TURBANS AND TRAVEL MEMORIES

 POST # 523

One of the pleasures of living in the area that I am currently at, is that a very significant part of the local population is Indian, like these gentlemen featured above.  On any given day, if I go to the local shopping centre, I'll find these guys hanging out together.  I love their colourful turbans.

It was their turbans that started me thinking about my travels in India way back when.  The year was 1980, and I was staying at a small hotel in the city of Jammu.  The owner of the place was a Sikh, and part of their culture is the wearing of a turban.  Being naturally curious, one evening I asked the owner how long it takes for him to wrap the turban around his head.  Without blinking, he just popped it off his head, like he was removing a hat.  That made both of us laugh out loud.  He proceeded to show me a variety of different coloured turbans, that were all pre-wrapped and ready to wear.  Pop one off, and put on another.  Since then, I've learned that some Sikhs prefer to wrap their turban each and every time they wear it, so I guess it's up to the individual.  The guy in Jammu obviously had better things to do with his precious time, than to spend a part of each morning wrapping his turban around his head.  When I think back on this little incident, it still makes me chuckle, and it was when I was sitting next to these men in the shopping centre, that this memory flashed back into my ageing brain.  

And that memory made me think of one more Indian related story from all those years ago.

I had finally returned to Canada, after being away for the better part of three years, and I arrived by train into Vancouver.  My friends Jim and Don whom I had met in Australia, both lived in Vancouver at the time.  It was the month of June, and I had departed India on Friday the 13th of that month, so India was still very much on my mind.  Jim and Don suggested that we go to an Indian restaurant called The Punjab for a meal.  We settled in at our table, and the Sikh waiter arrived to take our orders.  Eventually our food was brought out to us.  The waiter had to pass by a couple  seated at another table, and as the food passed them by, the woman seemed particularly interested to see what we had ordered.  The food was placed down in front of us, and without giving it a second thought, I proceeded to use my right hand to scoop up my food into my mouth.  After all, I had been doing this for months, so it just seemed normal to me.  The waiter saw this, and it put a big smile on his face, and he gave that little nod of the head that Indian people do so well.  He seemed very pleased to see me eating just like he would do on any given day.  That made me smile, but what made me laugh was when I looked over at the woman at the other table.  She was poking her partner in the arm, and with a disgusted look was pointing right at me.  Who knows what she thought about this uncouth  person eating with his bare hand.  My friends at the table also got a good laugh out of it, and if I remember correctly, I think that both Jim and Don after seeing me, also decided  to eat with their right hands.  After all, they had travelled in India as well, so this way of eating wasn't foreign to them.

The morning rain has now cleared, the bike beckons, and I need to do some shopping, so it's time to head out to the shopping centre, where I am quite sure I'll see my turbaned friends sitting at that very same table.  Perhaps they will help me recall a few more memories from long ago and far away.

grateful for every breath,

Paul

The Thoughtful Wanderer

GERRY THE ARTIST

 POST # 522

The Thoughtful Wanderer and Dora-dog

"Why don't you post this on your blog?"

Last week, this question was posed to me by my dear friend, Ted. This is the same Ted that started me reading all the way back in 1978.  I've mentioned him before on the blog.

Anyhow, he was en route to Mexico where he now lives, after visiting his daughter, son in law and grand kids in Australia.  His wife Doreen, was returning to Mexico via Los Angeles, but Ted had a three hour layover in Vancouver, so we managed to have a Skype call while he was hanging out at the airport.

It was during this call that I showed him the caricature featured at the beginning of this post.  His suggestion to me seemed to be a good one, and it allows me to now tell the story of how this caricature came about in the first place.

The story begins way back in December of 2020.  At that time I was staying at the Hotel Patricia in East Vancouver, and on most days, I would do a long walk from the hotel, along the waterfront at Coal Harbour, then skirt the edge of Stanley Park and finish my walk down by the beach near Denman Street in the West End of Vancouver.  One day, as I was approaching the end of my walk, I saw a gentleman sitting on a bench with a sign that said, "Caricatures $5.00"  He happened to be drawing one when I arrived, and I was impressed with his work, so naturally I struck up a conversation with him.  His name was Gerry, and I asked him if he could do a drawing of me and my favourite dog on the planet just from photos that I would supply.  He said no problem at all, and that's how this drawing came into being.    I think he did a great job, and the only thing that isn't Paul-like is the fact that I am wearing long pants.  Anyone who knows me, knows that I am always dressed in shorts.  However, this was my fault for not pointing that out to him from the start.

Once he emailed me the final result, I went to a print shop in East Vancouver, and they printed up about thirty copies.  I've been handing them out ever since.  Mary and Dora-dog were the first recipients, followed by my four sisters, and since then, I've been leaving a copy with all of my regular house sit clients.

I continued  doing my walks back then and took a couple of more photos when I was there after he had done my caricature.  Here's Gerry in action.

And of course I had to take a photo of the two of us together.

So that's the story of how this caricature came to be.  I've been down to the beach where we met on many occasions since that time, but I've never seen Gerry again.  I imagine, with his talent that he has moved on to bigger and better things, and if that is the case, I am very happy for him.

And thank you Ted, for suggesting this as a theme for my blog.

grateful for every breath,

Paul

The Thoughtful Wanderer

MEMORIES OF MOM

 POST # 521

Considering that this blog is primarily about me thoughtfully wandering around between one place and the next, and spending time with lovable four-legged critters along the way, it may seem odd that I have a photo of my dear old mom at the top of this post.  Let me explain.

It's easy for me to think of mom every single day, as this photo is one of three that I have on permanent display next to my computer.  However, this past week she has been on my mind more than ever.  The reason?  Because of a couple of dates.  You would have suspected that, me being the "date guy" that I am.

The two dates that are etched into my memory are September 29th, and October 6th.  Back in September 2007, at the age of 91, mom fell and broke her hip, which resulted in a trip to the hospital, and a subsequent hip replacement. 

When I received the news, I requested time off from work at Aquabus Ferries, and flew out to Calgary to see her in hospital.  To be honest, I can't remember just how many visits I made to the hospital, but I do remember that my last visit, and as it turned out, the very last time that I would see her alive, was on September 29th.  On one of my visits, prior to the date just mentioned, a young female physiotherapist came to see mom.  Her purpose for being there was to get mom out of bed, and with the aid of a walker, to get her to walk out of the room and down the hall.  She said something to the effect, "c'mon Madonna, we need to get that new hip working."  I'm not sure how long it had been since she had had the operation, but it wouldn't have been very long.  I stood there and watched, as mom struggled to get out of her bed, and grab a hold of the walker, in preparation for her journey down the hall.  It was tough for me to watch, as she looked so very frail at this point in time.  In spite of that, she managed to start slowly walking towards the foot of her bed, where she would have to make a left turn in order to proceed out of the room and down the hall.  She made the turn alright, and shortly after that, she made me chuckle.  What on earth could she have done to make me laugh in this situation?  Well, instead of now going straight ahead, she walked to the other side of the bed, and made another left hand turn which pointed her back in the direction of the bed.  What made me chuckle, was the look that she gave the physiotherapist.  It was basically a look of "to hell with you lady, I'm heading back to my bed in spite of what you may want me to do."

On my final visit, I brought a framed photo of me on one of the Aquabus ferries, and I placed it where she could look at it.  I told her that I would be able to watch over her, even though I wouldn't be there in person.  And with that, I gave her one last hug, told her that I loved her and left to return to Vancouver, not knowing at the time, that I would never see her again.

She died one week later, on October 6th.

I have lived a life with few regrets, however I do regret not staying in Calgary longer than I did.  Of course, on the day that I left, I couldn't know that she would die the following week, and so it seemed the right decision at the time.  What's that old saying of hindsight being 20/20?

All of this happened 15 years ago.  And once again I am struck at just how fast life seems to go by.  In spite of mom not being around, she has still managed to help me appreciate the rapid passing of time.  Each day is so very precious, so it's wise to try and make the most of it.

grateful for every breath,

Paul

The Thoughtful Wanderer

MINDING THE MANSION

 POST # 520

I'm pretty sure that the owners of the house that I am currently residing at, wouldn't think of their place as a mansion.  However, compared to my little shack in the Yukon which was only 80 square feet in total, this place is well and truly a mansion.

This is the third time that I have had the pleasure to live here, and I count myself very fortunate indeed.  This was Murphy's residence up until recently, which I mentioned in last week's post.  It certainly is quiet without him around, however I do have a pond full of Koi in the backyard, and it's surprising to me just how much enjoyment I derive from watching them swim around.  Twice each day, I throw a couple of handfuls of food into the water, and even before I get the container open, they are all lining up with their mouths wide open.  In between feeding times, they are happy to swim around and just be coy Koi.

The back yard has become my favourite place to hang out at the moment.  The autumn weather is magnificent, so just being outside is a wise use of my precious time.

Prior to my arrival, I was house sitting just four doors down the street from here, and last Friday, I had the pleasure of visiting with my sister Gerry, her daughter Nicole, and her daughter in law, Taylor.  Taylor couldn't stay very long, but I was grateful for her offer to bring Gerry over.  Here they are arriving and being greeted by Sami.

We had a great visit, and it was good to enjoy some family chit chat.  I get to see Nicole every now and again, as she lives in Vancouver, however I don't think that I have seen Gerry since 2012.  Where do the years go?

The mansion has a second floor, and if I time it right, and the weather is cooperating, it's a good place to watch the sunset.  I do love watching the sun go down.

Sami, the Border Collie didn't seem to be too happy about my departure from his place the other day, but he's back with his owners now on a vacation on the west coast of Vancouver Island, so I am very sure that he isn't thinking about the pet sitter.  But the other day when I took this photograph, he did appear to be somewhat sad.

Thankfully for the both of us, Sami's owners have a couple more vacations planned for next year, so it looks like we will be able to be together again.  

In the meanwhile, I'll just be hanging out with the Koi, here at the mansion, enjoying each day as it presents itself to me.

grateful for every breath,

Paul

The Thoughtful Wanderer

MURPHY MEMORIES AND MORE

 POST # 519

I posted this photo of Murphy, exactly three years ago to the day.  

https://wherespaulnow.blogspot.com/2019/09/the-last-days-of-summer-2019.html

If it wasn't for Murphy, I wouldn't be at this house sit.  To be more specific, if it wasn't for Murphy's owners, I wouldn't be at my current location.  They put in a good word for me, so here I am,  only four houses away from where Murphy used to live.  Unfortunately, he died earlier this year, which was very sad news indeed.  

Because I am in the same neighbourhood, and walking in the same places that I did when Murphy was alive, I can't help but think of him each and every day that I am here.  Thankfully, I have a new bonehead to keep me occupied, and her name is Sami.  She is a 12 y/o Border Collie, and it didn't take long for her to accept the new human in the house.  

All it took was a few walks around Murphy's neighbourhood, some ball playing in the back yard, and the occasional dog treat, and all is well.  After a long walk, Sami loves to settle in beside me on the deck, and have her afternoon nap.

She's a wonderful companion to have around, and I am very fortunate to have the opportunity to take care of her this week.  It's only a short sit, but the owners have already booked me for two more gigs next year.

It's a great location, and the weather has been superb since I arrived.  It's my favourite time of the year, and Sami and I are taking full advantage of getting outside and enjoying as much of the lovely weather as we can each and every day.

And just like where I have come from in Qualicum Beach, there are plenty of ripe tomatoes to enjoy.  Certainly more than I'll be able to eat while I'm here.

The owners arrive back home this coming Saturday, and as luck would have it, I can just wander up the road to where Murphy used to live, and settle in there until early November, as the owners are taking a vacation.  I am thankful for the opportunity to have a roof over my head, but the house will certainly seem empty, without Murphy around. At least his memory will remain firmly planted in my mind.

grateful for every breath,

Paul

The Thoughtful Wanderer

The last sunset for summer of 2022.

THE WANDERING CONTINUES

 POST # 518

This isn't the first time that footwear has been displayed on my blog, but being the wanderer that I am, they are an appropriate symbol.  The tattered looking pair on the right are shoes that I purchased about two years ago in Washington State.  They were so comfortable, that I wore them everyday, but now they are well and truly worn out.  As luck would have it, I found the shoes on the left only three days ago.  For the second time in a row, this died in the wool thrift store bargain hunter, purchased a brand new pair of walking shoes.  They were on sale, so instead of paying $99.00, I got them for the bargain price of $39.00.  It's certainly more than I would have paid at a thrift store, but when it comes to walking, it's good to have a reliable pair.  

With that as my starting point, one might expect to be reading about all  of the places that I have wandered in my new shoes.  The truth is, they came along for the ride, but I had the use of a bicycle during my stay in Vancouver, and so I took full advantage of it, and the lovely weather, to spend as much time as possible outdoors, rolling around on the many bike paths.  

Back when I lived in Vancouver, near Stanley Park, I would take a ride around the seawall at least three times a week.  I hadn't done this journey in years, so it was one of the first rides I went on last week.

After spending a very pleasant day riding around the park, I ended my day down at False Creek, my former place of work when I drove the Aquabus.  It was a magnificent sunset to close out a magnificent day in the saddle.

One of the advantages to being in Vancouver is that I have an opportunity to visit my storage locker, which isn't too far from where the above photo was taken.  There was a specific item that I was looking for, and I eventually found it in the very last box that I looked through.  I also found some old photos that were taken way back in 1978,  when I was wandering around the outback in Australia, with my friends Jim and Don.  So I decided to include them here.  It was a trip down memory lane for me.

That's me standing on a rock at a place called Devil's Marbles, located in the Northern Territory.  The sun had just set, so I put my camera on the timer, jumped up on the rock, and this is the result.  Further south on the same journey, we passed by this sign.  I said to the guys, that we should go back and take a photo, and so we did.  Jim took this photo of Don and myself.  And we most certainly were feeling grubby by this stage of our outback adventure.

So that's my trip down memory lane for today, but seeing as this blog is primarily about the critters that I care for in my travels, I couldn't finish today's post without mentioning these two.  Yesterday, after a wonderfully relaxed sit at my niece and her husband's condo in Yaletown, I had to bid farewell to Oliver the furball.  He's great, and I sure hope that I get another opportunity to spend more time with him.

My human brain likes to think that he's looking somewhat sad because of my departure, but the truth is, he's probably sad because he didn't get enough treats.

On to the ferry to Nanaimo, then a drive up to Qualicum Beach for round three with Trixie. 

 She's a bundle of energy, so I'll be doing much more exercise with her than I was doing with Oliver. It's only a short stay this time around, and by next week, I will be settled in a new location back on the mainland, with a new bonehead that goes by the name of Sami.  I'm looking forward to meeting him soon.  

Now I had better strap on those new walking shoes, and take Trixie out for a stroll around the neighbourhood, and when we return, I'm going to enjoy one of these ripe tomatoes.  When I was here in July, the tomatoes were just getting started.  Looks like my diligent watering has paid off.

grateful for every breath,

Paul

The Thoughtful Wanderer

 

GOOD LUCK, BAD LUCK, "SKUNK" PARK and MORE

 POST # 517

One of the wiser decisions that I have made in recent times, is to spend much less time on the internet.  As a result of this change, I have more hours each day to pursue other activities.  There is no shortage of things to keep me amused, and I find that I am able to appreciate even more, the beauty that I am surrounded by each and every day.  All one has to do is just pay attention.  

Paying attention can be more important at certain times, and I was given a quick reminder of that fact during this past week.  That's where the good luck story comes into play.

It was Sunday, September 4th, my last full day in Nanaimo for the foreseeable future.  The weather was picture perfect, so naturally I was going to spend as much of it outdoors as was possible.  And with my new plan of less internet, I had lots of time to enjoy outside.  I was near the marina, on the upper level above the shops and parking lot, and it was time to head down to the water.  I had already descended the first of two sets of concrete stairs, and was about to start down the second set.  A momentary lapse of concentration on my part, in other words, not being in the moment, and I tripped, and somehow managed to arrest what would have been a very nasty tumble down the steep, hard staircase.  You would think that after falling down a mountain side more than a decade ago, that I would have a high level of concentration when walking down stairs.  Right then and there, I told myself that from now on, I will ALWAYS grab onto the handrail.  This was the good luck part of the story.

Now to the bad luck part.  Safely down at the waterfront, it was time to take a stroll along the docks to check out the boats, and just enjoy being close to the water.  At one point I stopped for a moment to remove my hat, in order to scratch my head.  While performing this action, I used my right hand which at the time held my PLB.  PLB is the acronym that describes a yellow lacrosse ball that I happened to come across on one of my daily walks around Pleasantville New York, almost three and a half years ago. It stands for Pleasantville Lacrosse Ball, as well as Paul's Little Ball, and it has been my constant companion since then.  I've lost track of the number of conversations that I have struck up with total strangers when I pass them, bouncing my ball.  I just happen to have one photo of it that I took last year in Ontario.

As I removed my hat, the ball slipped from my grasp, bounced once on the dock, and as it was on its upward return, it hit my thigh, and then splashed into the water.  It all happened very fast, and I was left to watch it slowly drop out of sight.  Perhaps a large fish can now have some fun with it, because I certainly won't be doing so any longer.  A certain word came out of my mouth to express my annoyance and that was that.

I was standing near where the two docks join together, and that is now where the PLB will spend the rest of its time.  As I continued on my walk back home, I couldn't help but feel annoyed with myself, and then I saw a homeless person camped on the side of the road.  My problems are insignificant.  

Continuing my stroll home, I walked through the local mall, and as I exited the building, who should I meet but none other than Socrates.  I thought that he had been dead for about 2400 years, but I was mistaken.  He's just been reincarnated and he now looks like this.

He's a fine looking specimen these days.

My time in Nanaimo was coming to a close, but I did manage to wake up very early one morning and take this sequence of photos of the sunrise.  This is part of what I now do with all of my extra non internet time.

In addition to spectacular sunrises, I had to finally say so long to my four legged friends, Eunice the bonehead and Apollo the furball.  

But why are you leaving Paul?  We were having such a good time.

I had waited until Monday, September 5th to head back across the strait to the mainland, because Monday to Thursday, seniors travel for free on BC Ferries.  I displayed my driver's licence to the attendant, and she said, "I'm sorry sir, but there is no discount on a public holiday."  Oh well.

And now on to the "skunk" park part of today's story.  My original plan was to spend one night stealth camping somewhere in the woods on Bowen Island, but after I arrived on the mainland, I changed my mind and decided to camp at a place I've camped before, in Vancouver's West End.  The park is near the beach, and its proper name is Alexandra Park on Beach Avenue.  During my first stay some years ago,  I was entertained by a trio of skunks roaming around at night.  Thankfully I was sleeping on a bench, so they left me alone.  Monday, they provided a repeat performance, and yet again, I was happy to be elevated above the ground.  By doing this stealth camping every now and again, it helps me to appreciate just how fortunate I am to have a roof over my head for the most part.  Time to count one's blessings yet again.  And speaking of blessings, earlier in the day, just as the ferry was docking at Horseshoe Bay, I began to chat with a friendly, happy gentleman on the deck.  He had a fake plastic left arm, and so I asked him what happened.  Fifty years ago in the winter of 1972, when he was working for CN Rail, he slipped and fell down beside the train, and the train ran over his arm.  He didn't seem bothered by it at all.

To wind up today's rather lengthy post, let me leave the readers with a photo I took just this morning of Oliver the furball who lives with my niece Nicole and her husband Dan in Yaletown.   They needed a sitter, and I happened to have an opening in my schedule so here I am.  I'm quite sure that Oliver and I will have a wonderful week together. 

"Who the hell are you?"  

No doubt there will be more to report about this furball next week.

grateful for every breath,

Paul

The Thoughtful Wanderer