Category Archives: Travel

Enjoying the view of home

Posted in Canada, Finding Home, Life, Love, Travel by

This week I receive two emails of Canadiana (sp?) from some lovely ladies who read this blog – seems that the “Canadian Living” post inspired a little bit of Canada reminiscing. From ‘land of the silver birch, home of the beaver’ to reddening maples, sugar shacks, beavertails, loons across the water, cottage days, and even to the sharp dip in September weather; it was pleasing to see that our stories (Zsolt and I combined) touched a chord.  

On my desk in my new office is a painting by a fantastic local artist (who also happens to be the mother of a very good friend). I love her work – her paintings can bring me the chill of a winter morning, the damp of a rocky shore, the electric humidity before a storm, or the ripples of water as you dip your paddle for another push . . . talk about your touch of Canada, if I can write it – she can paint it.

And even better (if you want to get away from the arts) have been the walks. Everyday Zsolt and I go for a walk. He’s trying to learn Kanata so that he doesn’t repeat his ‘one hour walk’ that occurred the year we were married. Zsolt, Anna and Laszlo (his folks) set out for a walk on lovely May morning and didn’t come home for ages. Why? Because they were lost in Kanata. . .wandering street to street, trying to decipher one bungalow from another.

So he’s learning. And I’m enjoying all the green. For all the cookie cutter formulas and expectation in terms of lifestyle – the suburbs most certainly have greenery covered. From the gardens, the trees, the sports fields, and the micro forests . . . I love green.

The painting on my desk depicts an autumn day. It reminds me of walking through Gatineau park – you know the walk circling that deep, narrow lake? (If you even live in Ottawa or Canada, that is . . . and if you don’t, you are probably gagging right now on all this talk of Canada this and Canada that. My apologies.) It reminds me that soon the leaves will turn and another season will arrive. Already the temperature is dropping, and already I’ve stepped on a few crunchy leaves.

All this to say, I love our Canadian landscape. Europe’s got class. The world is an oyster. But oh, Canada, you are beautiful.

(Just don’t ask me to exude so much love come next January – cause by then I think I’ll have had enough of the darkness and ice . . . but for the moment, we’re in a very good place.)

🙂

Quick aside: My energy has been rather low lately; even these leisurely walks are tiring. Maybe it’s the settling in, the jetlag, or my little ‘vacation’ from taking vitamins . . . whatever it is, I’m knackered – and that isn’t cool. This is a problem to be solved asap. Though it could just be the travelling . . .it always gets me.

Another quick aside: Today I was stung by a wasp. What the frack! There I was, hanging out by Young’s Pond – and BAM – pain! Thankfully I’m not allergic, only offended. Stupid wasp.

Dan, Dan, the Adventure Man

Posted in Fun, Life, Travel by

Tomorrow Dan (my little brother) strikes out into the wilderness to become a man. Six days, three guys, one tent and a long winding mountain trail. Good luck little buddy, don’t go crazy and keep yourself safe.

And.

Of course.

HAVE FUNNNN!!! (like a lot of fun, like twenty-years-from-now-and-he-is-still-talking-about-it fun)

Hello anyone reading this blog post. Please lend a moment of your time to my little bro, and join me in sending good vibes for his trip. *no bears, no cats, and nothing with teeth.*

Thanks 😉

Finding the Greek

Posted in Canada, Finding Home, Fun, Life, Travel by

Good morning to you. This has got to be a quickie – there’s way too much to do this week, way too much to do today . . . really, I shouldn’t even be typing right now, I ought to be sorting through stuff and packing bags and calling Air Canada . . . but what can a few minutes hurt, right?

So – clearly – vacation is over. BUT, it was lovely despite complications.

We arrive in Corfu two Saturdays ago about 11pm and grabbed a taxi to Kavos. That was the first experience, swervingbetween cars like the driver was in a racing slalom, passing three cars at a time, passing cars that were passing cars,  running off the mopeds and doing 90 km through villages. And yet I wasn’t scared. It was fun.

Then we arrived in Kavos. If whipping along the narrow, busy streets of Corfu doesn’t scare you, arriving in Kavos will do the trick. All I could say was, “Oh my God.”  Choked full of Summer-breaking Brits ages 17-23 having a good time, the taxi was forced to crawl its way along the main road as smashed, high and horny throngs of kids swelled through the road . Panty-dropping pop music didn’t just blast, it kaboomed from every single club (one after the other after the other after the other) trying to compete for attention. It was a bit hilarious, if not also horrible. The taxi driver couldn’t stop laughing.

Anyhow. That was my first impression of Kavos. The noise, the crowd, the party. That Saturday it lasted until about 4am (and yeah, our incredibly well-priced apartment, very clean too, was right over the street in the restaurant area – so it could have been worse, but it was still rather loud) and Zsolt and I used ear plugs to try and get some sleep.

Next morning – Catherine was grumpy.

However, thank goodness my bad impression didn’t last forever. While I’d never again return to Kavos no matter how inexpensive the accommodation, the locals were fabulous and helpful in ‘how to enjoy Greece when there is nothing Greek around you’.

[Interesting aside, I heard a British tour rep call Kavos a ‘resort’ . . .not a town, but a resort . . . as though it had been crafted for the leagues of young Brits that arrived every week. And while I – with my North America gone south experiences of Mexico and Antigua – would never call the vomit-stinking streets (the smell wears off around noon each day) and trashy parade of bars a resort, I can absolutely understand that this town has bent itself to appease the British crowd. It’s basically the American equivalent to Cancun or wherever people go in Florida for spring break. Every restaurant sells Mexican, Texan, or British food. Greek is available, but must be sought out carefully.  Anyhow, she called it a resort, which I thought was sad because it takes away the local identity of those who live and work there – the lovely Greek people with their good humour and long stories. ]

And so we began to explore.

It was a very, very good time. We rented some quad bikes, roamed around the island – driving through olive tree forests at sunset, curving  cliff side roads to the beach, off route farmer’s tracks over to abandoned monasteries, puttered through the quad-bike-wide streets of an unexpected, totally beautiful, and absolutely tiny village on a hill, visited a little restaurant that overlooked the amazing turquoise sea . . .swam, swam, swam . . . and enjoyed, enjoyed, enjoyed.

We even found a ‘secret beach’ which the owner of our hotel let us know about. Only a 40 minute walk from Kavos (20 minute drive on the quad bike), this place was gorgeous, empty and just . . . just a perfect escape from the world.

Despite the first night’s madness (I avoided that scene for the rest of the week, instead at night we played Uno in the flat, or went to the beach, or walked. Once we went out dancing, but I can’t take late nights anymore and abandoned the endeavour about thirty minutes into the evening, letting them go on without me – stupid post-chemo buzz killer.) By the end of the week, I was really freaking pleased with the break. Greece turned out to be an excellent escape.

I am very glad we took the time for a little adventure.

And now – now . . . NOW . . . it’s time to move to Canada.

PS. Another wonderful thing, wearing my bikini – loved it!