I haven't been writing again. I'm unsure why. There's always enough time in 24 hours to squeeze in even a bit of production...15 minutes a day is suggested as a minimum for wannabe Hemingways, Twains, Shakespeares, and the like. I'm fairly certain that these gentlemen dedicated much more than this amount of time to their craft, since they were unlikely to be taking care of much other business. My favourite approach has to be the Hemingway. It involves such activities as travelling to Paris, Africa, Florida, and sitting in Cuban hotel rooms, drinking, writing, wandering, smoking, drinking and writing some more.
I think that perhaps I created a certain amount of pressure for myself in the previous blog when I committed to writing more about Iceland and parts of Europe. I didn't want to continue. The photos alone take forever to insert into blogs. That's time consuming and boring for me, so I thought it time to go back to the basics. It also occurred to me that anything I'd write could be found elsewhere on the internet, so why bother?
Instead, I want to get back to my favourite blather, insights (feeble when compared to the world's great thinkers), nonsense, recipes, book reports, and fun. That's not to say there won't be future travelogs, Galapagos, Bora Bora...maybe even Iceland Part 2...just not right now.
For me, writing can be therapeutic. The pressure to write or produce (especially in retirement) is not.
This week, a woman kept staring and smiling at me. She was a cashier at Canadian Tire where I waited patiently in line. When it was my turn to deposit my monthly purchase of that magical clean-all Lestoil on the counter, she smiled and said, "You're the one." http://rockinrobinsramblings.blogspot.ca/2015/10/indispensable-products-i-know-and-love.html
My puzzled look and the fact that I seemed eager to find out whether I'd won a prize, encouraged her to elaborate.
"You're the one who writes the newspaper column aren't you?"
I answered with, "I was. I mean, I am, but I no longer do them." I wondered whether I should elaborate or whether I even owed an explanation for abandoning this activity.
"Oh," she responded looking disappointed.
My point, and there is one, is that even though I was only contributing one column a month for a couple of years, the pressure to produce existed. There was a deadline, and there was the dreaded word count (I always went over and was unceremoniously edited, often turning my words to nonsense). I hate that. I'm not sure whether it reminds me more of school, or work, or school work. It's something I don't want or need in my life now. There's enough stress in just getting basic day to day things done.
So, no pressure. I'll write when I write. I'll write what I want. It will be long, short, ridiculous, interesting, or not. I don't really have followers so it's all about me. That's how it's going to be from here on in.
Saturday, September 24, 2016
Thursday, September 1, 2016
The Golden Circle, Iceland - Part 1
I realized after many hours of working on this Golden Circle blog, that it would have to be subdivided into parts, just as my Reykjavik ones were. Here's part one of what might be two or three.
Sadly, we did not have the best of weather when travelling this famed, 300 km route. It was approx. 10-12 C with unusual precipitation. We were told that the rain never comes down so heavily, nor does it come straight down, but rather from the side. On this day, July 25th, 2016, the weather created some new rules. Nonetheless, it was easy to see how spectacular the landscape was. Our host and tour guide, knew the way well. He also took us to off the beaten track points of interest, and a small town where we enjoyed a spectacular lunch.
I noted with interest that the Icelanders are very protective of their environment. For example, the beaches are not to be driven on. In fact, vehicles are only allowed to go where there are tracks. I think there are a lot of rules which tourists need to learn. I recently read that some tourists had to pay 800 Euros for entering a restricted area. I was also surprised to read about the many tourist accidents and fatalities particularly on the roads. Most likely, isolation is a contributing factor. It's not easy to get help when something goes wrong on a deserted road, and cell phone reception is minimal.
As we left Kopavogur the sense of a barren landscape was obvious. Except for some errant sheep, it was truly eerie and deserted. At one point, hubby announced, "How can there be random wandering sheep without a farm house anywhere in sight?"
Our host readily responded with, "There are farm houses wayyyyyyy on the other side, away from the road. In the summer, the sheep are allowed to roam free."
As we approached an area that looked particularly scenic, we pulled off the road to marvel at the volcanic black beach sand.
Although it was beginning to rain heavily, we stopped in an area of interest somewhere between Kopavogur and Arborg for a photo op and some bubbling lava. Pictures are limited because of my new camera and unusual precipitation.
After the lava stop, we approached the Strandarkirkja, in Selvogur. It was a Lutheran Church built in 1888, and facing the sea to protect travellers. The original church was erected on this site in the 12th century when a group of sailors prayed to navigate the rough waters and promised to put a church wherever they landed. It is said that many miracles have been attributed to this church and as a result, the church became quite wealthy from donations. There is a sculpture entitled "Land in Sight". It faces Angel's Bay and commemorates the church's founding. There are also elf houses behind the church and cemetery. These are an essential consideration in any Icelandic landscape.
Sadly, we did not have the best of weather when travelling this famed, 300 km route. It was approx. 10-12 C with unusual precipitation. We were told that the rain never comes down so heavily, nor does it come straight down, but rather from the side. On this day, July 25th, 2016, the weather created some new rules. Nonetheless, it was easy to see how spectacular the landscape was. Our host and tour guide, knew the way well. He also took us to off the beaten track points of interest, and a small town where we enjoyed a spectacular lunch.
I noted with interest that the Icelanders are very protective of their environment. For example, the beaches are not to be driven on. In fact, vehicles are only allowed to go where there are tracks. I think there are a lot of rules which tourists need to learn. I recently read that some tourists had to pay 800 Euros for entering a restricted area. I was also surprised to read about the many tourist accidents and fatalities particularly on the roads. Most likely, isolation is a contributing factor. It's not easy to get help when something goes wrong on a deserted road, and cell phone reception is minimal.
As we left Kopavogur the sense of a barren landscape was obvious. Except for some errant sheep, it was truly eerie and deserted. At one point, hubby announced, "How can there be random wandering sheep without a farm house anywhere in sight?"
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| Creations made specifically for tourists are for sale |
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| We passed one postcard like farm area |
Although it was beginning to rain heavily, we stopped in an area of interest somewhere between Kopavogur and Arborg for a photo op and some bubbling lava. Pictures are limited because of my new camera and unusual precipitation.
It was time for lunch. How fortunate we were to have a host who knew his way around Iceland and also great restaurants. We stopped at a fishing village (pop. around 600), formerly a major trading port, called Eyrarbakki. It is known for historic buildings, great food, and a prison Litla -Hraun (prisoners are not counted in the population) which is the largest in Iceland.
One building, now a museum in the village dates back to 1765 and is the oldest timber dwelling in Iceland. It once belonged to a wealthy Danish merchant and his staff.
We dined at the Rauda Husio (Red House), another historical building. The seafood chowder, the lobster tail appetizers, the breads and the salads were fantastic,
Thursday, August 25, 2016
Iceland:Impressions, Insights, Incredible. Reyjkavik-Part 2
One of the highlights of visiting Reyjkavik was being able to sit outside in a common area and enjoy a goody from a local bakery prior to going to the famed Hallgrimskirkja. Besides that, it gave us a break from walking uphill toward what was surely one of the most imposing sights we've ever seen.
To me, the building looked a lot like a space shuttle, ready for takeoff. After entering the church, we purchased an admission ticket to go to the top of the observation tower. It cost only a few dollars and was well worth the price.
From this high vantage point, we could see the surrounding neighbourhood including this interesting grass roofed restaurant, and good view of the city in general.
As we searched for the downtown city hall area, we walked past many magnificent houses, art installations, a sculpture garden, shops, and restaurants. Everything was different, but not totally unfamiliar. I developed a renewed fascination for Vikings, trolls, and folklore.
In the evening, we attended a show at the famed Harpa, a conference hall and conference centre which opened in 2011. It was a one man comedy performance entitled "How to Become Icelandic in 60 Minutes." We enjoyed the surroundings of this beautiful building, then laughed heartily at the show presented by Bjarni Haukur Thorsson. We had already had some of the experiences which were described so it became even more amusing. Besides explaining that all Icelandic names end in "son" or "dottir" eg. his name....Thorsson, meaning son of Thor, he gave us many tips. Here are just a few that I remember. To be an Icelander, it's essential to be rude (explains the airline experience). Embrace the smells (sulphur and other things...lots of wind). Know that the Icelandic horses are special and have five walks while Icelandic people have two. Argue - think big-you know you're right (they have 7 political parties and a huge national debt). Give vague directions (had this experience many times). Learn to say the name of the volcano Eyjafjallajokull (he showed a video clip of varied newscasters stumbling over the name).
Here's a similar cute clip I found on youtube. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7uCKSYTH-4o
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| Statue of Leif Erikson, discoverer of America in front of church. |
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| The bottom line..not right when money is paid for tower admission |
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| Many sculptures appeared burdened...as if carrying heavy weights |
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| Lovely gardens and sculptures all around. |
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| Children in Iceland play. They spend much time outdoors and use their imaginations. This is what impressed me most. |
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| Centrally located and a good landmark - Hallgrimskirkja |
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| Hand knitted woollen products abound. |
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| I have been one and I loved it. |
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| Meeting Vikings...dream vacation |
Here's a similar cute clip I found on youtube. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7uCKSYTH-4o
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| Lovely modern architecture |
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| Street view |
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| We graduated |
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| Back of the Harpa |
Sunday, August 21, 2016
Iceland:Impressions, Insights, Incredible. Reyjkavik-Part 1
It's about as hard to believe that I'm back home as it is to imagine I ever went. And yet, it was a month ago, when we first landed on a very different island. It wasn't warm like a tropical vacation. It didn't have lovely turquoise waters, familiar music, or a well known culture and language. Words and names were difficult to pronounce and the landscape was dark, cold, volcanic, and treeless. It's a mysterious place which has become a bucket list add on for many tourists. It was spectacular in its own way. Iceland is indeed an experience.
So where does one start? There's a sculpture of a wing, slowly emerging from a giant metallic egg at the Keflavik airport. I related to the feeling in that sculpture, as I left the shell that was our aircraft and descended the metallic steps, emerging into this most mysterious and eerie of lands.
As we drove and neared the more populace area where we would be staying, I marvelled at how a place, an entire country, with a population of just over 300,000 could accomplish so much. Nothing appeared to be lacking. Houses were being constructed or repaired. Architecture was modern. City streets were in good shape. Bus routes were efficient and regular. There was art, culture, and technology.
We learned a lot in the four days of our visit. Icelanders get all their electricity and heat from renewable sources. For example, our host was sure to inform us that the reason the hot water smelled like sulphur was because they get it from the ground...hot springs. Similarly, geothermal water is used to heat houses in the winter. Produce is grown locally and many people have their own mini greenhouses. They even grow bananas!
Along with the good, comes the bad. Things are expensive. Icelandic kronas are often spent in units of hundreds or thousands and the country is deeply in debt.
As I always do, I photographed our Airbnb house, the closest intersection, and an obvious landmark. I learned some time ago that this is advisable and helpful in order to find one's return route in strange areas. Here were our surroundings in Kopavogur (remember no "a" or surrounding letters, so Koap-o-gur ) on the outskirts of Reykjavik.
We boarded a bus near our host's home and transferred one time to get to the "big city" which houses one third of Iceland's total population. It cost 420 ISK (almost $5.00) per person. Of course, I photographed the bus numbers (another way to compensate for diminishing brain cells). I also noted how vivid things were...the buses, the art, the fashion, the flowers.
There were many delicacies available at the restaurants and Icelandic food was generally delicious. Restaurants were, like everything else, expensive. We discovered that lunch meals are better value and we found a wonderful little place with soup and sandwich bargains. Bakeries were also great. We were also told about the famous "Tom's Hot Dogs", real name Baejarins Betzu Pylsur where the likes of Justin Bieber, Bill Clinton, Charlie Sheen, and now, hubby and I have eaten for 350 ISK per hot dog. It turned out not to be a restaurant as we had thought, but rather a food truck. It wasn't easy to find, since it seems that nobody can give directions or descriptions in Iceland (more on that later).
So where does one start? There's a sculpture of a wing, slowly emerging from a giant metallic egg at the Keflavik airport. I related to the feeling in that sculpture, as I left the shell that was our aircraft and descended the metallic steps, emerging into this most mysterious and eerie of lands.
As we drove and neared the more populace area where we would be staying, I marvelled at how a place, an entire country, with a population of just over 300,000 could accomplish so much. Nothing appeared to be lacking. Houses were being constructed or repaired. Architecture was modern. City streets were in good shape. Bus routes were efficient and regular. There was art, culture, and technology.
We learned a lot in the four days of our visit. Icelanders get all their electricity and heat from renewable sources. For example, our host was sure to inform us that the reason the hot water smelled like sulphur was because they get it from the ground...hot springs. Similarly, geothermal water is used to heat houses in the winter. Produce is grown locally and many people have their own mini greenhouses. They even grow bananas!
Along with the good, comes the bad. Things are expensive. Icelandic kronas are often spent in units of hundreds or thousands and the country is deeply in debt.
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| ISK samples. I took along $700 or 63,000 ISK...we spent 100,000 ISK |
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| view from our Airbnb balcony |
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| near our bus stop |
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| Kopavogskirkja...recognizable landmark |
There were many delicacies available at the restaurants and Icelandic food was generally delicious. Restaurants were, like everything else, expensive. We discovered that lunch meals are better value and we found a wonderful little place with soup and sandwich bargains. Bakeries were also great. We were also told about the famous "Tom's Hot Dogs", real name Baejarins Betzu Pylsur where the likes of Justin Bieber, Bill Clinton, Charlie Sheen, and now, hubby and I have eaten for 350 ISK per hot dog. It turned out not to be a restaurant as we had thought, but rather a food truck. It wasn't easy to find, since it seems that nobody can give directions or descriptions in Iceland (more on that later).
Wednesday, August 17, 2016
Icelandair and First Icelandic Impressions
We decided to take advantage of Icelandair's reasonable price and stopover deal on a recent trip to Copenhagen and Baltic countries. It was a good start I thought when Icelandair personnel handed us a bottle of water upon entering the plane. After all, it was thirty five degrees celsius in Toronto and most of us were dressed in spring/fall gear ready for our adventure. As hubby inserted our carry on luggage into the overhead bins, we heard an annoyed voice, "Hurry up and move out of the way," coming from one of the flight attendants. Disturbing.
Our seats were tiny and cramped, unlike any other airlines we've endured. The back of mine buckled like a piece of cardboard every time I moved and the arm rests were separating, threatening to pinch us if we dared relax and lean on them. It was an older plane. Nonetheless, we were impressed with the selection of inflight entertainment which included documentaries about Iceland. Very interesting. I investigated the seat pouch and discovered a "Loftslag" bag. Many airlines, have plain white ones. These were made from recycled paper, had illustrations and definitions along with weather and climatic conditions on the back. Nice. They also had written permission, in fact, it was suggested we take them with us.
Bus transfers were available for purchase inflight. Great idea. These transfers take you to the capital city of Reykjavik (pron. Rek-vik...the written letter "a" seems to suck up surrounding letters in Icelandic).
After landing at Keflavik International Airport (pron. Kev-lik), we were sent out into the rain and down a flight of metallic stairs, carry on bags in tow, onto the runway, where we were herded onto a bus that had no more than a dozen seats...standing room only. In the terminal, as is the case in many airports, there was a long trek to customs where people crowded in disorderly bunches until proceeding to an officer. (Our next flight several days later had lengthy delay, more bus discomfort, additional rudeness from personnel, but I won't dwell on that because this was a small part and did not ruin our adventures).
"How long will you be staying in Europe?" I was asked by the customs officer.
For once, I responded quickly, "Three weeks, Iceland until Wednesday."
I hate to admit this but I have never thought of Iceland as part of Europe. Of course it is. It belonged to Denmark until sometime in the 1940's and has been an independent country of 300,000 pop. ever since.
As we loaded our far too many bags onto a cart, we exited the terminal to a misty 12 degrees. NOTE - It seems it's possible to purchase duty free items when incoming and prior to leaving the airport. The returning Icelanders take advantage of this to stock up on the all too expensive liquor.
Upon describing the landscape, a comedian in the show "How to be Icelandic in 60 Minutes" (more on that later), said, "Tourists leave the airport and think they've landed on the moon."
It was truly barren. Since I hadn't slept in 18 hours, I didn't care. All I wanted was find a bed, so I didn't even flinch as we passed the famous Blue Lagoon. Unfortunately, my stomach did. Good thing I had liberated the loftslag bag from the plane just in case. We arrived at our airbnb host's house, headed for our temporary home and immediately fell asleep.
Our seats were tiny and cramped, unlike any other airlines we've endured. The back of mine buckled like a piece of cardboard every time I moved and the arm rests were separating, threatening to pinch us if we dared relax and lean on them. It was an older plane. Nonetheless, we were impressed with the selection of inflight entertainment which included documentaries about Iceland. Very interesting. I investigated the seat pouch and discovered a "Loftslag" bag. Many airlines, have plain white ones. These were made from recycled paper, had illustrations and definitions along with weather and climatic conditions on the back. Nice. They also had written permission, in fact, it was suggested we take them with us.
After landing at Keflavik International Airport (pron. Kev-lik), we were sent out into the rain and down a flight of metallic stairs, carry on bags in tow, onto the runway, where we were herded onto a bus that had no more than a dozen seats...standing room only. In the terminal, as is the case in many airports, there was a long trek to customs where people crowded in disorderly bunches until proceeding to an officer. (Our next flight several days later had lengthy delay, more bus discomfort, additional rudeness from personnel, but I won't dwell on that because this was a small part and did not ruin our adventures).
For once, I responded quickly, "Three weeks, Iceland until Wednesday."
I hate to admit this but I have never thought of Iceland as part of Europe. Of course it is. It belonged to Denmark until sometime in the 1940's and has been an independent country of 300,000 pop. ever since.
As we loaded our far too many bags onto a cart, we exited the terminal to a misty 12 degrees. NOTE - It seems it's possible to purchase duty free items when incoming and prior to leaving the airport. The returning Icelanders take advantage of this to stock up on the all too expensive liquor.
Upon describing the landscape, a comedian in the show "How to be Icelandic in 60 Minutes" (more on that later), said, "Tourists leave the airport and think they've landed on the moon."
It was truly barren. Since I hadn't slept in 18 hours, I didn't care. All I wanted was find a bed, so I didn't even flinch as we passed the famous Blue Lagoon. Unfortunately, my stomach did. Good thing I had liberated the loftslag bag from the plane just in case. We arrived at our airbnb host's house, headed for our temporary home and immediately fell asleep.
Back Again...and You Still Haven't Received My Postcard?
Yes, I'm back. It's been awhile since I've had or have taken the time to post. There's been much happening but I'm not always certain what I want to share, what I have time to share, what is appropriate, or what is of interest. The latter is the least important to me because I write this blog for myself and not necessarily other people. I also want to avoid creating a diary of "Today, I did this. Yesterday I did that."
After having a few days of "down time" to process the last few weeks, I've decided that there are indeed some experiences so unique that they're worth sharing.
I think the reason I share info on trips is because there are details that one forgets and might need in future, or can be helpful to other travellers who venture on similar voyages. So after having spoken to a friend about whether or not I'd go through my most recent trek in blog form, I decided to start. It will all end when I lose interest or when it starts sounding like, "Then we went here.Then we went there. Then we saw...."
First stop...Iceland with Icelandair.
After having a few days of "down time" to process the last few weeks, I've decided that there are indeed some experiences so unique that they're worth sharing.
I think the reason I share info on trips is because there are details that one forgets and might need in future, or can be helpful to other travellers who venture on similar voyages. So after having spoken to a friend about whether or not I'd go through my most recent trek in blog form, I decided to start. It will all end when I lose interest or when it starts sounding like, "Then we went here.Then we went there. Then we saw...."
First stop...Iceland with Icelandair.
Thursday, July 21, 2016
More Zoo Memories and My First Vacation
Every generation complains about the next one. I know my parents had a difficult time. It wasn't easy for immigrants, speaking a different language, in their late teens, with a child to pull up roots and begin again. I can't imagine doing that and I appreciate how difficult their struggle was.
It's interesting how during my more youthful years, when we wanted something, we were willing to take extra jobs on weekends and holidays to earn the money. We did what was necessary. We didn't complain that we were working too hard. We didn't obsess over the meaninglessness of whatever the job was. We didn't try to do as little as possible and get something for nothing. We simply took care of business. I don't want to go so far as to say today's generation is spoiled or generally like that. Not all are. There are those who struggle and put in multitudinous hours to achieve their goals. There are many who are successful and accomplished in their twenties. I am always amazed at some of the olympic athletes, just as an example.
While working part time at the zoo (see previous blog), I did a lot of research. Since Al Gore had not yet invented the internet, and googling, was far into the future, I had to go to the library and find information in books...the kind with paper pages and print. Each week, I tried to research the plants and animals and an area of the zoo in which I was working. Visitors asked questions and I was glad to be able to give them intelligent answers. My official title was "guide" although my job consisted of making sure nobody abused any flora and fauna in the facility. I believe I had a shoe box sized walkie talkie assigned for this purpose, adding to the official look of my lovely brown uniform.
It's interesting how during my more youthful years, when we wanted something, we were willing to take extra jobs on weekends and holidays to earn the money. We did what was necessary. We didn't complain that we were working too hard. We didn't obsess over the meaninglessness of whatever the job was. We didn't try to do as little as possible and get something for nothing. We simply took care of business. I don't want to go so far as to say today's generation is spoiled or generally like that. Not all are. There are those who struggle and put in multitudinous hours to achieve their goals. There are many who are successful and accomplished in their twenties. I am always amazed at some of the olympic athletes, just as an example.
While working part time at the zoo (see previous blog), I did a lot of research. Since Al Gore had not yet invented the internet, and googling, was far into the future, I had to go to the library and find information in books...the kind with paper pages and print. Each week, I tried to research the plants and animals and an area of the zoo in which I was working. Visitors asked questions and I was glad to be able to give them intelligent answers. My official title was "guide" although my job consisted of making sure nobody abused any flora and fauna in the facility. I believe I had a shoe box sized walkie talkie assigned for this purpose, adding to the official look of my lovely brown uniform.
After only a few weeks at the zoo, they downsized, deciding that fewer employees were essential. I panicked. I had not yet saved enough two dollar and twenty five cents' or centses or pennies (a monetary unit in the 70's) for our planned vacation. Fortunately, I was one of the employees to be retained.
I actually enjoyed the diversion so much, that I ended up keeping this summer and part time weekend employment for several years. Then-hubby was hired later and the two of us sold tickets and memberships. We even sold zoo maps, partly on salary and partly on commission (3 cents per), until someone realized that our eager, loud, and enthusiastic shouts of "get your zoo maps here. You can't see the zoo without a map,"gave us far too much income and was cutting into zoo profits. Then back we went to the membership sauna (see upcoming booth description).
The zoo became so popular and crowded in the summer, that extra cash booths sprung up outside the gates. These little wooden structures were something akin to a Finnish sauna, complete with solar heat, but no cold lake water. A greenhouse might have been a more comfortable working environment. Breaks were few and far between. But alas, I didn't complain. There was always the alternative...no additional income.
On one occasion, I worked an entire weekend and earned nothing thanks to a dishonest customer who bilked me out of twenty dollars and absconded with it into the crowd. I had been momentarily distracted while wiping my dripping brow. It was then that my view of the world started to change. Did people not realize or care that any shortages would come out of my pay? Too many shortages could result in termination of employ. That's how things worked at one time.
Nonetheless, eventually, we earned enough for the big trip to the Bahamas. We were there at approximately the same time as our neighbours and their friends, although, our resort was considerably more modest in nature...er....cheap. We boarded a $99 non inclusive night flight (available back in the day). We also filled our luggage with food. The frozen loaf of bread began to perspire more than we did as we dragged our soggy suitcase through Bahamian customs. The officers must have felt sorry for us because once they were assured we weren't smuggling anything more than tuna and peanut butter, they sent us on our way.
It was a memorable job and an even more memorable trip. I had my first taste of conch chowder and my first experience in the gorgeous, not to be forgotten, Caribbean.
I actually enjoyed the diversion so much, that I ended up keeping this summer and part time weekend employment for several years. Then-hubby was hired later and the two of us sold tickets and memberships. We even sold zoo maps, partly on salary and partly on commission (3 cents per), until someone realized that our eager, loud, and enthusiastic shouts of "get your zoo maps here. You can't see the zoo without a map,"gave us far too much income and was cutting into zoo profits. Then back we went to the membership sauna (see upcoming booth description).
The zoo became so popular and crowded in the summer, that extra cash booths sprung up outside the gates. These little wooden structures were something akin to a Finnish sauna, complete with solar heat, but no cold lake water. A greenhouse might have been a more comfortable working environment. Breaks were few and far between. But alas, I didn't complain. There was always the alternative...no additional income.
On one occasion, I worked an entire weekend and earned nothing thanks to a dishonest customer who bilked me out of twenty dollars and absconded with it into the crowd. I had been momentarily distracted while wiping my dripping brow. It was then that my view of the world started to change. Did people not realize or care that any shortages would come out of my pay? Too many shortages could result in termination of employ. That's how things worked at one time.
Nonetheless, eventually, we earned enough for the big trip to the Bahamas. We were there at approximately the same time as our neighbours and their friends, although, our resort was considerably more modest in nature...er....cheap. We boarded a $99 non inclusive night flight (available back in the day). We also filled our luggage with food. The frozen loaf of bread began to perspire more than we did as we dragged our soggy suitcase through Bahamian customs. The officers must have felt sorry for us because once they were assured we weren't smuggling anything more than tuna and peanut butter, they sent us on our way.
It was a memorable job and an even more memorable trip. I had my first taste of conch chowder and my first experience in the gorgeous, not to be forgotten, Caribbean.
Friday, July 8, 2016
Memories of the 70's and Metro Toronto Zoo
After a year or two of working at my career, some debt, and a serious lack of savings, then-hubby (as opposed to now-hubby), and I moved into a brand new, almost completed, high rise. There was an Otis strike, so the elevating device had not yet been installed. We were fine with it because we lived on the tenth floor and it saved us ten dollars per flight a month in rent rebate for what ended up being quite a length of time...seven months or so if I recall correctly.
We received moving help from the superintendant and a couple of other apartment employees. It amused us to see many of our second hand furnishings hauled by a rope up the outside of the building. Thankfully, the dresser containing our drawers of undergarments, or just our drawers as it were, made it. I didn't think I needed to empty the unit, just as it didn't occur to me that my scanty panties could possibly end up parachuting into a parking full of cars, or worse....passersby. Of course this activity always attracted oglers. A few items were carried up to the apartment. My glass coffee table was one of the choices. It however, met its fate around the seventh floor when the superintendent squeezed the ends of the unit a bit too hard. He needed stitches. It needed the trash compactor.
As I mentioned, our rental was on the tenth floor so we not only saved money, but became physically fit, and experts in planning. After all, who wanted to make that trek several times when something was forgotten? We soon got to know most people in the building, nodding our heads or grunting in passing while panting (this "pant"ing having nothing to do with aforementioned drawers) on our way up the stairs. When the fire alarm went off, (thankfully not too frequently), everyone perspired as they hustled down the stairwell, keeping their small, illegal pets, mostly cats, hidden under their coats. The coats were a must for this feline deception, even in the summer. And yes, we had a cat too.
Before long, we met our immediate neighbours. They were a lovely couple, our age... with a cat. They invited us to join them at their place for drinks. As it turned out, we were not only neighbours, but she and I were going to be work colleagues. At some point they introduced us to more friends and told us about their upcoming vacation to the Bahamas.
This pronouncement made me not only envious, but restless. Because of years of education, our holidays to this point had consisted of either working in the summer or, after I was married to then-hubby, going to visit the in-laws in Kitchener. They in turn treated us to delicious home cooked Mennonite meals...capon (not to be confused with Capone), pigtails, or pot roast. Sometimes we went to a steakhouse and that was even more special even though I still ordered the pigtails.
I was fortunate to be gainfully employed...for ten months of the year. The details surrounding the acquisition of this much coveted job, will require another blog in which I will surely elaborate on one of my current pet peeves, youth entitlement. Alas, I digress. On with the story.
It seemed to me that we too should be able to formulate a plan to earn extra funds during our two months of financial drought. We had the time. We had no cash. Unfortunately, then-hubby was tied up with summer courses, a promise he made to advance his unemployed state to that of small income earner. I on the other hand, had no such obligation, so when I heard about the opening of the Metro Toronto Zoo, I decided to apply.
On August 15. 1974, when The Metropolitan Toronto Zoo opened its doors, I was a proud member of the original staff. The job had actually begun earlier because of visiting dignitaries and the like, but this was the official start date.
The uniform requirement was brown shirt and khaki pants...any brown shirt and pants. Fashion gurus would have been appalled. Brown was simply not a colour of choice in 1974, and whenever I asked, sales clerks thumbed their noses at me. So much for shopping at fancy department stores like Biway.
Tilley Endurables was still six years into Alex Tilley's future...not that I could have afforded it anyhow, and thrift stores sadly, not yet part of my repertoire. Eventually, I somehow assembled an outfit that was passable for about...gulp...$12.
I was already in deficit mode...deduct $ for zoo clothes. Next, there was the transportation. Fortunately, I had been forced to learn to drive when acquiring and accepting my first job in the village of Uxbridge. The trip to the zoo wasn't far, but nonetheless there was cost involved. Minimum wage $2.25 ...gas 53 cents..probably per gallon at the time. So the elephant and I were working for peanuts, We both had a goal in mind. We wanted to find somewhere nice and warm to relax. (The elephant found his way to California some 25 years later). I managed eventually to save enough to get on a cheap flight to the Bahamas with then-hubby.
At this point I'm not certain whether to continue with my zoo adventures or describe our fabulous $99 Night Flight vacation to the Bahamas so I'll give my muddled brain a rest until I can remember where I was going with this story.
We received moving help from the superintendant and a couple of other apartment employees. It amused us to see many of our second hand furnishings hauled by a rope up the outside of the building. Thankfully, the dresser containing our drawers of undergarments, or just our drawers as it were, made it. I didn't think I needed to empty the unit, just as it didn't occur to me that my scanty panties could possibly end up parachuting into a parking full of cars, or worse....passersby. Of course this activity always attracted oglers. A few items were carried up to the apartment. My glass coffee table was one of the choices. It however, met its fate around the seventh floor when the superintendent squeezed the ends of the unit a bit too hard. He needed stitches. It needed the trash compactor.
As I mentioned, our rental was on the tenth floor so we not only saved money, but became physically fit, and experts in planning. After all, who wanted to make that trek several times when something was forgotten? We soon got to know most people in the building, nodding our heads or grunting in passing while panting (this "pant"ing having nothing to do with aforementioned drawers) on our way up the stairs. When the fire alarm went off, (thankfully not too frequently), everyone perspired as they hustled down the stairwell, keeping their small, illegal pets, mostly cats, hidden under their coats. The coats were a must for this feline deception, even in the summer. And yes, we had a cat too.
Before long, we met our immediate neighbours. They were a lovely couple, our age... with a cat. They invited us to join them at their place for drinks. As it turned out, we were not only neighbours, but she and I were going to be work colleagues. At some point they introduced us to more friends and told us about their upcoming vacation to the Bahamas.
This pronouncement made me not only envious, but restless. Because of years of education, our holidays to this point had consisted of either working in the summer or, after I was married to then-hubby, going to visit the in-laws in Kitchener. They in turn treated us to delicious home cooked Mennonite meals...capon (not to be confused with Capone), pigtails, or pot roast. Sometimes we went to a steakhouse and that was even more special even though I still ordered the pigtails.
I was fortunate to be gainfully employed...for ten months of the year. The details surrounding the acquisition of this much coveted job, will require another blog in which I will surely elaborate on one of my current pet peeves, youth entitlement. Alas, I digress. On with the story.
It seemed to me that we too should be able to formulate a plan to earn extra funds during our two months of financial drought. We had the time. We had no cash. Unfortunately, then-hubby was tied up with summer courses, a promise he made to advance his unemployed state to that of small income earner. I on the other hand, had no such obligation, so when I heard about the opening of the Metro Toronto Zoo, I decided to apply.
On August 15. 1974, when The Metropolitan Toronto Zoo opened its doors, I was a proud member of the original staff. The job had actually begun earlier because of visiting dignitaries and the like, but this was the official start date.
The uniform requirement was brown shirt and khaki pants...any brown shirt and pants. Fashion gurus would have been appalled. Brown was simply not a colour of choice in 1974, and whenever I asked, sales clerks thumbed their noses at me. So much for shopping at fancy department stores like Biway.
Tilley Endurables was still six years into Alex Tilley's future...not that I could have afforded it anyhow, and thrift stores sadly, not yet part of my repertoire. Eventually, I somehow assembled an outfit that was passable for about...gulp...$12.
I was already in deficit mode...deduct $ for zoo clothes. Next, there was the transportation. Fortunately, I had been forced to learn to drive when acquiring and accepting my first job in the village of Uxbridge. The trip to the zoo wasn't far, but nonetheless there was cost involved. Minimum wage $2.25 ...gas 53 cents..probably per gallon at the time. So the elephant and I were working for peanuts, We both had a goal in mind. We wanted to find somewhere nice and warm to relax. (The elephant found his way to California some 25 years later). I managed eventually to save enough to get on a cheap flight to the Bahamas with then-hubby.
At this point I'm not certain whether to continue with my zoo adventures or describe our fabulous $99 Night Flight vacation to the Bahamas so I'll give my muddled brain a rest until I can remember where I was going with this story.
Wednesday, July 6, 2016
Hospital Misadventures
I have been going through a time of considerable fatigue. After huge amounts of planning for special birthday events, much company, some travel, and six months of hives, I couldn't muster the strength to write even the simplest of blogs.
Finally, things calmed down and I found myself suffering from severe pain on the left side of my body. There is nothing more boring than being awake at all hours of the night and not being able to concentrate on reading, writing, or any other time passing activity. I played Candy Crush and some other mindless games to try to distract myself.
It was a long weekend and I needed to visit the hospital. Immediately, they hooked me up with stickers, wires, and machines before abandoning me in an emergency room. Eventually, I was informed that my heart was fine The doctor examining my level 9 pain diagnosed a pulled muscle. "Take Tylenol", was the suggestion. Only problem was, I had participated in no known activity that would pull a muscle.
Fast forward a few days and nights. The days were bearable, the nights were level 11 pain. I know, the scale only goes to 10 but this was definitely level 11, allowing me to sleep about an hour or less per night. Tylenol didn't do much...well, it did something that caused confusion on my next hospital trip.
I hauled myself and my "pulled muscle" back to the hospital. This time, I was x -rayed, had an ultrasound, and was once again hooked up to the heart monitor. The doctor noted a small rash and went on to tell me I was constipated. I was baffled as I sat in agony and was prescribed a laxative.
My daughter (a med student) looked at my rash, followed it around my body and immediately gave me a lecture about derma, nerves, and other complex vocab that |I didn't understand. Then she made
the pronouncement "You probably have shingles. That would explain the pain and the rash."
I had heard about shingles and the associated pain, but on the other hand, I had the vaccine. How could this be?
My appointment with my doctor confirmed the diagnosis. Zostovax is only effective in 80% of the population and I was one of the lucky 20%. I discovered that there's antiviral medication which, if taken immediately at the beginning of symptoms, would shorten the term of the suffering. I was now too late, having been told at the hospital that I had a pulled muscle and was constipated.
Armed with a prescription for an arsenal of drugs, I left the doctor's office. I am now able to function....not fully, but somewhat. I need to rest...no problem now that I have stronger meds.
So I ask you...how is it that a medical student and a family doctor are more readily able to diagnose something so simple and two doctors at emergency at the hospital could not? Shingles is a common ailment particularly in an area where the population is on the "elderly" side of the spectrum.
I believe I would be very concerned were I in a situation where I had an actual emergency and had to rely on this facility. On the other hand, perhaps they're experts in trauma, wounds, vehiclar accidents, just not common, almost eradicated diseases. Who knows?
Finally, things calmed down and I found myself suffering from severe pain on the left side of my body. There is nothing more boring than being awake at all hours of the night and not being able to concentrate on reading, writing, or any other time passing activity. I played Candy Crush and some other mindless games to try to distract myself.
It was a long weekend and I needed to visit the hospital. Immediately, they hooked me up with stickers, wires, and machines before abandoning me in an emergency room. Eventually, I was informed that my heart was fine The doctor examining my level 9 pain diagnosed a pulled muscle. "Take Tylenol", was the suggestion. Only problem was, I had participated in no known activity that would pull a muscle.
Fast forward a few days and nights. The days were bearable, the nights were level 11 pain. I know, the scale only goes to 10 but this was definitely level 11, allowing me to sleep about an hour or less per night. Tylenol didn't do much...well, it did something that caused confusion on my next hospital trip.
I hauled myself and my "pulled muscle" back to the hospital. This time, I was x -rayed, had an ultrasound, and was once again hooked up to the heart monitor. The doctor noted a small rash and went on to tell me I was constipated. I was baffled as I sat in agony and was prescribed a laxative.
My daughter (a med student) looked at my rash, followed it around my body and immediately gave me a lecture about derma, nerves, and other complex vocab that |I didn't understand. Then she made
the pronouncement "You probably have shingles. That would explain the pain and the rash."
I had heard about shingles and the associated pain, but on the other hand, I had the vaccine. How could this be?
My appointment with my doctor confirmed the diagnosis. Zostovax is only effective in 80% of the population and I was one of the lucky 20%. I discovered that there's antiviral medication which, if taken immediately at the beginning of symptoms, would shorten the term of the suffering. I was now too late, having been told at the hospital that I had a pulled muscle and was constipated.
Armed with a prescription for an arsenal of drugs, I left the doctor's office. I am now able to function....not fully, but somewhat. I need to rest...no problem now that I have stronger meds.
So I ask you...how is it that a medical student and a family doctor are more readily able to diagnose something so simple and two doctors at emergency at the hospital could not? Shingles is a common ailment particularly in an area where the population is on the "elderly" side of the spectrum.
I believe I would be very concerned were I in a situation where I had an actual emergency and had to rely on this facility. On the other hand, perhaps they're experts in trauma, wounds, vehiclar accidents, just not common, almost eradicated diseases. Who knows?
Sunday, June 12, 2016
Thank You. That's All I Need to Say or Hear.
As I sit here writing a thank you card, I have to wonder how many people actually still do this on a regular basis. This particular card is not for any kind of a celebratory present, although I certainly consider his efforts a gift. It's for someone deserving who has been extremely helpful to me over the past six months, going above and beyond his basic job description. After all, we all like to be recognized and know that we're appreciated don't we?
I'm not saying that people can't forget, or that occasionally, there might be an oversight when it comes to thank you responses. It just doesn't seem the same as it once was.
I recently found notes my children wrote to their grandparents thanking them for a variety of reasons....grandma's delicious capon, a shared experience, a gift. I taught them from young on to be grateful. The number of times they still do this in the form of a card or note is probably much more limited these days. What I do know is that they at least know how to say the words, "Thank you." Whether it's in person, on social media, in an email, or texting, they say, "Thank you."
One thing specificlly that occurred to me is how weddings have changed over the years. I'm not saying there's anything wrong with how they've changed, they're just different in so many ways.
At one time, people would receive an invitation, respond whether they could attend or not using the little pre-stamped card inside, purchase and wrap a gift, dress up nicely, attend the wedding. The first thing after the bride and groom would do after all the festivities ended, was write a little note of thanks to everyone. Sometimes, it would take up to a month if they waited for a photo or specialty card from the overpriced photographer. I've read in Miss Etiquette that up to a year is even acceptable.
Not so anymore. I speak from experience when I say that this has changed a lot. First, a "save the date" notice arrives. Later, there's an invitation in some form or other. Often there's some kind of online information which gives you details of the wedding, the venue, the ability to respond as to whether you're coming, and what to buy from the happy couple's wish list. There are pages of merchandise, prices, and stores for your online shopping and shipping convenience. In fact, you can purchase the item, have it sent to them, and never find out if it arrived.
Gone are the days of tirelessly handwriting thank you cards, with or without a photo of the bride and groom. Gone are the days of carefully selecting and wrapping gifts. Gone are the days of acknowledgment as to whether the present has been received. Gone too are the thank yous, either written or verbal. Not gone however, is the credit card receipt for payment of said gift, which we can only hope got to its intended location.
I'm not saying that people can't forget, or that occasionally, there might be an oversight when it comes to thank you responses. It just doesn't seem the same as it once was.
I recently found notes my children wrote to their grandparents thanking them for a variety of reasons....grandma's delicious capon, a shared experience, a gift. I taught them from young on to be grateful. The number of times they still do this in the form of a card or note is probably much more limited these days. What I do know is that they at least know how to say the words, "Thank you." Whether it's in person, on social media, in an email, or texting, they say, "Thank you."
One thing specificlly that occurred to me is how weddings have changed over the years. I'm not saying there's anything wrong with how they've changed, they're just different in so many ways.
At one time, people would receive an invitation, respond whether they could attend or not using the little pre-stamped card inside, purchase and wrap a gift, dress up nicely, attend the wedding. The first thing after the bride and groom would do after all the festivities ended, was write a little note of thanks to everyone. Sometimes, it would take up to a month if they waited for a photo or specialty card from the overpriced photographer. I've read in Miss Etiquette that up to a year is even acceptable.
Not so anymore. I speak from experience when I say that this has changed a lot. First, a "save the date" notice arrives. Later, there's an invitation in some form or other. Often there's some kind of online information which gives you details of the wedding, the venue, the ability to respond as to whether you're coming, and what to buy from the happy couple's wish list. There are pages of merchandise, prices, and stores for your online shopping and shipping convenience. In fact, you can purchase the item, have it sent to them, and never find out if it arrived.
Gone are the days of tirelessly handwriting thank you cards, with or without a photo of the bride and groom. Gone are the days of carefully selecting and wrapping gifts. Gone are the days of acknowledgment as to whether the present has been received. Gone too are the thank yous, either written or verbal. Not gone however, is the credit card receipt for payment of said gift, which we can only hope got to its intended location.
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