The Yurt..

I can’t recall if we’ve talked about Maynooth and Blackfly – I expect we have – probably last Labour Day when we went up north for the big party.  Blackfly is that 100 acres of forest/bush that we own with 15 others. Its off the road, there is a barn and over the past few years, people (including us) have built a yurt. A yurt is a traditional Mongolian structure – round, made of sticks, covered in canvas. Ours is gorgeous – no thanks to my labour – which involved cutting down some saplings a few years ago – there is a skylight, a woodstove, a raised wood floor,  and a glass and wood door. Partly out of a need to brush the snow off of the roof of the yurt, and partly for fun, we decided to stay in the yurt overnight this week. 

Between one thing and another, we arrived at the end of the road to the yurt later in the day than we had hoped. As we arrived we saw the lassie Olathe, one baby at the breast and pulling her toddler on the sled, walking to the neighbours to do laundry. What a toughie! It was about 4:30 pm and we knew it would get dark soon. But we knew that the ‘road’ was straight and there was little worry about getting lost. So Mac and I strapped on our snowshoes, pulled on our backpacks and put the firewood we would need on the sled. Sidney didn’t have snowshoes. We didn’t anticipate any trouble as we figured Sidney wouldn’t sink too badly. But we were wrong. The snow was really deep – probably about two feet of it. Lots of deer, rabbit, squirrel and other mysterious tracks. The packs were heavy and my snowshoes kept coming off. We trudged along, sinking in the snow. Sidney had a meltdown but honestly, in the dark – half-way along the three km route, there was little I could do other than encourage him to sing ‘hi ho, hi ho, its off to the yurt we go’ one more time.

At one point, Mac got really grumpy and abandoned his backpack. It was worse, he argued to carry it through the snow while dragging the sled than to return later.  At another point I  burst into laughter – “This is what we do for fun!” I giggled. “This is ridiculous!”

After struggling through the snow for about two hours, we got to the yurt and fortunately it was in great shape. I started the fire in the woodstove while Mac went back to get his backpack. We rolled out our sleeping bags, crawled in and read Harry Potter books for an hour until we went to sleep. The yurt heated up pretty well – and I could hear the snow melting as it warmed. As the temperature dropped (it was about -4 outside), the dripping would stop and I’d add wood to the stove.  In this way, we kept the stove going all night.

In the morning, we cleared off about a foot of snow off the roof of the yurt and headed back to the road. It wasn’t that much easier, even though we’d drunk the water and beer and burned the firewood. Mac’s snowshoe broke and he was clambering through the snow.  Eventually we made it out. But we felt winter-heroic… we’d survived!

From Gay Paree to the Frozen North

Paris was wonderful . It seems an age ago, and we’ve seen many of you – but if only simply to record what happened for posterity – or at least until blogger goes belly up. We took a 9 hour bus ride from Legoland in Duisberg to Paris, finally seeing the Eiffel tower sparkle in the distance as we sat in gridlocked traffic.  When we descended from our coach, we entered the metro, having no idea where the heck we were. Almost at once, a friendly British woman came to assist and off we went, backpacks thumping to Studio Villette, an apartment I’d rented for the week. It was in the 10^th arrondisement, described in Time Out Paris as the least attractive of the Paris neighbourhoods, but whatevs, Paris is pricy, and this place cost us 70 Euros a night. Of course we had to find it first. 

I had a key and an address. All good, right? Well, not quite. We got to an apartment building and I realized I didn’t have a unit number written down. Nor did I have the security  code for the door. Two key things. We dashed behind someone and got in but really didn’t have a clue where to start in terms of finding the unit itself… after throwing ourself on the mercy of our new neighbours, they helped us figure it out. Once we got into the postage stamp sized apartment I realized that of course, buried on my laptop were both numbers we needed. Oops. Sorry about that Mac.

We settled in. I’d been to Paris many times before, but never had money to eat more than a baguette and cheese from the grocery store, let alone visit many attractions. This time, we weren’t rich, but I was finally going to eat in a restaurant here. Not a fancy one mind you, but one that you could sit down in…. Luxury. In contrast, Mac had had a lovely trip to Paris with his family about 15 years ago, where I believe he’d experienced the joy of more than one Paris restaurant…

But of course, staying as we were in an apartment, we could eat at home for breakfast and dinner, and save our centimes for lunch.

Paris, the ol’ dame, was as beautiful as ever. All dolled up for Christmas, with lights, carousels, skating rinks and shop windows all sparkly. It rained a great deal, but we didn’t mind.

In terms of the sights, we walked up the first two levels of the Eiffel Tower, and visited The Magic Museum, the Museum of Jewish art and culture (Walter Benjamin exhibit), Musee D’Orsay (exhibit on the contemporaries of Oscar Wilde), the oh-so-crowded Cite des Sciences and simply walked around.

We went to a terrific immigrant rights demonstration one day as well. It was pretty large, with each arrondisement having its own contingent. Lots of African drumming, singing  and chanting. The changes in French immigration law are nasty – mirroring those being passed in Canada. One change that was different though (although it mirrors changes in Australia) is that foreign students, who’d come to France to do their degrees with the intention of settling there, will no longer be able to. They’re pretty pissed off after spending huge sums on foreign student tuition. No doubt.

After the march, Mac was feeling tired so I went to a benefit for the Zapatistas at an amazing (squatted?) social centre. There were punk rock bands featuring  people even older than myself, cheap beer and lots of earnest conversation. Although it’s a tad awkward sometimes going to gigs on one’s own, I’m glad I went.

Another day, we attempted to connect with the Paris radical scene but although we found signs of squatted buildings, we missed the book fair that was scheduled. Instead we went to a lovely little place called the Bohemian or something. In front of the café, there were local designers selling their clothes. Although I shouldn’t have, I bought myself a little black dress. Now I just have to find a place to wear it. Ooh la la!

Our last night was perfect. I’d spent part of the day at the Science Centre with Sidney and part of the day doing my holiday shopping at Galleries Lafayette. Wow, what a scene. Total madness. Anyway, that evening I knew that there was a free Xmas concert at Notre Dame. We had to go. We went for dinner first, at an overpriced Paris vegetarian restaurant that had been around since the 1970s. Then we headed for the Cathedral. Oh la la! The queue was enormous. We joined the line and were some of the last few in. We found seats in a side area where it was easier to see by watching the video screens. Very traditional (!) There was an adult and a kids choir, and some amazing organ music. At one point, the organist was going wild, and I swear he was playing that classic 70s prog rock song – inagadadavida… They (probably wisely) kept audience participation to a minimum, we only got to do the ‘glo-o-o-o-o-ria’s’ in the French version of Angels we have heard on high. But it was such fun to sing in a crowd, and in a space like that, imagining the crowds of the past, say, 800 years. 

Sidney was starting to get bored so we snuck out early and went to a local boite, where I ordered dessert and a glass of red wine. The dessert went like this… chilled chestnut cream, with pieces of shortbread mixed in, topped with warm baked apple, with a raspberry and a sprig of mint on the top. Yum. A delicious end to our visit to France.

And next thing you know, we were back in Canada – home for the holidays. We had our house BnR holiday, followed by a pub night to see so many dear faces; the massive Scott Xmas and finally, on the 29^th, the Wood Xmas (including the visiting and much loved Grand Auntie Dyane). Good times. Much spoiling. Even more Lego.

Waddling towards the north star, we did our traditional routine and travelled north (by Greyhound of course) to Maynooth New Years Eve. It was small, and fun. We adopted Ashley from Alabama and brought her along to the party. Who knows what she thought of the whole thing. The kids were running around ‘sorting’ us ‘a la Harry Potter, the teenagers were djing, there were bonfires outside, and then Andy the hippy showed up wearing silver lame and antlers. Good times, good times.

New Year 2012… May the coming year be full of adventure, revolution, joy and peace.

We’ve rented our good friend Brian’s car for the next month or so. So, off we went to our new digs – Mac’s family cottage on Haliburton Lake. Just like the last few years, Sandy and Shannon and their two kids, Lucky and Harriet had got there before we had – and so we settled in… books, food, board games, movies, lego, wine, beer, and hibernation. We interrupted hibernation time to go dogsledding. It was something we’d been looking forward to for a long time. And given the price, it will likely be a ‘once in a lifetime’ experience!  I had been worried that the dogs would seem like they were suffering in some way. Far from it. They loved to run and it was all I could do to slow them down. 

Despite falling and having me drag him face down, down the hill, scratching his nose and being 'rescued' by the ski patrol, Sidney has embraced downhill skiing this year - without the harness he's demanded for the past three years.

We rented fourteen movies for the first two weeks. So good. Watched almost all of them too, sitting in the evenings with Shannon.  And oh, the conversations. One night we sat and talked about things we feel guilty for, considered whether if there is any way to ensure that one’s kids don’t end up going down the wrong path, and talking about money. Normally we're much more upbeat. 

We just got back from a couple of days in Toronto - One of my students had his oral defense on social movement theory, an ol' comrade went to jail. and I interviewed my Dad for the online publication nomorepotlucks.org

Now we’re settling in. hunkering down. Tis quiet here. Really quiet. We introduced ourselves to Cindy at the general store in Eagle Lake last week, we also met the couple who run the absolutely empty diner down at the nearest marina of Fort Irwin. It’s a hard life up here in the wintertime for folks trying to make a living.

Mac is busily researching local Haliburton history – more logs, less forts than St. Laurent. But its funny how many things are similar between the two places. F’r instance – the fact that stores/offices/buildings/dumps/skihills are rarely open. We’ll learn the schedules as time goes by.