Flashback Friday - Bangkok Fined!

So with luggage still stored we're heading down memory lane and another virtual trip. I'm excited to share this one with you for it makes me smile. Now, at least, in hindsight and from the safety of home. Then, not so much. 

It all takes place in Thailand a handful of years ago. 

Here's what it's like to stand just slightly on the wrong side of the law in a foreign country...

Just prior to a visit to the Royal Palace in Bangkok a local warned us about littering. I suppose he'd seen foreigners littering and knew of the repercussions. However, having grown up in Canada and lived through anti-littering campaigns it was the last thing on my mind. However, cigarette butts weren't. Not that I'm a smoker but at the time one person in our group was and what better place to dispose of a butt but a sidewalk grate? 

                                                                          Not! 

Ten minutes later what looked like a bus shelter that contained a desk on the edge of a busy pedestrian sidewalk took on a whole new meaning as we stood dutifully before the Thai policeman. When asked our country of origin I noted that his smile slipped when we said Canada and his finger trailed down the list. It appeared, and this is only a guess, that the fines were country of origin specific. We walked away $60 lighter and a new addition to our list of rules on what littering really means.Oh, did I mention that on that day too, the King of Thailand was on a nearby visit. In the process, the limo stopped suddenly barely missing running over someone in our small group. 

It was a day made for entries in the book "What Not to do When Overseas." 

Live and learn. 

Ryshia 

(and the ticket - that has become a travel souvenir or should we say badge of honor?) 

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Flashback Friday - Don't Travel Quietly

Today is Flashback Friday and it's a different kind of trip, a trip back in time to a prairie summer where there was a different kind of uninvited house guest. Ironically, that house guest is still here but these were the beginnings....

    Squirrels

Dozens of squirrels.  I love the little guys.  They're entertaining and harmless except for a dug up flower pot or two.  And I'm an ardent defender of their right to share my backyard space.  Not everyone thinks that way and I have to admit that even I have resorted to a little hot pepper sprinkled around a pot or two to keep them from digging up flowers.

Maybe that was why they dug up the Habanero pepper I had growing in a little pot on the deck and took away the evidence so there was nothing to even replant.  I do believe they have a sense of humour.  If nothing else, they're letting it be known that they were here.  Still, it was rather ironic when after years of falling apart public sidewalks on our street, on the eve of getting new concrete I say, "No one better engrave their initials or hand print etc., etc. into the fresh concrete. 

It wasn't long after when I discovered these tiny little paw tracks immortalized for all time in the new concrete.  There was nothing I could do but laugh - this was a squirrel I wouldn't forget!

Something to remember as we travel through life - don't travel quietly, at least not all the time.  Let people know now and again that you've been here. Hope you enjoyed this virtual trip back into time - have a great Friday!

Ryshia

...a world you never imagined!

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Flashback Friday - Where in the World Am I?

I love the title of this post and that's why it was an easy choice for Flashback Friday. For, that question - Where in the world am I... - persists in this strange pandemic bubble that we find ourselves in. So it's time to get out of that bubble for awhile and let our imagination take us away again to somewhere else, some place where the world is sane and relatively safe, a place that will appear soon enough in real time but, in the meantime, let's pack our suitcase and let our imagination take us away. Whether that's the past or the future - it's time...

Where in the world am I... 

I'm going back to a world where there's craft sales and flea markets, a place where crossing borders is called travel. Let's do a virtual trip by going backward in time to the fall a handful of years ago...

Where in the World Am I...

Somewhere in New Mexico

I know it's a strange question, I should know, shouldn't I?  It seems in the last week or so I've been many places.  It's been a rush of craft/flea market sales, contests and packing, not to mention travel.  And even though I know where I am, I'm feeling slightly disorientated.  I've been offline for awhile, skidding across country borders in search of some nicer weather.

Instead I've ran from warmish-cool fall temperatures and no snow in Canada only to discover the further south we went, the colder it got.  In fact, the snow that we hadn't seen up north was hundreds of miles south courtesy of Blizzard Brutus that was moving in across some of the northern states.  We drove a step ahead of that storm for most of the way, getting caught on icy highways only in New Mexico.  But that's another story and you'll have to bear with me as I backtrack here, there and everywhere.

Tonto National Forest

But weather is what it is and often there's no second-guessing it, unless of course you own a pig spleen or two.  A strange prairies' lore for weather forecasting.

So we're here in Arizona, in one piece, the weather has turned again, for the better, and I'm just trying to catch my breath. It's strange typing this by a pool that I was recently swimming in with temperatures only now dipping enough for a light sweater.  I've been told that home was hit by the long arm of Eh Tu Brutus - read Brutus the Blizzard and a foot of snow landed as temperatures plummeted since we left.  I glance over at the pool and think I'll be glad to just make a straight trade, one pool for a snow shovel.  Somehow I think no one is buying.

Last week internet was spotty because of travel and this week began with no internet.  Finally in a stationary place I set up shop and vacation or not, meant to spend a couple of hours a day at work.  And it was then that I learned how stealthy the internet is as it creeps in and sucks up time.  I won't say much about it as that subject has been written to death but if you want to try an experiment - turn off your internet.  It's amazing how often you just click here or there, checking the weather, the news, your mail.  Short blips of time that are almost automatic.  I didn't realize how many there were until I couldn't connect at all.  After I got over the panic of not connecting, I enjoyed long stretches just focused on one thing, my latest story.

So now that I've wrapped the story up and discovered my synopsis needs a bit of tweaking.  Yes, any story I've ever written makes it a few chapters in before veering ever so slightly from the synopsis.  

I may mull that over some day but right now I have a new cover to look at.  It seems that although the world outside my window has changed, my laptop still reminds me that other worlds and promised vacations aside - right now there's still work to do.

Have a great Friday! Ryshia

www.ryshiakennie.com

Remembrance Day 2020 - Online

At the 11th hour on the 11th day of the 11th month in 1918, the First World War officially came to an end. Since then, the poppy became the symbol of remembrance in many countries. 

The fallen and the poppies that mark their graves were honoured in a poem written by a Canadian Artillery, field-surgeon. If you can even begin to imagine, he wrote the poem in the midst of battle in 1915. Now one hundred years since that war ended, the poem lives on.

While this year everything is scaled down and for me, I won't be attending any live memorials; no watching the flyover and listening to the various speakers honour our war heroes. And, this year although the weather has complied, I won't be reminding myself that frozen toes are nothing, for our soldiers suffered the same cold with enemy fire all around them. It's a very different year, this year but the gratitude hasn't changed.

So today I'll leave you with the poem written by John McCrae who fought during World War I. He was a Canadian physician who is thought to have written the poem after the burial of his friend who was killed during the second battle of Ypres. 



In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing
Scarce heard amid the guns below.
We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, saw dawn, felt sunset glow
Loved, and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders Fields.
Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you with failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders Fields.

by: John McCrae

                         




Ryshia

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Flashback Friday - A Road Trip Into The Past

Today is Flashback Friday and we're on a road trip that happened right about this time of year. The time of year when weather is iffy and snow can land at any time. But it's clear sailing for now just as it was a few years ago. 

Present Day: Got the car gassed up, not at the service station pictured below,  I think that was more of a gas museum, and we're off. A journey back in time to small town, Saskatchewan to a little town tucked into the  south half of the North American Plains. Fasten your seat belts and we're off spinning back a few years...

Plans change quickly and yesterday was no exception.  We'd planned to take Mom to her home town this week but with an eye on the weather.  This time of year a warm day can easily precede snow flurries or just cold rain and wind.

A gas museum?  It wasn't open.

It's a good day - so off we went.  A short trip really but it takes a while to get past the city clutter that stretches further every year with new subdivisions and acreages lapping the edges of what were once more distant bedroom communities so it seems like endless civilization.  Until - there's always the until, you make that turn off and find yourself on a smaller grid road heading into small town Saskatchewan.  And there it is, acres of what remains of golden cropped fields, the occasional house laying well back from the road and circled by a barn and a clutter of outbuildings.  A herd of cows, a horse or two and endless fields stringing into the distance.  

And just like that we're there.  The small town where Mom grew up, she now swears looks nothing like she remembers.  Except, wait - there's the old hotel and over there is so and so's house.  And, on it goes.

But it has changed.  You can see it in the sleek lines of new homes in a bay to the right and construction that's going on at the local school.  But for the most part it is still quiet without the continual sweep of traffic that we left how many miles behind.

The cemetery is the first stop  All cemeteries have a story or two and this one was rife with them like any other.  And having Mom along, she knew a few stories herself.  This one had a special area for the nuns as there was a convent in town - we'll go there later.  It also had, what I had only heard of as a practice in "the good old days".  A practice that reminds us that the old days had a few issues too.  When someone committed suicide they weren't buried in the main graveyard as that was consecrated ground.  Mom told me the story of the poor man who had been driven to kill himself and how he was buried in a far corner of the cemetery.  And sure enough, his grave was still there over fifty years later.  In the city I wondered if he would have been moved by now, back to the main area where he belonged.  Or maybe in the city, it would never have happened.  

So after an encounter or two or three, four, no five - garter snakes, the cemetery was alive with them, we headed to the convent. That had been taken over, in the usual small town fashion, by the post office, a hair salon, judo and dance school and the Mexican restaurant.  The restaurant is one that's been drawing people from all around.  I'd heard of it before we made this trip and eating there was no disappointment.  The restaurant was set up in what had once been the chapel.  Mom, never one to stand back and not ask a question, soon had the owner engaged in conversation of how/who and why.  Why did she come from Mexico and end up in small-town Saskatchewan?  How did she like it?  Well, she said it was a culture shock, of course that was a few decades ago and now she was used to it.  I'd imagine in the early days - the winter alone would be a shock.  And small town life, well I've always said one day I'll try it - short term.  It's different from city life like winter differs from summer and spring from fall.  I don't suppose you know either until you've lived it.

Once the convent - now library/restaurant etc.

Then on to, where else - the town library.  There, I discovered the life of a small-town librarian is very different from that of one in the city.  Here, she appeared to be master of her domain.  Heading a wooden desk in a small room with only a dozen or so shelving units full of books.  And after I satisfied her curiosity about the new face in her library, I discovered a few other things; that she knew my Mom and wanted to be a writer.  So after giving her a few writing tips I turned her over to Mom.

And after that - we headed for home.  We'd had a history lesson, ate authentic Mexican food - and it was fantastic. I'm going back for their weekend special one day soon!  All in all it was a short but fun trip.

Hope you enjoyed this virtual trip back into time - have a great Friday!

Ryshia

www.ryshiakennie.com

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Flashback Friday - Inspiration in the Rockies

t's Flashback Friday and today we're going to the Canadian Rockies, to Banff - I'm not sure if there's a more beautiful place in the world. It definitely ties for one of the top.  So we're off to - Inspiration in the Rockies and a whole lot of, dare I say it - snow!

Do you find that sometimes you get so caught up in the day to day routine that you forget what's almost under your nose or in this case, a day's drive away?

It found that a few years ago when I spent time in Calgary and a day in Banff, Alberta. Calgary.

Ah, those were the days - road trips. I'm sure they'll happen again, hopefully soon.

But in the meantime, back to Calgary and heading into the new year. 

For all its big city allure, Calgary still has pockets where nature is just across the street. I discovered a herd of mule deer just two short blocks away on the Nose Hill. A lovely sanctuary that's peaceful despite the fact that it's surrounded by city lights. However, I wasn't so enthralled with the idea that it was also the home of coyotes and other

predators.  Hey, I know they're not apt to confront humans, still I'm a city girl and that hill was their territory! I headed for home after a brief visit and a photo or two.

Then on to Banff. It's been a few years since I've made it to the mountains. Set within a national park, Banff is a small town seemingly locked in time and nestled within the Rockies. The faces of the tourists that ply the streets may have changed somewhat from years gone by but the town itself remains almost timeless. After cruising through the picturesque streets it was time to visit the Banff Springs Hotel, have a drink, relax and enjoy the view.

How can you not be inspired by a view like this?

                                                      View from Banff Springs Hotel 

And the next day with silver shadows bracketing the road beneath the late afternoon sun, it was back to the prairies. There, trees and grass pierced the snow and ice standing like sentinels as a murky quilt of clouds rose over the horizon and warned of more snow. Hills rolled gently, making a mockery of the prairie flatness and a herd of antelope grazed. And with the mountains long gone, the inspiration was everywhere.

Needless to say, without a New Years resolution - no, not even one,

I came back inspired! 

 Banff Springs Hotel

Here's a thought for the day:

What inspires you?

     Ryshia

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