If you’re wondering where to go on your next vacation, why not consider…Canada?

Peter and I recently spent a lovely week in Newfoundland, Canada’s easternmost province, in the north Atlantic. It’s a place that many travellers have avoided, perhaps because of the distance, the weather, the unknown. Perhaps you should reconsider.

The Rock has been around for ages. There is evidence that First Nations peoples lived there about 9,000 years ago. The first Europeans, who landed in the north, were the Vikings led by Leif Erikson, about 1,000 years ago. In 1492 John Cabot landed, followed by another British group that tried to establish a settlement. They lasted only through one winter of snow, starvation and disease, before retreating. Fortunately another, hardier, group arrived a few years later and persevered.

So why should you visit The Rock?

Go for the scenery. It is a breathtaking coastal drive, along the Atlantic Ocean, following winding roads past cliffs, through tree-covered undulating hills, beside lakes, rivers, and ponds. Quaint wooden homes surround community churches at the centre of little villages like Plate Cove or Marysvail or the world-famous Dildo. Bustling fisheries in Ferryland and elsewhere support the economy with cod, salmon, and more recently, lobster harvests. If you get hungry, folksy restaurants like Nanny’s Root Cellar Kitchen await your arrival, with home-cooked seafood chowder and mouthwatering blueberries on a cloud.

Go to see the wildlife. Let the whales entertain you with their breaching, their tail flips, their blows. Don’t be surprised if they swim underneath your boat. Smile at the cute faces of the puffins with their colourful beaks and feet. Watch the gannets and eagles soar overhead. Stare in wonder as you pass a family of caribou grazing by the side of the road.

Go to visit the capital city, St. John’s. Rows upon rows of brightly-painted wooden homes sit precariously along steep hills. Water St. running along the harbour welcomes cruise ships and tour buses along the lengthy pedestrian walkway; home to restaurants, pubs, quaint shops and an outdoor music venue. If museums are your thing, visit The Rooms, a modern glass building with a stunning view of the harbour entrance. It houses a military museum, art gallery, natural history museum, and theatre.

Go to meet the people. As depicted in the Broadway success, Come From Away, the people are among the friendliest and most helpful you could hope to meet on any vacation. Don’t let their unique accent put you off – they are the real deal.

Go because it’s Canada. Not in recent memory have Peter and I had such an interesting holiday that was so effortless. We had no passports, no vaccine documents, no customs forms to worry about. Souvenir shopping was a breeze. Buy as much screech, as many cod-shaped pillows, as you can stuff into your suitcase.

There is no language barrier. We had no need to keep track of 2 currencies, trying to separate dimes from pesos or loonies from euros. It all stayed in 1 wallet. When travelling between Toronto and St. John’s, the time difference is 1 1/2 hours – no jetlag! And healthcare. At our age this is always a worry when we are away. We can pack our suitcase full of tylenol, gravol, immodium, and throat lozenges. But what if the unexpected happens? And it did.

Midway through the trip I developed a bad cough, chills and a fever. The whole group shivered with fear as I had one Covid test, and then another. Both were negative. The group relaxed but I was still sick and needed medical attention. Peer and I were dropped off at a local hospital, I got a chest x-ray, a medical analysis and a diagnosis – pneumonia- in under 2 hours. I left with a prescription for antibiotics, everything paid for with my OHIP card!

For our next adventure, Canada is certainly going to be on the list. Put it on yours too. Maybe even consider a trip to The Rock.

Sue

Last week, when I was doing research in Muskoka, many dramatic moments occurred. But I only have 600 words so I decided to use photos to tell the story instead:

In the lake:

Meanwhile:

And inside:

And soon the week is over.

We go out to celebrate:

Hope we get invited back next year!

Sue

(No this is not Tuesday. It’s Friday night. But next Tuesday I will be doing research..)

Recently I had a chance to go back to the country – not to visit friends or restaurants, or to enjoy the country breezes – although we often do that. This time I went back to give a talk about my writing. I was invited by a writers’ group that I had helped organize back in about 2007. While it’s still on my mind, I want to share some of the highlights of my writing “career” with you, dear readers. This is not the stuff of best-selling autobiographies, but it has some funny parts.

I started writing as a young girl in grade 8, when my teacher asked me to be the editor of the class yearbook. Of course I saved that yearbook; printed on an old duplicating machine which gave off those heavenly alcoholic fumes; now faded and tattered. The contents are very amateurish, full of errors and omissions. But that experience gave me the love of the printed word. I didn’t stop to think that writing is not a lucrative career – which is a good thing!

The next step in my writing career began in university where I started a quarterly newsletter on my floor in residence. My last name was Allcock at the time so I called the newsletter Allcock and Bull. It was full of gossip and stories about life in residence, and it was copied using carbon paper, 2 pages at a time. After graduating, I abandoned writing for a while, but when my kids were born and we lived in a family neighbourhood, I began writing a similar kind of column for our quarterly newsletter, the Henry Farmer. I did that for 15 years and got a lot of positive feedback. But no salary.

As an educator I wrote a few articles for professional journals and got paid about $150 per article which works out to around 1 1/2 cents a word. I also answered requests in the Toronto Star for material such as “Describe your experience moving from a house to a condo.” I especially remember that one because a photographer came to my condo to take a photo. He asked if my cat could be in the picture with me; apparently the cat was much cuter. But I got $100 anyway.

When I moved to the country to live with Peter, I became an editor of a local arts magazine, King MOSAiC. It was great fun. I wrote a few articles and enjoyed interviewing the various neighbourhood celebrities. But this role wasn’t lucrative at all. In fact one time I interviewed the owner of a popular restaurant whose specialty was butter tarts. As we talked, I could see the yummy butter tarts in the display case nearby. I guess the owner didn’t notice me salivating all over my notes, because the interview ended with only a handshake.

In 2018 Peter and I moved back to the city and I searched around for another opportunity to get my words on a page somewhere. And that’s when I came up with a 21st. century idea – a blog! I still love writing Seventy In The City, which is now 3 years old, and I know you enjoy your Tuesday morning fix because I get a lot of positive comments. But again, no $$$.

On my days off, Wednesday to Monday, I have been doing some other writing. My husband Peter, aka Pietro, loves to tell stories. And, after 15 years together, I know them all by heart. Peter’s life has been propelled forward by education, and a lot of the stories have a school focus. One day I thought: a compilation of these stories could actually become a book, with a theme. And so Pietro Goes To School was born.

Then I had another thought: maybe I could Sell this book. Maybe I could even make some money! Maybe I could become a best-selling author!! OK so maybe I was getting ahead of myself…

Anyway, after many rejection letters from publishers, I had the book published by a Toronto Public Library service and began to distribute it. And I think I may have found a buyer! A school is considering using my little book as resource material for adult students. This would be the best: a tribute to Pietro and his commitment to education and, after all these years, a little remuneration for me.

Sue

PS This piece is not meant to solicit funds from loyal readers. Honest!

Toilets are probably the best-used “appliance” in our homes. Which of you, dear readers, does not utilize this device at least once a day? And yet, according to recorded history, toilets have been rarely modified since they replaced outhouses back in the early 20th century.

Toilets still have basically the same design: a seat on a pedestal and a tank on the back that houses the same flushing mechanism. Well, you Can go to Japan and find the upscale model with all sorts of additional options. Check out the icons below to get a sense of your choices!

But I digress.

A couple of months ago our main floor toilet started making noises – kind of a grunt and a bit of a shake down below. Just to be clear: this was when nobody was using it! Peter brushed it off in his usual manner: “Just leave it. It’ll probably go away by itself.” In fact it got worse. Next thing, the water kept running every time we flushed. We had to reach inside the tank, push down on a round yellow disc, and hold it until the water stopped running. This can add to your water bill and seriously cut into your relaxation time!

Then another complication: when Peter was watering the garden, the toilet would start running too. Maybe it wanted attention because sometimes the pipes below would really start to shake and it felt like one might burst at any moment! Finally Peter gave in and said yes we should probably call a plumber. We tried to contact a couple of our go-to handymen but they were away. This was the Canada Day weekend and what plumber would want to deal with our little tragedy when he could be drinking beer at his cottage, paid for by previous customers?

So Peter got out a vice and shut off the water to the main toilet. I made a cute sign for the lid, saying “Don’t You Dare!” And we loaded up on toilet paper in the downstairs bathroom. This was all fine, lots of extra steps up and down, very healthy. Except at night. By the time we found the light switch to the stairs, made our way down, did our business and went back upstairs, we were wide awake! And then there were guests: “You want to use the What? Oh That Thing! Well you have to go downstairs. Sorry.”

Then we got sneaky and invited our daughter Jennifer, and son-in-law Richard for dinner. Richard knows a lot about a lot of things. Did he know about toilets? Yes he did! But he looked inside and said there were complications: the flapper thingy was a special make, installed with the toilet and difficult to replace, since the toilet was situated under the counter. Richard suggest we call a plumber. What a novel idea!

Unfortunately, this saga is not over. Stay tuned for more developments. Meanwhile, there is a porta-pottie at a construction site just down the road that is looking better and better all the time.

Sue

Dear Loyal Readers;

After deleting several thousand old emails, I find my blog site working Much better. Imagine that! In fact, I am now able to add photos. So, in honour of this great holiday, I give you, not text, but pictures!

First some pics from our trip to New York, (Sister Cities posted June 14)

Walking on the High Line

We also had a lovely family gathering of Peter’s cousins while we were in New York. While many of Peter’s family moved to Toronto from Italy, one branch of his family moved to New York – another similarity between these two cities! It was great to spend time with them.

The next blog post missing pictures was Fore! June 21:

And from last week’s post, Agnes Arrives! June 28:

Happy Canada Day everyone. I’ll be back on Tuesday with another post.

Sue

Last week, when our grand daughter Agnes (age almost 11), returned from a year in New Zealand, she came to stay with us for a week while her parents stayed elsewhere and organized their new lives: jobs, housing and so on. It was quite a week for us, her aging grandparents. But don’t worry – I only have 600 words to touch on the highlights.

Our first mission was grocery shopping for her favourite foods, followed by lunch at Tim Horton’s for her favourite bagel with cream cheese. Alas, the bagel’s flavour had waned over the past year. So during lunch I was able to bring up the subject of Missy and Sissy, Agnes’s 2 pet mice who had been in my care while she was away and had died in the spring. They were waiting for her, well-wrapped, in our freezer. Both Agnes and I were anxious to send them to the afterlife.

We went to Michael’s and picked out tiny boxes which Agues would transform into little coffins with some paint. She found a couple of rocks which could serve as headstones. And she chose a spot in our garden under the magnolia tree. Peter, aka Nonno, dug a hole and we had a very reverent burial – with their coffins, their food bowls and sunflower seeds, and one toy each, just the way the pharaohs have treasure buried with them. Those mice had a high-class send off!

Now that our obligations were taken care of, Agnes wanted to go shopping at the Eaton Centre. It’s not hard to believe that there are no malls of this size on the NZ South Island. I worried a bit when she said she wanted a new purse, the kind that transforms into a backpack so she could ride her bike or roller blade while wearing it. Then she mentioned Gucci. Oops! At the first store we found one she liked for $50. I figured I could afford this but Agnes announced that it was too expensive because “I might lose it, Nana!” Smart girl. We finally left the Eaton Centre and went to Winners where I explained that the rents are lower and so are the prices. Agnes found the perfect bag for only $40. Phew!

Our next big outing was to Centre Island. We took the ferry over without incident; no falling off the boat or anything. Maybe something more exciting was in store. But Agnes wanted to go to Centreville. I tried to discourage her because she had been only 9 the last time she visited and she might find the Tipsy Teacups and the Big Bear Ride a little childish. She persisted and finally chose 2 rides: the ferris wheel and the log flume. Which one of us would like to go with her? I quickly opted for the ferris wheel and let Peter have the log flume – the one where you climb into a log, go up and up, then shoot down the river to the bottom where you get soaked. I thought he might enjoy it… But I did hear some screams from high up, before the plunge, and they were definitely Not from Agnes.

After that adventure, Agnes strapped on her new backpack and her roller blades and we all set out for the bike rental place. Peter and I got a quadracycle, basically a two-person bike, side by side. This seemed like our speed! Agnes easily bladed well ahead of us and had to keep coming back to see what was taking us so long? Finally, in desperation, she grabbed on to the back of our bike and started pushing! We saw a lot of other grandparents laughing out loud as we were pushed along.

We had lots of other adventures during our week together and the time flew by. Our bodies felt ancient but our spirits were young again! Welcome home, Agnes.

Sue

After returning from a wonderful trip to New York, (see blog post Sister Cities, June 14), we had to be on the golf course the next morning at 8:00 a.m. Talk about poor planning, especially at our age!

Peter and I had signed up to volunteer as Marshalls at the 2020 RBC Canadian Open Golf Tournament back in the fall of 2019. We had done this job a few years previously when it was hosted by a local golf club, and we found it to be a lot of fun. When the pandemic hit, our application for 2020 was rolled over to 2021 and then 2022. And here we were. What we didn’t think about was, adding up all the years between our last time and this,12 years had gone by. Which meant that we were 12 years older! That’s a lot of time and, let’s just admit it, aging. How well would we manage?

When the alarm went off at 8:00 am, we had our doubts. Would we find time for a nap somewhere during the day? Maybe there was a tree on our assigned hole, number 13, where we could hide and rest. After scarfing down a quick breakfast, we headed for the local bus that would take us to the site; a far shorter commute than driving past the golf course to park and taking the shuttle bus back.

The local bus stopped several blocks short of the course, St. George’s, because the road was closed to traffic. So we had to walk quite far to get to the Volunteer Centre. Then we discovered that there were no shuttle golf carts to take us to our hole and we had to walk farther. Much farther. It turned out that hole 13 is the farthest one from the entrance, and nobody we asked really knew how to get there. It took us a good half hour to find our way to the distant corner, at the top of a hill. Good grief – we hadn’t even started our shift and we were exhausted already!

The other Marshalls and our hole captains, Howie and John, were all very friendly and we chatted as we waited for the first group of golfers to show up. This was a practice day and not many pros came, so we sat on the grass and chatted some more. Some smart volunteers had brought collapsible stools to sit on and we were envious. Sitting on hard ground with no back support is hard work! Finally about 4:00 pm John offered to send some of us home and we accepted.

The next couple of days were similar – a lot of sitting around waiting and trying to balance on our newly-purchased stools, punctuated by very long trips to the distant porta-potties. Finally, on Thursday, the golfers came in earnest. We stood behind the ropes, facing the spectators with our hands up. “Silence please!” Except there were hardly any spectators; it seemed that they too had trouble finding hole 13. So we often sat down to watch, or even read the newspaper between foursomes. Until Bruce showed up.

Bruce took his Head Marshall job very seriously. “Marshalls are not allowed to sit!” “Keep your hands in the air at all times!” “Do Not walk in the tee area!” “Don’t disturb the players!” When he wasn’t around, we questioned our decision to help with this great Canadian event.

First of all we, and all the other 2000 volunteers, had to pay $80 each for our shirt, hat, water bottle and volunteer pass. Although the spectators were mostly agreeable, there were some challenges; for example the young guys who wanted to smoke pot. But mostly we had to really stretch ourselves to manage the 12-hour shifts, only able to sit down when Bruce was elsewhere.

The best perk, besides getting a guest pass so friends could visit, was watching the pros play up close. They studied their shots carefully, consulting notes and caddies for advice. They drove the ball over 200 yards effortlessly. They chipped out of the sand with ease. And they even missed a few putts – just like us! So maybe next year we’ll put our $80 towards our entrance fee and go as spectators. Sometimes, as we get older, we have to admit that, while we can still do our favourite things, we sometimes have to make modifications.

Sue

Still having technical difficulties so no pictures. A new laptop is in my immediate future!

Did you know that New York City and Toronto have more in common than almost any other two major cities in the world? We could start by comparing our beloved Blue Jays and the Yankees. But Peter and I had a chance to observe first-hand some of the more interesting similarities when we spent 5 days last week with our son and his family.

First there is the geography. Both cities are situated on large bodies of water fed by rivers, so they are ports at their core. Expansive waterfronts dotted with skyscrapers, mostly glass and very tall, greet visitors as they sail in from elsewhere. Islands make up part of the landscape too. Partly due to this limitation on spread, the cost of real estate is very high in both places. New York, being older, is more densely populated than Toronto, but the ethnic make-up is similar. While Toronto’s downtown population is just under 3 million, New York is over 8 million. How does one navigate around such a large metropolis? Peter and I donned our most comfortable running shoes and went to find out.

The subway beckoned from only a block away. We discovered that the underground opened in 1904. The current system, with not 3 lines like the TTC, or even 6 lines, but with 36, yes Thirty Six lines, is open 24 hours a day. The stations we visited are old and a bit tired, but the trains we rode were new and squeaky clean. If you don’t want to take the subway to your destination, there are buses, ferries, and bikes available. New York is considered the least auto-dependent city in the entire USA. Toronto would do well to follow this model of less dependence on cars.

One day Peter and I visited Prospect Park. It reminded us of our own High Park; an idyllic place of forest and greenery in the middle of a city. We found walking and bike trails, flower gardens and benches, fountains and a large pond, home to ducks and swans. We felt right at home as we strolled along, until we asked someone the name of some swimming birds in the pond and she replied: “Geese.” “Not Canada Geese?” we asked. Definitely not!

Another day we walked along the East Hudson River towards the Brooklyn Bridge. The similarities to our neighbourhood Humber River walk were striking. There was no CN Tower in sight; instead we saw the Statue Of Liberty in the distance. A third day we walked along the High Line, very much like our downtown Toronto Beltline, but higher up. And then there was the “Ghosts and Gangsters Tour,” a fascinating look at the history of the New York Mafia and some haunted sites too. Fortunately Toronto doesn’t have the locations or the material for this tour – not yet anyway.

One evening our hosts suggested we might like to see a Broadway show. We were game for anything until we looked at the options: Dear Evan Hansen, Come From Away, Hamilton, and Chicago. We had seen them all, through our Mirvish subscription. We ended up going to an immersive art show, but not Van Gogh or Klimt. It was a mix of art and science: neurons swimming around in the brain as they age. The first ones were cute little colourful things; as they got older they grew into big green blobs. But then the poor guys went downhill – shrinking and losing colour until they were nothing but a big grey mass; kind of like a neuron nursing home. Even our grandson was sad!

In retrospect the most fun we had was with the kids: Dan, Jenny and Ben. We explored their neighbourhood together and saw Ben’s school. We went to several of their favourite local restaurants. And on our way to the airport on the last day we stopped at a park to watch Ben play soccer. A future Michael Bradley for sure!

It was a great adventure in our sister city.

Sue

PS So sorry there are no photos! I had great ones to share but encountered technical difficulties. Hope to fix them this week.

Dear Readers:

I accidentally booked 2 research projects back to back, with no time to write in between! So sorry. I’ll be back next week –

I am taking the day off to do – research! See you next week.

Sue