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Friday, June 26, 2020

Flashback Friday - Hazards of the Road

So in these days of travel restrictions, another virtual short trip across the border to visit friends and neighbours in the United States. It's strange times, and to see that border closed - says alot. Never in our history has the Canada/United States border been closed - until now! 

 So here it is, Flashback Friday - Hazards of the Road:

The fun thing about travel is tripping on the unexpected, the unfamiliar and the best way to do that is meet the locals. That holds true anywhere.  No matter how short a distance you travel.

Footprints in the snow
A jaunt to Minneapolis in these days of ultra security makes a winter trip between two cold regions a challenge.    I'm used to packing much lighter but it's a trick to figuring out how to go lighter.  Boots, coats, mitts all take room and all need to be divested in security lines and stowed in tight plane seating.  Taking less is an option but winter storms are unpredictable.  By our 9:30 a.m. arrival in the U.S. it felt like evening, I was having  serious empathy for parents with toddlers, although my ears were still ringing from the toddler who cried and screamed the entire flight.  That same little boy was now smiling sweetly a passenger or two ahead of me.


I finally made it through the immigration line - having as usual chosen the wrong line.  The slowest one with an immigration officer who bellowed angry orders to frustrated travelers at regular intervals.  When it was finally my turn, it was like I was facing a different man.  A man wearing a smile and with the parting words; "Have a good trip hon".

Hon?   Not a term you'll hear casually thrown out north of the U.S. border at least where I come from.  But soon it's also not the only time I hear hon.  I assume that this is part of the local lingo except I never hear the term again after leaving the airport.  Is it possible that the airport is a culture unto itself?  Or I just don't look like hon anymore?

A Farm in Minnesota
It was before leaving the airport that we met a true lover of winter.  A woman at the shuttle desk told us how other travelers had questioned her sanity for remaining in such a cold climate.  Then she asked us how we liked Saskatchewan winter and then preceded to tell us about all her winter adventures in Minnesota from ice fishing to ski dooing.  She glowed as she told us about them.  I have to admit, I kind of admired her adventurous winter spirit for despite my place of origin, winter just isn't my thing.  Since leaving my toboggan days as a child, those chilly little flakes haven't held much appeal.  I mean snow is pretty, for about twenty-four hours or until you get stuck driving your car to the local convenience, take your pick.  On the upside, as my mother says, it keeps crime down - why? see, I knew you'd bite - too cold to go outside and all the criminals stay indoors.  That's her theory.  I believe she's also been known to say that it keeps tempers at a minimum - no one's blood can heat up in sub zero temperatures.  And if you believe that I'll give you a hotline to more Momisms.

We're in Laura Ingalls Wilder territory now at least during her time On the Banks of Plum Creek  - from  Little House on the Prairie fame and not the Michael Landon TV version, for those of you who didn't devour the original series as children.  Laura really had a knack of making winter look romantic.  Sorry Laura, not even for you.

So fast forward to the hotel where there's a shuttle to the Mall of America.  But from my hotel window I could see Macy's, an anchor store, across the parking lot.  Now I'm puzzled, why the need for a shuttle except maybe for the old or infirm? So we inquire about bus times and mall access, thinking that one might have to walk around the gigantic structure to enter and thus the necessity for a shuttle.  And when hearing that's not the case, I inquired if there was an undetected reason for us using the shuttle.

"No, ma'am (another term not much heard north of the border), it depends where you come from and what kind of cold you're used to.  Some of our guests take the shuttle because it's too cold or they use it to bring their shopping back," he replied in his easy southern drawl.  I bit back my questions that begin with where he might be from as there was no hint of Minnesota in that accent. Instead I only said we had no need of a shuttle.

But it was on our departure from that hotel when things got interesting.  A conversation began with the inevitable question, "Where are you from?"  This time there was no need to tag Canada to the long enough already Saskatchewan.  This time I heard for the first time; "Oh, I've been there."  But it was his next comment that really made the conversation interesting,  "Drove from Regina to Saskatoon - expected to see more road kill.  I was surprised I didn't see any at all.  Was it the wrong time of year?

Rewind - what?  Road kill?

For a moment I was at a loss.  For one, I'm a city girl and for two, I'm an animal lover.  Road kill just isn't in my reality.  But a comment like that definitely had to be explored.  So here's the scoop:

According to this local hotel manager, the roads of Minnesota are littered with dead animals in hunting season.  Not shot but run over, and lots of them.  I think he expected, because Saskatchewan has a similar prairie landscape, that we'd have the same or more.  I assured him that even in hunting season there wasn't a lot of road kill.  And it usually takes a much longer trip to see wild life of any kind.  A coyote or two, some antelope or deer - all still breathing and usually loping in the distant fields, and maybe as far as road kill, on a busy day, a lone squashed skunk or deer was about all you were going to see and often, thank goodness, not even that.   So after a discussion about live versus squashed viewing, we went on our separate ways.
Winter Highway, Saskatchewan

Somehow I don't think road kill is going to make it to the list of things to see and do in either Minnesota or Saskatchewan.  Although I should never say never.

The world is a big place and it's littered with interesting characters.

Any characters in your recent travels both near and afar?  Or do you have another take on road kill?  And please, not another recipe.







Take care, keep safe!

Ryshia



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Friday, May 29, 2020

Flashback Friday - Language, A Fun Challenge

Welcome to Flashback Friday. Today we go to Myanmar or Burma as it was once known. It was an exhausting trip to get there. As you can see, too many countries in too few hours. But it was well worth it. Myanmar for all the troubles that it's faced is a beautiful country with people I will never forget. I remember that first evening; the balmy night air, the peaceful silence broken only by the snap of the slight man's flip flops walking ahead of us. and gently humming a soothing melody with words I'd never learned and couldn't understand. 

 Three countries, one destination...


Three countries today - if a silent transfer through Thailand counts. Yes, that was today, flew from Cambodia to Bangkok and transferred for a flight to Yangon. I'm counting that as three countries. It sure feels like  countries.
Burma. Already feeling the language barrier. Headed off to find a strip of cafes in the heart of Yangon. Not so easy to find especially without a map. Yangon has over 5 million people so it sprawls over a considerable area. Asking directions, not easy. One cab driver tried to help, he enlisted his friend, who motioned to another friend, who brought in a woman who could speak very elementary English. After a few minutes of polite smiles, hand waving, garbled directions on every side, it was time to head back to the hotel and collect outside reinforcements. Someone who could write directions on a piece of paper and a taxi driver to lead the way. And we were off. Again, not so easy. We were dropped off in a very interesting area of the city, with restaurants and shops. And, as dusk gathered, it was clear that it was also a rather poor section of town. Across broken concrete and open sewer lines, it was a long walk until a friendly cab driver gave us a ride down to what he thought we were looking for - a Karoke bar.  Stepping out of the stripped down to the metal floorboards, seventy era car, was to again face a walk to - we weren't sure where. Fortunately, another cab showed up and another cab later - back at the hotel and supper at the buffet.

Strangers in a strange land, they were determined to help us.


                                                   Ryshia

Until later. 

Dream big and travel safe. Possibly, for now, between the pages of a good book! 

Ryshia


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Friday, May 15, 2020

Flashback Friday - Let's Head South

A few years ago I escaped winter for a few months south of the border. The trip would come with little culture shock for the States are similar to Canada in a large number of ways. So I thought going in but in this post I discovered that yes there are differences lots of them. Among other things, I have an accent. Although, I swear I don't, apparently accents are relative depending on what side of the border you're on.

Here's how that went down...

Flashback Friday - Somewhere in Arizona...

 So today I went to the UPS store to see if there was any way I could settle a mailing issue.  Note to self - you can't get mail if you don't have a mailbox.

Anyway, in the course of the discussion, one clerk looks at the other and says
"Well, that confirms it.  I knew the area code was somewhere in Canada but the accent, didn't you hear it?  Canuck."   She looks at the other clerk with satisfaction and then turns to smile at me.  I think I recoiled in horror, okay not quite but:

A - no one has ever said I have an accent.  It's all of you I say - not me.
B - Canuck, no one has ever called me that either - ever.

I was reminded that I'm a person of interest, a foreigner. I was one of those people, the ones I meet on planes, in other countries, in public transport - just everywhere.  People with stories that are different from mine.  They're fascinating and I'm their worst nightmare because I want to hear all about them.

Now I'd become one of them.  One of the others - the one with the accent.  I mean it's easy to feel foreign when you're traveling in a country where your native tongue is not theirs and where the customs are radically different from yours.  But here the similarities run as close as the disparities.  So, no, I wanted to say - it's you, you have the funny little accent not me.  No, the look the clerk laid on me said it all - it was me.

Me?
A fraction of the price at home.

Sure I knew I was in a foreign country.  I'm reminded every day.  Retail shops alone are a good reminder.  Like the other day when I was gawking at the Canadian Whiskey disbelieving of the price.  Of course, I'm disbelieving of the price of any liquor south of the border but this one in particular.  Made in Canada, it sat here thousands of miles from its manufacture point marked at a price that can only be called extraordinarily cheap - possibly even giving it away, cheap.  And the day before that I scoured the dairy section looking for cream and only seeing artificial creamer.  At home, it's parked by the milk and it comes in a cardboard container, which I have since found it does here too but it's buried beneath a massive selection of creamers.  Anyway, maybe I should have taken those and any number of other clues that, not only was I foreign, but I just might just be the one with the accent - not "them".

So with that reality check I headed off down the road.  There we stumbled on the salsa lady, selling out of the back of her van by the side of the road.  Unemployed temporarily she said after greeting me with a cheery hello that she hurled at me long before we were in speaking distance.  After getting my salsa she offered her e-mail address in case I should like the salsa and she wasn't at her usual roadside haunt.  I did.  Will definitely be e-mailing her for more.  Fortunately, except for spelling issues - I think e-mail is relatively universal.  No accent there.

So now it's off to the family selling tamales and fruit of all kinds at another roadside stand.  We left
with a bagful of fruit - 12 limes for a dollar!  Unheard of in Canada or at least the corner I'm from - not the limes, the price.  The tamales, well we'll be back for a roadside lunch one day soon.

It was a day of moments that would never have happened at home because, wait for it - I'd be shoveling snow and thinking of past trips and future stories. And, moment of truth - roadside salsa stands just don't happen, not in my part of the world.

And one last word on the accent thing - you will never, ever, hear me say that one dreaded word - eh.    Because well,  there was that classic Canadian throwback to the eighties, Bob and Doug McKenzie ... I cringe every time I hear it. Enough said.


Take care, keep safe!

Ryshia



My latest release - check it out!
What are you reading?
A mother's tragic diagnosis
A daughter's life on hold.
An ending and a new beginning...

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Friday, May 8, 2020

Flashback Friday - Coffee Off The Grid


One job had me spending some time on the road. It was a chance to visit some interesting and sometimes, quirky, small towns. Maybe, to be fair, they weren't so much quirky as they had residents with interesting customs. Or maybe it's just easier to dive under the surface in a town than it is a city. Any way you look at it, Abernethy, Saskatchewan had the most interesting custom that I think I've stumbled on in all my road trips - past and present.

So here it is: - Coffee off the Grid


Today I was on the road for work and off to visit one of my favourite Saskatchewan places, Abernethy, Saskatchewan. And it was there that I experienced coffee time. Not coffee time, like I had experienced anywhere before. There was no visit to a cafe or local coffee shop. No. We went to someone's house where coffee was on every day for anyone in town, or in my case out-of-town, who showed up.


Coffee is served in the owner's gar
age, as long as the weather holds. When the weather turns cold, everyone moves to the house but coffee is still served. Every day, 10 o'clock, rain or shine, as long as the household occupants are home - coffee is served!

And show up they did. One senior even arrived on an ATV Artic quad which he parked on the neat concrete driveway right beside our car. Others walked but soon we were all ensconced in the garage on plastic lawn chairs, nursing hot coffee and being offered fresh muffins by our fantastic hostess.

So, in my comfortable, plastic woven rocker and with coffee in hand, I sat back, careful not to rock into the car parked just behind me, and enjoyed the experience.

Coffee anyone?

Ryshia

Take care, keep safe!

Ryshia



My latest release - check it out!
What are you reading?
A mother's tragic diagnosis
A daughter's life on hold.
An ending and a new beginning...

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Friday, April 24, 2020

Flashback Friday - Oh My God I Can Fly - Conclusion

Yes, I have crazy friends and I wouldn't have it any other way. And, yes, she did jump out of that plane - with a parachute!  Here's the story on the way down.


 Oh My God I Can Fly - Conclusion
by June Botkin

Farmer is standing outside the plane on a ledge waiting for Wyatt and me, so he can get the pictures of me exiting the plane.  I duck, walk to the door with Wyatt attached to my back and look down at nothing but clouds and the next thing I know I am falling.  14,000 feet and 120 miles per hour.  My heart is in my shoes.  The wind is screaming by me.  The thoughts going through my head are "what the hell were you thinking?"  Wyatt taps me on the shoulder and tells me to spread my arms.

I AM FLYING!!!!!

We fall forever; turning summersaults above the clouds, when I look down I see a white fluffy blanket, what a rush.  Farmer is with us the whole time capturing on film this experience.  Every expression all the way down is captured for me to relive again and again.
Soon we hit the clouds and let me tell you they hurt.  The temperature drops and we begin to be pelted by ice pellets.  All around is whiteness.  Once we break the clouds the Noth Shore comes into view, the mountains, the ocean with whitecaps and the airfield where we will be landing.  Farmer waves goodbye as Wyatt opens our parachute and up we go.  Another change, this time to peace and calm.  I look straight down my body at the ground below.  It is like standing on a piece of glass and looking at the land far below your feet, that is when I realized that the only thing holding me in place is the harness I am wearing and being strapped to Wyatt.

I tease Wyatt about going right then left as he deftly steers the glider in circles.  He whispers in my ear that I am being cheeky and so that I should take over the controls and so I do.  I turn the glider in circles heading ever closer to the ground.  About 200 feet off the deck Wyatt takes over and we land on the button.  The landing is softer than jumping off a bar stool.  There are two guys there to grab the chute and unhitch me from Wyatt.  My feet are back on the ground and I am forever changed.  I did it, I actually did it.  I jumped out of an airplane!

Now weeks have passed since this experience.  I pull out the photos and go through the slideshow reliving every moment, still in awe that I actually accomplished this and yes it was really me parachuting out of an airplane.  I am not sure what my next personal challenge will be, but this will be hard to top.

I will end this by saying go out there and take the risk.  Do whatever it is that you have dreamed of doing, seize the moment and go for it and yes I would do it all over again.



Thanks so much June for an awesome story!  Seize the moment - what an inspiring thought to be left with.  What inspires you?
Ryshia
www.ryshiakennie.com



Take care, keep safe!

Ryshia



My latest release - check it out!
What are you reading?
A mother's tragic diagnosis
A daughter's life on hold.
An ending and a new beginning...


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   ...a world you never imagined!

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Sunday, April 19, 2020

Social Distancing - Day 34

The days are falling into a routine. I can't believe it's Day 34 since I've been social distancing. As I've said before, that's a date that is my best approximation, the week when my MIL began lock-down in her care home. Since then, I do my best to keep her included, entertaining her with my daily phone calls. Today, I crafted an entertaining letter and together with a magazine I found in my "clean out the closets mode", dropped it in her mailbox.

For me, today was one of those days. I was getting antsy and I'd already baby stepped into gardening earlier in the week. Today, I hit it full force. But problems arose immediately and had earlier in the week too:


1) I need dirt! - no problem, there's a yard full of it. Earlier in the week I hauled in a plant pot full. Problem solved.

2) No containers! - I was going to improvise and lucked out. After cleaning the porch a week ago, I found a package from years past.

3) No seeds - Ah - cherry tomatoes that are past their best before date have seeds. And, one week later, voila, a group of spindly seedlings.
And, again that stash from years past provides an assorted but small selection of seeds.

A potato sprouting eyes, is next on the list for planting. It sits waiting on the counter.

But now I have other problems. Plants in little pots with big holes on the bottom. A watering disaster waiting to happen for the cardboard coke box that contains them won't hold water. But there was a big piece of tinfoil that came with my mom's Christmas cookies, add a piece of broken plastic and it's water tight. Okay, let's just go with it could well be The Titanic if pushed too far.


4) The Spanish Onion is sprouting and too big for any of my containers. I'm taking a risk here but my mini greenhouse - sheets of plastic with hoops - allows me to go direct to garden. One onion, one experiment. Fingers crossed it survives the weather which can still dip to below zero. If it survives that, I'm pretty sure the squirrels will leave it alone.


5) Speaking of squirrels, I see some biscuits are no longer fresh. Time to air dry and give my "yard pets" a treat.

On the writing front, I wrote my characters into trouble and back again. Like my gardening, they improvised as they danced one step ahead of danger. They left me exhausted and finally I ventured upstairs where a warm spring day was calling to me.

Outside, I'm guessing that, from the smell of wood smoke,
more than just me was taking advantage of the warm weather. The delicious smell of barbecue came from two different directions.

Spring has arrived and it might be different but it's still a relief after a long prairie winter.



Take care, keep safe!

Ryshia



My latest release - check it out!
What are you reading?
A mother's tragic diagnosis
A daughter's life on hold.
An ending and a new beginning...


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!




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