped in Mortlach (sistered with a village in Scotland, says the cafe owner proudly). We ate a pretty mediocre meal at the rose garden cafe (nary a rose in sight) and went for a walk to the end of the gravel road where we found a cafe recently opened by a woman who left Vancouver to start something new: <a href="http://Little Red Market Cafe " target="_blank">Little Red Market Cafe</a>. It's got Commercial Drive/Main Street written all over it. Wood benches, chalkboards, long wood front counter and a mouth watering menu. It's been open all of 4 weeks and it's already made the top 10 list on the CBC Sask places to eat on the road. I ate a bacon maple ice-cream sandwich. <br />
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This is an example of the hidden gems that we just kept stumbling into. The park, as we drove into it, was all crests and coulees. Val Marie, its welcoming town, was dirt road and scraping by. We later learned that of the 40 or so students in the school there, 21 of their parents are Park's employees. The region was buffalo ground, and traditional first nations territory. The Buffalo were annihilated through over hunting, and though there is ample evidence of first nations (Cree & Sioux) presence, there was little talk of what happened when the land became ranchland. The cowboy that took me on a horseback ride said that most folks down there have some Cree blood in them. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjb_qeTwg2V8KjN_4jKRcNtDC_EyD6YKxdHQq5p5K6gEA8fkQY-yd7vYbhST35kiuXizc9dENONO_bNkN8ac4N6_UFmAfmoPryDCDpfWZs-e6FC1F7YXIu_82-r2yuM5Enby-P5/s1600/Sask+4+029.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjb_qeTwg2V8KjN_4jKRcNtDC_EyD6YKxdHQq5p5K6gEA8fkQY-yd7vYbhST35kiuXizc9dENONO_bNkN8ac4N6_UFmAfmoPryDCDpfWZs-e6FC1F7YXIu_82-r2yuM5Enby-P5/s1600/Sask+4+029.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Brian and Otis on our hike up to the 70 Mile Butte</td></tr>
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So the Park has reintroduced Buffalo (or Bison), and has set up a new campground within the boundaries. It is so liberating to be told by Park's staff that you are free to walk anywhere - there aren't enough visitors to make free-reign harmful to the ecology. We hiked up 70 Mile Butte, the second highest peak (!) in Saskatchewan, and we tromped through the grasses along the Frenchman River Valley. We camped two nights, borrowing the Flamont's tent & gear. We nearly got blown over the first night, and the second night brought thunderstorm & showers. The mosquitoes were abominable. By the third day I was sent around the bend by the mosquitoes so we decided to spend the next two nights in B&Bs. We stayed in a restored <a href="http://convent1.sasktelwebsite.net/" target="_blank">convent </a>in Val Marie, and our hopes of a warm meal and bath were dashed as the power went out in the region that evening. It was a really cool place to stop in, though. <br />
<br />
What I had especially been looking forward to was a horseback riding adventure, and I got it! Riding with <a href="http://ridewithlamotte.webs.com/" target="_blank">Dennis Lamotte</a>, a born and bred rancher. He rode with a lasso and a cowboy hat. It was just me and him for 4 hours on our horses. I was initially a little worried about how I would survive a tete-a-tete with a taciturn cowboy. When I called that morning to confirm timing, he said '9 o'clock's fine. I don't care'. That lack of enthusiasm was a little worrisome to me. But when it came to it, we had a great time. My horse, Bob, was 20 years old and farted and grunted just like an old
guy. Dennis is a grandfather, and when I asked him how many grandkids he
has he said 'shit, I don't know...a dozen?'. We talked about the relationship between the ranchers and the Park, and about the history and lifestyle. Dennis' spotting skills were unparalleled. We saw Antelope, Coyote, and Mule Deer, and we crested hills with heart soaring vistas. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4Q9RC_bEz1RsAjsLDP9h-M7ZS1gpFN3gPtjXKXiO1Unz6w1kqfEDS5jZj_ZDg4PGrS5Sjz8dvBD4iFYUyfXcJMdA0OirhY_5xUSsjfIErZBSqOEdmYx2OYG448k5S9Uu1g5Z5/s1600/Sask+4+095.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4Q9RC_bEz1RsAjsLDP9h-M7ZS1gpFN3gPtjXKXiO1Unz6w1kqfEDS5jZj_ZDg4PGrS5Sjz8dvBD4iFYUyfXcJMdA0OirhY_5xUSsjfIErZBSqOEdmYx2OYG448k5S9Uu1g5Z5/s1600/Sask+4+095.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dennis Lamotte and "Shorty", or as his wife calls her, "Snowflake"</td></tr>
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<br />
The long straight roads give me lots of opportunity for digesting this experience. This land has nestled into my heart. The meta and the micro: you look down and see the ground teeming with biodiversity, you look towards the horizon and see vast open space. Being here in person has reminded me that building a relationship with our natural world is imperative. I feel way more connected to this ecosystem than I ever knew I could, and am just that much more committed to its well-being. And to the well-being of the people living there. I am so interested to know what the rest of our trip will bring. Today is Saskatoon and Craik.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-uszVnEMLx9lxikIO7zbNOKsTtsuWb2cVfqRZeLFD2G5n0Ip0lEYUReIbW2TKdII1YDuZZYMRMXaRrd3KTSLqI92CL45Q-aYXJGfNhkFXt78pSYc8TgiVN2kZySAAHYwaETDF/s1600/Sask+4+133.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-uszVnEMLx9lxikIO7zbNOKsTtsuWb2cVfqRZeLFD2G5n0Ip0lEYUReIbW2TKdII1YDuZZYMRMXaRrd3KTSLqI92CL45Q-aYXJGfNhkFXt78pSYc8TgiVN2kZySAAHYwaETDF/s1600/Sask+4+133.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Otis in the grass</td></tr>
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Until next time! </div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18434894976619421631noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20035129.post-42042024740383871242013-07-26T08:25:00.000-07:002013-11-30T21:49:11.169-08:00Open skies<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
We've been warmly received here in Regina, Saskatchewan. Brian's sister Kate & fam (Mervin, Darien & Chase) have been amazing hosts and Otis lovers. Chase (our youngest nephew, at 14) let us take over his room and is living downstairs while we're here. Darien (newly driving, at 16) has been happy to chauffeur and let us drive his car while O is a passenger. They all take turns hanging out with Otis - and today we even got to go grocery shopping without him. Just me and Brian. It was like a date! It's been so great.<br />
<br />
We left the Van Folk Fest early on Sunday afternoon because Thelonious, our most gorgeous cat, was not doing well. Before we left for Hornby we had taken Thelo to the vet to figure out what was ailing him and found out that he'd experienced kidney damage. Maybe from a toxin, antifreeze or lilies, maybe not. After spending 3 nights in the cat hospital on 24 hour IV, our friends Lornna & Adam, who own <a href="http://thecattery.ca/" target="_blank">The Cattery</a>, picked Thelo up. They cared for Thelo with love and exceptional attention - from the subcutaneous drip to daily checkin phone calls. I wish this story went differently, but Thelo just didn't get better. We came home on Sunday night to pick him up and spend a last night together. He purred and slept at our heads. Thelonious was 4 years old - we hoped that he'd be teaching Otis what serving a cat is really all about - he was part of making Victoria 'home' for me - he was Brian's silent partner. We really love that guy. It was so hard to say goodbye. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjaPyIPzZcMe9tAR350WvC4XvcwjHCIlpGsCF-Ww3ufd0NSEEzclm2EoD25u7x33PfdtpeMgyeTcqHUqd8YEnMff0q9tnEOUKf9uKY3IPbjLJ_E6Kv3Z5Ev-uQ_DPhVZn0oFlH/s1600/All+iphone+up+to+May+2013+187.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjaPyIPzZcMe9tAR350WvC4XvcwjHCIlpGsCF-Ww3ufd0NSEEzclm2EoD25u7x33PfdtpeMgyeTcqHUqd8YEnMff0q9tnEOUKf9uKY3IPbjLJ_E6Kv3Z5Ev-uQ_DPhVZn0oFlH/s1600/All+iphone+up+to+May+2013+187.JPG" width="298" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Brian & Thelonious loving it up in 2012</td></tr>
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In some ways, it's been a gift to leave home and continue our summer travels. We have a lot to look forward to, and we can process our loss without constant reminders.<br />
<br />
So. Despite this, we are enjoying ourselves and have been basking in the glow of being surrounded by community and family - through the Folk Fest to the Queen's City: Regina. Saskatchewan's tagline is 'The Land of the Living Skies' and our first night here proved it. Sitting around the patio table outside, we watched a long grey cloudline creep into our perfectly evening-blue sky. Kate supposed that the rain that was sure to fall would miss us, in what sounds like a typical isolated rainshower/thunderstorm kind of way. The wind stilled and the lowest clouds scudded by diagonally, just touching the center of my sightline. And then the wind picked up and the first drops fell. 30 seconds later we were running inside, dodging big, fat drops. 15 minutes later it was over and we were watching the anvil shaped cloud pass us by.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgtuCQ8uHOllZH3vPDtSlQUYFMA5st1Fb-hpScvJd2tE4gTqQatuucoYEs0Jbs7jZoAUz2aspyWQLCpvjjeDPDjUBdlMI0uK8uo4yhd9IEorAORmWy3YNMXZx3AWT6DTQAPF7I/s1600/sask+2+016.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgtuCQ8uHOllZH3vPDtSlQUYFMA5st1Fb-hpScvJd2tE4gTqQatuucoYEs0Jbs7jZoAUz2aspyWQLCpvjjeDPDjUBdlMI0uK8uo4yhd9IEorAORmWy3YNMXZx3AWT6DTQAPF7I/s1600/sask+2+016.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The view from the Flamont's front step</td></tr>
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<br />
Today we head for the <a href="http://www.pc.gc.ca/pn-np/sk/grasslands/index.aspx" target="_blank">Grasslands National Park</a>. It's colder than usual around here, so I'm so grateful we spent the extra $20 to check our duffel bag of cold/wet weather clothes. Kate has lent us their camping gear and her car, and we're stoked to explore the south west corner of Sask. It really is flat here. I can't wait to hit the open road, baby!</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18434894976619421631noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20035129.post-55605628046048441722013-07-19T11:19:00.000-07:002013-11-30T21:48:42.374-08:00Fam-camp<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I'm sitting in the cozy chair with my feet up at the Hill's (the in-law parents in Nanaimo). It's beautiful, sunny, and quiet for the moment. Otis has been napping for the last 3 hours - a crazy all time nap, maybe just lulled by the silence. We might even have to wake him up. Gasp!<br />
<br />
We just spent three nights in paradise. Hornby Island is so special. We planned this trip in late winter, booked our sites and invited a couple families, not knowing what would shake out. We ended up with a beautiful collection of adventurous, beautiful people. Children abounded! Youngest at 7 months, eldest at 14. Each family was composed of at least one francophone Quebecois so we spent the time in a fluid blend of language. One little person, Juliette, toured round the campfire at night wishing her 'bonne nuit' and 'goodnights' in equal measure. I just loved it! <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8s8y7Bw-BdBoT84lUXaCmSHTcEmgVrb5yDWiFbFe_2unZHmNjDTNDkbJJ1hok6Nv7lVNU8Kkmw2JSz9E6tNM6OZ4jmay4n-IsjaVVTbUIFzjk9E1myzhgRebFKM18jf3YTB4A/s1600/tohornyandbeyond!+143.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8s8y7Bw-BdBoT84lUXaCmSHTcEmgVrb5yDWiFbFe_2unZHmNjDTNDkbJJ1hok6Nv7lVNU8Kkmw2JSz9E6tNM6OZ4jmay4n-IsjaVVTbUIFzjk9E1myzhgRebFKM18jf3YTB4A/s1600/tohornyandbeyond!+143.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Heliwell Provincial Park</td></tr>
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This has been our second time camping with Otis, and second time camping with other families. I realised that though Otis and I spend time with my mama-friends and babes in Victoria, little O is usually sleeping, or we're walking. So these opportunities for him to just sit and interact with babies and children of all ages are so rich! And for this to happen while camping and delighting in the outdoors is just magic! <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEil1yAzoMgwyYVi8XfkdpzxQYyf-sPlsWBvDCQhdzJMPOq6RFtF2DKFOc1g_lCk30BQ_0pdj57fhJ3XuEiTGvQG0BJAIeiz4vLRxLkJ0HAMl7Cpf9XVF2AnTjUAyX8NyxhQGXuM/s1600/tohornyandbeyond!+151.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEil1yAzoMgwyYVi8XfkdpzxQYyf-sPlsWBvDCQhdzJMPOq6RFtF2DKFOc1g_lCk30BQ_0pdj57fhJ3XuEiTGvQG0BJAIeiz4vLRxLkJ0HAMl7Cpf9XVF2AnTjUAyX8NyxhQGXuM/s1600/tohornyandbeyond!+151.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Suzie, Juliette, Mateo, Melanie & Lauralie</td></tr>
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This evening kicks off the Vancouver Folk Festival, and is our way of marking our wedding anniversary. Though we celebrated the actual day (the 17th) on Wednesday on Hornby, this festival brings back the spirit of our wedding weekend. We are very much looking forward to bringing Otis into the tradition. We've got his ear protection, his sun protection, his nap bed. We've got our backpacks, blankets, chairs and shade tent. I remember there was a time when I showed up to the festival with just a bag. With maybe a pair of jeans in it. And counted on joining someone else's blanket. Ah, simplicity. Now we can host other people on our blanket, and so it goes.<br />
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Loving this journey. </div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18434894976619421631noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20035129.post-22198383257849506052013-07-11T21:50:00.000-07:002013-11-30T21:48:13.226-08:00To Saskatchewan via Nanaimo, Hornby Island and Vancouver.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
The house is in chaos, the weeds in the garden have mostly been pulled. We have piles of gear in three different rooms: camping pile, clothes pile, Otis pile. We're going away again.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1gP3a6R3OLWMt6biseMaJi9wq6PYJy7Dn7_YO_ygUYqpE6ZgGd4qicBz55NfW5aNsMY6mUmsRun_LUa7t0TVuGhx0_nKkF9qddL5SJr752JgoRhlnd6t2YwVDotOGUa3EqdgJ/s1600/DSCN0128+(1280x960).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1gP3a6R3OLWMt6biseMaJi9wq6PYJy7Dn7_YO_ygUYqpE6ZgGd4qicBz55NfW5aNsMY6mUmsRun_LUa7t0TVuGhx0_nKkF9qddL5SJr752JgoRhlnd6t2YwVDotOGUa3EqdgJ/s1600/DSCN0128+(1280x960).jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Otis' garlic, planted the week after he was born. Harvested 9 months later!</td></tr>
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It's been a month since we came home from Mexico and the time has slipped through my fingers like cold, soft water. I think we thought we'd have nothing to do in this month-long home layover but sit around, finish renos, play in the garden and maybe toodle in the canoe. Not so! It has been a whirlwind. In fact, once we're all packed up and on the road again, I think we'll catch back up with our relax.<br />
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So, what's the plan, you ask? We're moseying our way up to Hornby Island via Nanaimo where we'll spend a couple days getting back into the swing of 'away' with Brian's parents and my fam. Hornby brings us a campsite full of friends and the kind of beaches that I don't even want to tell you about cause they're so totally perfect. (shhhh.)<br />
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From Hornby we'll head down to Vancouver for the Vancouver Folk Festival where Brian and I will celebrate our 3rd wedding anniversary. Woop! And Tuesday we fly to Regina, Saskatchewan!<br />
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I laugh when I tell people we're going to spend 3 weeks road-tripping in Sask. I'm not sure why it seems funny to me. I guess I probably underestimate it as a beautiful place to holiday. People often assume family is the call to the prairies, and it is. But beyond that, it's the opportunity to understand the horizon through Brian's eyes - all low earth and sky. My horizons feel cozy with mountains tapering into oceans. It's the opportunity to experience the seasonal & climatic opposite from my only other experiences in Saskatchewan. I'm looking for heat here, people. Between family time with B's sister & fam in Regina and my Grandma Dorothy in Churchbridge, well spend 5 days camping in Grasslands National Park. Now close your eyes. Imagine prairie grasses and low rolling hills. And there, in the distance, just coming in from the left - that us! We're on horseback, being led by a real-live cowboy. Cowman? Cowperson? A real tourism Saskatchewan moment. <br />
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It's the opportunity to learn about our families' roots. Brian knows his Saskatchewan family story. His Dad's family farm, now run by B's cousin is on our roadmap. We'll be paying our respects to his grandparents who have passed on. We'll stop on the bridge in Saskatoon where his mom's parents met. I'm just learning my family's prairie story. We'll be sleuthing our way around Craik, SK, looking for where my Nana's grandparents homesteaded. I've grown up with stories from my Nana about the beautiful garden that her Grandmother kept. Her inspiration, I suppose, for her full, fragrant, fruitful colourful gardens. And my inspiration, in turn. We have coordinates for where my Granddad's family homesteaded, somewhere west of Prince Albert. I have virtually no stories from that side of the family. Just longitude & latitude, text messaged to me from my Dad in preparation for this journey. <br />
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This feels important as we raise a new generation. Otis won't remember this, but we'll remind him. We'll have pictures and stories that follow him forward.<br />
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So here we go! On the road again... <br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18434894976619421631noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20035129.post-28749435061337997242013-06-10T19:23:00.000-07:002013-06-10T19:23:16.309-07:00And to sum it up...<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Zocalo in Mexico City. </td></tr>
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We're in a hotel room about the size of a large closet in Mexico City (though it is cozy, and we do have a washroom). Brian is working his magic on Otis, who has had his roughest day yet. It's probably the two bottom teeth that are working their way in. And the shortage of naps taken. Or given. Naps are a mutual project - we make sure to lay the groundwork, and he takes advantage. We've passed so many families with children just sprawled on laps/benches/over shoulders. Man, they make it look so easy. Otis needs to either be in his bed, or be covered with the muslin cloth in order to nod off, otherwise he just gets swept up in watching the world as it passes. So far there hasn't been a 'so knackered that he just fell asleep like that' moment. I think it was Becca who noted that he probably comes by this FOMO honestly. (Fear of Missing Out). Yep, I'm a sufferer.<br />
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Anyways, we leave for home (or Vancouver at least) tomorrow morning early early early. It feels great to be going home - it's one of the highlights of going away for more than 2 weeks, I think. We get to miss 'the usual'. And once we get home, and get our fill of the usual, we'll have the gift of missing 'away'. There's no doubt about it, we are blessed many times over.<br />
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So on our bus ride into Mexico City from Cuernavaca, we came up with our top ten. And since I can never pick favourites, these are in no particular order. Except for number 1 :)<br />
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10. Food! The trio of moles that we tried; the fresh churros; the gorgeous, fragrant, fresh tropical fruit!; enchiladas verdes; guac-guac-guac-amole!; margaritas and mezcalinis; chocolate con leche; and that steak.<br />
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9. Becca coming to travel with us.<br />
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8. La familia. It was so wonderful spending time with the Verjovksy's, not only are they family, but they're our kind of people. We'll miss them and hope to see them again soon!<br />
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7. Ocean, beach, and sunshine! (and shade too - turns out that's important with the fair fellas in my life).<br />
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6. Oaxaca. I love that city. Already planning how to make it back.<br />
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5. Walk-by beauty. By this I mean stumbling upon marvelous places, and marvelous experiences. The courtyard outside of the renovated convent in Oaxaca, which was right beside the Calder circus art expo. We had fun. The matria garden. The open mic night that Becca and I stumbled on. The street art that's justaroundthecorner. <br />
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4. New red shoes! Heeee. I saw a shoe store in Mexico City from our cab, and Brian walked us past (I know! What a gem!). They're so fun, my new familymoon shoes. <br />
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3. How much everyone loves Otis. He now just stares and smiles at people until they smile back and give him his due. <br />
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2. Speaking Spanish. We both speak enough to be understood, and understand enough to nod as though we get it. And then we walk away and say 'did you just get that?'. But really, I have loved being surrounded by this language, and I just want to keep practicing and learning. <br />
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1. Familymoon! We did it! We traveled together, we adventured together and we truly enjoyed ourselves. Looking back, I find that I experienced plenty as an individual - through my own Leanna self (I don't think I expected that). And I found this new perspective, that of witnessing and enjoying how Otis and the world get along. And finally, Brian and I definitely rose to the occasion of parenting together 24/7 while abroad. We're a kickass team! <br />
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It has all been absolutely perfect. By perfect, I mean in its entirety. Nothing would have any meaning if everything was 'great' all the time. Real life has stomach aches, and surprises, and nastiness too. I've certainly felt challenged in the last month, my sense of safety went through a revolution, and my stamina took a hit by those free-loading amoebas. And you've also just read about how much I've loved this time away. I've gotten to witness Brian be a loving, hilarious, inventive and adventurous father (and husband, while he's at it), and I've watched Otis light up the world as it lights him. I told people before we left that I imagined that we'd just be doing life elsewhere, and I think I was right. It's been just beautiful. <br />
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So until next time, good people. Que les vayan bien. </div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18434894976619421631noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20035129.post-84409862724254366252013-06-07T21:04:00.000-07:002013-11-30T21:54:30.226-08:00Cuernavacation!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Ahhh, back in Cuernavaca, long bus rides are history, and a long flight is imminent. It has been so nice to come back here to stay with the family before heading back home. An excellent transition station, we arrived with a sigh of relief and a cool garden yesterday afternoon after an uneventful bus ride from Puebla. I had been battling some ferocious stomach aches that were just coming and going without rhyme or reason, so an uneventful bus ride was precisely what we were hoping for.<br />
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Brian had sent word to aunt Janet that I hadn't been feeling well and I arrived to a doctor's appointment already scheduled - and the doc spoke English! How thoughtful - I probably wouldn't have booked myself in, hoping instead that the symptoms would just disappear once we got home. That was wishful thinking, since it turns out I've picked up some passengers! I don't know - is it gross to include this in the blog? Brian says that it's part and parcel of traveling to interesting places. So, folks, I've got amoebas. Well, I did have amoebas. Or I am in process of not having amoebas (how does one conjugate amoebas in transition?).<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The view of Oaxaca from waaaay up a bunch of stairs</td></tr>
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Anyways, amoebas aside, we had a lovely time wrapping up our Oaxacan experience. One fantastic piece of news was shared with us over skype on our last day there: Martin proposed to Becca when she got home, and she said yes! We feel like it must have been a good thing that we had Becca to ourselves for the week, cause Martin clearly had some planning to do :) We are just so happy for them.<br />
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The bus to Puebla was also uneventful, the scenery was worth the mode of travel (it also helps that the fancy buses here have legroom that even allows comfort for Brian's long legs). I think Puebla deserves another visit at some point, because we were only there two days and it's a big city. Kind of like going to Vancouver and hanging out in gastown/waterfront the whole time. So I didn't love it as much as Oaxaca, but I'll reserve judgment for another time. <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One of the many remarkable churches in Puebla</td></tr>
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Okay, I've just been told that we may be able to make margaritas from limes plucked from the tree outside. Apparently the fruit hanging on <i>our </i>side of the wall is fair game. Hah! Buenas tardes, folks! </div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18434894976619421631noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20035129.post-23949628497111206962013-06-02T09:21:00.000-07:002013-11-30T21:56:51.329-08:00Last days in Oaxaca<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
We have only 2 more days left here in Oaxaca, and Becca has already made her way back home. We have been so lucky to have such a great traveling partner! Becca and I even had a night out while B & the little one stayed in :)<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Churros!</td></tr>
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We have had a STELLAR week here. Oaxaca city is so full of art, vibrancy, great food and really warm people - pretty much my ideal in a city. Do you ever feel a city as sympatico? Like, when you meet a new person and you just know that you could be friends? I've felt that way about a few cities here and there - definitely parts of Barcelona and Granada in Spain, Hornby Island, and equally so here. Something about the blend of culture, language and the intangible spirit of these places. From day one, I've been telling people we'll be back when they ask if we like it here.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-oSd0Nhf5McdpHD5a3gYK7Q2RygLwuI8MRpyS7hpqT3lTjxUW8_6eVFQflACXZPCbnL85454Efkp6jfzQ1a9nwPD2kWUrJtAB2Og_x1OWG0Da5JNNP7FZkk4qGeQyK4qPIcqP/s1600/Familymoon+May+29+05.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="298" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-oSd0Nhf5McdpHD5a3gYK7Q2RygLwuI8MRpyS7hpqT3lTjxUW8_6eVFQflACXZPCbnL85454Efkp6jfzQ1a9nwPD2kWUrJtAB2Og_x1OWG0Da5JNNP7FZkk4qGeQyK4qPIcqP/s400/Familymoon+May+29+05.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">View from a rooftop terrace</td></tr>
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We have a few places where we're regulars. A <a href="https://www.facebook.com/TheOaxacanCoffeeCompany" target="_blank">coffee shop</a> down the way, it's just a small room-sized place, opened only 2 months ago. We take cortados and sip in the handmade blue-brown pottery espresso cups with our freshly squeezed orange juice (bought from the guy on the corner). The next stop is a churreria 7 mins walk that-a-way for fresh churros and chocolate con leche. MMMMmmm. Fueled on caffeine, sugar and dough we just wander where we like and stop when we want. This way we've chanced on some beautiful scenes and experiences. Becca and I were walking down the street aimlessly and popped our head into a space that looked under construction, it was full of garden! We asked if we could enter and they said "claro". Turns out it's an art installation called <a href="http://matriajardin.org/" target="_blank">Matria - jardin arterapeutico </a>each room in the derelict roofless building offers a whimsical, earth bound garden scape. One quite literal 'garden bed' - a metal bedframe mounted on the wall with squash growing through it.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj33dDGjAvD9J8V8DsCT2TjGQs-FiCg6r7aTRM60NrmHy3MiBmhyC6orZ4XhFImjeEZoGFVgIddCDk96b3bdptTRgtv8mOdB1skgzTkryQOOfEQSYt324YmaOiNHK8d07fvA6ry/s1600/Familymoon+May+29+02.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="298" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj33dDGjAvD9J8V8DsCT2TjGQs-FiCg6r7aTRM60NrmHy3MiBmhyC6orZ4XhFImjeEZoGFVgIddCDk96b3bdptTRgtv8mOdB1skgzTkryQOOfEQSYt324YmaOiNHK8d07fvA6ry/s400/Familymoon+May+29+02.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Matria - the garden you see from the entrance</td></tr>
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Moments like these are the ones I hope for and can never really plan for. It was signless and isn't on the tourist map. This is why wandering is so beautiful. <br />
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And Otis? He's still a star. He just smiles his way through sidewalks and markets. He's getting bored at restaurants more and more quickly now, so we have to take turns eating and walking him around. We buy some time feeding him from our plates though - Otis LOVES black beans. We'll have to learn to make them like this at home.<br />
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On Tuesday we're taking the bus to Puebla for a two night stop. We figured it would be a good way to break up the trip back to Cuernavaca while checking out a new place. Seems we've still got some steam! </div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18434894976619421631noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20035129.post-88611186178957991972013-05-28T18:36:00.003-07:002013-11-30T21:58:34.008-08:00City mouse returns<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
We've made it over the mountains, and have landed nicely in Oaxaca City. We were a little sad to leave our warm & wonderful hosts at <a href="http://www.quintalili.mx/" target="_blank">Quinta Lili</a>, but are really happy to be in the city. We flew in on a 14 passenger cessna (auntie Gwen - I told Otis all about your flying skills!) and O handled it like a pro. We're now happily ensconced in an apartment found through air bnb right on the fringe of the tourist zone and Becca will be joining us this evening. Very shi-shi, plenty of art galleries and restaurants to be found here. <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Otis checking to make sure that the pre-flight trip is done according to regulation</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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One of my favourite things about traveling with Otis is how pleased everyone seems to meet him. We just had lunch (a fabulous menu del dia from the resto across the street) and each person had their turn exclaiming over him. His gordito little feet, his large size (he's comparatively huge for an 8 month old here), his munequito self. A white haired grandmother with few teeth stopped in the zocalo to give O a kiss on the forehead.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Beautiful scenes abound!</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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Now, just a few short weeks ago, a woman in Seattle gave Otis a kiss on the cheek and I really was shocked while trying not to show it. Played it cool like the polite, well-behaved, rather waspish Canadian I am (well, I don't actually think of myself in those terms, but compared to this warmth I may as well be!). It's so liberating here for Otis to be so warmly welcomed - in the streets, in restaurants. Otis has seen more kitchens and hung out with more restaurant patrons and servers than I have! Once I got over the stranger danger thing, it's been lovely. I mean, I know it's still wise for us to be alert, but I sure do rejoice in the love of children here. Otis simply laps it up. I'm learning to be more overtly complimentary and inquisitive towards others' children as well.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">What a streetheart</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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The boys are down for a nap after our initial neighbourhood scouting (and first coffee tasting!) and I'm going to start prepping for this online course that Beth (a colleague friend) and I are co-teaching. What a stinkin' beautiful life, eh? <br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18434894976619421631noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20035129.post-12141561575034372642013-05-23T12:52:00.002-07:002013-05-23T13:07:53.300-07:00Back in the saddle! First of all, thanks all for your notes and thoughts of safety and a peaceful remainder of our trip. We've picked ourselves up and are thoroughly enjoying our time again. It really didn't take much to feel free and <span id="goog_26163396"></span><span id="goog_26163397"></span>easy again - it certainly has helped that we're still staying in the most excellent b&b...and Becca and her friend Molly have joined us! The beach in this neighbourhood, Carizalillo, is as gorgeous as we left it a year and a half ago when we came here with Brian's family for his parent's 50th wedding anniversary. It's something about the flight of stairs that takes you down (and back up again), the palapas & lounge chairs right at the high-wave line, the warm water and the surfer-watching. Pair that with excellent company and fresh guacamole and we've got a recipe for paradise.<br />
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Yesterday we went to the market (I found some great flan and tried 'atole', a corn & chocolate drink...kind of like bubble tea, but more corny), cruised the streets and bought a pair of shoes (surprise!), and then went on a tour of the nearby laguna. We saw a ZILLION birds - storks, ibis, spoonbill pink-guys, lily-pad hopper-dippers AND a crocodile! Just layin' around. It was so cool. We also got to help some just-hatched turtles to the sea. I thought that the whole thing sounded a little cheesy, but actually it was super-awesome. Just this one dude who volunteers 7 months of the year to collect turtle eggs when they are laid and protect them until they hatch. He sleeps in a tent in the daytime and works all night. I think he really likes turtles. (In truth, it's a pretty important thing to do, protecting these endangered species. Thanks, volunteer guy).<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The fellas on the laguna</td></tr>
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Otis has hit his stride, I think (or we have learned to match his stride is maybe more like it). I feel like we're getting to 'do' plenty, as well as kick back plenty. I'm really looking forward to the next week and some we have for hanging out with Becca - we'll be going to Oaxaca city on Tuesday, and in the meantime, more sweet-nothings in Puerto Escondido. <br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18434894976619421631noreply@blogger.com4