Daily Prompt: Transporter to the 100 Acre Farm

Daily Prompt: Transporter. Tell us about a smell, sound or piece of music that transports you back to childhood.

Fortunately, there are many things that transport me to my youth. We had a great life, living on a 100 acre farm in rural Ontario, with loving (and not too protective) parents and lots of siblings. The lax parenting style was important because it afforded us kids the opportunity to climb the roofs of barns, build our own tree forts and disappear for the entire day on our bikes. Those were the days of summer.

But I digress, back to the senses being transported.

Whenever I hear a Polka (which, admittedly, it not that often), it takes me back to my childhood living room, dancing with my dad. My dad was a busy man, always working around the property but on Saturday nights or Sundays he would dance the Polka with me. No doubt, the weekly Lawrence Welk episodes had a big influence on us !!

The smell of cooking grease, not for French Fries or Chicken, but a sweet fried aroma, takes me back to my mom’s homemade donuts. She would roll out the dough and press out the shapes with her donut cutter. I loved helping her and remember, so clearly, waiting for the first side to be browned and then flipping them to cook the other side. That first donut hole, was popped in my mouth the second it was just cool enough not to burn my tongue.

Whenever I see Basic Lego blocks (a rare find these days), I am transported back to my old living room floor. It seems like every Sunday us kids would dump the Lego bucket onto the floor and get busy as town engineers. We would build an entire community, complete with house-filled subdivisions, Police station, stores and vehicles that we drove around for the rest of the day. We mildly argued over the roof tiles or particular wheels, but basically we played amicably for hours and hours. Close to supper, we disassembled it all, for next Sunday, we would begin again.

Growing up on a hobby farm was really lucky, although, I didn’t really appreciate it at the time. But when I see a livestock truck with pigs going down the highway, I remember the cute baby pigs, calves, goats and chicks of my childhood farm. It really was a great way to grow up, plenty of hard work, a great education and we were definitely, never bored.

It is my sincere hope that my children have sights, smells and sounds that take them back to thoughts of a happy childhood.

The Guinea Pig Lady

Guinea Pig Currency

There are many reasons people travel. If you had asked me 5 years ago why I travel, I would have said to `see` the world. I wanted to snorkel the oceans, hike to scenic vistas and explore caves and canyons.

I am still a newbie traveller, but my travelling purpose is evolving. `The Guinea Pig Lady` is one of the first people who affected my evolution. She showed me that the real treasures of travelling are the people we encounter.

It was a mother-daughter trip to Peru. My daughter had an urge to return to the small impoverished Peruvian town in the Andes, where her school participated in a cultural exchange program. I was willing to trek along to this rural town, a nine-hour bus north of Lima. It was a great arrangement; I would accompany her on the trip up north to reunite with her host family (we would only stay for a few days) and then she would tag along to Machu Picchu and an Eco-lodge in the Amazon jungle. I was so excited, Machu Picchu !!!

That was five years ago and I have great photos and memories of the Amazon and the Inca fortress, but the best memories, the ones that hold a special place in my heart, are the ones from Mato, the tiny town, high in the Andes. More specifically, the people we encountered. One of those special people was the Guinea Pig Lady.

Before I get to her, however, I want to tell you about the village in the Andes. Mato only has a few hundred residents. It has electricity in some, but not all of the houses. Indoor plumbing is also a luxury reserved for the wealthier residents, like the teachers or store owners. The town has an irrigation system, where the water is turned off every evening from 6pm until morning. The bulk of the villagers live off the land. Livestock is paraded out to pasture early in the morning and returned in the evening.

View of the Andes from Mato

The family that hosted my daughter the previous year owns a local store and a rooming house. They rent rooms to guests that work in the area, for example Peace Corps workers or medical workers from larger cities coming to help in town for a few days. Although scenic, this is not a town where tourists would go.

We were overwhelmed by the hospitality we received in Mato. We were greeted by everyone. People stopped by at Jose’s house to visit with us. We were invited to the school principal’s house for a Coke. When we visited the preschool, they called a recess time so we could meet and interact with the children. Jose, our host, was generous with his time, food and house. He even asked us to stay longer and arranged for our transportation to the bus station a 25 minute drive away. We were made to feel like it was our home. We helped Susan work at the store, played ball in the streets, and laughed into the night with Jose. It was just such a comfortable feeling. At dinner time, we all pitched in to set the table.

Me welcomed to Matos`s preschool class

Jose took us for daily walks to share stories of his community

There was a women in town who always struck up a conversation with us when our paths crossed. Conversation is probably a bit of an overstatement here, since our Spanish is pretty limited and nobody in town speaks English. With Jose, it was not too bad, he spoke slowly and we used a lot of gestures. Language barriers aside, we did manage to gather that this lady was keen on us coming to visit her, in her home. Low and behold, one day, Jose announced that we would be going to her house for lunch. And by “we’ he meant, just my daughter and I. He told us how to find the house and sent us on our way. I am not going to lie, I was a little apprehensive. I was really not sure our Spanish ability could sustain us for an entire meal. I was also nervous about eating in a new home that may serve us water or food that could make our feeble North American digestive systems unhappy. In any case, we were on our way, after all, she had always been super nice when we bumped into her on the road.

We arrived and within minutes the initial nervousness was settled. It was surprising that the Spanish-English issue was not that much of an issue at all. The great thing about my daughter and I is that she was stronger at understanding Spanish and I was stronger at expressing myself. So she listened, translated what I didn’t catch and I answered. Of course, we often had to ask them to repeat things three times in different ways and gestures until we grasped the gist of the story.

And what a story it was. This woman had raised 4 children, if I remember correctly, and had a grand child she was raising too. She had suffered battery most of her married life, until finally, she kicked the bastard out. But that left her to feed and clothe the family by herself. The way that she supports the family by raising guinea pigs. (Hence the title of the post)

Guinea Pig Cages

This small batch of guinea pigs is her livelihood. There were not really many there, maybe 50 or 60. They make the cutest little noises. She explained that when she needed anything for the house, flour, sugar or light bulbs, she took guinea pigs to market. In Peru, guinea pigs (or cuy) are a source of food. So she would toss 4 or 5 guinea pigs into an over-sized purse, catch a collectivo (shared taxi) to market day in Caraz and sell or trade the rodents for the supplies she needed.

We sat on her sofa and had a lovely chicken dinner and salad. It was such a foreign world though, I knew that with very little refrigeration in this town, she had killed that chicken just for us. We were honoured and wondered how many guinea pigs she had to trade to get the chicken. When she offered us drinks, she did it just as we would in Canada, “what would you like to drink? Coke, Sprite, water?”, except her daughter had to run to the corner store to buy the beverages we wanted and they didn`t get any for themselves. I was annoyed at myself for not thinking fast enough, or I would have said, that we were fine with nothing to drink.

After dinner she continued to tell us about her kids, one had moved to Lima and her grand-daughter showed us her school work. It was surprisingly advanced for preschool. It seemed like such normal after-dinner conversation.

It was a strange feeling. This lady lived a life we could never really understand, she was a battered wife, who financially barely held it together by bartering guinea pigs. But I didn’t leave her house thinking “poor her”, or “wow, am I ever lucky to be me”. There was no pity, I just thought that I had met a kind, strong, wonderful mother.

It was then that I realized that relationships and people are what make travel special. This vast earth houses many people who are in different situations and there should never be judgments of who is more fortunate or lucky. I am not saying that we shouldn`t help each other, but do it in the same spirit as holding a door open for someone, it is a courtesy issue, not a sympathy issue. In that same vein, when you converse with people of the world, learn about their life, their families, their hopes and dreams.

I am honoured and privileged to have dined with the guinea pig lady. I am grateful that she taught me that travel is about so much more than natural wonders and landmarks.

The guinea pig lady with my daughter, what an honour to be a guest in her home

What about you? Have you ever met someone on your travels who left a lasting impression?

Daily Post: Planned Whimsical Living

Daily Post: What are you more comfortable with, routine and planning or laissez-faire spontaneity?

Travel, exploration and activity-filled weekends are on my basic necessities list. I am game to try most things at least once (short of jumping out of a plane). So the answer would seem obvious. I think most people who know me (but don’t REALLY know me) would assume I am a carefree, spontaneous woman. And really, I have tried to be, but I just can’t do it. The only way this chick is acting on a whim, is if she has carefully planned it. Planned spontaneity is my life mantra.

I begin every weekend the same way, “what shall we do this weekend? I am up for anything, I just need to know what is going down”.

I begin every day the same way, I spend 3 minutes thinking about the day’s planned events.

I earnestly research my trips. I reserve all my accommodations, have a couple of positively rated restaurants in mind and have sunny and rainy day activities planned. Notes such as, “Wander such and such neighbourhood” and “Take taxi to the hotel” are even scribbled into the itinerary. That said, I’m not a crazy, rigid person, of course, if something interesting pops up, I am flexible.

I admire the people who can be laissez-faire, like my daughter, but I just can’t do it. Planned whimsical living for me!!

Daily Prompt: Letter to My Future Grandkids

Daily Post: Back to the Future A service has been invented through which you can send messages to people in the future. To whom would you send something, and what would you write?

Dear my grandkids and great grand kids

I am not that old yet, and certainly not that wise, but I do have some tidbits of advice to pass along.

Technology will change; the way things are done, and jobs you hold, but one thing will not change, relationships. Cherish relationships and be good to your friends and family.

Pick a good mate. Pick a partner that you will laugh and have fun with. With any luck you will spend many years with your partner, so be with someone you truly like and, with whom you have common interests.

Be a duck, but not a doormat. Let things roll off your back, but don’t let people walk all over you. It can be tricky to balance, but keep trying.

Go for it! Be brave enough to go for what you want. Obstacles are meant to jump over, not to derail you.

Believe in yourself, you are the driver of your life, you come from good genes (trust me!) and you CAN do it.

The world is a big place. Do yourself a favour and explore the earth and its wonderful people, landscapes and cultures.

Finally, practice altruism. Be kind to people, expecting nothing in return. But in reality you will get so much back, (I am not sure why), it just works that way.

With Lots of Love,
Your Grandma/Great Grandma

Daily Post: Seconds – Please Sir I Want Some More

Daily Post: Seconds. Describe your most glorious meal in detail

As Oliver Twist once said “I want some more”. The more in my case, is more than succulent flavours and mouth-watering goodness. I learned this ten years ago.

It was in an intimate piazza (public courtyard) in Venice. We sat outdoors, at the table furthest from the restaurant and closest to the water fountain. We watched children playing ball and many passersby. Some were tourists, others, Venetians shopping and still others, business men (and women) with briefcases. There were many dogs running about and faint music coming from an inexplicable source. This scene was almost surreal. This old world courtyard filled with modern sights and sounds.

We were at a Pizzeria, but with a 10, 12 and 14-year-old, that is no big surprise. I don’t even remember what kind of pizza I ordered. I only remember that my youngest ordered a Margherita Pizza. It was number one on the menu. The waiter nicknamed my daughter “number one” and joked with “number one” for the rest of the evening. He even joined us at the table for a while!

Despite the fact that it was only Pizza, it was authentic Italian pizza, cooked with fresh garlic and sun ripened tomatoes in a wood-fired oven. Delicious, to be sure, but I am not going to pretend I remember if it was mozzarella, gorgonzola or a combination of the two.

When we were done eating and drinking and people watching in this magical piazza, we wondered when the bill would arrive. In fact, we discovered it would never arrive, until we said we were done. The Italians have it right.

The point is, if pressed to pick the meal I would want seconds of, this would be it. A good meal, eaten in the cutest corner of the world, with a friendly, funny waiter at a relaxed leisurely pace.

Please Sir, I want some more!

What Side of the Fence Will I Fall on?

I hate shopping on weekends, with the crowds, the bratty kids, the impatient parents, and the incompetent sales clerks.  But I had to get a few groceries so I reluctantly headed to the mini mall.  I pulled in the parking lot.  Without warning, a car stops dead in the middle of the lane, puts an indicator on, and sits…….. blocking traffic, and by traffic, I mean, me !!

After a minute, after my blood pressure has soared, I decide to squeeze around this asshole.  Just as I am next to him, he reconsiders his parking place, pulls out and cuts me off.   Beeeeeeeeeeppppppppp, I lay it on the horn. I am so pissed.

Now, I am generally a very cheery, “glass half full” kind of gal, but this incident, as well as my occasional rants about “kids these days”, “the lazy generation of 20 somethings”, irresponsible parents”  have me fearing that I could, indeed, fall on the wrong side of the fence.

The way I see it, old people fall in two camps, there is no “in between”, just two sides of the fence. One…. the old, cynical, swearing, grumpy ones, and two…..  the sweet, optimistic, nonjudgemental cheerful seniors. You know the ones that always make you feel better when you see them.

I have to admit, as I age, I am finding more aging people around me becoming grumpy, old people.  And I would be lying if I didn’t say that I was afraid of falling on the wrong side of the temperament fence, myself.

I don’t have a grand plan to ensure I fall on the “right” side of the fence.

I am hoping awareness is half the battle.  I am counting on this consciousness to jolt me into less irritable behaviour every time my curmudgeon side reveals itself.   I will also try to silence all negative or judgmental remarks that pop into my head.  Finally, I will surround myself with more of those cheery, optimistic types and hope their goodness will rub off on me.

Wish me luck, and let’s hope I fall on the “right” side of the fence.

It’s Beginning to Feel a Lot Like Christmas (Finally)

This year I find myself filled with Christmas nostalgia. Over the past few years, I had become somewhat of a Grinch. Part of that was my backlash to the commercialism of the season. But it recently dawned on me, another part of my indifference to the holidays was simply because the magic of Christmas was gone. I miss having magical moments with my kids at Christmas.  I think I always underestimated how much those family times meant to me, the handmade cards we made, the cookies and squares we baked.  The years we tried and failed to make a sturdy gingerbread house.  In the days we mailed parcels, the kids always decorated the brown paper wrapping with paint or markers.  Even if the kids never did warm to Santa, we have a giant collection of “sitting on Santa’s knee polaroids.  Even one with me 9 months pregnant.

I long for the days when Matt would try to stay awake to “catch” Santa. I will never forget the year Santa actually walked in the door and gave Matt the the fright of his life.  I miss the children standing on chairs hanging the ornaments, the beady mouse from Teresa, the ornaments we made in Moose Jaw and all the school project decorations, made with love and recycled materials.  It is always fun unpacking the ornament box, and travelling down memory lane,  “Oh that’s the one that was a gift for Sarah’s first Christmas”.  Quite early on, we did not want the sibling’s gifts for each other to be overlooked amongst Santa’s deliveries, so after a big meal Christmas Eve, or the nativity play (depending on the year) the kids gave their thoughtfully chosen gifts to each other.  That was a tradition that I particularly loved.

The 25th does not hold a great deal of tradition since we changed venues too often, sometimes we packed the car and headed to Grandma’s and other years we opted not to travel and spend the whole day being kids.  Those were generally the years I was expecting, since we have 3 winter babies.

I envy people who will have a magical child-filled Christmas, cherish those times, as they will be gone far too soon.
In the meantime, I will be nostalgic for the Christmas’s past, and embrace the traditions we continue. I am nothing, if not adaptable. And there are the traditions that have stuck (I guess that is the very definition of tradition- duh!!) Family boxing day, observing Sinterklaas day, Chocolate letters, Shortbreads and Bernie squares, watching Love Actually, hand writing my Christmas cards,  playing 1000 and board games. The kids aren’t kids anymore, but I treasure every minute with them, as we continue family traditions and perhaps create some new ones along the way.
I for one, am looking forward to lots of lights and decorations, sporting an apron for baking (and I hope Lyss is there to help), playing Johnny Mathis as I write my annual correspondence, and skyping with my girl across the country. It is not the same Christmas magic but it will still be wonderful and full of love and laughter with those near and far.

This slideshow requires JavaScript.

Merry Christmas !!!

What Do I Love Doing??

I have been watching a few Ted Talks lately that all echo the same sentiment —  Find your passion or Do what you love.  That is great advice and I do think I do a decent job enjoying life.  But really, when I think about it,  I also spend a fair amount of time online or watching TV.  So is there something else I should be doing?  Something I am passionate about??

So what do I love doing?  I think if money were no object, for sure, I would travel more, perhaps volunteer or teach English far far away.  But really, I would not love leaving Al to do that.  On second thought, I am happy travelling with him a couple times a year.

So, what else do I love doing?  I  love being outdoors, walking, hiking, sitting, reading. I  also love cooking, trying new recipes. I love teaching one on one.  I like writing, can’t say I love it, since I am just not that good at it. But I would love to be good at it, so I appreciate it as a process, and I love that.  I like taking pictures.  The love is not there yet, because the skill is not there.  What is it Malcomn Gladwell said?, you have to do something 10,000 times to become an expert.

Skor Bars

I love reading the right book, but hate wasting time reading the wrong book.  I begrudge the time and money spent on “Fifty Shades of Grey” I also hate looking at book reviews to try to find the right book.  So I wait until someone gives me a book and guarantees that I will love it.  This is what happened to me and the Poisonwood Bible. I love Independent movies, foreign independent movies are even better.  I am also loving the television series, Parenthood. It is so authentic.

I love my family, love spending time with them.   I wish I could sit around with them, chatting about everything and nothing.  But when they are settled, I will visit them…..often.

I love Googling, the search for an answer, the perfect destination, the age of a movie star, or the life expectancy of a zebra.  You name it, I love Googling it !!

So where does this leave me.  I probably do spend too much time watching TV, but really there is not a giant list of unfulfilled desires in my life.  Still though, I feel the Ted Talks should motivate some change in me. So here are my four changes.

1.  I will not watch TV for the sake of watching TV, it has to be a show I want to watch
2. I make at least one new recipe a week
3. I will take more photos
4. I will write in my blog regularly

What about you, what do you love doing? And are you really spending enough time doing what you love?