Gateway To The Americas

The Island of Doctor Coudres

2013-02-03T12:00:00.000-05:00

The Charlevoix region has a dramatic landscape containing rolling terrain – with great lookouts into the Saint Lawrence River I may add – fjords, headlands and bays that will captivate even the most seasoned of tourists. Whether you visit national wildlife areas such as Cap Tourmente, important art and cultural centres such as Baie-Saint-Paul or music festivals in Le Domaine Forget, you will quickly fall in love with the region and never want to leave. Just remembering all this makes me want to hop into the car for a long drive.

With my old pal, Jacques

I especially enjoyed Île-aux-Coudres, a small island named by Jacques Cartier during his adventures through the Saint Lawrence River in the 1500s. The name for this off the beaten track destination originates from archaic French meaning hazel tree (coudriers). They must have had some fabulous homemade Nutella back in the day. The only way to tour the island is by hopping aboard the local ferry service. Bring your bike if you are an avid cyclist. The typical ferry route runs from the town of Saint-Bernard-sur-Mer and docks on the shore of Saint-Joseph-de-la-Rive.

This once-isolated community survived primarily on fishing porpoise and by building boats. Taming the seas was much more important back then as commercial airliners had really bad service in flight – sorry for the bad joke, I just had to do it. There aren’t too many commuters these days that get to work by boat or Jet Ski. Tourism is now their main bread and butter and like I have shared several times, they really know how to take care of you in Quebec. There are several historic sites to visit such as old mills and farms, pleasant country style hotels to spend a romantic holiday and plenty of local crafts to bring back for your dearest friends and family.

The Ile-aux-Coudres is also well known for its apple products, something I was not aware of at the time. If you are a knowledgeable individual in this department, able to tell the difference between a Fuji and a Gala apple, power to you my friend. For me it’s Granny Smith or bust. The real nectar of the gods in my mind is apple cider. There certainly is nothing like a warm cup of apple cider on a cold winter evening, am I right? Just make sure when you pick it up and take a swing, it’s not actually a 4 liter jug of apple vinegar – been there, done that… and lived to regret it. Read labels people! If you don’t, it’s usually vinegar.

Maman and Dad in front of an old mill

Now, what can I recommend? I suggest you drive around or cycle throughout the island at your leisure and do plenty of window-shopping. You can easily spend a half-day just wandering around even enjoying a good meal while you are there. In regards to the cidreries (cider houses rule, don’t they), I can certainly recommend the Verder Pedneault, located at 3384 Chemin des Coudriers. Two thumbs up, and throw in a toe while you are at it. The sales people were friendly, helpful and willing to share some secrets on recipes and pairings.

La Malbaie – A Not So Bad Bay

2013-01-27T12:00:00.000-05:00

Being second only to Russia in terms of landmass, Canada has a lot of space and nature to play in. Few realize that for us, a 6-hour drive is something we consider routine when we hop into our car heading out for a short vacation. If you come visit someone here and you want to see a lot, be ready to spend a significant amount of time in a car watching the countryside through the window with short pit stops at service centres. In other countries, well… you would be in a different country after spending that kind of time in a car – maybe I am overextending myself, but it all helps in proving a very valuable point that I hope I manage to get to at some point.

A cozy rental property in La Malbaie, Quebec

At the end of the summer of 2005, the Bickfords took an amazing road trip – about 6 or 7 hours driving through Quebec (pretty close to home in Canadian standards) – to la Malbaie. Rural Quebec has curious breaks in the countryside such as Eco-museums selling cheeses and other fine local produce, small sandwich shops to buy your casse-croûte and from time to time, the odd strip club in middle of nowhere – it may be somewhere in the Quebec charter of rights to grant equal access to the ladies of the night. The roadway to the final destination hugs the last stretch of the Saint-Laurent River (also known as the Saint Lawrence River) as it pours out into the bay that coincides with your arrival into town.

La Malbaie sits on this great bay – originally named The Bad Bay in olde French – but there is hardly anything bad about it. The pirates and buccaneers have long left, so the crime rate has tanked. The main drag has a small shopping centre with the bare necessities such as a Metro supermarket, clothing stores (picture local brands you never heard of instead of Saks Fifth Avenue) and a trusty Société des alcools du Québec. We were able to buy most of our provisions for our stay there, including horsemeat – I know, it sounds like an animal rights violation – smoked trout, ostrich cold cuts and other meats that would haunt any strong defender of a hardcore vegetable diet.

As the Bickfords are usually discrete individuals, we booked perhaps the biggest vacation home in the whole village. Three people rented a house for 12 people over an entire week. It belonged to an American industrialist back in the early 1900s. In our defense, it was actually cheaper than a small, roach patrol cottage in Ontario and we needed the space of course. Now, I don’t mean to be unpatriotic towards my dear birth province but Quebec does know how to take care of their people and visitors. First impressions are everything, don't you know. The house sat at the highest point of a hill, looking over the town out at the bay and on a clear day, you could make out Rivière du Loup in the distance.

The barbecue in all its glory

Road trips may be quite long in this country but they certainly are worth it for a change of scenery and relaxation. Most areas that service many tourists tend to shift the environment, overwhelming locals and even other visitors. Travellers tend to forget their common sense back home – don’t leave home without it - and respect for others. The region used to be a vacation spot for the rich and famous Quebeckers and Montrealers who stayed at the Chateau Richelieu - a still very pricey resort hotel now managed by the Fairmont hotel chain. I highly recommend this destination for peace, whale watching, fine meals and your budget can go a long way.

Brain Maladies… Among Other Follies

2013-01-20T12:00:00.000-05:00

What is the common link between Axl Rose, Catherine Zeta-Jones, Michael Phelps and Abraham Lincoln? Well, the answer is mental illness. A few months ago, I never would have guessed. The occurrence of any kind of mental disorder can directly affect 1 in 4 people in their lifetime and the repercussions often do spill over onto families and close friends. The trigger to these diseases can be anything from a death in the family, the use of recreational drugs, genetics, diseases, injuries (such as head trauma) and even the result of traumatic experiences including war or child abuse.

The fact is that mental illness can develop in anyone regardless of the person’s age, social status, skin colour, etc. During the month of October, the CBC published significant material promoting awareness of mental disorders and even more alarmingly, the incredible lack of availability and coverage for treatment relating to these conditions. It can usually take up to two years to actually sit down with a psychiatrist just for a basic evaluation and their waiting lists have their own waiting lists. This is certainly the opposite for those who are diagnosed with cancer, heart disease, stroke, or any other major impairing ailment, who get quasi-immediate high-priority care. Furthermore, there isn’t the same stigma attached to these conditions as with mental disorder.

More recently on the local news, I heard that a woman in Ottawa, a wife and mother of two known to her neighbours as an outgoing and involved member of the community, killed her 6 year-old and 4 year-old while her husband was at work. When the husband came home later that evening, he found the lifeless bodies of his children on the floor and his wife’s light just about ready to extinguish. He called an ambulance but his wife passed away on the way to the hospital. It was a case of mental illness which had gone under the radar not only in the community but even in their family home. It is indeed a tragedy for the whole family and for our failing healthcare system that is letting too many people fall through the cracks.

Now, this is not to send you all out on a witch-hunt to uncover these possible menaces to society. The facts speak for themselves, you need only to listen. You may very well have a friend, relative, co-worker or acquaintance suffering from an acute depression, bi-polar disorder, obsessive compulsive disorder, you name it. I lived with a person for a long time without knowing this was possible or even knowing what to do as it feels you are constantly walking on eggshells. The reason why I am pointing this out is that, once you may have identified their sense of feeling lost and the existence of an illness, it is easier to become their supporter and advocate.

In the past, we used to say that people were just badly brought up and blamed much of their programming on bad behaviour rather than believe it was a mental disorder. Many general practitioners continue to attach this label rather than referring patients down proper channels to receive the care they require. Many sufferers tend to exhibit unusual patterns we tend to equivocate with irrational, eccentric, disorganized, oblivious, insensitive and self-centered traits. Mental illness is a very selfish disease that makes the sufferer feel like it is himself or herself against the world. They push away everything and everyone until eventually – worst case scenario without proper treatment or support – they begin to trap themselves into a lonely existence experiencing too much stress, leading them to contemplate suicide.

As a parent, spouse or friend, it can be extremely complicated to deal with people who have mental illness. Although our loved one may appear extremely focused at work, creative in their arts and have every under control, they will rarely seek help convincing themselves everything is fine. As an outsider, you notice this person is almost lifeless, sleeping long hours (or not sleeping at all), missing work often, hardly eats, never on time and distracted. You know something is wrong but they will never admit it. If you need help coping with these situations, there are excellent peer support and family education programs offered by NAMI that can assist in finding tools to do just that. Remember what Bob said: “Judge not, before you judge yourself.”

2013: Anyone for Doomsday?

2013-01-13T12:00:00.000-05:00

Happy New Year everyone! I am pleased to return to the blogging sphere following a well deserved break – at least from social media and the like. At first glance, it appears not much in the world has changed since I last posted in December. The planet did not mysteriously implode, there were no massive tidal waves, the tectonic plates did not break out into a wild samba dance, the rise of the machines has gone unnoticed, the aliens did not come for a humanoid buffet and the apes have yet to enslave humanity. Does it not seem odd to anyone how popular these “end-of-the-world” theories are? Thankfully, people are feeding less into these themes than in the past.

Sure buddy, whatever you say.

New Year’s Eve and New Year’s Day soon followed what many implied the Mayans’ prediction of the end of days – they just ran out of stone for their calendar – a time for many people to partaaay as if it really was the end of the world. For many, it is traditionally a time to spend with friends at a house party, a club or an iconic place such as Times Square in hopes to exchange a memorable kiss with a special someone as soon as the first minute chines in a new era. I have always preferred to be with the family as we have done over so many years, although the crowd seems to be getting smaller but there is still quality in attendance. The closing ceremonies are a way to toss out every unfortunate event that happened over previous year, deleting every file from the hard drive. The problem with this clinical strategy developed using a strong dose of intestinal fortitude is that those former issues are often blamed on others, making it possible and inevitable for history to continue to repeat itself.

It is more convenient to blame others than to be accountable for our own actions, is it not? If we take a trip down the history books, there are several chapters on authoritarian regimes and international large-scale conflicts triggered by those adopting this particular doctrine. To err is human and we all do it – except for Michael Jordan: he just never seemed to miss! This is how the learning process actually begins. There are those who are convinced they are never wrong and everyone surrounding them is inept. What can I say? They are in for a rude awakening. To forgive is divine (a common phrase following the first italic in this paragraph). Now this is a wonderful theory that must make its way into practice by not only forgiving others, but forgiving ourselves as well. Give yourself a pat on the back. This is how real personal growth actually occurs. Even the greatest intellectual minds have lessons pending in their pursuit of knowledge and have made a mistake or two.

Our resolutions are also a blueprint to our year. We often blame life for happening, which forces us to discard these resolutions and wait until the following year to come up with brand new ones. There is nothing wrong with drafting out a life mantra as you go along and tweak it from time to time, ensuring you give yourself a richer and fuller life that you deserve. Our lives are not dictated by tragedies. We have a chance to shape everything by determining how we face each challenging situation and rise above them. Rise above it! Furthermore, if we dig around frequently, we can find a plethora of sources to motivate us, leading to a more positive outlook on life. Now I know, it is easier said than done, but as they say, like attracts like. If you need an extra “pick-me-up”, listen to the video posted below this paragraph. George thinks you are amazing!

I wish you all a Solid Gold 2013, as coined by the Bickford family during our Christmas holiday. It is true that a suspended NHL season because of an incomprehensible strike has put a damper on the year’s initial face off, but if you look at it in from a positive perspective, the Toronto Maple Leafs are having their best season yet – now there is a wonderful joke to get things going for the year! We are only a few days in and I have already been blessed with reconnecting with some good friends who had been collateral damage of time and physical space resolved by a touch of serendipity and chicken wings. There is promise when we are willing to work for to fulfill our utmost desires and establish a finish line (or a new beginning) to get out of that tunnel. Here is to new beginnings and following through!

It’s That Time Of The Year Again

2012-12-16T12:00:00.000-05:00

It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas, which is a perfect time to wrap up 2012. I will return in the New Year with all sorts of new material - unless the Mayas were right. I promise the jokes will improve and the anecdotes should be somewhat more informative. Like the pirates used to say, "the beatings will continue until morale improves." I appreciate the many requests that made it into my inbox over the year and your messages of support finding the information provided useful. If I managed to make a difference for some of you, then all the efforts throughout the year have not been in vain.

Oh Christmas tree, oh Christmas tree

Many of you following this blog (having followers makes me feel a little like Moses) over the past two years can guess that I will spend the most wonderful time of the year with my great family. Indeed I will and I find it truly makes this the most magical season of the year. Friendship and family are priceless yet they are the best gift we could ever receive or give. I always look forward to the Christmas holidays because it is once more a time to slow down the usual pace and enjoy the little things that make living such a blessing.

Every year brings a sack of challenges that encourage some among us to look forward to a brand new year that can only be better than the last. I prefer to see things from a different standpoint - guess I am a glass-half full kind of guy. It’s not about what has happened throughout your life but how you face each individual situation and bounce back. This is what shapes our present and sets the stage for a future presenting a magnificent world of opportunities and room for change. This may all sound like wishful thinking to some of you, but its worked wonders. Miracles are in our own hands.

Hopefully the stories of events past that I have endured "gracefully" with my family and on my own have given some contrast to your own plight and nudged you along the way. When we come into this world, nobody gave us an instruction manual and we feel like our internal compass is busted. In my teenage years and early adulthood this was certainly the case and wished for someone to come up and say, “Hey Will, this is how it’s done.” In fact, we all have our own unique paths to walk in life, but shared knowledge can help along the way.

With my favourite little ones, my niece and nephew

During this festive season, I wish you all a very merry Christmas filled with joy, laughter and special moments that you’ll be able to look back to with a smile until Christmas 2013. We all know the world is not coming to an end this December, but hopefully some of our negative excess baggage is left behind and buried to have a fuller, healthier life. To those spending time away from your families or have no one to spend the holiday season with, you will be in my thoughts as always and there is light at the end of the tunnel. You will never walk alone!

Warm Christmas wishes and all the best for 2013 to you and yours!

Getting To Know Your Fellow Canadian

2012-12-09T12:00:00.000-05:00

This weekend, I figured we should continue on the road to higher learning, following the trend of last week’s blog on Canadian expressions. I am proud of you all for successfully passing the course (little did you know I was keeping score). Your certificates are all in the mail. Now, we need to go beyond just sounding Canadian.

In order to truly fit in among the building blocks of different cultures and traditions, I have always found it essential to discover as much as I can such as: what is issues to they relate to, what activities do they enjoy, what should you avoid mentioning, what is the national protocol for shaving, etc. Here are some of elements – not ranked in any particular order - that make Canadians who they are.

1. Nature: Canada’s playground

For the most part, we are urban people (about 80% of us). Our daily battlefield is on the asphalt streets in between concrete structures and glass towers where we ride subways, buses and trains holding our trusty cup of Tim Horton’s coffee. Canadian civilization would disappear without coffee. We are among the better-connected civilizations in the world of communications and social media even though competition in these markets is minimal.

Many among us reward our responsible attitude and work ethic with a well-deserved retreat into the wild with our friends, our families or even just on our own. We need that escape into the country. It doesn’t matter if it is 30 degrees or 30 below outside. We enjoy the gift of nature and the space we have within our borders to hike, skate, canoe, ski, camp or anything else we can think of do to outdoors. That is time to disconnect from the technology that runs that other life we left back home.

2. Patriotism with tolerance

During my time in Europe and Latin America, I noticed that many countries’ national flags are displayed primarily in government offices or during official functions. In other countries, the flag symbolizes nationalism with a twist of exclusion. To think that days of racial and ethnic tension are far in the past is to deny a true sense of an alarming reality.

You will notice that we hang our flag high. People wear toques, shirts, jackets and caps (even hang a flag in their living room) as a sign of love and respect for a country that accepts. We are a country of immigrants – including those who left England and France to colonize the brave New World – and we are proud to continue to welcome those fleeing persecution or simply looking for a fresh start.

3. There is always time for manners

In general, Canadians are not “in-your-face” people. We enjoy peace, quiet and most importantly, personal space. I know you might be thinking: “Sounds like a land of retirees.” We know some people need a taste of the wild life, eccentric living and borderline rude behaviour, which is why we have Montreal, Toronto and Vancouver. We basically treat people the way we expect to be treated. Keep it simple.

4. It’s all about hockey

Some people founded religions while others built great public works to stand the test of time. For a Canadian, it’s all about hockey. We have an NBA basketball team, an MLB baseball team, a few MLS teams, but we also have several Stanley Cups – the highest honour in the world of hockey gifted by Lord Stanley himself. Hockey and the weather give Canadians plenty to talk up a storm! Here’s a fact few people outside of Canada know: we saved the world from a nuclear apocalypse by schooling the Soviets in hockey back in the 70s. You’re welcome world!

5. Social Healthcare

Ok, sure our hospitals are not what they used to be. Our public medicine is hurting but it is still spectacular for emergency treatment. Is healthcare in Canada free because we are a bunch of commies? Nope. We pay taxes every year to keep our hospitals going, our doctors smiling and our patients out as soon as possible. There is no better feeling than leaving a hospital after an operation without wondering how on earth you will pay off a huge bill in thousands of instalments.

I hope this second course in our lesson plan sheds is up to your standards. Should you have any complaints or may be looking to demand a refund, please head on down to the Canada Post Office in the Peggy’s Cove lighthouse that closed a couple of years ago. They have plenty of time to deal with the public now. Thanks for tuning in once more my friends and see you next week!

Speak Canadian

2012-12-02T12:00:00.000-05:00

Since the beginning of time, men and women have always felt the need to communicate effectively through verbal avenues – some more than others, wink wink. Language evolved through specific environments, common challenges and shared interests which we can now consider "regionalisms" or "nuances". This certainly applies to us up here as well. We developed our unique manner of speaking somewhat different from our American cousins and the British Empire although some elements of these two cultures have made it into our own colloquialisms.

If you want to brush up on your Canadian or plan to blend in should you decide to spend some time up here, make sure to add some of these "beauties" to your lingo:

Not too bad: Typical answer to someone asking how your day is going. Any other answer is just not Canadian. We know things could be worse and they are not so great because of the taxes we pay versus the Americans.
Double double: When visiting Tim Horton’s (also referred to as Timmy Ho’s, Timmy’s or Tim’s) or any fine coffee establishment, if you need two milks and two sugars, this is the only way you’ll sound Canadian when you order. You’ll also think you’re cool when you say it.
Loonie: We have a one-dollar coin with a loon on it. No mystery there. Nobody calls it a dollar, it is just not right. We also have a two-dollar coin with a polar bear on it called a Twoonie. Aren’t we just so neat?
Brutal: There is only one way to communicate things have not gone well at all for you today. i.e “My meeting today was brutal.”
Two-Four: This is used to describe a case of 24 beer bottles. This is your most important expense in Canada when visiting the beer store (yes, we can only buy beer at dedicated stores unless living in Quebec… weird eh?).
Hydro: Most residents in English-speaking countries get an electricity or light bill. We get hydro bills. Our electricity is just the same as yours and it is not made out of water.
Poutine: This low-fat dish consisting of French fries covered in gravy and cheese curds is guaranteed to fill your heart with joy and lower your cholesterol immediately. The grease is what makes us look so good!
Beaver Tails: Now, don’t freak out there. We are not senseless carnivores. These are traditional fried pastries in the shape of a beaver’s tail with a light dusting of powdered sugar and cinnamon - although newer toppings include ice cream, maple or chocolate syrup or fruit.
To table: When we say this in Canada, we mean to bring up a subject we wish to discuss immediately. Americans usually mention this when they want to put an issue aside that could be picked up on another occasion.
You’re welcome: Many times I have said “thank you” in the US, people tend to respond with an expressive “mm-hmm” or “uh-huh”. We don’t do that here. We prefer words even if we are moody, upset or groggy and tend to respond in a complete sentence or just say nothing at all.

There are many other common expressions in Canadian English from sea to shining sea and it is important to preserve this precious language. We cannot assume that one’s language is better or more appropriate than someone else's as different circumstances occurring over years contributed to shaping entire cultures. Anyway – which can commonly be said “anyways” up here – hope this cheat sheet helps when you come up North for a visit. Give'er!

Let There Be Apes

2012-11-25T12:00:00.000-05:00

This weekend, I am going to lighten up the mood a bit by sharing yet another animal oriented anecdote. In March 2007, I travelled with my folks to Spain where the primary purpose of the trip was strictly vacation. Since graduating from university, my radius of operation had been greatly restricted. My regular weekends were either busy with work-related activities or spending time in Kingston, visiting my grandfather in a nursing home. The headquarters for the holiday in La Madre Patria was the colourful beach city of Islantilla, near the southern border with Portugal.

The Rock as seen from the RAF airstrip

One of our longest day trips was to Gibraltar, about a 4-hour drive. Why Gibraltar? Honestly, my father and I wanted to see the Barbary apes – not to be confused with the Burberry apes, those very fashionable primates. In fact, the history of this tiny 6.8 square kilometer (2.6 square miles) British overseas territory on the edge of Andalusia is quite interesting. These humongous natural rock formations on the European – which can in fact be seen from quite a distance across the bay - and African shores, serving as the gate to the Mediterranean, were referred in ancient times as the Pillars of Hercules.

The English captured Gibraltar in 1704 during the War of the Spanish Succession – a major European war over the unification of the Kingdoms of France and Spain under a Bourbon monarch. It served for several centuries as a strategic base for the Royal Navy and the small settlement of 30,000 Gibraltarians is very distinct from La Linea on the Spanish side. It remains perhaps one of the few border crossings left within the European Union with a controlled customs checkpoint. This small piece of land marks a contentious political divide between Spain and the UK. As a matter of fact, this was my first trip to the UK! Upon clearing the border crossing, one must then carefully traverse the width of a Royal Air Force tarmac before entering the settlement.

It was really curious that such a minuscule settlement remains quite heavily armed. The town actually resembles a tropical or sub-Saharan version of England leaving no doubt on their allegiance to Her Royal Majesty. We rushed through town looking for a way up the rock to see our apes – we were on a tight schedule. The importance of these glorious creatures to the people’s sovereignty is key. Popular legend has it that as long as the Gibraltar Barbary macaques exist on Gibraltar, the territory will remain under British rule. In fact, in 1942, their population dwindled to just a handful so British Prime Minister Winston Churchill ordered their numbers replenished from Morocco and Algeria due to this belief.

An ape in service of the Queen

After several obstacles, such as high winds and pricey full service tours of the rock, we decided to climb from sea level to about 200 meters to find the apes’ pen. I was surprised that they were all out in the open and able to roam wherever they please. One of the apes noticed my father was carrying a plastic bag, snuck up behind him and ran off with our supply of water bottles. This was the first time I ever was mugged by an ape. After this unfortunate violation of personal property and having enough fun among our new friends, we decided to head back down the rock and return to Islantilla. As soon as we made it back to downtown Gibraltar, I spotted a Barbary ape sitting on a tree eating a cake. Guess we didn’t need the hike after all.

Road To Rio: No Samba For Canada

2012-11-18T12:00:00.000-05:00

Canada is often recognized internationally as an ice hockey powerhouse. This indisputable fact is a source of great pride for the average Canadian. These fine specimens will even mortgage their homes to ensure their son becomes the next Wayne Gretzky (Canada’s Maradona) with tens of thousands of dollars “invested” financing the dream. It may not be Junior’s dream, but hey, if he becomes a star, I am taken care of! You will find peewee hockey leagues – children’s competitive leagues – with a head coach dictating team strategy accompanied by up to three team coaches teaching young prospects stick handing skills, puck handling, speed skating and endurance.

The children opting for soccer (aka football or footy), the fourth most popular recreational sport in the country, have some large balding fellow smoking a dollar store cigar, arguing with his ex-wife over alimony on his phone as a head coach. He paces along the sideline wheezing away giving only an occasional outburst of flatulence as encouragement to his squad – well at least that can guarantee some humour for the children. Some kids wear flashy uniforms, others their favourite jerseys from European clubs. Regardless of the wardrobe, each of them tries to emulate the gods of the beautiful game on a much lower budget than ice hockey. The ball bumbles back and forth following an erratic ebb and flow facilitated by a referee who is as familiar to the sport, much like a baboon dismantling land mines. On more frequent occasions, an unbiased observer may even notice the actual absence of a match official altogether – sometimes ideal when faced with the former scenario. Developing young fresh talent starts at this age.

As a soccer fan having witnessed first-hand some of the greatest moments in the game, I sense discrimination toward the sport in the Great White North. A discrimination fuelled by a lack of financial interest. We can hardly call our national leagues professional, as we lack a top tier division such as the EPL, La Liga, the Serie A or even the Congolese Première Division. We do have a minor role in the MLS, which is more of a conglomeration of franchises rather than neighbourhood or city clubs that fight to the last drop of blood, sweat and tears to avoid relegation. If you have the cash, a fan base and a neat stadium with a food court and shopping centre, you may be able to join the league so long as you can keep a profit. It is not a league based on merit that rewards perseverance and punishes underperformance. That’s the same American professional sports model that saw teams like the Seattle Sonics disappear or the Lakers move to a city without any lakes. It works for their market but tarnishes the structure and philosophy of international football – I mean that game where the ball is kicked, not carried across the field – and most importantly hinders nurturing talent.

Canada’s dreams of making it to the next world cup in Brazil were decimated by a Honduran team on a mission, losing a must win game 8 goals to 1. That sounds more like a hockey or baseball result but it is our usual exit strategy in the qualifying process. After such an embarrassing result, we should not worry about not making it to the big stage, as perhaps better teams could have set Guinness Records trouncing our lads. Is there anything we can do for the next season in qualifying for 2018? Maybe not. The only solution to our football malady is travelling to Brazil with a suitcase full of passports and dole them out in an effort to recruit the next Neymar or Ronaldo, hoping to bring to prop up our lack of natural abilities nurtured from a young age. The only obstacle to this prescription is that our government may not feel this is a proper use of our Citizenship and Immigration Department. I guess foreign policy is all in the eye of the beholder. Anyway, our women are pretty amazing in contrast to the men, although FIFA politics have played a controversial role leading to multiple shortcomings.

Canadians sports fans are generally supporters backing only a clear winner. When the tide changes, so does their wavering support. Although Canada won the CONCACAF Gold Cup back in 2000 beating guests Colombia 2-0 in the final, the victory hardly raised the profile of the sport nationally. I recall the game was played before a practically empty stadium somewhere in the US. Fans in Canada are quick to stand behind the national teams representing their ancestral origin or any other country much like they would pick one of the teams in the US franchise-based league before backing our local boys. There is no hope for a Cinderella story or underdog triumph in the hearts of Canadian soccer. Should we see a change in this support, we should begin to witness the birth of a new game and hopefully a true economic investment, turning Canada’s fourth preferred recreational activity into something resembling an international team.

Remembrance Day – Lest We Forget

2012-11-11T12:00:00.000-05:00

This year, many calendar days marking special events have overlapped on my new blog entry schedule. This coincidence is beneficial for those of my loyal readers outside of our Canadian borders who hope to catch a glimpse of what we are all about up while we sit comfortably on top of the globe – except in the winter where we would gladly switch positions with Cuba. Furthermore, I am able to share with my fellow Canucks a bird’s eye view on our rich history we tend to neglect because we are too busy. I continue to underline our heritage as the backbone of our identity and nationhood.

The tomb of the unknown soldier, Ottawa, Canada

On November 11, many nations that participated in the Great War, take a moment to honour their brave soldiers who put everything on the line for their country. The Dominions of the British Empire (including Canada) joined immediately without hesitation in support of the United Kingdom’s declaration of war against Germany. Our engagement in the First World War changed our history through our many sacrifices and contributions, enabling us to become more independent – although this did create a rift between the French and English populations – and distance ourselves from Britannia. Canadian troops fought as a distinct unit and our efforts in the battles of Vimy Ridge, Passchendaele and the Battle of Somme continue to be remembered especially on this day.

During the Great War, Canada’s casualties stood at 67,000 killed and 173,000 wounded out of an expeditionary force of 620,000 people mobilized at the end of the war. These numbers could appear low in comparison to other manpower contributions (it certainly does not seem that way to me), Canada’s population at the beginning of the war in 1914 stood at approximately 7,879,000. In other words, our contribution to the defense of the Motherland against Germany and her allies represented about 8% of our total population. Canadians were considered expert and professional soldiers and were greatly feared by the Germans as an omen of impending attack. Aside from being directly involved on the European front, our people were also busy on the home front, manufacturing goods, ammunition and other strategic supplies.

Canada had further contributed 1.1 million soldiers in WWII and was the first Commonwealth country to sends troops to the United Kingdom. Following these two bloody world wars, our armed forces were amongst the largest on the planet yet our military began to downsize and transform into an international policing contingent. Canadian Prime Minister Lester B. Pearson spearheaded the concept of peacekeeping missions in the newly created United Nations, seeking to avoid the traumatizing gruesome bloodshed of the last 40 years. Peacekeeping is an attempt to create conditions that favour lasting peace by placing the blue helmets in the crossfire between warring factions. There are several issues existing in the operational protocol for units serving as peacekeepers although there have been successful missions to Burundi, Cambodia, Guatemala, Haiti and Suez, just to name a few.

Crowds gather at the National War Memorial to pay tribute

Remembrance Day is not a moment to dwell on the politics behind conflicts in which Canadian soldiers and other service men wearing any other flag on their shoulder have paid with their lives for. Today, we recognize their efforts, their lives, their service and their devotion. These men and women put everything on the line for us. Thanks to them, we can stay away from the battlefield, form strong opinions and debate until the cows come home. Their lives are forever changed by combat, bringing back difficult memories which we cannot even imagine which can even lead to post traumatic stress disorders affecting their entire families. Others left their loved ones behind and never came back. Lest we forget.

Lunenburg’s Blue Nose

2012-11-04T12:00:00.000-05:00

Just like this morning’s cup of java, Lunenburg, Nova Scotia is also a UNESCO World Heritage site. This tiny coastal village is hardly “just another port city.” Its rich history traces its lineage to the colonial era when the Protestants set up shop and wore those lovely red coats. They managed to survive numerous waves of Catholic Wabanaki Confederacy raids, the American War of Independence incursions and the War of 1812. Diversity has always been around since the very beginning and after a couple hundred years, French, English, aboriginal cultures buried the hatchet to make way for new cultures to settle. The key to overcoming any argument is to put a good two hundred years between the two parties and then... there should be peace.

Lunenburg's wharf and financial district

During our 2005 family trip to the province, we headed up to Lunenburg. My father was the only family member who had any idea about the significance of this place in the history books. After all, it was his idea to take the day trip and I do not regret his decision or tagging along for the ride. My Dad shares many qualities with his tribe of origin, including his love for the seas. The British were able to dominate the waterways on the entire globe from their tiny little speck of land - pretty amazing. Since I was a little squirt, I remember my Dad building very detailed model wooden boats from scratch with his power tools. He would become possessed by the demons of carpentry keeping a keen eye for detail without losing sight of the bigger picture, ensuring every imperfection was surgically removed from his divine work. He even made Brian and I some big destroyer class navy boats to play with our toy soldiers. In Lunenburg, a very special boat kept calling him over and he was only answering this call - we'll get to that shortly, just building up the suspense here.

Immediately upon arriving to town, we drove around the waterfront in search of a decent place to park our road warrior and spend some quality time on foot getting acquainted with the locals. The town’s claim to fame was more than being the first English settlement outside of Halifax. It was a home to a prominent shipbuilding community and served as an important seaport for Eastern Canada. Nowadays, it’s bread and butter is tourism, like Peggy's Cove and other beautiful small towns in the province welcoming thousands of visitors a year. The town centre reflects a unique architecture and civic design spreading along the waterfront, with several quaint hotels and inns admiring the captivating bay. There are a large number of restaurants serving quite a variety of local seafood dishes yet provide landlubber favourites for those who are adverse to the sea’s bounty. I guess not everyone loves cod tongues. There are art galleries, souvenir shops selling crafts and a number of quality museums to educate the rest of us on the importance of the sea and the lifestyle that goes with it.

My father was like a child on Christmas morning, checking if Santa had dropped by Lunenburg to leave his Bluenose schooner in the harbour. This is without a doubt a major attraction when the boat is not on tour - check the website. The Bluenose was a racing and fishing vessel that bravely competed against American East coast ships of similar classes. It became a certain crowd pleaser through its many consecutive victories against the Yanks, eventually becoming an undisputed heavyweight champion of the high seas. Its unparalleled success and beauty as a competitive seafaring juggernaut transformed it into a national icon in the eyes of a plethora of Maritimers. The ground crew and engineers however, decided to do some pimpin’ up of their smooth ride revamping it now to the Bluenose II (think of it like those pesky computer software updates you need to install on your PC). There is even a Bluenose IV in the works, although the glory days of these sexy beasts – as far as sailboats go, of course - are long gone and sequels are not often better - remember the Rocky series?

The Bickfords vs The Bluenose II

Should your travels take you to Nova Scotia, Lunenberg should be your first choice when contemplating a day trip out of Halifax. In the case that the Atlantic’s nautical superstar is touring the world giving out autographs to its loyal fans, there is still plenty to visit and a world of taste just a plate away. I would most certainly enjoy spending another fine summer evening there again, sipping on a warm cup of tea walking along the waterfront as the sun slowly heads out to brighten up other people’s days. It is truly an enriching experience giving us marooned on land a bird’s eye view into the history of fishing and a complicated intercultural dialogue that once existed. It is certainly an ideal destination for a family trip.

A Canadian Giant In Danger of Extinction

2012-10-28T12:00:00.000-04:00

One of Canada’s most important sites in terms of our international image sits approximately a 50-minute scenic drive from Halifax. Many around the world are familiar - but can't name the place - with the image of a tall red and white lighthouse bathed in a misty layer of ocean spray coming from the angry waves smashing into its rocky base. This lone tower is one of Canada’s most famous landmarks, not because of its purpose – directing maritime traffic safely to port is quite a noble enterprise – but its spectacular natural beauty, making Peggy’s Cove an absolute must see when in Nova Scotia.

Peggy's Cove Lighthouse

I visited this fishing village of Peggy’s Cove back in the summer of 2005 and my first impression of this place was as if it had been clipped out of a National Geographic magazine or spruced up for a prestigious photographer that was coming to town. Everything was immaculate and served a divine purpose, from the small houses partially built on the rocky shoreline and backing out onto the waterway, to the multicoloured fishing nets sitting rolled up on the street and ready for action, and fishing boats patiently awaiting in single file their crews to resume their high-seas adventures. The fishing industry has lessened in importance in terms of municipal revenue for the inhabitants being eclipsed by tourism which has continuously gained momentum post-WWII.

The lighthouse, officially the Peggy’s Point Lighthouse, is one of the most photographed structures in Atlantic Canada and has played an important role in Canada’s worldwide PR campaign. I recall attending cultural events overseas, both as a child and as an adult, and this place was always at the forefront of our national image. Posters, videos... you name it. Thank you, Nova Scotia for putting us on the map! At the time I visited, the lighthouse was at still operated by the Canadian Coast Guard. In 2010, it was declared surplus by this organization given the high tech improvements in navigational devices and ever since, there are many questions as to who will become the next caretaker. That could make for an interesting reality TV show.

As our society continues to mature through technological evolution – nowadays, anything can become obsolete overnight – it is our duty to insure the survival of our proud and rich history. Canada Post closed its office at the lighthouse, citing mold growth as a main reason, which suggested a safety hazard to employees and parcels. Losing this tenant generated a further blow to the revenue and increased the taxpayer burden during already challenging economic conditions - there have not been many booms in this part of the world. The last I heard regarding its quest for survival - a poster child reflecting our trivial global economic decay - was that the lighthouse had until May, 2012 to be nominated under the Heritage Lighthouse Protection Act (Bill S-215) or it would face disposal - a sad retirement for a loyal 97 years of service. There have been inferences that the province of Nova Scotia will claim ownership at some point in time of this property but as far as I know, no one has stepped up to the plate.

Real estate in Peggy's Cove

For now, the site is still open to visitors from far and wide although I do believe it is open only a seasonal basis – usually between the end of April up to October. I suppose you can see the lighthouse anyway from afar during the wintertime along with the rest of the village under a heavy blanket of snow, but it may resemble a frosted ghost town from classic Western movies. It is truly a unique pillar of our country’s heritage, lighthouse or no lighthouse. The future of the entire village is in the balance, as with the loss of the main attraction, it will be like watching the Chicago Bulls after Michael Jordan’s retirement. Their playing field to successfully draw tourists will be put up to par with other small settlements that already struggle to survive on a very limited and seasonal industry.

Halifax – From The Sea, Wealth

2012-10-21T12:00:00.000-04:00

Halifax is one of Eastern Canada’s most important cities and I dare baptise it, “The Boston of Canada.” You may disagree, but I am the one writing the story here. The city possesses a well-established institution, Dalhousie University, which is a source of pride for Haligonians and one of our country’s finest schools. Its port has been a strategic asset as much to the Dominion of Canada fending off the Gringos as to Canadians living in Dubai who have their Christmas trees shipped off from there. It’s just not a Holy Night if you are gathered around an air-conditioned living room with a palm tree full of sashes pretending to be Miss Universe. MoneySense classified the capital of Nova Scotia as the fourth best place to live in Canada for the year 2012 and I hope to show you why in the next few paragraphs.

Maman with a highland lobster

When I visited in 2005, I found the downtown area one of the cleanest I had seen. The buildings had a special Colgate smile with extra whitening to them. Either the citizens had a great civic pride in their structures or they had more capital to dispense on cleaning and maintenance services. Even the glamorous Sparks Street Mall in downtown Ottawa has something to be envious of. The National Capital Commission does make it up to us in different ways I suppose. I found scattered throughout the city centre plenty of people-sized Lobsters statues – and no, they were not edible – painted in different colours, much like Toronto did years ago with a moose on every street corner. You are welcome taxpayers! Can’t you tell that Canadians are outdoors people and proud of our unique wildlife? I never tire of saying this, but we do have nature’s best and biggest natural playground. The downtown is small compared to other cities, yet there are great restaurants, ferry rides, bus tours, hotels and breweries.

My favourite sight without a doubt was Fort George – named after King George II - that sits on Citadel Hill, like the protector of the city and port down below. This fortification had originally been erected to defend protestant settlers from the fiendish French, astute Acadian and mighty Micmac raids. In the summers, university students participate in re-enacting bits of our history wearing the traditional thick wool red coats from the British colonial times with a slight twist – you guessed it, kilts! I wouldn’t mind getting paid for wearing a kilt the entire summer. It's a free flowing cooling system. The 78^th Regiment of Foot and Pipe Band Highlanders run and hide the highland way (note the Braveheart reference)… although the constant bagpiping must routinely give away their strategic position. Bagpipe music served as a WMI (weapon of mass irritation) to the opposing military units. That's how we beat the Americans in the War of 1812. For those of you who are not history buffs like yours truly, I still recommend the visit as the view down onto the bay is quite spectacular.

Another pretty area is the public gardens, just down the hill from the citadel and next to the Alexander Keith’s brewery. Did I not say that we do produce incredible quantities of alcoholic beverages in this country? There seems to be a brewery in every story of my East Coast experience. I am not much of a botanist but nature has a soothing power on me personally - much more than tall concrete structures - especially when the public park is so quiet. Halifax is somewhat of a hidden treasure, as there is hardly the same quantity of tourists than other Canadian cities that usually take away anything special from the local atmosphere. This is not a cheap shot aimed at tourists but we can certainly agree that the more people are around, more garbage mysteriously is summoned from nowhere and pushing and shoving dictate your every movement. It is rather unfortunate but people prioritize themselves as “numero uno” and ruin the experience for the more passive visitors. Anyway, there are several wonderful species of flowers, plants and trees which I cannot name but trust me… they are amazing! These grounds are maintained by the city, so enjoy and please don’t pick flowers before asking the municipal government unless you want to anger the Haligonian Gods.

Hop aboard the beer bus

While I was choosing my schools to pursue undergraduate studies, the East never crossed my mind even though the Bickfords have quite the history there. I usually consider Ontario as home, having spent memorable moments in Etobicoke, Grimsby, Kingston, Ottawa, and Toronto when I was growing up. My father had briefly visited Halifax during his childhood and returned there less than a handful of times. Once he left the Maritimes, something about this land still had a special meaning to him. Funny how land has a way of becoming part of you. In a way, I was surprised that he identified himself as a Maritimer and other aspects of their lifestyle. I guess it is not so odd that a young English and Welsh lad, growing up on the East Coast and then travelling around the world the rest of his life still finds an affinity with the East. After all, my brother and I spent most of our childhood in Latin America and still found a home in Ontario. Guess we have more in common with my father than we thought!

An Introduction to Nova Scotia

2012-10-14T12:00:00.000-04:00

If you have never been to Digby, Nova Scotia, you have yet to live. This scallop capital of the world – the size of hockey pucks, I kid you not, amigos – was my port of entry to Canada’s ocean playground for highlanders, although everyone else seems to be allowed to join in on the fun. There is nothing more exciting than starting off your journey into this beautiful, rugged land with a belly full of the freshest and finest scallops. Everyone needs that cholesterol rush from time to time. There are plenty of restaurants where you can sample grilled scallops, sautéed scallops, steamed scallops and scallop ice cream – well, maybe not this last one. Bubba Gump Shrimp could benefit from a partnership here.

Downtown Digby, Nova Scotia during rush hour

Scotland gave the world great heroes such as William Wallace, a brave warrior poet that bears a striking resemblance to Mel Gibson. A day without a kilt is like a day without sunshine, wouldn’t you say? The newer version of this Gaelic land sitting across the pond has gifted its own heroes such as Sidney Crosby (you’re welcome Pittsburg), Robert Borden (the most charismatic Prime Minister we’ve ever had) and Alexander Keith (a hero to many Canadian university students) just to name a few. Culturally, there are several similarities between these fine people and New Englanders. Many venture into the high seas amid very dangerous conditions to ensure every Canadian household has a lobster on their dinner table. There is also a French connection among some of the population, adding to a rich Acadian culture all along our East Coast. Viticulture is starting to take off in the Annapolis Valley and Lunenberg now plays host to one of the most important rum festival in Canada.

What I most enjoyed on the way to Ingomar was the peace and solace found throughout this scarcely populated region. If you seek some quiet reflection, this may very well be your ideal place – in the summer time of course. The coastline has few settlements and their respective populations are barely in the hundreds. The long empty sandy beaches are waiting for you. Ever dreamt of having your own private beach? Well, it is possible in southern Nova Scotia. Every time I am in need of a brief escape into the land of meditation, I transport myself to the beach where I once sat, admired the waves, felt the soothing embrace of the wind and listened to my mp3 player serenading me with my favourite tunes. Absolute bliss, wouldn’t you agree? In most other deserted beaches around the world, you’ll go from zen-like conditions to being quickly swarmed by legions of local merchants as you watch your five seconds of peace dissipate like Richard Kimble in search of the one-armed man.

The accent in Southern Nova Scotia is very distinct. For a moment, you could swear you somehow ended up somewhere in Ireland, leading you to believe that the ferry from Saint John to Cork is much quicker than an airplane ride. Top of the morning to you, boy-o! Life is much simpler there and this is something many of us could learn from these kind souls – or at least appreciate it while you are there. While I was on my reconnaissance missions in Shelburne and Barrington, the locals smiled and actually said “Good morning!” I had almost forgotten the existence of those words in the English language after the many years in Ontario. I felt like a deer stuck in the headlights wondering what would be an ideal reply to such a salutation. During one of our family walks, one of the few residents in Ingomar insisted to have us over for dinner one evening. That’s just the way they are. Too bad we couldn’t take a few of them and recolonize Ontario.

Good times in Ingomar, Nova Scotia

Ingomar was our base of operations during our week in the province. From there, we planned strategic visits to Halifax, Peggy’s Cove and Lunenberg, some of the usual touristy destinations. The commentary on those places is soon to come, I promise. It was surprising to find large supermarkets comparable to those in metropolitan areas in a very isolated part of the world but even more, live lobsters the size of a small child. I was not sure if to react in amazement or worry – the beasts could rebel against their captors for sure. Although I had initially suggested to my father we should pick one up – even if it was just to have one as a household pet – my mother discouraged this decision. They were much too large to fit in a pot or our small oven at the cottage. Nothing life fresh seafood!

Thanksgiving Weekend

2012-10-07T12:00:00.000-04:00

Canada typically slips under a deep turkey-induced slumber over this weekend, as is customary every year. Canadian Thanksgiving – yes, the real Thanksgiving! – is celebrated about a month before the American. The usual meal come dinnertime is a fully stuffed turkey (without stuffing, there is no turkey), soothing gravy, heavenly roasted potatoes and peas and carrots (yes, just peas and carrots). We say goodbye to a joyful summer season full of activities in great fashion and gear up for old man winter. This is "hands down" my favourite holiday because it is one last hurrah with the family before Christmas and it becomes more difficult to get around when we are buried under hundreds of feet of snow.

We can be heroes, just for one day

In the past, our ancestors used to congregate around the dinner table, thankful of a bountiful harvest. I always believe that the closest families are those that sit and eat their meals together, cashing in on some valuable and much needed face time. Communication is everything, don’t you know? The elegant turkey, a wonderful beast native to North America (nothing short of a gift from God), replaces the jolly old goose that the English consume over important festivities. In the old days, if our adventurous farmers avoided their routine obligations of labouring the land, winters would not give up the chance of punishing them. There were no Costco or Walmarts back then – hard to believe, isn’t it? Nowadays, we take for granted the fact that we can go into any supermarket, any time of the year, and buy “fresh” fruit. Our strategic free trade agreements truly play an important role in stocking our finest stores with produce.

Thanksgiving is a time to appreciate everything we have earned. We all feel we deserve the break. Let’s not forget, there are also many unexpected gifts that come our way during the year, making the nature of our lives so much more the sweeter. We spend our days in hectic, fast-paced environments, which facilitates forgetting far too easily our blessings. We are guilty on several counts of complaining to our friends and family that we want more out of life or we would rather be in a different situation. We all have our own paths in life and there is no “one-size-fits-all” prescription to our life’s purpose. It is amazing how we can neglect all the little (and not so little) things that make us wealthy in every sense of the word and sometimes, the envy of others. What we should be doing more often is investing more on our worthwhile relationships instead of pushing these aside putting all our eggs in the wrong basket.

This season, I am grateful for my dearest friends and family who have been extremely supportive during my injury and the challenging road to recovery. On June 24^th, I celebrated Saint Jean Baptiste in the emergency room after tearing my left Achilles tendon, something I cannot recommend anyone else to do. On the plus side, I lost a few pounds I didn’t need due to the trauma. That is still not much of a tradeoff. A few weeks later, I dropped into the hospital to undergo day surgery and they sure weren’t kidding when they thought that name up. I did spend almost an entire workday there. All of your visits, phone calls, e-mails – and let’s not forget the Soy Tazzo Chais from Starbucks - letting me know you are there for me. That means the world to me and it is the best gift I could ever receive, far surpassing anything material. In fact, you really know whom your friends are when you go through these kinds of situations and I am truly blessed. Now, I am taking on physiotherapy and look forward to the future.

A portrait of a healthy man... minus the left tendon foot

In the spirit of Turkey Day – more like Turkey Weekend, am I right? – I hope you are all extra careful out there on the road and eat turkey in moderation. This fantastic fowl has some somniferous proprieties. Everything always has a catch. This is a time where joy, appreciation, friendship, reconciliation and quality time with your loved ones are the most important ingredients to your family gathering. The good times are the special moments we hold dearest, giving us the edge over challenging moments. It is also an ideal time to grab a coat and head to the nearest shelters to help those who are less fortunate. There are people out there who could use a smile and a hot plate of food to warm up their Thanksgiving. Happy tukeying to all!

Saint John... Let’s Have Some Fundy!

2012-09-30T12:00:00.000-04:00

Saint John is the most populous city in the province of New Brunswick and it is also the place where my father spent his last years as a teenager in the Maritimes before coming to Ontario. When we arrived to this pretty little city, we had the unique opportunity to observe the Reversing Falls for a brief moment. To the untrained eye, it sure doesn’t look like much compared to Niagara Falls or Iguaçú. I suppose the gigantic pulp and paper mill sitting straight across from where I was standing, getting in the way of any natural beauty didn’t do much for me. There is also an unusual – to the untrained nose, of course - urine-like stench that spews out through its smoke stacks. The magic is all in the tide – or as they call it in some places, “the tuh-ide.”

The tide you say? Yes, my trout! The Bay of Fundy is not only known as one of the most fun bays in Canada, but for its amazing tidal changes between the highs and lows. The difference is record breaking, but it seems no one is keeping score on this one. It’s nature’s most impressive rollercoaster ride (check out the video up above). Apparently, should you venture along the coastline during the low tide, once the shift to high tide comes into high gear, not even Poseidon himself would stand a chance at outrunning the awesome forces of nature. Then again, why would the Greek God of the Seas be out for a stroll on land? Maybe he thought he had become a merman. Perhaps the only one able to accomplish such as feat is the one and only Chuck Norris. Did you know that he is so tough, he uses Tabasco sauce for eye drops? – this is based on fact, not fiction, ladies and gentlemen, I am not making any of this up. He could roundhouse kick the ocean back to low tide.

Coming back to the tide, the changes that occur in the ocean play a role on the Saint John River as well. The rapids flow one way during the low tide and then the other way during high tide, hence its name, the Reversing Falls. Another interesting fact for the Myth Busters! You can only truly take in the magnitude of this magical circle of life that moves us all by spending a full day in the city. Otherwise, you just think that it’s a curious name from the local language. It is pretty fantastic and is one of the more visited sites in the city. My father used to walk through that part of town in 10 feet of snow, barefoot and with a crispy 50 below temperature on a daily basis to get from home to school and back. People were so much tougher back then… and so was the weather!

Saint John is also home to one of our national treasures: the Moosehead brewery. Access to high quality, premium beer, is one of the pillars Canada was founded on. We are extremely tolerant and accepting here, but do not knock our holy water. If you do walk down that dark road while on Canadian soil, you’ll soon discover we are not as peaceful and polite as you would think. The brewery is only a stone throw away from the river and the pulp and paper mill. Maybe the mix of the two give that strange brew a unique refreshing taste. We should ask the Moose himself. Another local attraction in the old hood adding to our national pride is the Carleton Martello Tower. This is was a strategic defensive fortification used in the war of 1812 to keep the Americans at bay. Thank you Martello for your great towers!

Mom posing with the founder of Moosehead

New Brunswick is by far one of my favourite provinces in Canada – shame it is so far away from where I live – and the people are extremely friendly. It really adds to the experience. I made my way out of Saint John the following morning, aboard a now defunct ferry service that connected this part of the world to the southern tip of Nova Scotia. Now, if you need to make that trip across, the only option is by land (which makes for a really lengthy road trip) or hopping aboard the metal condor (internal air travel is always quite pricey). I was excited to finally set foot in a matter of hours on the newer Scotland, the province that welcomed my father and his band of merry Bickfords from the United Kingdom. To Digby and beyond!

Wagons East

2012-09-23T12:00:00.000-04:00

This weekend, I am hitting the rewind button, taking us back to the summer of 2005 – if you are interested in further time travel experiences, send me an e-mail and we’ll talk. The Bickfords set their sights on the mighty Maritimes for a memorable family vacation, suggested by our newest family member at the time, my sister-in-law, Melissa. The Atlantic is a part of this great country that has holds a special place in my father’s memories and is truly an incredibly friendly place. I love Maritimers. My father spent most of his youth in various remote settlements throughout Nova Scotia and New Brunswick when his family immigrated from the United Kingdom. These rural settlements may not have evolved much since his childhood, much like Geneva, according to Rousseau.

Edmunston, New Brunswick on a magical summer night

My Dad wanted to take this trip since his return to Canada in 2001, but for various reasons, it had not come through. He managed to gather precious years of strategic intel and even designed a mock itinerary. In 2002, Brian got married, which led to a more Ontario-focussed summer delightfully deviating him from his objective. After all, Niagara-On-The-Lake is quite a colourful place to spend some quality summertime and I actually got my first ever sister at the tender age of 21. The following year, he gave us a real scare with a serious heart attack on his way home from work. His prolonged stay in our healthcare facilities coincided with the infamous SARS epidemic that hit Ontario pretty hard, especially our tourism industry. Every single visit to the Ottawa General Hospital’s Intensive Care Unit included a routine interview, screening visitors through a series of questions gauging potential exposure to the virus. I was asked every day for updated travels to Asia – I never told them that I went to China overnight and came back just to spread the virus – and regarding obscene consumption of Imperial Pork or General Tao Chicken. It was nerve-racking to observe so much prejudice on Chinese Buffets, the silent heroes of university students and their budgets.

In July 2005, the Ottawa delegation of Bickfords hit the road due East, making a few pit stops on our way to Ingomar, Nova Scotia’s wildest tourist attraction. For those who are not familiar with this part of the mapa mundi, you can do a quick Google Map query for McNutts Island, home of the Sea Loins – much like regular sea lions, but these are the Nova Scotia kind. The first of these breaks included a brief overnight stay in beautiful Edmunston, an entirely bilingual city on the New Brunswick panhandle. They spoke both official languages simultaneously which can be quite challenging for most of us but very patriotic nonetheless. We tried one of the local delicacies in our hotel restaurant which is a thin buckwheat pancake called “ploy” and must be injested (at your own risk) with a generous cover of “creton”. Creton is a meat spread blending onions, spices and pork butt – sounds yummy, doesn’t it? Pork butt is not the first thing that comes to mind especially when you lack a strong agricultural or butcher background – like most of us out there. It is a specific cut of pork but I thought originally that they were goat brains. Well, whatever doesn’t kill you makes you stronger, as THEY say. All kidding aside, it is worth a try although it is not exactly a low-cal meal.

The following day, we enjoyed a delicious bag lunch in the city of Fredericton, the provincial capital. The drive down is spectacular, as the road hugs the Saint John River and provides a wonderful waterfront in the heart of the city. I had never been there before and I was blown away by the beauty of the downtown. Don’t walk more than five blocks or you’ll be lost in the suburbs. The old buildings are incredibly well preserved, surrounded by sculpted parks and colourful summer gardens, really adding a touch of elegance to all the cultural heritage. Even the tourist office has an official armed Red Coat guard – I certainly don’t envy wearing a thick wool military uniform in thirty degree weather – to thwart any serious terrorist attack. The settlement was first established by the French during the colonial era but there is much more of a reflection of British history as control of the town changed into the Empire’s hands. The population is slightly on the older side of the age scale yet there is some presence of youth thanks to the University of New Brunswick campus, one of our finest post-secondary institutions in the area.

Fredericton's picturesque downtown

On the drive down to Saint John, New Brunswick – not to be mistaken for Saint John’s, Newfoundland, St. Jean, Quebec or San Juan, Puerto Rico – I had a chance to see the longest covered bridge in North America, perhaps even in the world, in Hartland. Many nations have built bridges spanning several kilometres (a few less miles) but nobody builds covered bridges like Canadians do. We are the envy of the world. If you need a covered bridge, we will be happy to share our expertise. After all, it is our gift to the world. Next time you walk across a bridge, struggling against the wind and precipitation that seems to be falling horizontally rather than vertically, you will think of us and our humane constructions. Maybe I am reaching too far – or maybe not – but maybe that is why we are one of the best countries to live in on our planet. Never underestimate the power of a bridge.

Bob Marley – The Developing World’s Superstar

2012-09-16T12:00:00.000-04:00

Most of us outside the reggae culture have the tendency to make negative associations in regards to the followers of the natural mystic and the Rastafarian movement (the Rastas are synonymous to the hypnotic positive vibrations) drawing our conclusions from stereotypes – ‘dem put in place by crazy baldheads, mon! This Afro-centric spiritual movement came into being in the 1930s Caribbean, borrowing core beliefs from Christianity and elements of a troubled Atlantic slave trade history. Emperor Haile Selassie I of Ethiopia is considered the reincarnation of Jesus and the saviour that will return black people to the Promised Land.

Bob Marley with the universal colours of Ras Tafari

During my convalescence, I became addicted to a book my father gave me called, “Bob Marley: The Stories Behind Every Song,” by Maureen Sheridan. This reggae pioneer is undoubtedly the most recognized ambassador of this religious and spiritual movement. This religion was his muse and he wanted to spread the word throughout the globe. The book provides a truly inspiring picture of this humble country boy and his humble journey that led to international stardom. In his lifetime, he became one of the most successful artists - and to many, a world hero - hailing from the developing world. Not even Ricky Martin has managed to match Jamaica’s most famous son’s prowess. The local street culture and vibes dominating every day life in Trench Town, one of the toughest ghettos in Jam-rock in his time also is instrumental in his music. He actually began his musical career first as a solo artist while living in the slums, and afterwards befriended Neville O’Riley Livingston – better known as “Bunny Wailer” - and Peter Tosh, eventually giving birth to the Wailers, a true blessing that launched reggae music to an international audience hungry for a new sound.

The beauty of the instrumental doctrine adopted in most melodies is the simplicity. In the words of the reggae man himself: “One good thing about music, when it hits you, you feel no pain.” His powerful poetic lyrics did just that job without the need to shout. Much of his material originated from a tough childhood where he faced rejection from his white father, watching people starve while they earned relatively nothing for a day’s work, his comfort in the love of Jah and his dissatisfaction with a system that disenfranchised much of his brethren. When his music hits you that is what you are feeling. His songs were loaded with messages of hope that captivated huge crowds from Kingston to Sydney. Everyone wanted to see the show and those who had not, said they did. Leading entertainment personalities such as Stevie Wonder and Mick Jagger were also drawn to his music, but he remained a down-to-Earth dreadlock Rasta, looking to help each and every person who came to see him on his beloved island – even after an attempt on his life that forced him into exile. He promoted respect for one another, one love one heart, - meaning we are all part of a global family regardless of our skin colour, belief and social status – and standing up for our rights, which all continue to resonate today.

Bob’s magic was his incredible ability to reach out to people – although he was frustrated to have had little effect on African-Americans for reasons beyond his understanding. Concerts in Milan, Tokyo and other cities where English was not widely spoken, everyone in attendance was always able to sing along to the Wailers, skankin’ to the lively beat. The music enters through the ears and flows into the veins and you enter the universal realm of rhythm and global dance of peace. In Sheridan’s book, she mentiones that Marley was under CIA surveillance due to a seemingly “communist” belief system and his ability in influencing and drawing large crowds. Among the most important gatherings in his performance history and in duty to his people, was the Smile Jamaica concert in Kingston, aimed at uniting warring political factions. Right wing and left-wing gangs were engaged in shootouts, leaving significant casualties, including women and children caught in the crossfire and the split between haves and have-nots continued to grow at an alarming pace. Hostilities ceased temporarily, but perhaps primarily because of a tainted past, Jamaica has been unable to pull out of a violent and poverty stricken reality, often teetering on the brink of failure as a nation-state.

The legacy continues

Bob Marley’s legacy continues after his tragic passing at only 36 years old because of a widespread, untreatable cancer. Pick up the book if you come across it and you will not regret it. His music has inspired many musical acts, including a massive boom in countries where reggae is hardly part of history such as Argentina, Chile, Mexico and Venezuela, just to mention a few. His success was not only fueled by his love of music and natural gift to connecting with a diverse audience, but because of his devotion to his craft. His peers described him as a man on a mission. He was constantly plucking at his guitar strings, writing lyrics and having jam sessions lasting several hours without a break. His children still harbour certain resentment towards their rock star parents’ lifestyle, growing up neglected (their mother was part of Marley I-Threes chorus) and perhaps it was a sacrifice for a short lifetime of achievement.

Love and Marriage (Sinatra Is Not Here)

2012-09-09T12:00:00.000-04:00

I celebrated my emancipation from two and a half months of a left foot wrapped up in various different casts designed by Ontario’s finest, attending a wedding last weekend. Mouki was my first friend in my University of Ottawa days and quickly became one of my best friends. The bountiful universe always finds a way of providing. I had the sincere pleasure of meeting his fiancée over two years ago - his match made in heaven – one fine Canada Day as my lovely wife and I fled Toronto’s G-20 week’s high-octane activities. It was truly a shame my cameo appearance on the big day was rather brief due to my convalescence, an air boot and my two favourite crutches following me around since June 24, 2012, restricting my movement, but I was honoured to witness the blessed union of two gentle and wonderful souls.

Congratulations to Mr. and Mrs. Abdilahi

The joyous ceremony was held in a peaceful garden filled with their family and friends, under a cozy late summer sun, the afternoon of September 1, 2012. The handsome groom and beautiful bride stood with that spark in their eyes before their guests supporting their commitment through their attendance. It is impossible to detach yourself from your own experience having taken the plunge, which sets in motion a cascade of flashbacks reminding you of your own moment standing at the altar. You can never forget that look in your better half’s gaze confirming that the future is and will be amazing. Just the thought of sharing an entire life with that person in front of you is the most comforting feeling ever. The most concise and accurate definition of this commitment, whether it be religious, civil or any other form of permanent union, could not have been better defined than what the justice of the peace leading the proceedings said in just four words: love, faith, trust and respect.

Virgil coined the timeless expression, “Love conquers all.” It is the foundation for successful relationships enabling a couple to transcend negatives that are materialised through individual expectations. My sister-in-law once mentioned, “The key to marriage is to never stop dating” and her system is still working after a decade of tying the knot. This is one of my favourite quotes on maintaining a healthy and loving relationship with your partner. The love that brings two people together is the purest feeling that comes about naturally and can hardly be expressed into words. You just know it is there. Expectations you place on each other and others, even on those outside of your holy union, can lead knock you off your path and descend into self-destruction. What we have in common as human beings is that we are not in control of entirely everything and the sooner we can realize this, we can live a fuller life. We have a restricted strangle hold on some situations while we attempt to forward our agendas yet we cannot fully materialise many desires that are interdependent on external circumstances, such as the free will of other people. True love has no expectations, except for love itself.

My father-in-law shared his key advice on preserving a constructive marriage on the day of my wedding, singling out that the most important is to give. I absolutely concur with him and I take this concept further, recommending that the best gift to one another aside from keeping the love going is faith, trust and respect. Without the heart feeling what it feels naturally, these three cannot coexist. Faith is a strong belief in your partner and their belief system, based on a spiritual apprehension rather than requiring material proof. Some find it impossible to believe in anything that is not tangible. Trust can be defined as essentially believing in the reliability of another person knowing that what he or she is doing is for the best of “us,” relieving the old guard of what is “mine” and what is “yours.” Last but not least, respect is a feeling of deep admiration for someone elicited by the abilities, qualities or achievements as they face success and hardships for the sake of the common relationship. These four fully nurtured and balanced can guide you to glory through the toughest of circumstances.

The wedding bands, the promise of a union

The wedding band you wear once the relationship is officially recognized symbolizes these four ingredients perfectly. The ring has neither beginning nor end, entailing that the union is eternal, as is your commitment to honouring these principles for as long as you both shall live. “Till death do you part,” as is customarily expressed in these ceremonies. There are plenty of ups and downs and, at any given moment, these highs or lows can appear endless. Your belief in each other is essential. Remember all the small things, as eventually these accumulate into a heavy positive when weighed on a balance, proving Virgil’s point. This is the light at the end of the tunnel on the road to overcome the tragic, make you stronger and fully enjoy the good times as a true gift from an abundant universe together. If you want something you have to work hard for it and the reward is a long, happy life. Remember, it is no longer “you” and “I.”

For All The Gold In The Yukon

2012-09-02T12:00:00.000-04:00

The way outsiders view Canada is particularly interesting. Aside from the typical stereotype that everyone in the country is white, blonde and blue-eyed – that seems to me more reminiscent of “The Children of The Corn” or the “Refuge of the Damned” - I have come across quite a number of incredible misconceptions. Friends in Latin America have asked me, “Is it true that your government gives you a house for free?” Man, I must have lucked out on that one! I have even heard radio commercials in a taxi in Mexico City advertising this statement. Watch out welfare state, they all know! You would be surprised how many times I have been asked this question.

Our blonde, blue-eyed, white people of Canada

In emerging economies, particularly Latin America, Canadians are not seen to be much different from Americans – although locals tell us we are better behaved. We are all gringos being paid in dollars, yet little do they know, we pay everything in dollars as well. Canada is viewed as a land of opportunity and our citizens as having enough money to bail out a small country. They must be watching too many Scotiabank commercials. Are we really richer than we think? In fact, we are not much different from the rest of the advanced economies when we boil it down to purchasing power: our discretionary income is subject to our cost of living. Well, we are also quite heavily taxed but then again, we all believe that no matter where we live. Like everyone else, we enjoy a better standard of living in contrast to monarchs of decades past, thanks in big part to credit and borrowing. We have witnessed what happens when going overboard watching the news. This can also happen to your household economy. Living beyond your means will catch up to haunt you, anywhere in the world.

Latin America is at a significant disadvantage primarily due to its tumultuous political, economic and social history. Some countries in the region are cleaning up their act and beginning to gather up admirable momentum. Their exposure to the global economic crisis is quite limited which provides a safer investment climate. However, institutions continue to be somewhat weak and major unexpected shifts are to be expected. Guerrilla movements, drug trafficking, populist leaders, a small powerful elite, kidnappings are all still part of the every day reality making these areas volatile. A potential Chavez can sneak in and “redistribute” wealth at any moment. You don’t believe me? Well, neither did Venezuela’s elite and middle-class yet it happened nonetheless. Anyone notice how unsatisfied Cristina Fernandez (de Kirchner) has followed suit, increasingly isolating Argentina from the world? It’s time to cry for Argentina. Everyone has a breaking point, and the majority of poor people carrying a heavy burden can definitely bite back.

However, this is ironically also Latin America’s advantage over Canada. There is a true spirit of entrepreneurship engrained in the national psyche. The unkind circumstances many generations faced mixed in with a certain local ingenuity in their blood have created an extremely adaptable population. In Canada, if you study economics, you become an economist. If you study education, you become a teacher. It’s the general rule. Everything is degree and permit-based these days and the different layers of government maintain the status quo. An economist can’t choose to become an importer or distributor unless they possess the funds to put themselves through expensive courses, eventually obtaining a certification and a new career. Patience is a virtue. Once certified, if he wants to import apples and shaving cream, he will require separate authorization from individual bureaucracies and pay yet another fee. Over in Latin America, people are flexible because of instability and there are always ways around getting from point A to point B. If you need a permit, many times, all you need is a bit of cheddar.

A homeless man on Bay Street, an image not often considered of Canada

Our main advantage as Canadians is having been born in the right country when it comes to safety and security. Perhaps it could be the maple syrup flowing from our taps that makes us so peaceful. Or maybe it’s our obsession with hockey where we punch and body check our stress that would lead us to become criminals? Whatever it is, we are the envy of the world. People are enticed to move here when they find out about salaries offered in our big cities, yet our mortgages and rents are also higher. It’s all very relative. We are as wealthy as others when compared to standard of living. Before you take the big leap to leave your country or go to another, as I always say, do your homework to avoid any serious heartbreak. All the gold we have left here are the Yukon gold potatoes.

I Dream Of Vacations

2012-08-26T12:00:00.000-04:00

Security is the last (and often neglected) aspect considered when both vacation and travel are mixed in the same pot labelled ‘downtime’. As consumers, we scavenge around the Internet waves, hunting for flights, hotels and car rentals that best suit our budgets. The thrill of escaping the mundane blinds us, as we are rewarding ourselves for the sacrifices of daily responsibility. The search eventually becomes a credit card transaction, leading to the customary packing of a beaten up suitcase, that faithful travel companion that keeps all of our favourite tourist gear. Now it’s time to kick back and daydream of the exotic sandy beaches, the fine dining and everything related to the exciting unknown, locking the door and everyday life until the return.

Paradise is one short flight away

Many North American tourists flee from the frigid temperatures in hopes to find more balmy ones further South – anywhere without polar bears and walruses prancing around the snow covered countryside will do. When I returned to Canada from my exile, I was surprised with the number of tempting, all-inclusive packages, enticing you to spend a week in the Caribbean. Some of these interesting deals included Costa Rica, Cuba, Dominican Republic – the real name of a country people call, “The Dominican” – Jamaica – if there is “The Dominican”, let’s call this one, Jamrock – Mexico and other dreamy slices of tropical paradise. These places become even more tempting to a potential customer when you have to walk on a sidewalk during a 30-below day without taking into account the bone chilling winds. There have been times where I have considered applying as an environmental refugee in the Sahara just because of our winters.

The truth is, not many people plan ahead or research about where they are travelling once the tickets are purchased. Woo palm trees! I suppose the reasoning may follow these lines: “Why should I do homework when it comes to MY vacation time? The only preparation I need is to be care-free!” I am willing to put money on this one – I have plenty of Monopoly money sitting around in a shoe box - but I am certain most of those who are aligned with this school of thought have probably never come across the words: “consular case.” If you do not take the proper precautions such as reading comprehensive travel guides, watch documentaries or look for news clippings about where you are going, you could find out what this means sooner rather than later. Do yourself a favour and invest in your investment.

In this part of the world, we often hear horror stories about people’s nightmare-ish vacation. I have heard everything from Canadian teenagers arrested in Jamaica trying to smuggle marijuana back to the frozen North, couples roughed up outside their hotel in some dodgy part of town they never should have gone to or vacationers arrested for disorderly conduct. Everyone likes to have fun yet we all have different ways of experiencing this concept. Just because you are somewhere other than home when on vacation, this does not mean you can switch off your “civilized button.” What happens on vacation, does not stay in your vacation. On the contrary, you may just end up extending your stay in a foreign prison resort in your very own cell, getting acquainted with some of the tougher individuals you were never supposed to meet according to your travel agent.

When will this vacation end?

Many developing countries have spectacular hotels providing outstanding services for their guests. However, you must take into consideration that the majority of staff can’t even dream about taking any trip with the kind of salary they are on. Some even live in countries where they are not aloud to leave. You may find in some instances that locals approach you, asking for a gift and others just take what they want - you may not enjoy this one-way cultural exchange. Make sure to do your homework and find out what you can do, where you can go and what places you most certainly have to avoid. These are not recommendations but warnings. Doing this routine has certainly guaranteed that my vacations are a proper investment rather than a lifetime regret. Thank you for tuning into this public service announcement and happy travels to all!

Do Spaniards Like Latin Americans?

2012-08-19T12:00:00.000-04:00

A question I have often been asked is, “Do Spaniards like or dislike Latin Americans?” There is no simple one-liner befitting of a proper answer. The hispanization of the Americas was a similar process to ordinary colonialism as seen through historical examples, which also resembles the conclusion of a long fought war. History is often written by the victors who impose their culture, laws, tradition and religion onto the conquered, assimilating under the authority of King and Empire. Why not? To the victor belong the spoils. As decades turn to centuries, what was once a conquered and subjugated people soon begin to take on a similar culture as the colonial father, almost as clear as looking in a mirror.

During my short stay in Madird, I did not personally sense any sort of racism or xenophobia as a consequence to my presence. Physically, I am far from conforming to the stereotype of a Canadian formed by the world beyond our borders which would be, being blonde, blue-eyed and a polar ice skin tone, which could be something a more sensitive person could consider as racism. Personally, I would associate such a stereotype to Scandinavians – but we all know generalizations can often be erroneous – but it seems the entire world has come to this consensus. I speak Spanish perfectly well, having perhaps more of a distinctive South American flair. Throughout my trip, most people I met initially believed I was from that part of the world and when I said I was Canadian, the response was unanimous: “No way man! You can’t be because you speak Spanish properly!” I guess we can agree, that in my case, stereotypes tend to lose any validity as in many other situations. When people did believe I was another Latin American, I never felt that I was mistreated in anyway.

The only exception I can really make reference to was one evening, where I was in a bar chatting with some new friends I made along the way. The table beside us had three young Spanish buddies getting together for a beer after a long day in the grind. It’s very healthy in their culture to make the most of downtime with your closest friends. All of a sudden, I overheard their conversation as one of them said: “I absolutely love latinos! They are very helpful and know their place in society!” Now, the biggest problem with language is that it is all very open to interpretation, which is the process in which we identify what is said with what best suits our understanding. Of course, I felt offended by such an insensitive comment, especially being in a Mexican-themed restaurant, but also due to my affinity to a continent that had been my home for so many years. Maybe his statement was not meant to be ill-intended? Perhaps he was just trying to say that he felt his people were not particularly helpful and spoke out of place far too often.

Although, it would be hard for me to say that during my time living down south, people there admired the glorious people of the Iberian Peninsula. The world is becoming much more interconnected, which leads me to feel that we are slowly learning more about other cultures beyond our borders. We all have our dark side which contributes to limiting the way we think and are, which has generally led me to believe that racism and xenophobia find their roots in ignorance, the most dangerous of flaws. A person who has lived his or her entire life in the same city or country feels comfortable with his or hers grasp on reality. They have not been challenged beyond the minor inconveniences of living a rather sheltered life. They were not forced to leave every familiar aspect behind in hopes of bettering themselves in foreign lands. What they know, they know well and there is nothing beyond that. It’s because of this that when a Colombian is mistaken for a Venezuelan, a Canadian for an American, a Catalan for a Spaniard, we tend to feel deeply insulted. How can anyone confuse us for someone we are not? We eat, breathe, sweat, cry, the same way the rest of our countrymen and women do back home, and there is no confusing this for what it is not.

Spain has become a place where Ecuadorans, Colombians, Argentines, Paraguayans… well, I am sure you get the idea… go to try their luck. When we set up a mighty arsenal of suitcases to skip town, we do this because we feel where we live, we have exhausted any opportunity for betterment and we are convinced the grass really is greener on the other side. People who migrate are not doing so because they are bored living in the lap of luxury as their butler, Jeffrey, tends to your every need. As a consequence of this meeting of Hispanic cultures, some of the Spaniards receive these foreigners as the heroes in the frontlines taking the jobs they do not want to do while others detest the very idea of their presence, changing the world they have always known. For Latin Americans, they will always find welcoming people as well as more hostile ones, just like in every other country in the world when receiving an outsider who has arrived to set up shop.

Seville Has Not Abandoned Me

2012-08-12T12:00:00.000-04:00

After a successful run in Madrid making new friends and visiting leading universities, my time had come to head on down to Atocha. This is the city’s main land transportation gateway to the south, both for rail and buses. For about $60 USD, I was able to get a seat on the AVE Renfe high-speed train bound for Seville. The trip’s duration was approximately 3 hours and half. Upon arrival in the late evening, I would be reunited for a few days with my long-time friend from high school, Alejandro Alves and his family. Upon completing their posting for Telefónica in Lima, they too had returned to their hometown.

La Giralda in Seville

While I travelled at ridiculous speeds through the Spanish countryside, covered under the thick blanket of night, I wondered what the city of Seville would look like. I assumed the architecture would be similar to that of Madrid and the majestic colonial buildings found in the Americas. Being the fourth largest urbanization in the country, I figured there would not be much to see in comparison to London, Paris, Rome – all cities I had yet to visit in my life – or even Madrid. The main purpose in this leg of my trip was seeing my good friend after 3 years. At this point, I realized how fast time can go by. After a brief layover in Cordoba (once again, not much to see through the window in the darkness of night) I arrived to be greeted by Alejandro and his father Adolfo.

During the next couple of days, both Adolfo and Alejandro volunteered to be my tour guides. I appreciated Adolfo’s company as he explained with great pride every inch of the city, from the towers for storing gold and silver to the city’s motto decorating every item of municipal property. It was a matter of seeing the cityscape in the daylight to realize my assumptions about the architecture formulated in the train were all wrong. I was surrounded by thousands of years or more of history. The old town is actually among the largest in Europe, which includes numerous UNESCO World Heritage sites. The “must sees” are hard to miss, especially the Giralda that can be spotted at a distance. This majestic structure resembles a towering minaret, giving you a feeling of walking around a major city in North Africa. As a matter of fact, this building was originally erected by the Moorish invaders who occupied Andalusia (Al-Andalus) for centuries and were ousted during the Spanish Reconquista.

As you approach the Giralda, you will notice it was a minaret converted into a steeple and is part of the Cathedral. Funny enough, the main foundations and supporting structures are typical from mosques but the decorations are all Christian altars, images and decorations. The raw materials used to forge these were gold and silver brought from the New World. What would have been of Latin America if all these riches would have stayed in their place of origin? Many of the virgins and altars weight far more than we can imagine and are hauled around the streets in an organized and proud procession during Holy Week. This is a valued tradition that has been passed on through generations. It was incredible to notice how attached Andalusians are to their roots and, although the Spanish people appear to be far less devout as Latin Americans continue to be, these traditions based in religion are far from disappearing.

With Alejandro, the best tour guide

Unfortunately, my time in Sevilla was hardly enough to uncover much of its history to satisfy my interest. I paid homage to the Virgin of Macarena, visited the site of Expo 1928 and 1992, the General Archive of the Indies and the House of Trade. The diversity in the countries heritage began to shed some light on the uniqueness of the people (‘nations’ as I had previously referenced in my nation-building blog) that make up the Kingdom of Spain. Many of the colonies appear much more uniform culturally in comparison to their ancestors’ homeland. I hoped to make another trip with more time to the Iberian peninsula in the not too distant future to get a better picture of the many realms in the Kingdom.

Spain, The Motherland

2012-08-05T12:00:00.000-04:00

Spain became the original gateway to the Americas, shortly after 1492, when Columbus sailed the ocean blue. His historic coming ashore in the New World is still commemorated on October 12th from North to South America (with some exceptions, including Canada). The festivities are dubbed differently from one country to another: in the US as Columbus Day, in many countries in Latin America as “El Dia de la Raza”, in Spain as “El Dia de la Hispanidad” and other variations. Although old Chris and his merry men never made it to India - the original goal - they definitely managed to leave their mark on an entire region. The majority of Spanish Latin America and Caribbean can trace back their cultural inheritance from Spain – whether they like this or not – along with an added distinctive blend of aboriginal culture to spice up the flavour.

Nope, the world is not flat like a pancake...

I first ventured to Spain back in the winter of 2004, with the purpose of visiting post graduate institutions to potentially pursue studies in international law. In Ontario, we generally have a short week’s vacation in February from university called Reading Week, which proved a suitable moment to make this trip. I possessed a keen interest in this country as a South American – a trait developed over years of residing in the continent – and had only a textbook knowledge on certain cultural and historic facets of what was once the Motherland. Of course, few truly feel comfortable in the New World calling the former empire as the Madre Patria. Furthermore, part of my own roots could be traced back to Castilla y Leon on my maternal grandmother’s side, which signified a sort of homecoming once more. It is quite an understatement to mention that I was excited to make this trip.

I spent my first few day in Madrid, the capital located literally at the geographical centre of the Spanish territory. I was initially surprised that in European terms, it is relatively a new city. It was a small city for several centuries before King Philip II moseyed on over from Toledo in 1561. The construction boom really hit town in the 18th century during the Bourbon Kings rule – and no, the royal family was not from Kentucky or Tennessee although they may have had a well-defined “booze tooth”. Interesting enough, most of the Latin America’s colonial buildings and structures are reminiscent of Madrid’s architecture – they were all built around the same era on both sides of the pond. After spending a prolonged exile in Canada, I felt as if I had travelled to a major South American capital city, with many of the buildings reminding me of downtown Santiago, Lima and Mexico City.

My first impression of Madrileños was that they operated on high octane or had caffeine running through their veins. For those who are new to this city, you may feel like you easily get on people’s nerves. I hopped on a cab on La Castellana and upon closing the door, the driver aggressively and rudely commented “Darn foreigners always slam the door” – I dumbed down the comment to make it suitable for all audiences. Following this unpleasant exchange, he continued to make strange noises almost to express that he had much better things to do than to drive a tourist even though it was a paid service. Afterwards, he came back to questioning my door closing protocol in regards to his car and I responded with a command to stop his car and let me out. I refused to pay the fare due to the delivery of horrendous service, expressing that I was not willing to flush my cash down the proverbial toilet. Hopefully this gentleman learned some manners, although he must have thought I was the one with the problem.

Street view of beautiful Madrid

This is not to say all of the city-dwellers were obtuse. It is a very common behaviour I have dubbed the capital syndrome: residents in these cities tend to live life on a different pedantic wave length. Perhaps being the centre of politics, economy and culture is a pressure where many struggle to thrive and become bitter. Nevertheless, I met some very friendly people who did in fact share many of the friendly, joyful and hospitable behaviour that reminded me of Latin Americans. The similarity was uncanny. The primary difference seemed to lie in language. Latin Americans tend to beat around the bush when speaking and often tend to drown you in politeness, whereas the Spaniard does not waste time with niceties and manners. They seem to always get straight to the point, which can also feel rude to those of us who like protocol. Next, I was on to Seville. Stay tuned!

Mexico, Land Of Dreams

2012-07-29T12:00:00.000-04:00

Preconceptions are among the more common flaws we all possess. I am sure some among us would go above and beyond to discredit this statement, but there really is no back door to sneak out through. It is a brown flaming paper bag on the doorstep but it is a means to define that twilight zone of the unknown. No matter how deep this condition is buried in our subconscious, every element surrounding us must be familiar or we become unsettled. The familiar is what brings peace of mind. We are increasingly uncomfortable with the abstract and most people find it a superhuman feat to admit: “I don’t know.” This is a major driving force fueling our almighty ego, repressing our many insecurities. We certainly don’t want others to label us as ignorant or useless. The same applies to the way we view countries beyond our borders.

Dropping by Uncle Leon's in Coyoacán, Mexico City

The negative aspect of patriotism is similar to an obsessive, stalking love infatuation. Regardless that there are other fish in the sea, there is nobody better, sexier and perfect than my country. There is only one. We have the best healthcare system, we are have the best sense of humour, we are the smartest people, our soccer team may not be good but at least they are handsome, our army smells better than yours, etc. This passion leads us much like a subservient horse with blinders on, keeping it from being frightened by the reality that surrounds its pretty large eyes. This obedient horse is managed with the crack of a whip much like we are driven by our own national psyche: nobody does it better than us. Should you break free from that carriage hauling foreigners' behinds through the colourful touristy city streets and become a wild stallion galloping freely through bountiful plains, the world out there will surprise you.

Mexico’s national image is becoming stained by the localized bloodshed, leading many foreigners to opt for other vacation destinations. I have heard people comment: “I don’t want to go to Mexico to be murdered.” Even Mexican expats contribute to tarnishing the sinking reputation of a magnificent country, stating that they moved away because of the drug cartel violence. What they won't tell you is that they actually left to pursue professional ambitions and originate from relatively sheltered regions. Mexico is still a place where you will discover a thousand shades of something new. Mexico has not matured as a destination. It has always been mature. Mexicans are proud of their rich history and culture, doing an outstanding job in maintaining world-class hotels and resorts. The services in these establishments far surpass many North America, European and even other Latin American countries’ standards. There, you can definitely find your land of dreams, whether it is walking shoulder to shoulder with the pre-Colombian gods on the Mayan Riviera, sipping a "Coco Loco" on the Pacific Coast or taking in the lovely sights of the many bustling urban centres.

During my two summer internships I was fortunate to befriend several Mexicans hailing from different parts of a very diverse country. There is something very genuine about the nature of these kind people and their enjoyment of others is unparalleled. When they say, “We should get together”, they actually mean it. They find a way to include you in their activities and before your trip is over, you are guaranteed to have expanded your own network of friends and professionals. You know where you stand with them, unlike other cultures where opinions are hidden behind a veil and an artificial smile. It is refreshing in a way not to partake in psychological warfare to ascertain where you stand in other people’s books. This provides an environment to enjoy the small things that, once added up, make one great time. Mexicans do go out of their way to ensure you feel welcome and comfortable, taking the time to explain everything to their foreign guests. They did not seek to label me as an ignorant gringo or lead up with topics to get an “I don’t know” out of me.

In my office in Polanco, Mexico City

As I closed my chapter in Mexico, a majority of my co-workers were sorry to see me go – and really, so was I. I had not realized that I had been actively engaged in supporting so many people in the staff that everyone knew me, from the ambassador to the custodian. A senior trade officer whom I had closely worked with on the Terry Fox Marathon campaign in Mexico City urged me to stay, however, I had to return to Canada to pursue my university studies. I am sure I could have landed a permanent position there, but unfortunately, these days everyone needs to have a diploma or certification to get ahead in life. Gone are the days when you did not even need to finish high school to get a job. My experience there made me grow as a person and professionally. ¡Viva Mexico!