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exploring the andes…

Since the information from g adventures was pretty vague and I had no time to do additional research of my own, I had no idea what to expect when I got dropped off at Peru Rail by my smiling driver.  His knowledge of English pretty much matched my knowledge of Spanish so he just chattered away in Spanish and I tried to understand what was going on.  He was a great driver though.  He even took me on an extra excursion to take some photos of Puno and Lake Titicaca from a particularly scenic spot.

I was booked on the Andean Explorer.  All I knew is that I had a 10 hour train journey ahead of me.

http://www.perurail.com/train_description.php?id=1

It all started very pleasantly.  There was a nice waiting room and even a band playing traditional Peruvian music.  Then we started boarding.  Lunch was included and I wondered what and where it would be.  My expectation was a trip to a dining car for an airline quality meal.

not your average train...

not your average train…

But – to my delight – I discovered the Andean Explorer was more akin to the Orient Express!  (Some time later I would discover it was owned by Orient Express).  I had my own table (where both lunch and afternoon tea would be served) complete with a flower in a vase and a romantic light fixture for later in the journey.  I appreciate a romantic gesture – even if I am enjoying it alone 😉  <and travelling alone can result in wild surprises like the dinner I shared with my ranger Alex in the Ngorongoro Crater over a table laden with rose petals>

It was my own little sanctuary from which I could snap photos obsessively as the train meandered through the Andes. I had expected a 10 hour train journey to start to feel tedious – but the hours flew by.  Partly because I was operating on a handful of hours of sleep so kept trying to nap.

But the train schedule was chock-a-block with passenger activities.  I thought I could nap before lunch at 11:40… but – no – first we were offered beverages and I was a bit hungry so was served a hot chocolate that looked fancy enough the French woman sitting across from me wondered what it was.  And it was also delicious I informed her.

Just as I finished my hot chocolate and closed my eyes, they announced complimentary pisco sours and live Peruvian music in the observation car.  Drinking at 10am – it was like we were in the Caribbean!  What was really impressive was the Europeans ordering extra drinks before noon 😉

music and dance on the rails

music and dance on the rails

The Pisco Sour was good (and free! :)) but the real highlight was the band and the chance to take photos in the open air.  The mountains were incredible and I will have a hard time editing all the photos that I took but my obsession was to get a photo of a llama.  Let me tell you – trying to get a good shot of a live animal from a moving train while vying for position with dozens of other tourists is exhausting (luckily there were more llamas in my future 🙂

The Peruvian music finished pretty much in time for lunch.  I think I am going to look like a trout by the time I get home.  But I know the word in Spanish – trucha.  (and Enrique taught me how to pronounce it and remember – just think cha-cha-cha…)

The trucha on the train was very nice and, after consuming it and all the other delicious treats, there was finally time for a nap.  There was an offer of more Pisco Sours, Peruvian music – and a fashion show – in the afternoon but I didn’t indulge.  I was too busy keeping my eyes peeled for llamas! 😉

I did take time out from the llama watch to indulge in afternoon tea.  I would recommend to any tea drinkers out there that you switch to coca tea while you are in Peru.  The black tea you get served is generally disgusting but the coca tea is superb and a great way to expand the cultural experience.

just look at those mountains!

just look at those mountains!

It took a while to unload the luggage but that is the only thing I could fault PeruRail on.  The service was entertaining and very professional.  You had the spectacular views of the Andes (and random, elusive llamas), really good food, traditional music, free Pisco Sours…  and the added entertainment of watching the crew serve all those meals and carry trays filled with a dozen wine glasses – on a moving train!!!

If trains are your thing, put the Andean Explorer on your wish list.  One of the best train trips of my life – and I inherited a love for trains from my father.  I am a connoisseur of the journey by train – and a new fan of PeruRail.  I really wish my father was still alive.  Despite his objections to travelling in places where they don’t speak English, I know he would love riding the rails in Peru and I would just bully him into accompanying me  🙂  My mother didn’t want to go to Paris.  Now we’re planning a second anniversary trip to the city that first stole my heart…

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life philosophy, travel stories

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lake titicaca!!!

I am on line at pearson!!!  goal is to add one post per day… we’ll see… but I have been typing and still have lots to say about Peru.  You should go!  it’s amazing…

Apparently I am eating ceviche twice in one day!  But I am in Peru.  And menus are not always totally clear…

But the ceviche at lunch was delicious.  And apparently the trout is fresh from Lake Titicaca so I think it will be fine…

I finally made it to Lake Titicaca!  Unlike most people I knew about Lake Titicaca long before I yearned for Machu Picchu.  When I was about 15, a group in their early 20s came to our tiny, remote community.  I can’t remember the name of the program but its purpose was to link young Canadians with their counterparts in developing countries.

lake titicaca

lake titicaca

They learned each other’s languages and did work in the community.  The group our Canadian team was paired with came from Bolivia.

I think it might have been the slideshow from the Congo that I saw in third grade (someone from the town had worked there so his wife brought her slides).  It’s not entirely clear but it might have been the DRC pre-independence.  She definitely painted Africa in a wonderful light as an interesting place one should visit.

She was the first inspiration in my desire to explore the world.  I was also inspired by the history of my country, which emphasized brave Europeans who had discovered us… not entirely accurate of course but my childhood was full of new places and long journeys so exploring the world seemed a kind of birthright.

From an age so young I cannot remember it, I yearned to see the world – and was always pestering any foreigner who wandered into my path as to the real scoop on the place they came from.  As a teenager, I had penpals in at least 30 countries…. it might have been 50… so my theoretical knowledge of the world at 15 was vast!  But I hadn’t been outside my own continent.

Back then I had bonded with a young woman named Angèle.  She was from Québec so came and helped out in our French class.  I desperately wanted to learn French so this was a dream come true.  And, through my friendship with her, I hung out with the Bolivians.

So I learned about Lake Titicaca, altitude sickness and the frequency of military coups in Bolivia.  The Bolivians seemed very resigned to it. The only problem was that the coups tended to shutter the universities so getting a degree was a challenge.

This morning I got to wave at Bolivia.  It was only a few metres away.  Another trip…. but Lake Titicaca totally lived up to my childhood dreams!

The weather in Puno has been amazing.  A bit cold – but hardly the tundra everyone in Lima led me to believe J  I did break down and buy a pair of Inca mitts on my way to dinner but my hands are always cold – and my mitts have llamas on them 😉  This morning though I was overfleeced!  If I have any sage advice for a trip to Peru, layering is key – the temperature variation over the day is pretty exciting.  And check out Lake Titicaca!

Looking at it from afar is impressive but I recommend getting a little more adventurous… just keep reading…

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life philosophy, travel stories

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DO talk to strangers ;)

Maybe not when you’re five 🙂  but my life would be a lot poorer if I hadn’t learned how to talk to strangers.  And I wouldn’t have an obsession with crawfish 😉

As my regular readers have learned to accept, we are time travelling again – and using geography as a tool to tie together disparate experiences.

So I am writing about New Orleans sitting in the airport in Panama City drinking premium rum (12 year old Abuelo – definitely a discovery!).  And crawfish is on my mind because I finally had some at the airport in Houston.

That is the beauty of travel.  I wasn’t planning to be in Houston last month when I was in New Orleans.  But, while I was trying to find a decent glass of beer and hear some jazz, I was eavesdropping on a lively conversation between some exuberant locals and guy with a questionable haircut and a hard to place accent.

But I mostly hang out in bars for the entertainment value – and chance to engage in lively discourse and meet locals.

I am very quick to smile and that gets people’s attention.  The mystery guy turned out to be Finnish and he was eating oysters from the Gulf.

I keep trying to love oysters but so far I remain on the fence.  But I have a lot of great memories that involve oyster eating so I think they ARE special 🙂

The Louisiana guys were making the poor Finnish guy feel bad that he had overpaid for his gulf oysters while they consume them by the sack for practically nothing.

What was more interesting to me was the discussion about crawfish.  Apparently it was crawfish season in the gulf and I determined that I should have some even if I didn’t exactly know what they were 🙂

I did manage a crawfish étouffé while I was in New Orleans but my time was too limited to seek them out again and really confirm exactly what a crawfish tasted like.  (But I did manage to engage in a lively conversation with the Finnish stranger about multiculturalism and the virtue of speaking lots of languages…)

Life is full of serendipity!  So there was a proper seafood restaurant in the Houston airport right next to my gate.

I think I got a few tourist points when I asked the server if it was still crawfish season.  It was!

They were deep-fried (welcome to the south :)) but I still got a much stronger impression of their flavour and texture.  And – if you share my fondness for shellfish – they are a great addition to your repertoire.

And I’m still not 100% sure how to describe them.  They are bigger than a shrimp, smaller than a prawn and not at all like a langoustine as I had imagined from the bar conversation.  The thing they most closely resemble is a spot prawn – a short-term delicacy of my home region.  Both are really worth trying, more fragile and succulent than ordinary shellfish.

I talked to lots of strangers in New Orleans.  It has become my new modus operandi when I travel.  My ten year old self is still in shock!!!

I think it’s a great example of how any human is actually capable of change.  I certainly support the proposition that you can’t change someone and should never enter a relationship with that as one of the goals in your five year plan.

It is a setup for disappointment – and conflict.  I have left all my relationships because I knew I couldn’t change the other person – and he wasn’t open to any modifications.

I have learned that is the norm.  But it’s kind of tragic.  When you get born into the world, no one says, “wow, I hope I will get parents and teachers and bosses who hold me to an almost impossible standard and constantly critique me ;)”

But, people, it has its rewards 🙂  It keeps you off balance.  It makes you strive.  It quells any opportunity to get arrogant before you have really achieved anything.

I continue to evolve.  I have conquered a lot of anxiety and I have become almost fearless.  But in a great way that relies on geek-worthy risk assessment and self-confidence borne out of life experience.

So… not only do I talk to strangers… strangers talk to me… I engage with the locals everywhere that I go.  AND I meet other travellers.  And hear their stories.  And am inspired to further explore the world…

Talking to strangers requires some finesse.  It needs to come from the right place.  You want to make sure it is a genuine interest in other people, not some lonely, needy gesture that makes the other person worry you might be a stalker 🙂

One of the highlights of my trip to New Orleans was making a new friend while were both perusing the menu at the Red Fish Grill.  Neither of is pushed it too fast so by the time we had both decided independently it might be far more enjoyable to dine together than alone, the choice was easy to make.

http://www.redfishgrill.com/

And what a great decision!  I met a fascinating man with a personal history to rival mine.  We talked about the arts, travel, the various cities and countries that had left a mark on us.

It was my first experience of Bourbon Street.  As previously noted, Bourbon Street definitely not a total class act –  but, luckily for me, I explored it with my new friend who embodied the concept of a Southern gentleman so he gave even the low rent aspects of Bourbon Street a borrowed sense of decorum.

It certainly gave tacky Bourbon Street a halo it hadn’t earned and etched yet another classic cinematic evening into my memory.  Those are the moments when I am so happy that I learned to talk to strangers 😉

I raise my glass of delicious 12 year old rum to everyone out there who talked to a stranger and came away with a special memory…

Hopefully I will finish the New Orleans stories before I get on the plane to Lima… 🙂

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eating & drinking - well, life philosophy, travel stories

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quoting Casablanca ;)

Everyone has to find his own path in figuring out how to cope with death.  It’s never easy.  And there is such a mysterious, fluid quality to death.

It takes some time to really accept that you can’t dial his phone number and hear his voice.  And that you will never again feel the warmth of his embrace or have a heartfelt face to face conversation.

It leaves a void – as mysterious as a black hole.  And when the relationship is dramatic and complex, when you know the other person is struggling – yet you also can’t find a way to break in and fix things – the end hits you harder.

You wonder if you’d just acted differently… if you’d had more time… if this… if that… it’s hard to accept the status quo and not imagine the “what if’s”…

That’s how it was with my father.  Our relationship was complex and tumultuous.  When I spoke to him on my birthday a few days before he died, it felt like a new beginning.

Was it D-Day or the Arab Spring?  I’ll never know.  Would there have been a permanent change in our relationship, a Marshall Plan that restored the close bond we had had for so many years?  Or would it have just been an ethereal burst of hope unaccompanied by sufficient planning, ready to burst into disarray at the first hint of discord?

He was the one who taught me to be a critical thinker – so I felt he would be disappointed if I just glossed over the rough patches because he was dead.  But there had been a lot of great times and I owed him a lot.  So I decided I would celebrate his good qualities and remember the good times – and the life lessons he had tattooed into my soul.

So I’m ready to deal with my friend Sean’s death.  It doesn’t mean that I’m not weepy.  But I’m a crier – I accepted that a long time ago.

Sean is one of my oldest friends.  I’ve been trying to figure out how to capture over 30 years in a few brief paragraphs.  I know I just have to accept that this will scratch the surface and that memories will continue to bubble up unexpectedly for the rest of my life.  That’s how life goes… personally, I think it is one of the greatest pleasures of being a little more sophisticated than the average monkey 🙂

sean the scholarI met Sean in 1982, more or less my first day at the University of Western Ontario where I had somehow managed to get admitted to this mini-Harvard undergraduate MBA program that I had quickly discovered would be the most intimidating experience of my life.

I wasn’t even legal to drink in the USA yet.  It’s hard to remember being that young.  But I do remember how freaked out I was by the country club school.  In those days the Preppie Handbook ruled and I was in the middle of all these kids with money and a secret code I couldn’t decipher.

We were arranged in a “participation circle” for classes and every class we sat behind our name plate in the semi-circle around the professor so that if we spoke, he could call out our name.  The name plates were organized alphabetically so many of my friends were made based on the alphabet.  I am an “H”.  He was an “M”.  So he sat directly behind me in class.

I can’t remember how it all began but one of the first things he did was explain the “preppie code”.  The more significant thing that he did was ask me to join his group for the final year project.  I couldn’t believe it as he was easily one of the smartest people I have ever met – and likely the smartest at that point – so I couldn’t believe he would consider me worthy.

But it was the beginning of a beautiful friendship 😉

At the time I just thought he was a great guy.  He gave me confidence in a new environment when I was mostly intimidated.  I became a confidante when he started dating one of our classmates.  He broadened my horizons by introducing me to new cuisines.

Like so many of my great friendships, it spanned cities – and continents.  His son was born in New York.  His daughter was born in London.  He travelled to exotic places.  He went to Virginia to learn how to be a southern gentleman.  He went to Wall Street to learn how to work for weeks on end with almost no sleep.  I knew all about Notting Hill before the movie because I got to go and hang out at his house there.

There is no doubt he had an impressive career but what was really impressive about him was his generosity, his warmth, his interest in the people in his life.  As I started to write this, I quickly realized it would be impossible to capture our relationship and all the incredible memories in this short space so no doubt, like my dad, he will just keep popping up in other posts.

For now, I just want to pay tribute to him.  He is one of the people who changed my life.  When we met, I was a geeky kid from a small prairie town who didn’t even know there was such a thing as investment banking.  I might have dreamed of going places and doing things with my life but they felt like pipe dreams.  I didn’t think I really had the tools to make them happen.

But Sean blew my world wide open.  He bolstered my confidence.  He introduced me to new worlds I hadn’t even realized existed.  He was a guy from a modest background who conquered the world.  And took me along for the ride.

He grew my dreams.  And helped me develop the tools to realize them.  A beautiful friendship indeed… :)))

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life philosophy

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bullying, self esteem and tough love :)

note to regular readers : New Orleans is NOT finished!  I have even made notes for the future posts…

But March is always nuts work-wise and main goal until retirement is to keep clients happy… but it’s getting close for this week and it’s been intense so wide awake when I should be sleeping… and watching some music from South by Southwest.

As you may have noted, music is a huge part of my life so long ago part of North by Northwest events, which never managed the success of South by Southwest, but required a lot less effort 🙂   As part of the birthday planning this year though, I realized that South by Southwest normally happens ON my birthday so that is the plan for next year…

But it’s now March 21st and five years ago it was Good Friday.

My work life was as nutty as it is right now so it took longer than it likely should have for me to realize my father had died.  But it was mostly because the concept was completely surreal.  Even when I picked up the message from my mother that sounded distressed, it wasn’t even a possibility in my mind that this would be the news I would receive.

My father wasn’t  interested in easy.  In life – or death.  So it may have been hard for everyone else to deal with but it was characteristic of his attitude toward life.

Part of that of course seemed to involve the concept that he considered himself immortal.  You had to know the guy;)

Particularly you had to appreciate it wasn’t an arrogant attitude – but, rather, a highly developed level of self-confidence.

I’m not really sure where it came from.  His mother went through the kind of stuff that would kill Oprah with seemingly zero scars and certainly no whining.  His father died when he was 10.  So there was no question the dude would be tough.

But what was impressive was the positive, life-affirming vibe that he shot out into the world.  His mother did the same.  Even though there were moments I was scared of both of them and each had areas of his/her personality that could have been improved, they remain two of the most impressive people I have ever met – and I have met A LOT of people 😉

So… to get to the point of this post… which is a tribute to my father on the anniversary of his death…

learning from grandpa :)

learning from grandpa 🙂

What I will forever be grateful for is the crazy self-confidence he bred in me from birth.  He wasn’t about praise – or even self-esteem.  If I ever got a compliment from my father, I don’t remember it.  And he might have thrown up if someone had forced him to utter a phrase as lame as “self-esteem”.

I grew up in the old school world where your parents’ job was to criticize you sufficiently that you would grow up to be a civilized human being 😉

But the big message my dad added was that I should do my own thing if it was the right thing.  I should develop a morality and a point of view that would guide my life forever – and it should inform all my decisions – and be my bulletproof shield from the outside world if its morality ran amok…

In the over privileged, excessive, shallow developed world of the 21st century, the lessons my father taught me might seem antiquated.

But I am the kind of weirdo who is a natural target for bullies.  Not only was I smart and strange, I was also little!  I remember being physically abused in fourth grade by some bully girl.  But what was great about my parents is that they taught me not to care very much… so I remember going to the principal’s office, I remember some bruises, I remember being confused…  but mostly I remember emerging from it all appreciating what matters most is your own sense of self… and – thanks to my great young parents – I had this weird, fuzzy idea that I just needed to ignore the drama and get on with my life…

And that the way to win with bullies is to just say to yourself, “good luck, asshole, I don’t care what you think… success is the best revenge” 😉  I’ve never been interested in being popular because my father kept emphasizing that I should be my own person and not worry about what other people thought.  That hardly helps you blend in in high school but it does give you a teflon coating and I have discovered it is the mystery ingredient to popularity in middle age 🙂  These days I’ve given up trying to convince people that I was a shy, strange child incapable of talking to strangers.  I’m still strange… but I have learned how to talk to strangers.  And I think I’ve done my father proud by focusing on being interesting and kind, rather than popular.

It really works!  And being an outlier makes one more sensitive and a better human being I think… so… ignore the bullies, embrace the masses… and never stop trying to be a little bit better at being human… it’s the advice my dad would give… and he was definitely a smart guy 😉

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life philosophy

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apparently I am part of the 1% :)

Not the famous 1% of 2012 fame.  The 1% most people probably find a little strange 😉

I’ve embraced the fact that I was a weirdo from a young age.  Some people get concerned when I say this and hurriedly assure me that I am NOT weird!

But I am… and I’m OK with that.  I just didn’t used to understand my inner weirdo in an analytical way.  And INTJs LOVE analytical explanations!!!

What the hell is an INTJ you are likely asking?  A valid question 🙂  And, unless you have done a Myers Briggs questionnaire recently, the initials will look like ancient Greek.  And it was the Greeks – or maybe the Egyptians – who came up with the first analysis of personality traits.

Katharine Briggs and Isabel Myers were devotees of Carl Jung.  Much like economists, it seems psychologists don’t agree – and their subject matter is so subjective it’s easy to look right… but Myers and Briggs seem to have been more focused on the cash grab personality theory might yield.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Myers-Briggs_Type_Indicator

This all began a couple of months ago when I was trying to encourage my niece to pick a career over a job.  In my 20s I knew almost nothing about the world and would definitely have chosen a different career path had I approached the endeavour more systematically.  So I am hoping to use my experience – and mistakes – to help her find a more rewarding path.

My altruism has had funny rewards as it’s got me talking about Myers Briggs – and how to deal with the world if you are a weirdo…

I thought of Myers Briggs because many years ago I had an argument with the HR Manager at the company I worked for because he thought I wasn’t  insanely rational.  He told me I would be an “F” in Myers Briggs, not a “T”.  (For the uninitiated, “F” is for “feeling” and “T” is for “thinking”.)

I took the test to prove him wrong – and quelle surprise – I was right 🙂  But what I remembered being cool about the experience was that I read the notes about my personality type and saw myself reflected back in a way I had never experienced before.

I couldn’t remember what my type had been so I went on-line to see if I could find a test.  Of course, they want to upsell you so they tell you it’s not REALLY a PROPER Myers Briggs test but it was close enough and I was definitely an INTJ.  So figured I could send it to my niece to get some insight that might help her career planning.

The only letter we share is “I” (introversion vs. extroversion) so it is very valuable to know that she and I should likely have completely different careers.

What was most entertaining to me though was the discovery that I AM indeed a weirdo.  Somewhere along the line I came across some statistics as to how the personality types split across the general population (there are 16 possible personality types).

Apparently INTJs make up about 1-2% of the general population – and female INTJs are about as rare as unicorns!  So it makes total sense that I have frequently felt misunderstood…

and have had to work on faking acting like a “normal person.”  A lot of human behaviour mystifies me.  I use my observational and analytical skills to try and figure out how to act more “normal” and not freak people out.

The line in my personality profile that made me laugh out loud was “perhaps the most fundamental problem that INTJs face in relationships is that they really want people to make sense 🙂  The INTJ will expect inexhaustible reasonability and directness.

Like I said, weirdo 😉  But I have learned to accept and embrace my oddness.  Feeling misunderstood by the world has made me more compassionate.  And I use my analytical skills to try and fake it at being a real person – and I’ve become quite adept at it 😉

What really turns INTJs on is finding simple solutions to complex problems and making stuff HAPPEN!  NOTHING makes me happier.  A little sad maybe…  But, as is likely obvious by now, I am using this blog to sort out the world and plan my next half.

Reading my personality was illuminating.  I really want do something to make the world a better place before I die.  I always thought it had to be big and flashy.  But my new goal is to be “the great facilitator”.  Like all INTJs, I prefer to work behind the scenes.  I love to synthesize gigantic quantities of information, make sense of it and put a nice, clean action plan in play – that I monitor because I only really get excited when I tick stuff off the “to do list”.  So, solving all the world’s problems?  What could be more enticing? 😉

It’s kind of dull being normal, right? … 😉

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life philosophy

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there really ARE kangaroos on the front lawn down under ;)

Of course, you have to be in the driveway of a sheep farm in remote western Australia after the owners have been away for a few days so the roos are partying on the grass – cause they know he is one of the only farmers in the ‘hood who doesn’t shoot kangaroos.  But I really DID see kangaroos on the front lawn and I told my Australian boyfriend at the time, “I am going back to Canada and telling everyone they can see kangaroos on the front lawn if they go to Oz” 🙂

roo from kitchen window

roo from kitchen window

Of course it amused me mostly because I was Canadian and used to foreigners thinking we kept polar bears as pets or lived in teepees.  This was decades before the internet or even cable TV so most people didn’t  think the world was flat anymore but detailed knowledge of foreign locales was in short supply.

So, when I arrived in Sydney in 1990, I had very little idea what to expect.  Aussies love their country so I was expecting a land of milk and honey based on all the glowing reports I had heard from expats on my three month European tour enroute to “the lucky country”.  If nothing else, I had just spent most of the month of December on the Canadian prairie with my parents where a proper “you can feel your breath freezing in your throat” winter had given my Australian boyfriend a taste of the “real Canada” – where the tough people live 🙂

So, arriving from minus 40 to plus 40 in a matter of hours, was enough reason to fall in love with Australia the minute of arrival.

Like the relationships  you see in montages on-screen in romantic comedies, there was a reality check.  Australia proved to not just be “Canada with lots of sunshine” as I had anticipated.  But it was my first expat experience.  And there was much to love about the country and the people.

The Australian boyfriend not one of my best ideas… but it was the way I got to his country.  I am sure I would have got there eventually but it would never have had the same impact.

Going to Oz was how I grew up.  It changed my life forever and I can’t imagine its trajectory without the Australian – or his country.  I know it would have been a lot more boring and I am really grateful I got to take the less-travelled path.

This is much to say about Australia – and Australians.  I lived there for eighteen months.  I have been back twice.  And will return for a third visit this November.  I wish I had stayed longer and become a citizen – but I tend to have a rather messy personal life.  I can recognize an Australian accent – and don’t think they sound English – or South African.

Today’s post though is to celebrate Elizabeth.  Because it is her birthday!  And also the first year anniversary of this blog!  I wasn’t sure if it could be sustainable but I really enjoy writing and – even if there aren’t as many posts as I had envisioned – there is a regular commentary.

I noticed a little while ago that the blog anniversary was coming up and was trying to figure out what the right post would be.  And then I realized the anniversary was Elizabeth’s birthday.  So the answer was obvious 🙂

As has already been noted, most of my friendships have an unusual genesis compared to the average person.  I am very interested in people and happy to put a lot of effort into maintaining friendships with people who impress me.

Elizabeth is definitely one of those!  Back in 1990, I was her boss.  We were working in a firm of chartered accountants and she was doing a work term so was only 18.  But she was so poised and a model employee.  I didn’t really have to “boss” her at all so it was easy for a friendship to develop.  It was unexpected since she was almost exactly a decade younger than me.  But she really wanted to travel.

So that’s how it started.  I had only started to travel at that point but had just done a three month tour of western Europe and we talked about travel and Europe every chance we got.  I inspired her future travel plans and she reminded me of my own 18 year old mindset.

wedding in oz

wedding in oz

When I left to return to Canada, we exchanged addresses and vowed to stay in touch.  So often that doesn’t amount to much but we were both good at it.  In the early days we sent letters and always exchanged gifts at Christmas and birthdays, trying to find something local.  It helped me hold on to Oz – and introduced her to Canada.

I also promised I would come back for her wedding.  It took a little while… but she had to find the right guy 🙂  Going to her wedding was one of the highlights of my life.  She comes from this wonderful family who had always welcomed me as the third child and much fuss was made of the fact that I had come from Canada for the wedding.  But I meant it when I told her I was coming 😉

She also came to Germany for one of my weddings (there were three – all to the same guy :)).  It was her first trip to Europe.  She had finally made the leap and executed the first of the plans we had made back in 1990 for her world travel.  Her enthusiasm was contagious and I was still a new immigrant and equally enamored of all the “cute” German towns.

german cakes :)

german cakes 🙂

She now has a daughter – whom I will meet for the first time in November.  She looks just like her mom.  I think she will be 5 by the time I get to Sydney so a really wonderful age to meet someone.  I am really looking forward to seeing them all.

Sadly, there will be no kangaroos on their front lawn.  It really is a sophisticated, developed country with some of the best wine in the entire world.  When I went for the wedding, I took myself on a wine tour of South Australia to get out of Elizabeth’s hair while she was doing wedding prep, and decided a case of wine from different producers with different maturity dates would make a great wedding present.  I’ll be able to hear the stories of the bottles in person…

So… in honour of the blog’s anniversary (and Elizabeth’s birthday), I will pour a glass of Australian wine and make a toast to “the lucky country” – and kangaroos 🙂  You should do the same.  Aussies do it all well – so pick your poison – anything from sparkling to Shiraz…  or combine them and have a sparkling Shiraz, a personal favourite!

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life philosophy, travel stories

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