Lisbon’s history as a human settlement dates back to the Neolithic period when the region was inhabited by Pre-Celtic tribes who built all manner of religious and funerary monuments in the area before being invaded by the Indo-European Celts. By 1200 BCE it’s believed a Phoenician trading post might have been present on the southern slope of the Castle hill, as the sheltered harbor below was ideal for providing a secure port to provision their ships travelling on to the modern day Isles of Scilly and Cornwall. It might even have been called Allis Ubbo – Phoenician for “safe harbor” – if the toponymy for the origin of Lisbon is correct. However an alternate theory suggests the settlement was in fact one of the earliest ancient Roman states, that at most maintained commercial relations with the Phoenicians having been an important commercial centre for trade with inland tribes and the sale of the renowned Lusitanian horses. Written in Latin as Ulyssippo, legend held that the region had in fact been named for Ulysses who founded the settlement after he left Troy to escape the Greek coalition.

With the defeat of Hannibal during the Punic wars, the Roman Empire moved to deprive Carthage of its control over the Iberian Peninsula and with their defeat by Scipio Africanus in the east, the Romans were able to pacify the west. It was during this that Ulyssippo allied with the legions against the northwestern tribes and earned their right to self-rule as a municipium, enjoying full rights as Roman citizens. During this period Lusitanian raids and rebellions necessitated the construction of a wall around Ulyssippo, but during the reign of Augustus also saw a great theatre, baths, necropolis, and numerous temples to their gods and the Emperor built. As piracy was eliminated, and various technological advances were introduced, the municipium became the centre of trade with the Roman provinces of Britannia and the Rhine.

Nic will probably be one of the first to tell you that I often complain about how little seems to happen in Canada’s history – making for some very boring study material. But that’s not a very fair criticism, after all we’re neighbours to the Americans, and those guys can’t seem to go five years without getting into it with someone. However, if you were to go back to August 24, 1814, Washington D.C. was being set ablaze by British troops in retaliation for the burning and looting of York (now Toronto) a year earlier at the Battle of York.

Known as the “the Burning of Washington,” this incident was considered both the low point of the War of 1812, the above being cited by some historians as the reason for the assault, and the Presidency of James Madison who was president at the time. During this attack the White House and the U.S. Capitol were largely destroyed.

The buildings housing the Senate and the House of Representatives were also set ablaze, with their interiors and the Library of Congress being destroyed as a result. But thanks to the thick walls and a torrential downpour their exteriors were saved, and the library later replaced when Thomas Jefferson sold his personal library to the government to restock the congressional library.

Interestingly less than a day after the attack began a tornado suddenly formed and passed through part of the city killing British troops and American civilians alike while putting out most of the fires. And pretty much the only reason that the British troops were forced back to their ships before any actual occupation of the capital could begin.

In addition to our efforts providing technical expertise and training for the rover program, Canada is perhaps more famously known for its development of the Canadarm in 1981, which would go on to accompany the shuttles ninety times into space. And while its service of 30 years ended with the Space Shuttle program in 2011, its legacy continues on board the International Space Station (ISS) where future generations of the arm have been developed to assist with repairs and the delivery of supplies.

And while the Canadarm2 is now regaled to maintenance and upkeep of the ISS, or helping to catch the occasional unpiloted spacecraft docking with the station, when it was first launched in April 19, 2001, this second generation arm was crucial to its building with the majority of its operation being manipulated by the crew aboard. However on our #CSAtweetup tour we discovered that most of the operations are now being run Earth side so that the expertise of the astronauts can be better put to use running experiments and collecting data. In fact St. Hubert is also where NASA and CSA personnel take their two-week crash course in the arm’s operation and familiarize themselves with the layout of the ISS, before going on to do more specialized training with simulators at other locations.

Building upon this success and expertise the Canadian Space Agency has begun working on the futuristic Next-Generation Canadarms (NGC). Preparing for a time when support service systems will not only be needed for low-Earth orbit or even the moon, but Mars and the other planets of our solar system, work has begun to develop prototypes for NGCs that will continue to aid in the simplification of repairs and performance of other tasks necessary for even deeper space exploration and galactic probes by autonomous satellites. This innovation however is not solely limited to agency prototypes, but also in finding ways to extend the life of existing platforms by enabling their servicing by tools capable of performing more delicate operations like Dextre. All of these innovations and advancements however don’t just stop with space, as they often inspire other scientists and engineers to come up with their own innovations to develop new materials and technologies for private industry, medicine, and other applications.

The awesome murals at the end of our street, created by artist Elicser working with StreetARToronto, were unveiled in November 2014, but we didn’t have a chance to get some really good photos until January 2015.

We live near The Rail Garden, a community garden, and an underpass that connects it and Monarch Park, a really large lovely park in the East End of Toronto that has an off-leash area for dogs, a playground, and a pool and splash pad in the summer, and an ice rink in the winter. In the summer, our street is a parade of swimmers and dogs; in winter, you can hear the crack of sticks on the ice late into the night.

The murals in and along the tunnel were originally done by students from nearby schools. Though they did a great job, it didn’t deter the taggers from messing with the work.

Nic took this quick shot during the painting. Elicser was there working pretty much daily for several hours a day, and it was cold.

Our favourite part of the finished mural is how much it represents our neighbourhood, from the Danforth & Gerrard shops to the garden and the people who work in it, and all the different sorts that pass through the tunnel and park. Elicser has really captured the feel of the place, and it’s no wonder his work has begun to pop up all over town, as evocative as it is. And the bonus of working with a street artist? So far, the taggers are only tagging the light shades.

If you’d like to visit the tunnel, the Rail Garden, or Monarch Park, here’s a map:

Even though it has been many years since I read the original trilogy, this short prequel reminded me how much I’d enjoyed those initial books, and was a great way to return to a world I’d spent so many hours in. First in a trilogy of short stories, Paladins of Shannara: Allanon’s Quest is set by Terry Brooks just prior to The Sword of Shannara, and reveals the events that lead to Allanon’s success in tracking down the last of the Shannara line before the Warlock Lord’s minions – the Skull Bearers – did so they could put an end to the threat his family posed their master. Definitely a worthwhile addition to the story.

Located near the northeastern corner of Sicily by the Strait of Messina, the fourth port of call during our cruise upon the Vision of the Seas was the port town of Messina.

And while it may seem like a recently built town – thanks to their reconstruction after an earthquake – Messina has a long history having once served as the wintering place for Richard the Lionheart during the Crusades, and even as the setting for Shakespeare’s ‘Much Ado About Nothing.’

In recent years it secured its place in pop culture having served as the setting for Francis Ford Coppola’s ‘Godfather’ trilogy.

Since 1548 the town has been a Roman Catholic Archdiocese and Archimandrite seat. Primarily used in the Eastern Orthodox and Catholic churches, an Archimandrite seat originally referred to a superior abbot whom had been appointed by a bishop to supervise several abbots and monasteries. The title can also be an honorific bestowed upon the abbot of an especially important monastery, or any member of the clergy as gratitude for their service to the Church.

We unfortunately weren’t able to see the town’s main cathedral in the Piazza del Duomo and the world’s largest astronomical clock that adorns it – having become somewhat preoccupied with our search for free wifi. Because we came into port on a Sunday the town was all but shuttered up. We even discovered in one of their central parks surrounding a WWII monument that the city offered free wifi, but seemed to only be set up for E.U. users as there didn’t seem to be a way for foreigners to access the network.

The other popular attraction we had to pass on was Mount Etna, Europe’s largest active volcano. We couldn’t find a way to get the price under a couple hundred Euros, which didn’t seem justifiable at the time.

Given some recent revelations – thanks to some of our readers – we’ve learned that the “history” we’d provide back in 2011 regarding our visit the previous year to Nassau, Bahamas and our tour of the Queen’s Staircase was inaccurate. At the time we’d reported the carving and subsequent naming of it in honour of Queen Victoria per the telling we’d received from a local guide. Of course that said we should have done further investigation before sharing this story as we’d been warned the previous year during our visit to the Roman ruins of Volubilis in Morocco by a local professor that many of the guides at such sites – even government certified ones – often don’t have all the facts, having cobbled their story together from a variety of sources, many of which also have questionable handles on the actual history of the place. Unfortunately it’s very common in countries where there is limited academic/government involvement with their local historical tourist sites, and with the Queen’s Staircase in particular there doesn’t appear to be much online either.

Some of our readers even reported being told that it was originally carved as an escape route. Which is apparently another common misconception. However this is equally false. The real reason was the expansion of the city and the need to add a sub-division. This in addition to to earlier construction decisions along that ridge, the planners cut the passage to act as an access road during this phase of the project. Started with slave labour, the excavation was still underway when the Abolition Act passed by Victoria’s father Willian IV came into effect during the beginning of her reign (circa 1837), freeing the slaves. So rather than continue with cutting their passage through the hill, they completed the project by carving the stairwell – which they named in her honour. One of the better sources I came across on this for more information about the history of this period is the Islander’s in the Stream (Vol. 2) by Michael Craton, and Gail Saunders. The latter in particular looks like she’s done some extensive research on the timeframe and the island’s history in general.

However if you do across some other resources please send them our way.

After our awesome Mediterranean cruise aboard the Vision of the Seas we opted for a short hop over to Morocco, as its proximity meant relatively cheap plane tickets for the quick flight, and additional savings flying out of Morocco as Lisbon at the time was asking almost double for the same flight home. It also meant the opportunity to visit with an old friend living up in the Atlas Mountains in the sleepy resort/university town of Ifrane.

During our 2009 visit Nicole talked about how the trip was only “mildly terrifying” at the time as the ‘grand-taxi’ whisked us up the mountainside, but having now made the trip at night, we’d advise you always try and make the drive up during the day. In the dark there isn’t any scenery to distract yourself with, and the continued lack of seatbelts two years later guarantee it’s going to be a terrifying ordeal despite anything even happening.

Having arrived in the early afternoon, the train ride from the Casablanca airport out to Fez, one of the nearest major cities to Ifrane, meant we still had to look forward to an hour and a half long drive once we got there. Finally pulling in around 10PM we began to get worried as we dragged our luggage out into the rainy night and discovered the taxi stand devoid of life. With some luck we were able to get one of the local ‘petit-taxi’ drivers to call someone willing to make the trip up, but ended up having to pay almost double due to the late hour. While the driver was nice enough, his English was non-existent, and I’m pretty sure part of the floor was missing on my side in the back of the car. But as his de-fogger didn’t seem to be working, which meant driving the entire way with his window partly rolled down, and the cold November mountain air whipping through the car, I was otherwise distracted shivering in the back trying not to freeze.

Ironically it was the guy driving the SUV that ended up in the ditch. While we were cautiously making our way along the winding mountain roads, a driver in a Mercedes SUV came tearing up the road behind us, passing in the on-coming lane, before zipping along. And no sooner had our own driver signaled that the other was crazy, we saw the Mercedes tail lights spin out as the driver lost control before sliding into the ditch. Thankfully we were far enough apart that we were able to slow down, and pull off along the opposite side. And luckily everyone seemed fine as our driver came back shaking his head, but we were all a little shell-shocked realizing how close that could have been. So much so, that when we did finally get to Ifrane, and he got us into one of the local ‘petit-taxis,’ I felt obliged to tip him, and thank him profusely for getting us there safely.

If you haven’t already heard of Erik Prince, then you likely don’t know this man perhaps started what is now one of the biggest private security contractor companies working with the U.S. Military to secure their global interests. In fact as the founder of the notorious Blackwater mercenary company (now merged with Triple Canopy and known as Academi after being acquired by a group of private investors back in 2011), Prince expanded this space, seeing the profit to be reaped from a superpower wearied from years of protracted operations in the Middle East against a determined insurgency. There’s certainly no mistaking Jeremy Scahill’s position in his book, Blackwater: The Rise of the World’s Most Powerful Mercenary Army, that the company’s practices have resulted in a number of crimes and the unnecessary deaths of civilians and contractors alike in places like Iraq, where such misdeeds have long been ignored by a Pentagon focused on downsizing its military footprint in the region, who are more sensitive to the underlying politics back home than ensuring such activities are performed according to international law. Scahill makes no pretense at objectivity, instead giving a detailed examination of Blackwater’s litany of sins, providing copious amounts of information and numerous interviews with people in some way or another affected by this company, about it and how Prince took advantage of the profound changes that the U.S. Military has undergone over the past twenty or so years.

From its humble origins as a training facility for law enforcement from across America to learn military and special forces techniques, to providing a range of services from security for high-ranking U.S. officials during their visits across the Middle East, or their more controversial involvement in the practice of rendition and interrogation of “high-value” prisoners at CIA black sites operating in countries with abysmal human rights records, Blackwater seized upon the downsizing started under the Clinton administration, that was aggressively championed by figures like Cheney & Rumsfield under the W. Bush administration that followed, which outsourced a considerable portion of its military activities to corporate firms like Blackwater, CACI, DynCorp, and Triple Canopy, dramatically shifting the ratio of private contractors to regular troops from approximately 1 in 60 during the Gulf War of 1991, to something more like 1 in 3 by the time the Obama administration was voted into office. Now operating perhaps one of the largest mercenary armies operating out of the United States, which even maintains its own modest air force, Scahill illustrates through countless examples just how dangerous this shift has been, as these companies continue to operate in a grey space between military and civilian law, seemingly exempt from such so long as Americans continue to be less bothered by the deaths of mercenaries, and foreigners, than “their” soldiers dying in the line of duty overseas.

Prince in fact has argued on a number of occasions that private contractors are more efficient and cost-effective option for governments interested in offloading such operations, and could even be used in UN deployments, citing the obvious fatigue countries have meeting their military obligations to that international organization, who instead hire companies like his to supply the forces and shoulder all the risk at a fraction of the expense they would otherwise incur using traditional means. Blackwater in Prince’s mind is the natural progression of the military industrial complex that was born in the wake of World War II and the Cold War that it subsequently spawned. War profiteering after all is an old practice, but is only just beginning to realize its full “potential,” and Prince is planning to squeeze everything he can out of it while he can. Scahill’s account grimly illustrates just how dangerous a proposition it is if such businesses are allowed to continue operating in the murky legal standing they currently enjoy that allows them to make such deadly mistakes without any consequences for their actions and decisions. Definitely worth reading.

To help those who might be going through some Game of Thrones withdrawal, and haven’t already seen this, we’ve got a great a cappella arrangement of the Rains of Castamere by Peter Hollens with violin accompaniment by Taylor Davis.