Kelowna

It’s Monday, February 28, 2011, Blake’s birthday.  I think he might be fortunate enough to be celebrating it in Thunder Bay.  My day began early and well, talking with Jay on Skype.   Then at around 8:30 Bert and Peg’s daughter Caroline, her husband Cory and their 3 children left for home in Calgary after spending 5 days visiting and curling.  Caroline and Cory entered the Ogopogo Mixed on Bert’s team; they finished first on the ‘B’ side and practically financed their trip with the winnings.  I’m going to miss my 2 room-mates.  Adam and Nora slept downstairs with me, and it already seems still and quiet without them.  I enjoyed the noise and confusion for a while.  Now my thoughts turn to packing for Hawaii.

It’s colder than usual for the end of February in Kelowna, but I’ve carried on walking because there’s very little snow on the ground and it’s often sunny.   Part of the waterfront walk in Kelowna is called ‘Simpson Walk’. At first I took a picture of the sign because it made me think of Jay and his love of  ‘The Simpsons’, but I soon discovered that it commemorates a man whom I would like to thank because he left the trust that keeps Knox Mountain in the wonderful natural condition that it’s in today.  Also the smell of fresh-cut lumber from the Tolco Industries’ yard that I enjoy inhaling as it wafts across many parts of the lake walk is directly attributable to him; his was the original sawmill at that site.  Walking again along Mission Creek has inspired me to doggerel.

                                    The Creek in February

Shadows of pines on bright sand cliffs,

nature’s hieroglyphs,

recounting a story of erosion and growth,

ephemeral and eternal.

Sounds of water splashing over rocks,

burbling under crackling ice,

nor ‘can foot feel being shod’

ear hear being filled

with some device.

A woman shifts slowly not wanting to slip,

a young man brazenly leaves the path

to tread on the creek’s thin crust,

breaks through to water he insists is warm,

and both are pleased to be

unplugged in the sun.

Not Homer's 

But Stanley's

Bathers near Simpson Walk

Beach wear in Kelowna in February

My room-mates, Nora on the left with her tongue out and Adam with the gun, at the curling rink with their sister Holly and mom and dad

The winners on the 'B' side of the Ogopogo Mixed: Cory, Jeanette, Caroline and Bert.  The skip holds the dough.

Kelown in February

The real Ogopogo, symbol of Lake Okanagan

Lake Okanagan with the new bridge to Westbank in the distance

Ice on stairs leading down to the water from the boardwalk along the lake in Kelowna

My buddies, the stone men, on Knox Mountain

Back in the Okanagan

I did make it to Kelowna, and Peggie picked me up.  How wonderful.  I’ve had a lot of help from my friends and relations. I’ve also lugged my heavy, old suitcase with the minuscule wheels over cobblestones, up and down stairs and through long airport hallways.  This time I had spent from 1:00a.m. ‘til 6:00a.m. in the almost empty Vancouver airport ticket and baggage zone waiting for the doors to open into the warm and carpeted lounges.  I did sleep, flat on my back on a bank of four, meagerly padded chairs for about 31/2 of those hours, and because the place was empty I had time to teach myself how to use the automated flight registration and seat selection machines, so I’m now a much more savvy flyer.  But I was mighty happy to enter the lounge at 6, order coffee and a breakfast bagel at Tim Horton’s and spend the rest of my wait warm and comfortably reading.  In spite of the fact that the book I was finishing, Garlic and Sapphires by Ruth Reichl, was about her extravagant disguises and wonderful meals as restaurant critic for the ‘New York Times’, I savored my Tim Horton’s breakfast with an unjaded palate. 

Now I’m in Bert and Peg’s suite, completely unpacked for the first time in 6 weeks and after 4 days of organization and laundry, looking forward to March in Hawaii.  What a wonderful winter I’m having.  The movement and change of it all has helped to keep ‘black care’ from my saddle much of the time.

 I’ve always enjoyed spending time alone, but living with myself alone all the time is different.  I miss hearing Jim’s point of view.  At times it was less positive than mine, but that’s not all bad.  He read more about politics, world events, films and American life and literature than I did, and listening to what he had to say in these areas, as I was cooking dinner or as we sat together, was one of the joys of my life.  I also miss his reading of sections of books or newspaper articles to me. Sometimes his curt, earthy comments cracked me up and gave me my best laughs.  He used to get real guffaws out of Rod Steers too.  I also miss seeing the brilliant sparkle in his eyes when he was sometimes charmed by me.  He was better at parceling time than I am.  He put certain things aside to do another day, while my inclination is to rush in and either have the fun or get the crap done right away.  I’ve got myself into trouble without his presence to slow me down.  I miss feeling him beside me. And learning to accept full responsibility for my actions is not easy.  There’s no one to secretly suspect of, somehow, being at the heart of the problem, and neither is that same person there to help resolve it.  Most recently, I trashed Skype in a moment of fury and it took about 4 hours at the computer to finally start up and get running a whole new account.  Jim set up the original and would have handled the whole affair.  The only positive aspect is that I have to face the reality of what I’m like and maybe I’ll learn about myself and about how to do a few more things.

I’m happy to be back in the crisp, clear air of the Okanagan.  There’s been a lot of sunshine since I returned, so once I finished the pressing work of unpacking, paying the overdue storage bill for my furniture, doing laundry and buying groceries, I was able to go for walks.  The day I returned to Knox Mountain was quite warm.  The next day was cold, -3 and windy so I went to where I knew there would be sun, the shore of Lake Okanagan along the waterfront of Kelowna.  I enjoyed being back.  Maybe that’s a sign that I will settle into life in Vernon.  On the other hand, hearing from Caroline, Mela and Micheline makes me wish I were back in the Gatineau.  We’ll see what time brings.

Final pictures of P.V.

 Ellen, Dick and I after Sunday breakfast at Oscar's Restaurant on the bank of the Rio Cuale

jA new bronze statue on the Malecon of a woman, like the ones we used to see from the balcony of our first house in Vallarta, doing laundry on the bank of the Rio Cuale 

Pigeons bathing in the Zocalo

The view looking south from Baughan's balcony

The view looking straight out Baughan's balcony over the Bay of Banderas

The view looking north from Baughan's balcony

To end our story of Vallarta where it began, this is the board at Rizo's grocery store where people advertise everything for sale, rent or show.  Jim, Jay and I found the notice for the house we ultimately rented the first time we came here 15 years ago posted here.

Leaving Mexico

I thought that I would wash Puerto Vallarta out of my hair by coming back and roaming around alone, visiting all the places that Jim and I had discovered with such a spirit of adventure 15 years ago, but I haven’t.  I have gone through moments of overpowering sadness in the last six weeks and felt for a while as if I had had enough of Mexico, but the variety of the place still attracts me.  I don’t have nearly the sensation of having to take a deep breath that I used to get, but in a more subdued way I still enjoy walking the streets and beaches on my own.

With Carolyn’s help, I’ve done some successful shopping.  She did the groundwork while I was in La Penita.  This week she and I, sometimes accompanied by Ken, who usually hung around outside the stores and left the expedition early, have bought a few things for her and as many things for me, my family and friends as I can carry in a suitcase already stuffed with all the gear I brought in the first place, much of which I should have left at home.  Next time I hope I follow the advice I read before I left. It said to pack for a trip and take the money out of the bank a week in advance and then go over it all the day before you leave, eliminating half of the clothing and taking out twice as much money.   

Sunday morning I met Dick and Ellen for a farewell breakfast at Oscar’s Restaurant on the bank of the Rio Cuale.  Dick and I have enjoyed many margaritas together over the 6 weeks I’ve been here.  In fact, Dick is my only remaining margarita buddy in Mexico.  If it weren’t for him, Mela and Caroline would have enjoyed more tequila in Ottawa this winter toasting me than I drank in Jalisco, the home of tequila.  Ellen prefers less exotic drinks, but she makes excellent snacks before dinner and keeps the conversation lively with her witty comments on all and sundry, so we let her join us.   We 3 have had some fine dinners together.  I’ve had a lot of fine dinners.  It’s probably just as well I got food poisoning.  I would otherwise have needed a whole new wardrobe for Hawaii, which might not be a bad idea.  I’m loath to throw out clothes, as some of my friends well know. 

As Carolyn was feeling tired, Ken and I took a bus to Danbrook’s place near the airport to check it out and have a swim.  It was well worth the trip.  His place is great, but the main event was a walk north along the beach where we came upon a very basic shelter with a roof; a couple of hammocks and chairs; a fascinating collection of ‘tortuga’ shells, bones, skulls and memorabilia and a big tub of sand with about 20 baby tortoises scrambling around in it.  A student who was a volunteer there gave us a long and entertaining explanation of what they were doing and why.  I even wet my hands and held one of the little guys on my palm.  After carrying my camera for 6 weeks, I had left it in Danbrook’s condo because we were going to go for a swim after our walk, but he had his and took some pictures which he will email me when he figures out how to or Cathy will when she visits him in March.  The babies were to be released into the ocean around 7:00pm at which point they would begin their swim to the Marietta Islands, a very daunting task when you’re that small and haven’t had anything to eat since you left the shell.  I thought of them when I got up this morning and looked out at the bay.  How far had they got and how many of them would make it?  My plane leaves Vallarta at 20:15 this evening.  I’ll arrive in Vancouver at 12:53 and catch a plane for Kelowna on Tuesday at 8:35.  I will be well fed and should make it.

Pictures of La Penita and Lo de Marcos

Beauty and the tiberon and the fisherman on the beach at La Penita

The church at Lo de Marcos, a small town just south of La Penita that Barb and Rod and I visited by bus the day before I left.  It you click on the top picture, you'll see that the cross is broken and of course it was impossible to avoid the wires, but a fine church none-the-less.

Last week in P.V.

I’m back at the Baughan’s in P.V. sitting at the dining room table looking out over Banderis Bay, enjoying a slow, quiet morning and thinking of friends, especially Mela whose operation is today and Micheline whose birthday it is tomorrow.  As for me, my shoulder is much improved and the poisoning is finally a thing of the past.  Although I did everything wrong in that case. 

I was feeling better and finally even hungry by Monday evening, so I went in to Guayabitos to buy dinner, a ‘boleo’ (Tina’s favorite thing), which would have been fine, but then I got Manchego cheese, a red onion and 2 tomatoes.  I made a grilled cheese and onion bun with tomato, one of Jim and my favorite snacks.  Half way through it my stomach began to churn, but I couldn’t resist taking 2 more bites.  By the time I put the last bit in the basura, it was too late.  I woke on Tuesday with a headache and nauseated feeling. I had been reminded by Barbara of the BRAT diet and remembered on my own that a friend in Cuernavaca had told me 26 years ago that the best cure was to drink chamomile tea and eat nothing but papaya, but ignored both. I walked into town and bought the latter remedies, but as the Baughans arrived for a visit on Wed. at noon, I soon forgot them.  By Thursday at 1:00p.m., I had eaten a wonderful fish filet in butter and cilantro for  dinner on Wed. night and drunk a cup of coffee and a cappuccino on Thursday morning.  I was starting to feel awful as I waited with them for their bus back to P.V.  My period of feeling fine and having fun was over.  Finally, I began the tea and papaya diet and stuck to it for the rest of the day.  I even turned down an invitation to go with Barb and Rod and friends to a beach restaurant for dinner on Thursday evening.  What admirable restraint.  Alone in my solitary hotel room, it turns out that Brisas del Mar had been a meditation centre, I could hear the waves crashing on the shore, something I had not heard before.  I walked down to see that the ocean was wild.  As a person who is tired of Paris is tired of life, so a person who is not moved by the thrill of wild weather is probably not capable of motion.  The waves and the wind were exhilarating, and I thought what a fool I had been not to join the gang, so I ran as fast as I could to what I knew was their meeting spot on the beach and arrived just in time to catch the last couple and drive with them in their truck to the restaurant where I drank a Sprite, ate soda biscuits and enjoyed the company and sound of the sea.  The fishermen nearby pulled all their boats to safe spots high up the beach as we sat eating. I continued the papaya diet, and Barb made us a simple dinner of chicken breast on Friday night.  By Sat. night we both felt fine.  She and Rod and I walked the whole length of Guayabitos beach and enjoyed a very good dinner outside on the sand beside a Mexican pottery fireplace that radiated heat.  The nights have been cool, so it was really glorious.  I thought of my fire friend, Micheline.  A little boy even came by and gave us each a marshmallow, but as we never did get sticks, Rod ate them uncooked for dessert.   I now am fine, but I’ve just been messaging with Barb as I write this, and she’s still got a headache and is going to see a doctor today.  Caroline Baughan is in front of me on the couch feeling punk for the 2^nd day, but we are going to go to the Marina to shop in spite of that.

I’m now in the shopping and last walks around my beloved Vallarta stage of the trip.