May 23/2009

Drive to Kenora to visit with Susan and Ian. It's finally starting to look like spring, especially toward Lake of the Woods, where the trees are in bud. We're crossing the second bridge on Storm Bay Road when I spot what looks like swans and persuade J to stop. They're not swans, of course. They're pelicans. Nearly the size of swans, though with less neck and more bill, but almost as magnificent. Six of them sailing white against the dark blue water. In the afternoon the four of us go fishing, trolling through silent bays and listening to the white throated sparrows calling. We hear loons, but don't see them. We do see the beautiful pelicans again, taking off, landing, and sailing proudly by.

Wednesday, May 13/2009

Perhaps non-travel time should be a separate blog, but I can't be bothered, and, existentially, I'm not sure that the summers here are any less a part of our travels than the winters when we are on the move.

Right now it seems unlikely that we will ever see spring, let alone summer. The ice is, as of this week, gone from the lake. We had been hoping to take a load of general clean-up rubbish to the dump (conveniently located only 25 km away, following a five year study of where, on this bit of northern shield wilderness, a garbage dump might appropriately be situated). I check online to see when the dump is open - a task made somewhat more difficult by trying to guess what name it is likely to go under. Sanitation? Waste management? Rubbish disposal? Environmental engineering? Landfill? Obviously not simply garbage dump. Eventually it transpires that the information on the town website is wrong. Yes, they know it's wrong but the correct information is to be found elsewhere. The town's website is not easy to change, but they're working on it. All of which reminds us of the time when John D borrowed a friend's half ton to do a major clean-up and haul the lot to the local dump, then normally open on Sundays. When he arrived there was a sign on the gate saying "Dump closed today - open yesterday." But today the dump is open, and J and Klaus manage to dispose of our junk between showers, rather than having to wait for Friday, when snow is forecast.

Monday, April 20/2009

Heathrow by tube. The return trip is perfectly set up with early afternoon departure and supper time arrival, but that is dependent on an hour to make the connection in Ottawa, so when we leave the tarmac 45 minutes late, we know it's plan B. Landing cards have got bigger - but warn that they're not to be folded. As everyone is carrying coats and hand luggage it seems to leave little option but the teeth. And they seem to be primarily obsessed with what food we might be importing. Never mind the gold, laundered money, even drugs. I confess to chocolate bars and they let us through - to wait for a later flight to Toronto and thence to Winnipeg.

I try to phone Susan and Ian to let them know that we'll be late, afraid that they might simply go to the airport straight from work. I'm quite pleased with myself for having prepared months earlier for this eventuality by buying a phone card, supposedly good for six months from first use. I find a pay phone and dial the number on the card, in order to be told that the number is not good - complain to the seller of the card. A helpful young woman in hijab is in charge of the information desk and I ask about pay internet terminals. She shows me one that she has discovered in a corner, and I later decide that well might they wish to hide in a corner. Two dollars for ten minutes. Sounds not unreasonable. In ten minutes I should be able to send the same message to both Ian and Susan, at home as well as at work to be on the safe side. Think again. In slightly over ten minutes - therefore slightly over two dollars - the computer has failed to make any kind of contact with the outside world at all. It won't even load google - which I finally try as a test. In fact the only thing it does at all well is process the credit card. With no real hope, I try the Air Canada desk. As the plane failed to make its connection, could I possibly telephone? Terribly sorry, they're not allowed to make long distance calls, but they do sell phone cards at the little shop. They don't, actually, but what they sell, the shop assistant explains, is receipts. She has to explain it more than once, as the receipt seems to me to be what one receives after a purchase, not instead of one. But essentially it's a cardless card. You pay for the number that you are to use to make the phone call - printed on the receipt. Fine. Five dollars - though I've forgotten that in Canada that means five dollars plus tax. All right, $5.65. I go to make the call, using the number provided. The recorded message on the phone says smugly "This card is not valid. Goodbye." Back to the shop, where the girl is horrified and tries the number herself. On her phone - possibly not Bell - it works, so I quickly take the phone from her before she can feel obliged to say that it's not a public phone, dial Ian and Susan's number and leave the message, and thank the girl profusely. Done.

Flights to Toronto and then Winnipeg. Not sure whether S&I will meet us at the airport or never speak to us again. Fortunately they got the message and all is well. We're home.

Sunday, April 19/2009

Awake early - more or less awake that is - to watch the race, and it's a good one. And out to bring back a fat Times to spend the day with. Fighting off a cold and have decided that it's a sedentary day, wasteful though this is in London. But it's also packing day, and, one way and another that seems to take all day. Mostly because it's a weeding process, disposing of all the things that cannot possibly fit in the little suitcases.

Telephone call from Alexander, friend of Dorothy, saying that Flora has just pointed out it's our last day, and can we go out for a meal. We'd been hoping to meet them, and had spoken on the phone earlier. So they pick us up and we stop on Haverstock Hill at a pizza place. Nice thin crust pizza - ours with caramelised red onion, spinach and fetta. The onion is a definite keeper. A bottle of red, and getting to know each other. They both went to music school at the old Regina Campus of the University of Saskatchewan, where they met D. Flora originally from BC, but having spent more than half her life in England now, and Alexander originally English. Promises to meet again next time - in fact they're insistant that we should stay with them!

Saturday, April 18/2009

Try to find THE Abbey Road location, which I have assumed is just off Belsize Road. But when we walk over, the address simply doesn't exist, and, worse than that, the spot where it should be doesn't have the right sort of street number - should be much lower. More research required. Meanwhile hop on a bus headed to West Hampstead. Poke about a bit, but not much going on. Pass a Chinese medical clinic, San Ling, advertising cures for:

Impotence
Stiff Neck
Insomnia
Frozen Shoulder
Indigestion
Stress
Anxiety
Arthritis

All listed on the same large sign. An impressive offering.

Afternoon we take the tube out to Jean's, where we visit until Shanthi arrives to share supper. A nice visit and lovely food. We couldn't pass up the final opportunity, but probably should have done, as Jean has been under the weather all week and really isn't feeling well now.

Friday, April 17/2009

Heading into the last weekend. We stop at Canada House to check the mail. Most of the computers are in use, and they try to speed people up by providing only two computers that can be used while seated. The other four are stand-up for the user. I take a stand-up computer and am not particularly annoyed until I notice that the man next to me, who seems to have been sent to amuse hiimself while his wife does the family business on another screen, has given up whining that he can't find AOL and is now playing solitaire. I refrain from pointing out, accurately enough, that he is doing nothing while there is a queue! Cardinal sin. His wife finishes and tells him that he has been talking about. He complains that it's over now. "Well you did want me to check about the tickets, didn't you?"