Westward, Ho!

It was time to find the west coast. For sure, the east and south hadn’t been very kind to us.

The trip west from Louisiana to Texas was two long days of driving and one short night in a noisy truck stop.  It doesn’t take much to entertain me, so I enjoyed the driving days, looking at the mesas and boulder hills of Texas. We blew through El Paso as quickly as possible. We had not received any warnings this year about passing too close to the Mexican border, but we are not ones to take chances. Selling everything we owned and hitting the road notwithstanding.

We did take the time to stop at the Sonora Caverns in Texas, just off I-10. These caverns have unusual features, like the beautiful stalactites that hang from the ceiling of the cave like white Christmas trees.















Unlike in most caverns, gravity does not seem to be a major factor in the development of these limestone features. Very delicate growths seem to sprout every which way. The most amazing to us was the one that looked like the tail of a fish projecting from the wall.

Balmorhea State Park in western Texas that we stayed in had a large natural spring pool. The pool maintained a temperature of 23C (74F) no matter what the weather. Original thoughts had been that it would be a great place to swim when we got there. That was before the temperatures in southern Texas plunged to just over freezing. We did wander around the pool, testing the water with our fingers and watching the little minnows inside dart around. There was another young couple that had the same idea, but took it a step farther and wore their swimsuits to enjoy the warmth of the water. I don’t think the young lady lasted more than a couple of minutes. The fellow stayed a little longer, but did say that it was not worth the swim. Even with the minnows nibbling at his toes.

We wish we had been able to take more time in Tucson. It looked like a very interesting city from the interstate, but we were booked into an Arizona state park halfway between there and Phoenix and we were running late. As it was, we ended up parking in the dark, which is just not a best bet scenario. The planner of the family had been wise enough to reserve a pull-through site, which is relatively painless. Except that with no one at the gates when we arrived, we were unaware that there was no water at the campsite. They do have water available to fill your internal holding tanks before you get to your spot, but it is outside the camping area. Not willing to wait until the next day with no water, we pulled out, filled our tank, and then reparked. Something that would have been painful if we’d had to back in.

The next morning showed us what a beautiful area we had landed into. There were small, hiking friendly mountains on both sides of us, one of which had an unusual peak formation. Historic mention of this peak notes that it was a landmark used for early travellers crossing the desert.  As we were having a rest day after our long drive, I can happily tell you that we did not climb it.

 At first look, it seemed like there was no wildlife around the campground, but after I sat quietly at the picnic table for a few minutes, several different types of birds and a curious chipmunk came close by me looking for food. And so did a Junior Ranger, except instead of food she was looking for someone to fill in a survey. Drat. Even without phone service I can’t get away from these things.

At least it was getting warmer. As we headed towards the weekend Christmas shopping traffic of Los Angeles, the sun was shining and reflecting off the fancy luxury cars around us. We arrived at our destination at the edge of the Pacific Ocean before nightfall, and parked on pavement right beside the beach. 

Between the trailer parking and the sand there is a “multi-use trail”.  They certainly couldn’t label it anything else, because to be more specific would have taken three or four signs. The paved trail was used by bikers, sightseers, dog walkers, inline skaters, joggers, strollers, fishermen, family groups, teenage skateboarders, and surfers of all shapes and ages. The only stipulation was that nothing motorized was allowed. We took our own bicycles for a spin and never did find the southern end of this trail. We did find a beach volleyball park and a fishing pier, and watched a couple of hundred southern California surfers bobbing away in the waves.

Across the road from our beachfront parking lot is a state ecological reserve. The local community worked very hard to prevent new development of this area and to rehabilitate the damage done by previous “progress”. And judging by the amount of birds and evidence of wildlife, they did an excellent job. Unfortunately it is surrounded by busy roads, and almost impossible to access by foot. With the official sign of “No Ped Xing” facing us at our exit, our only options were to either walk a mile north to an intersection and then back down the other side, or to drive, crossing into their parking lot almost immediately after leaving our park. All in total of 0.5 KM. It made no sense to me, but drive we did. And then we walked around the reserve with dozens of other birdwatchers before driving back across the road.

Despite the traffic noise outside our door, we have enjoyed this beachfront camping. We love the people watching, the many activities, and we have friends nearby. But we have only one more beautiful pacific sunset left to watch before heading off to a new destination.

Now, it is “Northward, Ho!” for us.

W

Cruising

The sea gods smiled on us.

Weather-wise, it was perfect.  Calm waters, and warm and sunny for every day but one of our cruise to the Caribbean.  It couldn’t have been any better.

For us, it started just outside of New Orleans, in the RV park where we left the truck and trailer. We had pre-booked a taxi to pick us up about an hour before we were due to embark. But we were so excited, and hubby had planned everything so well, that we were ready two hours early. The cheerful taxi driver dropped us at the cruise terminal, where we were surprised to see a huge crowd of fellow vacationers being funnelled into an airport-like security screening lineup. If we were early, why are all these people here? And many of them were repeat cruisers. It turns out that the buffets and bars are open well before the staterooms are scheduled to be occupied. We could have been there an hour ago!

It was sundown when we pulled away from the cruise terminal, closely followed by a big Carnival ship. The lights of New Orleans were stunning against the sunset.  All evening we meandered down the Mississippi River, winding our way to the Gulf of Mexico.  Our cabin was cozy, slightly smaller than a hotel room, but since the bathroom was twice the size of the one in our trailer, we were very comfortable.

We spent the first two days of the cruise at sea, and alternately explored our environment and relaxed. We enjoyed the hot tubs (adults only) and watched giant chess and checker games played on deck. The red line going around the chess board is the jogging track that circles the upper deck.The options for activities are endless, from lounging by the pool with live Caribbean music, to several scheduled aerobic classes throughout the day, to Sudoku and crosswords offered all day in the library. They entertain us with participation in game shows, dance lessons, and a nightly show in the theatre – the last of which we saw little as it often started at the same time as my bedtime. I even missed the chocoholic buffet because it opened at 9:45pm.  How unfair!

Our first port of call was Montego Bay, Jamaica.  We had no shore excursions planned, but since hubby had sprained his ankle during a solitary game of basketball, a trip ashore to find a pharmacy was in order. We ended up taking a “taxi tour” with a very knowledgeable young driver who was happy to explain the history and economics of the island while showing us the sights.

The next day, the ship anchored off Grand Cayman. We shuttled over to the pier about an hour or so before our snorkeling excursion so we could stroll through the town. Everything near the pier was expensive, but we indulged in ice cream anyway – 2 single scoop cones came to $16.00!




For our tour we were led onto a 3 level boat with 50 other people ready to get out of the heat and into the water. The top deck was open to the sun, with bench seats and snorkeling equipment. The middle level had chairs, tables, and drinks, and from the lowest deck you could look through the glass panels on the bottom of the boat to watch the fish and reefs go by.  Except that we didn’t go very far.  After shoving off, they tethered the boat to a buoy not 300m away where an old wreck had sunk.

Obviously no one had drowned in that event, as just one wave could have taken you into shore. But the fish were beautiful to watch, even the barracuda that startled me, and we really didn’t care where we were as long as we were snorkeling.  Later they took us a little bit farther out to a reef. Again, not very many more meters out. Our shuttle from the cruise ship was twice as far as the entire distance to the reef and back. At least we couldn’t complain that we spent all our time getting to the main event.

Unlike our next shore adventure, in Mexico. When the cruise ship tied up to the pier on the little island of Cozumel, it was hot, muggy, and cloudy. We had opted for the Tulum Mayan ruins tour, but they were located off the island and on mainland Mexico. As we were being loaded, along with 200 or so other people, onto a sleek and fancy double decker ferry to the mainland, it started to rain. Hard. Nobody wanted to sit on the open upper deck in that, so they all crowded into the lower, enclosed, section. Those calm seas we sailed in all week are not very calm at all when you are looking at them from inside a much smaller vessel right at sea level. As we set off, we immediately experience a lot of rocking and rolling. Blue bags are being passed around with great haste. If someone put up their hand to get a bag, everyone seated nearby threw their hands up too, trying to attract the steward’s attention. Get that man a bag! Now!

The trip lasts about 40 minutes and we all gratefully got off the boat, pouring rain or not. About a quarter of us get loaded onto a bus and shipped south 60km along a good highway. Our tour guide is a Mayan descendant who seems totally convinced that the ancient Mayans were influenced in their architecture and sciences by space aliens. It makes for an interesting ride. He stops our bus at a Mexican mall before taking us on to the ruins. Hubby is looking for a walking stick of some sort to ease his limp, since his ankle is still sore and swollen. Nothing at the mall, but there are vendors outside the ruins selling clothing, obsidian, and woven cloth. There are canes, too, but that is just not macho enough, so he snags one of the vendors and convinces the young lad to sell his “reaching stick”, the one they use to get higher clothes items down. I don’t think the fellow believed he was serious, but still, on the walk to the ruins, hubby had a walking stick.

We wander around the ruins carefully following the paths. Climbing these ruins is prohibited as they are getting worn from use and in some cases crumbling. There is a large temple right on a cliff by the ocean and several smaller structures nearby, all with faint carvings and non-rectangular doors.  Iguanas seem to inhabit the grounds and the buildings, some scurrying quickly in front of your feet when you least expect it.

The traveling time was much longer than the time we were allowed to look around. Soon it is time to find the buses again and return to the ocean. Our tour guide fills the riding time by playing a video of scientific discoveries proving alien influence on earth.  Some of us even stay awake for it. Then it is back on the Ferry from Hell, but at least the sun had come out and it was hot. The top deck made for a much happier ride, especially because they were selling beer up there.

When the cruise ship leaves the pier, it is finally affected by the rougher seas. We toddle off to supper, dancing 3 steps to the left, then 3 steps to the right, zigzagging down the halls. But I never once spilled my wine.

One final day of relaxation in the hot tubs, mixed with repacking everything we brought (minus the wine), and it is time to leave the ship. You could get coloured luggage tags that correspond to a specific debarkation time so that not everyone tries to push out the door at the same time, but since we had just 2 carryon cases, we opted for the “carry your own suitcases and leave early” choice.  When we got down to the main lobby, it seemed almost everyone took that option, many of them lugging huge suitcases and lots of bags. The lineup went past the lobby, circled through the halls and came back to the lobby on the other side. At least the line kept moving and we were off the ship in half an hour. Not through customs, but that wasn’t really anything to slow us down.  Bags weren’t checked or even x-rayed. They just wanted to make sure you were supposed to be coming back to the USA.

It was a bit of a shock getting out on the streets of New Orleans. Far from being the warm, southern city we expected, it was cold and damp. We thought we had shaken those single digit temperatures when we left Florida!

The sea gods may have smiled on us. Once we were back on land, it was the North Wind that was laughing.

W

Dashing through the snow....

It snowed the day before we left.  Just a little, thank goodness, but combined with the -12C temperature, it was enough to have us wish we had left earlier. Like last month.



Our first planned stop in the States was at a camping store in Syracuse, where we had a 10% discount coupon.  Hubby was looking at expensive "tools" ( I heard "toys" ).  But they also thought we had left too late, as they were already on winter hours and not open on Sundays.  Oh well.  More money for me to spend down south. But oh no. We would just hit another store on the way.






Our travel day was full of adventures, like the nasty snow squalls we hit in the mountains of New York and Pennsylvania State. We survived those by slowing down, engaging the 4 wheel drive and even following a snowplow for a while, but by the time we cleared the bad weather, both truck and trailer were splattered and grey.







Not the nice shiny aluminum that usually covers the trailer, but the ugly road salt and mud grey.  And since it was still around -10C, the windshield washer on my side froze, leaving a swipe of grey in front of me. Being the navigator, I had a hard time seeing as we were driving through Binghamton, and I managed to get us lost. Somehow we held right instead of staying on the I-81.  It was quite amusing to the residents of a narrow, hilly neighbourhood to see this dirty Airstream driving up their street trying to get back to the highway.



On our headlong flight to warmer climes, we followed the not recommended but often used method of overnighting in parking lots.  Our first night was spent at a Walmart. There had been very few RVs on the road with us going south; obviously because we were late, and other than a trucker, we were the sole occupants of the back of the lot. By the time we hit the I-95 south of Baltimore the next day, there were lots of RV's on the road.

Once we were pretty sure the temperature was going to stay above the freezing mark, we really wanted to wash the vehicles.  The grey salt coating made us stand out - and not in a good way. A trucker in North Carolina ( who wanted to know where the heck we had been to look like that ) directed us to a truck wash service near the highway. Half an hour later, we were proud of our rig again.

The rain started the next day. It rained so hard at times that the windshield wipers couldn't keep up.  We stopped several times, mostly at visitor centers, and by late afternoon our stalling tactics had worked.  By the time we reached our campground, the waterworks had stopped.














We settled into a site in Fort Clinch State Park, Florida, surrounded by sand dunes and only a major league pitcher's throw away from the Atlantic Ocean. A lovely place for a walk on the beach and a day's rest.

We were back on the road again in 36 hours, dashing west towards the Gulf Coast.  Without the snow, this time.

W

Mother Goose

Once upon a time, in a land far, far away.... well, I guess how far it is depends on how you plan to get to the land of Saskatchewan. It sure is far, far, far away if you drive.

So that was another place we flew to during the summer. Or at least, at the end of summer. We thought hubby was done work for the year and so we took off to see our long lost daughter and maybe do some physical activity around her house.

In the early fall, parents aren't the only ones who fly to the wide open prairies. Flocks of geese do it too. In fact those lovely big fields, freshly harvested, attract many thousands of those winged creatures. Of all the many types of geese in the fields over Saskatchewan, the most amazing to me is the sight of snow geese circling the fields. The flock looks just like a slow moving tornado, a dark grey on the side of the funnel thats facing you. But when the sun hits the birds coming back around, the white of their backs is dazzling. And once landed, you understand where they got their name, as it appears the ground is completely covered in snow.

With all this feathered infestation, those smart prairie people decided not to let a good reason for a party go to waste.  They created Goosefest. Maybe not so much fun for the geese, but the people have a great time.




It starts out with a good old fashioned goose plucking.  Who doesn't like a competitive goose plucking? Certainly not the kids at the base of the stage throwing the loose feathers in the air.  And having a grand old time doing it. I didn't stay around for the potato peeling contest that was next, but did get a peek at the egg dropping. Some man stands about 20 feet up on a scaffold and drops raw eggs down to anyone on the ground foolish enough to try to catch it. I stayed well away from the splatter.




The heavy horse pull was the next night. And yes, it was the horses that were heavy, although with every successful pass, an additional 500 pounds were added to the skid. It didn't take long for the weight being pulled to outweigh the teams doing the pulling. Some pairs were experienced and quietly walked over to be hooked up before digging in and throwing their bulk into the harness. Other teams were matched and flashy, a crowd favourite. But to me the most fun were the eager pairs. The ones that could hardly wait for the pin to drop ito the skid before they were off dragging their load. Many times the pin hadn't yet connected and their load was only the hapless handler at the end of their reins uselessly skidding along on his heels behind them.

They kept the teams waiting their turn on the other side of the drag strip from the crowd. I got to see one man talking to his horse who was so happy for the attention that it would nudge him whenever he stopped. Such an intimate equine moment.




The big party day was Saturday, starting with a long parade complete with marching band. I heard the music, but missed the event due to a previous appointment with the local dump. I preferred to wait until after a hot shower before going downtown to participate in the festivities.



Downtown had bouncy air castles for the kids, food vendors, live bands on stage, and a vintage car show. Although I think the dealership that snuck in that brand new Ford truck in the lineup was cheating. There was also an assortment of shiny motorcyles that had my hubby drooling.

An ethnic food festival that evening gave us all a taste of prepared dishes. Enough food was served to be able to call it dinner. One table served Dill Pickle Soup while the Metis group had bannock and buffalo. Hungarian and Portuguese food sat side by side on our plates with a local crabapple dessert.

Goosefest ended with a dance at the arena, but it started much too late for this old fogie, so we kissed our daughter goodnight as she walked out the door. Judging by how late she came home, it was a good time.

And as they say, they all lived happily ever after.  Except for those poor naked geese. Oh, and the husband who ended up going back to work on our return. Oh well, at least I was happy.

W

Summer Vacation

I know it has been awhile since I've posted a blog. Mea culpa.  I just didn't think anyone would be interested in our 5 month enforced stay in Ontario. This is a time period required by the province to keep us eligible for our  "free" government health care. It is not enough that we pay taxes to them.

But please do not think that we have been idle.  I guess its just not in our nature.  Although the trailer pretty well stayed put the entire summer, hubby and I have been bouncing around the province. And a few other places.

This has not really been a bad thing. It has given us the opportunity to spend good quality time with family and friends.









I sent my dear man to work in the crowded city of Toronto for most of the summer.  I did not exile him there, despite what he thinks. I even alternated spending time with him in the city and having the grandchildren all by myself at the trailer.  On the weeks I stayed with him in a hotel room with maid service, I selflessly shopped while he worked.

And then devotedly lay on the beach with my grandchildren the next week. It was a hard summer for both of us.

But it did have a few bright spots.  We flew down to Phoenix for a wedding, and stayed a week. It was hot and dry and a wonderful change from the wet spring and early summer we had been having in Canada.

 Phoenix has these odd mountain croppings that pop out of the mostly flat terrain. Of course, anything higher than our heads has to be explored. 

So we went up the Cholla Trail. Yes, that is exactly what the trail looks like.                                        Because of the heat, all climbing has to be done at sunrise. Surprisingly, this was very enjoyable.
Maybe because we got to spend the rest of the day in the air conditioned resort or in the pool.  

During our walks we got to see lots of wildlife. Desert hares were everywhere, as were the quail.  I did not make the hike to the very top of the mountain, so hubby had to take a picture to prove that he had finally seen a real roadrunner - one of his favourite characters on Bugs Bunny shows. You might have to look closely, but you can see him standing on the side of the rock.

Back at the trailer park, I enjoyed my more sedate walks by the waterfront, where I could keep tabs on the resident family of swans. Definitely more my style!

And my exhausting days with the younger generation were usually capped off with a campfire.  Why else stay in a park?

At the end of the summer, I can say that "our" hard work paid off. Our assets have increased, although not in our cash reserves like one would expect. Instead we have invested in new living quarters - a cottage, so to speak.  A newer, shorter Airstream to take with us on our travels south this winter.

Rally Around

There’s a certain type of party designed for RVers. It’s called a Rally.  People get together with their rigs and trailers to park in the most inhospitable places, like fields or parking lots, without water hookups and often without electricity. But party they do. Friendships are made or renewed, drinks are imbibed. Organizers will have seminars or discussions on many topics important to life on the road. Food is available if not supplied. There is always some kind of entertainment.  Local tours are optional, and if the rally is big enough there will be vendors selling specialized RV items.

We decided to attend a few.  

Our first experience with this type of get together was a year and a half ago, for the Rose Bowl Parade in Pasadena.  At that time we were parked at the Pomona Fairgrounds on pavement with full services provided (i.e.  electricity, water, and sewer). It was not a large group, less than 30 trailers. It was obviously a destination rally, the destination being the Rose Bowl Parade, and it was costly but well worth it even if just for the preparations involved in seeing the parade.

Having someone with prior knowledge picking out and reserving the best spot along the route to sit, being able to sit in a comfortable bus while in the massive traffic getting to and from the parade, and having people with experience looking after you and your needs in that situation was priceless.

The rally fee also included free tours on each of the five days we were together, including a bus trip to Hollywood and into the Kodak Theatre. We had evening entertainment twice, and all meals supplied. They even gave us a New Year's Eve party. We were herded, and coddled, and catered to. This was a rally “deluxe style”. We haven’t seen, or paid for, the same since.

More recently, we attended a rally exclusive to Airstream owners. We didn’t have far to go as they were setting up in the campgrounds where we spend the shoulder months of the Snowbird camping season. It is a lovely campground in Kingston that has the rare quality of being open and operational all year round, so we can stay there before our pre-selected seasonal site opens up in the spring and after Thanksgiving as well. Since we were already in the campgrounds we just had to relocate from our favourite site with full services and privacy to the “rally field”.  A field, indeed, but at least we were parked on level gravel sites and had water and electricity. No sewer.

 This was not a destination rally, but a business rally. While they did have entertainment on one of the three evenings we were there, they also had committee, executive, and general meetings. Not to say that anyone should have been bored.  Tours of local attractions were planned for an extra fee, and happy hour was always celebrated in either one large group, or more intimate pre-planned groups to encourage social mixing.

But by far the most interesting thing about this rally was seeing the rigs. Who knew that Airstream had not just trailers, but motorhomes, too.  These high brow RVs, called “Land Yachts” aren’t as commonly recognized as the iconic silver trailers. But even among the trailers there were surprises. We got to see our first ever square Airstream. I guess they only built a few of them as the boxed shape just doesn’t pull as well. But the owner was as proud as punch about it, even having his specialized truck license plate read “SQ STREAM”.

Our most recent party trip was down to Syracuse. This rally was put on by the US retail giant Camping World. The entertainment was designed to draw in large crowds, and it succeeded. Star performer Reba McIntire dazzled us on Saturday evening. Other headliners were Wayne Newton and the oldies band The Vogues. The rally planners knew their target audience. Grey was the dominant hair colour and we fit right in.

The organizers did an exceptional job, and it would have gone off without a hitch (excuse the pun) if it wasn’t for the rain. A massive amount of rain. Fields that had been preselected for trailer parking were flooded out. Secondary parking areas became flooded after trailers were settled in. Somehow they managed to arrange emergency weekend parking in shopping mall lots for the final onslaught of partiers. I wouldn’t have minded being in a mall parking lot.  Buses had already been scheduled to run loops between the rally and parking sites, so they merely expanded their routes.

Unfortunately for us, we were directed to park in a field across the highway from the venue. We paid extra to be supplied with electricity, but that was all they offered. Turns out, access to water wasn't a problem. It just wasn't potable. When the deluge started the next day, the field became muddy, and then turned into a lake. Water was up to our bottom step, and with all my shoes, I didn’t have one pair of rainboots. Umbrellas only work on the stuff coming from above. Food could be purchased on site, but the only offerings available were of the greasy fast food variety, so we spelunked back to the trailer for our meal breaks. The evening entertainment was in an outdoor venue, so everyone was grateful that the weather cleared after that one full day of rain.

Despite the glimpse of sunshine, I became very concerned about our four day stay.  Or the end of our stay, to be exact. Trucks driving in and out of our parking area created huge muddy ruts directly in front of us. With trailers parked tightly beside and behind us, the only way to leave on Sunday morning would be right through the mud pit. This might not end well.

We didn’t get much time to worry.  As many as 30 seminars a day were sponsored by the rally, educating us on maintenance, travel, and lifestyles. We decided on the divide and conquer method. For example, hubby attended the course on batteries while I sat in on the navigation one. In between, we could shop in a large building that held around 150 vendors. They sold everything from specialized brooms to satellite systems. Items were demonstrated and samples were offered. Contests and free draws could be entered. It was a very busy place, indeed, as the ribbon of grey hair shuffled its way around the room. I can only imagine the amount of money spent there. We certainly did our share. We came home with stuff to keep hubby busy – roof vents and an antennae to install, and a new water system to play with.

When it was time to go home, the grounds had dried up enough that our valiant truck plowed through the ruts with little trouble, trailer and all. It was quite a few miles before the tires stopped leaving a trail of clods on the road, but we always did like to leave our mark.

Our next rally adventure is of a different kind altogether. A caravan is a rally on the move. We are to start in Delaware and travel with our group down the eastern coast to Georgia. I understand that it’s a slow, leisurely trip down the coast, learning about the history of the area. And that it includes lots of seafood! I sure hope it is a "deluxe style" of rally.

W

Cruel April

We came back to Canada at the end of March, anticipating a warm and early spring – as predicted by our national weather forecaster, the groundhog.



So, while I prepared for our trip home by wearing jeans and sneakers with a jacket handy, hubby boarded wearing shorts and sandals. To be fair, the man did change into long pants during one of our short lay-overs, but the sandals were definitely out of place when we landed in a snowstorm.

I’d love to say that things got better from there.

However, despite eager visits to our trailer in order to prepare her for a move into a campground, the weather gods were not in our favour. For an entire month the temperatures rarely smiled their way up above downright chilly. We removed the snowtires from the truck late in April, not at all confident that we’d seen the last of the snow.

Indeed, two days later we were pelted with cold and icy missiles from the sky. This was not what we had hoped for.

Upon our return to our lovely country, we had researched and then debated the best spot to camp in while waiting for our seasonal site down on the shores of Lake Ontario to become available. We decided on Kingston, as we had enjoyed the year-round campground there before leaving in the fall. A phone reservation was made and another visit to the trailer. After a couple of hours, we were still unable to warm up the inside of the trailer to above double digits. When you have to wear a coat and gloves inside to do the sorting and repacking, your heart just isn’t in it. Hubby started a repair on an outside vent, but was unable to finish it. The caulking was so hard in the tube it could not be pushed out. And probably wouldn’t have adhered to our aluminum shell, anyway.

It was so bad that when it snowed on the day we had reserved to be in Kingston, we called and postponed our arrival. We just couldn’t work up the enthusiasm for the move. Our metal baby was destined to stay under wraps for the time being, and our wings were temporarily clipped.

I suppose it would have been a good time to jump back on a plane or grab a cruise, if we hadn’t just renewed our provincial health card after a 2 year hiatus. They really expect you to stick around for a few months just to prove that you live here. So instead, I did what any smart woman would do after spending two years glued to the side of her husband: I had the opportunity to send him away to earn some money, and I grabbed it. It’s a win-win situation. I get some time to myself, and I’ll have extra money to spend. What’s not to like? In fact, if I can keep him working for the entire summer season, so much the better. Fall will follow eventually and our travel plans will pick back up.

Summer is four months long, so maybe by then I will have had enough “me” time to look forward to our California dreaming next winter.

W

A Philippine Retrospective

We have returned to Canada. The last four months in the Philippines have been a great adventure, with perfect weather, amazing history and geography lessons, and blissful beach days. We appreciated the luxury of living large on a small pension, and eating field-fresh fruit and vegetables and freshly caught seafoods every single day.

That being said, now that we are home, there is so much in Canada that we missed, took for granted and are grateful to return to. Such as:

Good roads. Even with construction, our roads are navigable here in North America. In the Philippines, the roads are only decent where some politician took an interest in finishing the project. In Manila and most of its surrounding area, the roads are fine. In small communities, well outside the vision of authority in many cases, roads are constructed in fits and starts. You could find one kilometer of good cement road, followed by 2 or 3 of rocks and potholes, and then another section of cement. We have seen some sections almost joined, but they are not at the same height, so some gravel gets left to ease you up the bump. It seems that each section was built by its own construction group: engineer, labourers, and the politician with the money who always pays himself first. If there is not any left to finish the job, it doesn’t get done. Which leads me to….

Decent politicians. Corruption is very common there. There are many who are trying to make a change, but at this point there’s a lot of work to be done. Meanwhile, the politicians get richer, and the poor go without services. One would think being a politician would be a plum job in those circumstances, except that their life expectancy, even with bodyguards, can be short.

Environmental programs. Back in the day when there was more land than people, it was not a big issue if the wash water got thrown on the fields and left to drain into the creek. But now that squatter shacks are precariously balanced on stilts over the edge of the river, and houses are built right smack up against each other, just assuming that the land will continue to absorb our debris does not make sense. But nobody takes an interest, as environmental concerns are a low priority in comparison to surviving, or earning a living. And if left to their own, I’ve seen that many people will trash the places they visit, not caring about the legacy they leave for others.  Which leads me to…

Policing. Rules are good, but unless they are enforced, they are useless. It is common to see signs here being totally ignored – vehicles left in front of a no parking sign, garbage left all around a no littering sign. To say nothing of the sounds of acceleration at a “Slow Down – School Zone” sign. Pedestrian crossings in cities are clearly marked on the streets, but the vehicles do not stop, or even slow down, for people crossing. Foot traffic is left to take its chances with vehicular traffic.

Road Patterns. I’m sure I’ve mentioned the traffic in the Philippines before, maybe once or twice. There seems to be a basic misunderstanding of what the lines drawn on the roads are for. Not only will drivers create an extra line of cars within a lane, but if no one is driving towards them, they assume the opposing lane is free to be used, too. Right of way goes to the one whose bumper can fit in front of the next one.

Safety rules. Maybe we do baby our population in Canada, instead of letting them learn by experience, but it’s nice that someone cares for the dummies, too. Hubby winces every time he sees a small child, helmetless, no windshield or eye protection, sitting in the front on a motorcycle zipping through the traffic.

Sidewalks.  Ones that cars don’t drive or park on, I mean. They have sidewalks in some parts of some towns, although never consistently along one side, and if they don’t have a significant curb, cars and specially motorcycles will use them to go around other cars that are in their way. Unless of course, a tricycle or motorcycle has been parked on it. Walking is extremely hazardous here. Pedestrians are often forced onto the road where they take their life into their hands.

Health Care. ‘nuff said. And dental care – even if it is expensive, I’m glad my parents made me go to the dentist, and that it is a habit I keep today.

Washrooms. Who would have known I’d have put good roads before good washrooms. But I am sooooo grateful for the washrooms in North America. They have toilet seats, usually toilet paper, and they have running water to flush with instead of manually pouring water into them. When I'm in the Philippines, I am happy to see the porcelain, because sometimes even that isn’t provided.

Washing Machines. I have yet to find a Laundromat in the Philippines. Washer women will advertise to do laundry, usually paid by the kilogram of dry weight. Unfortunately, they often don’t have washing machines either. They hand wash in a large basin, often using a piece of 2X4 board to scrub against. Not so good with delicates. Poor hubby had a raw silk shirt that came back shredded. 

Personal Space. Queues are a fact of life, no matter where you go.  There will always be a need to line up for something. But in this region where the right of way goes to the one who is one millimeter closer, personal space is disregarded. If you do not crowd the heels of the person in front, someone in back will assume you are not in the line and will step in front of you, even if you're standing right beside the sign saying: "Line starts here".

All in all, while there are significant differences in expectations, generally dreams and values are the same between the two countries. Talking about time management may get you a puzzled look in the Philippines, but mention family, and everyone is on the same page. While the asian country is less sanitized, and its population less protected, its peoples are hard working and generous to a fault.

A lovely place to visit. Or to stay for the winter.

W