The Doe

 

Here she is, and isn't she lovely?

Here she is, and isn’t she lovely?

“Oh my God”, I exclaimed to myself when I saw this beautiful creature standing there right in front of me. In fact, my first sense was a feeling that something or someone was watching me. When I looked up there were these big, beautiful  brown eyes staring at me. Dare I say that they touched my soul? They seemed to be asking me, “What are you doing here?” For one short moment, she literally took my breath away.

Recovering from my state of breathlessness, I realized I had a terrific photo opportunity right in front of me so I quickly but quietly raised my camera to take this shot of her hoping this wouldn’t scare her off. It didn’t, and not being satisfied with the first shot, I immediately zoomed in to get a close up of her. Alas, she must have sensed this tiny movement and barely audible sound because like a bolt of lightning she took off into the woods.

I’m sure a more seasoned photographer of nature would have got the perfect shot that I was striving for; however from this brief encounter I realized that when taking pictures of wild animals you have to remain perfectly calm and not hesitate for even a second. I wonder what will be the chances of ever having another opportunity such as this one?

I met up with this doe while walking on a small country road in Seabright, Nova Scotia where I spent much time as a young girl, first with my grandmother and then with an aunt and uncle who basically adopted my brother and me at 10 and 12 years respectively. We spent many weekends in Seabright at “Greenrigs” where my grandmother lived, and later on after she died, at “the camp” which she left to my aunt and uncle on another cove not far away.

“The camp” really was a camp in the true sense of the word. In fact, it was originally my grandmother’s hen coop! It was small and had no running water with an outdoor toilet.  Over the years, my uncle put his carpentry and landscaping skills to work to fashion out  ‘the camp” as we knew it. It was situated on a sheltered cove off the main part of St. Margaret’s Bay so swimming, diving off the wharf, rowing, water skiing, when my uncle could afford a motor boat, fishing, and picnicking on one of the many islands are some memories of my life at “the camp”.

Meeting the doe was a result of my curiosity to see what was now there where “the camp” once was. Some things still remain, such as a railing my uncle built leading down to the wharf and the many trees he planted. The actual building which morphed from the hen coop is there somewhere in the middle of the new monster home the present owners have built. The house and the surrounding property are all beautifully constructed but somehow it just doesn’t fit in to the place we called “the camp”. Could it be that the yachts and the homes are simply too overdone for this little cove?

In spite of the changes and the signs of modern-day progress now so evident in dear old Seabright, I am glad I took the time to revisit this part of my past. My visit turned out to be a memorable one because it not only provided me with meeting the doe,  it also gave me an opportunity to reflect on the best part of my childhood there.

Present day monster home. The original part of  "the camp" is to the right.

Present day monster home. The original part of “the camp” is to the right behind the pole.

The cove where "the camp" is located.

The cove where “the camp” was located.

 

Adjustment, Reflection, and Realization

My excuse for not blogging.

My excuse for not blogging.

I am using my house as an excuse for not keeping up with regular postings on my blog, and I’m sure I could find others if I cared to dig deeper. For now, I’ll stick with the house and my life here in Victoria Beach. I have discovered that in spite of the work that comes with maintaining a house in the country, I must not forget that there is a silver lining to such a life style. Thankfully life here has made me stop and reflect upon my reason for being here, and how I can keep up with my blog when I’m not travelling.

We have had our fair share of challenges since we arrived home on April 25th. In the past I’ve found it relatively easy to get back into the old groove of living here, but this year we have been put to the test. It started when we arrived home on a bitterly cold day to an empty oil tank. However, thanks to our helpful neighbours and our furnace guy who drove all the way out to Victoria Beach from town at eight o’clock at night, we had our furnace up and running before bedtime.

Just when it seemed like we were getting nicely settled into our usual routine, our old house decided to test us once again. This time it presented us with a broken water pipe leaving us with no water for four days. Again our neighbours came to our rescue with bottled water and containers for carrying water from their taps. God bless them!

Then our two old cars decided they needed some attention, too, so in they went for oil changes and inspections after being idle for five months. Mine was given a clean bill of health, but my husband wasn’t so lucky.  He received the sad news that his car was facing uncertain death from a case of extreme rust corrosion. His mechanic told him in no uncertain terms that it was totally unsafe and had to be put down immediately! Our bills by this time were mounting up so hubby decided that he would try to find a new, but used car for no more than $4000. Fortunately, he found one in short order at his price which had not a speck of rust anywhere. In fact, it looks almost like a brand new car. This was another little gift from heaven to whom we owe much thanks to Andrew, his mechanic. In the meantime a lady backed into me at the Irving service station causing over $600 damage to my front bumper. Again this has all worked out well and my bumper will be replaced at no cost to me this week.

Every year for the past seven, I have been planting a vegetable garden, an interest which I believe I inherited from my grandmother. To this day, I can still taste her delicious veggies, fruits, and berries which probably explains why each year I tackle the task of coaxing our rocky soil into something suitable enough to yield us at least some  fresh vegetables. This spring it’s been unusually cold and dry so not much is coming up yet other than those rocks that just never cease to crop up every year with a vengeance.  I am happy to report that most of  my seeds are in the ground and the peas and kale are beginning to pop up. Now if only the rain would come!

My garden as it looks right now.

My garden as it looks right now.

Unfortunately, I’ve allowed all my time to be consumed by the house, the cars, and the garden along with a  myriad of other chores required to keep a house running. One of the joys of travel for me is being able to take a hiatus from all of them! However, I do realize that if I am to continue my blogging, I must start delegating some of the household chores to hubby. Therefore, since he loves to cook, I have called on him to take over more of that. Sometimes it’s difficult to overlook the mess he can make, but I’m trying by heaping lots of praise on him for his efforts which seems to be working!

There was one more item on my list I had to deal with before getting back to my blogging and that was getting my merchandise ready for the Saturday market which is already in full swing. All my boxes, except for one containing silk scarves, have arrived from Thailand and Cambodia safely. The scarves which I somehow overlooked and  left in Chiang Mai have to be shipped separately at great cost. I am lucky that I was able to locate them at one of the guest houses where we stayed which has such an honest and helpful staff who have taken the time to pack them up and get them in the mail for me. So far our market is off to a fairly good start which hopefully will continue to get better as the tourists arrive from the US on the new Portland to Yarmouth ferry because my next winter escape depends heavily on the sales I can generate from this little importing venture.

My table of imports at the Mason's Hall in Annapolis Royal.

My table of imports at the Mason’s Hall in Annapolis Royal.

Reflecting upon this past month, I have learned that when I don’t write and and take pictures, I feel like something very valuable is missing from my life. Too much physical work was making me more tired than I wanted to be and that old feeling of anxiety and unease was creeping in. I needed to write but I kept making excuses which were preventing me from doing it. I was also stymied by what I could write about.  What was there to write about here in Victoria Beach? These were my reasons for not writing so what was I going to do about them? I came up with the following solutions which I would like to share with you, and if they can be of any help to any ‘would be’ writer like me, then that would be fantastic. Here they are:

  • Make time in your day no matter how busy it is shaping up to be to write something even if it’s only a sentence or two.
  • Find a quiet spot away from any distractions i.e. in my case a chatty spouse.
  • Open up your computer and go straight to your blog’s ‘new post’ page. Don’t check your messages or Facebook first.
  • Type out a title which will be somehow related to what you have a vague idea you want to write on. Let this just be a guide which you can always change as many times as you wish once you start to write.
  • Now just start to write – anything. You’ll be amazed at where this can go.
  • Once you see something take shape, you will be off and running and feeling great.

This usually works for me, but I need to constantly remind myself to do it so it will become a habit. Perhaps I need to write this list out and have it in front of me until it becomes ingrained in my psyche? As I look back on this past month, I shudder to think about the agony I have put myself through just thinking and worrying about what I could write about. Well, I believe that I have that problem solved, too, making this a second wonderful realization about writing. Why not start with where I live and write about life here? As for pictures, this place is a photographer’s dream. It has the most incredible sunsets, and it’s near the Bay of Fundy which has been nominated as one of the most beautiful unspoiled spots in the world. One day it will become one for sure because just how many unspoiled sites are left in this world? It’s all about using the resources we have around us before venturing beyond. I’m thankful now for the challenges our life here in Victoria Beach has presented. It has helped me learn much about what writing is all about and how therapeutic it has become for me. It doesn’t matter where it will all lead to, if anything, but the one thing I do know is that it brings me great joy and satisfaction.

One of our beautiful sunsets.

One of our beautiful sunsets.

A Greek Pictorial

  • Friendly people
  • Ancient history
  • Sheep, goats, and cats
  • Olives and lemons
  • Blue sky and water
  • White-washed buildings

These are the primary impressions of my most favourite country in the world – GREECE.

Last year I revisited this beautiful country on my way home from the Far East where I met up with my husband after three months of solo travel to Thailand, India, and Nepal. This was a return visit for both of us having each landed there what seems like eons ago in 1969. However, we were not together then. Young and still single, I had contacted the travel bug after two years of teaching elementary school and was travelling with a group of girlfriends, while he was travelling with his former wife and two small children.

My second time around last year was far more rewarding since I now had the opportunity to see Greece through more experienced eyes and truly fall in love with it all over again. As an added bonus, we arrived in April before the cruise ships and hoards of tourists on board, so we often felt like we had the country to ourselves, at least on the islands we visited. It also meant that accommodations and meals were within our budget which they most certainly would not have been later on during the peak season.

The following gallery of slides is meant to give you a bird’s eye view of the impressions that my second visit to Greece left with me. I know I will return again should the opportunity present itself.

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Paris in Three Days

I love Paris in the spring time. I love Paris in the fall…..” These words are dancing in my head as I put together this last post for the end of our winter getaway. We  began our odyssey in Thailand, spending over two months there, mostly in Chiang Mai, where I shopped for my small import business and had some dental work done. From there, we flew over  to Cambodia to explore this small but fascinating country for a month, followed by another couple of weeks back to Chiang Mai dealing with some unfinished dental work. We began to wend our way westward and home taking a one month hiatus to visit Portugal for the first time. There we managed to meet up with my brother and sister-in-law in Lisbon for a few days. Since we had a connecting flight from Paris to Montreal, we seized the chance to spend three days in this beautiful ‘city of light’  knowing we might never have such an opportunity again.

We managed to cram in many of  Paris’ highlights in our three days and would have liked more time but were just as glad we didn’t for this is one of the most expensive cities in the world to visit, especially for travellers on a budget like us. Instead of taking in all the museums and historical sites that charge huge entrance fees, we spent much of our time just walking around and enjoying the parks. I also devoted much of my time trying to capture the beauty and spirit of this city with my camera. The result is a short story of what we saw and experienced in those three days. I hope you enjoy them as I take you through the picture gallery I have attached to this post. To view each photo up close, simply click on the first picture and take the journey from there. Please feel free to make any comments or ask any questions you might have after viewing them.

Journey to the North – the Cradle of Portugal

Portugal is a small country but that doesn’t mean that it has not great contrasts in its geography and, hence, its people and customs. Travelling from the Algarve, the southern most region of the country, to Porto, the second largest city and capital of the north, in less than ten hours by train will give you some idea of its size. If you look at a map, you will realize it’s actually dwarfed by its neighbour, Spain. From my train window as we travelled from Portimao to Lisbon, the view was one of  green hills, some cactus, palm trees, and miles and miles of orange groves revealing a rather dry climate.  However, once we were past Lisbon, the geography began to take on a different look. I noticed the orange trees were being replaced by many other kinds of trees more reminiscent of Canada, which meant this area received more rainfall and was cooler. We were, after all never far from the Atlantic coast. As we got closer to Porto, I actually began to feel like I was entering a different country. The terrain was changing and so were the houses. Where had all those strange looking chimneys I saw in the small towns in the south disappeared to? Now the rooftops were orange-tiled with just ordinary chimneys.

Our entrance into Porto was dramatic to say the least. I instantly understood why the historic part was declared a UNESCO site in 1998 and why everyone we had spoken to about our itinerary for Portugal insisted that we visit Porto. I think the other reason for this advice was to sample the port wine for which Porto is famous. I will come back to port making later. Porto literally clings to the steep rise of mountains on the north side of the Duoro River. Our train approached it from the mountains lining the south banks of the river on the Villa Nova da Gaia side giving us a breathtaking view of both cities and the six bridges that span them. The whole vista was nothing short of spectacular!

To add to our excitement of seeing this old city, we got a taxi driver who waxed relentlessly about how Porto was the ‘heart and soul’ of Portugal and far more interesting than Lisbon which was merely the capital. He talked constantly with much help from his hands all the way to our hotel which did cause me to wonder if we would ever get safely to our destination, get settled in, and have the opportunity to find out for ourselves just how wonderful it all was.

After this hair-raising ride, we simply left our unpacking, and headed down the steep hill to the riverside while we still had the light of the setting sun. Miraculously we got down in about 15 minutes without a problem noting that this city, like most cities and towns we have visited in Portugal, is actually smaller in area than it looks because of how the numerous winding streets meander around the hills upon which the heart of the city rests. For the first time visitor, it can be confusing and frustrating especially if two people tend to approach the whole business of getting oriented to a new place in completely different ways. For example, my husband doesn’t believe in maps and refuses to even look at them. He uses what he calls his instincts and stops every five minutes to ask directions of those poor unsuspecting locals who in most cases can’t speak  a word of English. In contrast, I do use maps to try and get my bearings and will only ask someone for directions if I’m totally lost. At this point, I won’t elaborate any further on the complications and arguments these two approaches lead to, other than to say that somehow we muddle through and eventually get to our destination all in one piece as happened that first night.

The Duoro River at sunset.

The Duoro River at sunset.

Narrow street leading to Porto riverside.

Narrow street leading to Porto riverside.

Market along the riverside.

Market along the riverside.

Riverside entertainment.

Riverside entertainment.

The next day did not turn out nearly so well. Hubby decided he must attend an Anglican church service to which he had managed to become a welcomed participant in their choir. While he was rehearsing, I found a nearby park to sit in and enjoy the sunshine. With the help of my map and guide book, I took this time to plan our day. After the service and armed with lots of instructions from the friendly parishoners on how to get to the places we had agreed to see, we set out to find the first one which was the Romantico museum. This museum is the re-creation of a 19th century aristocratic mansion so we chose to visit it thinking it would be a nice change from those which simply depicted Portugal’s history. The other incentive for putting a museum on our list of  ‘must sees’ is the fact that all museums in Portugal have free entrance on Sunday.

Sadly, we never got to see the Romantico. After an hour or more of looking for it, we just couldn’t find it. According to our map and any person hubby could find who had even heard of it, it was nearby and very close to where we were. No problem, you will see it, they said. I forgot to mention this was another reason for my suggesting it in the first place because according to my map it was right on the edge of the park I had been sitting in. We did eventually find out where the museum was but only from a tourist information centre where English is spoken. It was in the area where we looked but enclosed within a large dome which we could see the whole time, but who would have thought? Certainly not us! I would like to think that we have both learned a lesson from all this should we ever decide to return to Portugal, and that would be that maps and asking anyone on the street can be useful, but not to ignore the tourist information centres and to be patient with some of them since they more than likely will have long lineups. We can’t do it all on our own, and we can save ourselves much aggravation (and quite possibly a marriage) by taking the time to seek out the people who are trained to help and most importantly have good English skills.

Finally frustrated and thirsty, we decided to abandon this idea and go for the next one on our list which was the Majestic Cafe described in my guide book as  “belle epoch coffee house, just the place to enjoy cakes and scones”. This sounded wonderful to both of us so off we went full of anticipation for what was ahead. Unfortunately, it was further away and more complicated to find than I had anticipated and to cap it all off, the place was closed because it was Sunday! By this time hubby’s mood was getting worse by the minute and any good deeds he might have prayed about in church had quickly evaporated. As for me, I was more than ready to quit my job as tour guide and give the thankless task to him. Because we were famished by this time, we sat down at the nearest sidewalk cafe which was advertising tapas (sandwiches) and a drink for 3,50 euro. This was the best luncheon deal we had found in all of our almost four weeks here, and it was also delicious! At last something good had happened. At this point, I made my resignation as tour guide official and gave the responsibility to him for the remainder of the day.

This new arrangement worked for both of us resulting in our day taking a turn for the better. We continued on exploring a couple of the larger more ornate cathedrals in the centre of the city, admiring the carvings of saints and angels, the gold statues, and beautiful tiles. Almost every building in Porto has some kind of tile work on it. The old train station was probably the biggest surprise having the interior entirely covered in tiles depicting scenes from Porto’s colourful past.

A tiled cloister in the Gothic style of Porto's largest and most sacred cathedral.

A tiled cloister in the Gothic style of Porto’s largest and most sacred cathedral.

The interior of a typical Portuguese church.

The interior of a typical Portuguese church.

Some of the tile in the old train station.

Some of the tile in the old train station.

The next day, Monday, turned out much better. In fact, I would rate it as one of the best we’ve had since coming to Portugal. Waking up to a beautiful sunny day with a warm breeze, we set out for Vila Nova de Gaia, the home of the port wine trade. We walked across the Ponte Dom Luis I, one of the six bridges spanning the Duoro. This bridge was designed by a pupil of Gustave Eiffel and is constructed in two levels. We walked over the lower level which gave us easy access to the riverfront of Vila Nova with gorgeous views of Porto across the way.

The Dom Luis I bridge with upper and lower levels for crossing.

The Dom Luis I bridge with upper and lower levels for crossing.

Picturesque Porto from across the Duoro River.

Picturesque Porto from across the Duoro River.

There are many port lodges lining the riverside of Vila Nova with Sandeman’s being the number one choice for every tourist and tour bus due to its familiar logo of a  man wearing a Spanish sombrero and black Portuguese cape. Because we like to be different and go where the tour buses are not likely to go, we chose to go to Graham’s, and you can guess why. This loja, the Portuguese word for warehouse, sits away from all the rest on top of a hill overlooking the town. In spite of the steep climb, we were so glad we made this one our choice. We were not only met with the most incredible view of the river with the two cities on either side, but also the friendliest staff imaginable. Our guide for the cellars and host of the tastings was Isobel, a lovely young lady who conveyed to us and four young lads from Holland, the history of port making in Portugal and the intricacies of its making in impeccable English. Curiously, many of the loja have English names and that is because many of them were originally started by the British as early as 1790 when their supply of port was no longer available from France. It was then that George Sandeman saw this opportunity and build the first one in Porto because the region just east of here was perfect for growing the kind of grape needed to produce the same quality as that which was produced in France.  Today port production is a thriving business in this region.

One of many wine lodges in Vila Nova de Gaia.

One of many wine lodges in Vila Nova de Gaia.

Graham with our tour guide at Graham's winery.

Graham with our tour guide at Graham’s winery.

After our tour, we were treated to three different tastings: a deep red port which apparently was Winston Churchill’s favourite, a vintage red, and a delicious tawny. Three small drinks was enough to go to my head, and since there was a restaurant on the premises showcasing tasty looking tapas at an affordable price, we opted for two a piece as our lunch. While sitting on the terrace with our tapas, wine, and a view to die for, we had the good fortune to meet two interesting couples: one from Germany and the other originally from the US but now living in Germany. What is it about good wine or port that always brings out interesting conversations? In the end, we both agreed that all of this combined to make our trip to Vila Nova a memorable one which more than made up for our previous, better to be forgotten day.

Now the fun really begins!

Now the fun really begins!

Some Portuguese tapas.

Some Portuguese tapas.

The view from the restaurant at Graham's.

The view from the restaurant at Graham’s.

On our return to Porto, we were faced with several options as to how to cross over the two level bridge. We could have used a cable car for 5 euro each, or the metro train for one and a half euro, or walk back across on the lower level from whence we came, or take a funicular up to the higher level at a cost, of course, or lastly dare to climb up the cobblestone street leading on to the higher level to not only walk across for free, but also have the best view possible. We opted for the last because we already had spent enough money for this day, and we were glad we did. Making stops along the way helped, and viewing the port scenes from such a height for the last time made it all seem much more worthwhile.

A view of Porto from the upper level of the bridge.

A view of Porto from the upper level of the bridge.

Taking the time and making the effort to go to the northern part of this picturesque country was a wise decision. Portugal seems to be a country divided into three main parts: the south along the Algarve which has become famous as a haven for Brits and many other tourists escaping from the harsher climates of their countries, the centre which has the historic capital of  Lisbon, and the north which the Portuguese claim is the cradle of Portugal. It was the north that produced the country’s last and longest ruling dynasty, the second largest city of Porto, along with Lisbon, and to give birth to and play a prominent part in the Age of Discovery – that era when many of their seamen set out to explore and find new lands such as, Brazil, India, parts of Africa, and Malacca in Malaysia. These discoveries provided them with untold riches of gold and gems to furnish their churches and palaces which we are looking at today as tourists. Furthermore, the north has provided the world with the grapes and facilities to make the finest port in the world.