Flashback Friday - The Women's Open Hits Saskatchewan!

I

It's Flashback Friday and today we're going to visit the CP Women's Open. The event came to town and we're going to take it in - again! 

It's close to home except there's no getting close at least under your own steam. Spectators can't park at the golf course. Instead there are parking lots set up where you drive to and then hop on a school bus to take you to the rest of the way.

Our Canadian-hope-to-win, Brooke Henderson, was holding one of the leading positions - not first but close enough.  On Friday, it was still early days with two more days left in the tournament. She had some great shots and seemed not to notice the crowd that watch every shot as intently as if it were her last. It's amazing the discipline these golfers have. They're not distracted by the crowd of spectators, nor by the cameraman following them. It's them and that little white ball and nothing else matters. A lesson in discipline, for sure.

Note to writer - keyboard and paper is all that matters. Yet there are no crowds and still I can be so easily distracted. 

Beer samples from a pseudo golf bag out of this redone truck.

So, great day - glad we went.  It was an experience to be on the course, actually touching the rope that kept us off the fairway, being the one doing the clapping instead of some fan on television. My fingers are crossed that Brooke will pull off a win. There's a lot of Canadians cheering her on.

Hours later and we're back on the school bus. This time our volunteer driver is looking not at all like one might expect of a bus driver. She's wearing a cheery sundress, a brilliant smile and a pony tail - and greets us all as we enter the bus that is rocking with music that I'm not unfamiliar with - I've heard it in another era. DH looks at me as the school bus lurches into motion, smiles and says "Rather appropriate. The last time we heard this we were riding one one of these to school."

Past meets present yet again. 

                                         Ryshia

                                                               www.ryshiakennie.com

   ...a world you never imagined!      

The Dead Sea, a tourist and a whole other  story!

Check out my latest release:  The Tears We Never Cried

Don't miss a thing - Sign up for my newsletter The Walkabout!         

Follow me on:

Bookbub        Instagram      Twitter:  @ryshiakennie     Facebook

Flashback Friday - Once Upon a Time In Venezuela

With troubling times and travel on hold, I thought it might be nice to share a travel adventure that really ended up being a misadventure but, in the end, years later - we can laugh and really wonder did that really happen?

My First Time or How Not to Deep Sea Fish

Hours ago we struggled through snow drifts.  Now, under Venezuela’s tropical sun my husband and I anticipate tomorrow’s adventure, deep-sea fishing in paradise!

The hotels warn of beach cons.  Use the tour groups we’re told.  But us folk from the barren Canadian prairie are tough, we will not be conned…we’re smarter than the average bear… or in this case, Venezuelan.

Sunrise finds us on the beach.  The sun peels the last vestiges of sleep from our conscious.  Our guide is ready, smiling.  Okay, maybe that wasn’t a smile.  Actually, he looks downright unfriendly.  

The small wooden boat is primitive.  It holds an umbrella and a cooler.  The guide speaks only Spanish.  Truthfully, he does not speak at all.  And he seems opposed to hand gestures.  It is only the taxi to the harbour I say to the others.  

We arrive in a harbour filled with luxury fishing craft.  I contain my “I was right” smile.  Within minutes, the smugness slides deep into the bowels of the Caribbean as we chug out to sea.  The engine emits a relay of coughs.  A trail of blue smoke follows in our wake.

It is not the big fishing trip we expected but it will be fun, a delightful morning of fishing on the high seas.  Although it is clear we won’t be going far… there are no life jackets.

Many miles later…

There are five people onboard and four spools of fish line.  There are no rods.  Our recalcitrant guide keeps one, ignores us, and catches an angelfish.  Someone else catches a nasty looking eel.  Silent, the guide severs the line with a machete-sized knife.  What else lurks below?

Hours pass.  I resign myself to the only bathroom option. I leap overboard.  I surface, tread water wildly, and grab for the boat before I bob out to sea.  I try not to think about the eel.  

The afternoon’s sunburn finds relief in early evening.  Is this not a planned tour with a scheduled end?   Finally, we inform our now surly guide that we would like to return.  This time he acknowledges the hand gestures.

The boat swings from the sheltered chain of islands to open water.  Land is a speck in the horizon.  The gentle swells morph into something far more sinister.  They crash over the bow.  We are drenched.  A massive field of jellyfish clusters around the boat.  Do they sting?  Was that mentioned in the guidebook? 

Finally, Halleluiah, we grind into shore!  A spat worthy of both an orchestra and fireworks erupts between the other couple.   The guide glares at the dueling duo with every ounce of his long repressed hostility.   We dodge the combatants and leap for shore.  Dusk settles as sand shifts beneath our rapidly retreating feet.  

We end the day alone, the feuding pair and hostile guide dispatched to a bad memory.  Ice cubes clink in glasses of rum and coke, more rum than coke of course…much more.  

Until later. 

Dream big and travel safe.

Ryshia

www.ryshiakennie.com

Book news? - follow me on Bookbub                                                   

   ...a world you never imagined!

Don't miss a thing - Sign up for my newsletter The Walkabout!

The Dead Sea, a tourist and a whole other  story!

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/ryshiakennie/

Twitter:  @ryshiakennie

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/Author.RyshiaKennie/

Latest release:  The Tears We Never Cried