THE NOSTALGIA OF BANANA DAIQIRIS

Sir Cliff Richard wrote in his foreword to Hotel Barbados, My Life of Discretion at the Ocean View the following:

How I wish I had been able to stay at Ocean View.

Of course, our world always changes and we have to move on and progress with those changes. Barbados has done that admirably and so have we who visit and live here. Personally, I have few complaints about today’s new world, but once in a while I get the feeling deep down that I maybe missed something very special and beautiful from those bygone days. I have a feeling that having read this book, you’ll know just what I mean.

In 1982, our Spring Break trip overlapped for one week with my Mom and Dad’s annual sojourn in Barbados. For many years, my Father had waxed poetic about the historic Ocean View Hotel (opened in 1898), …

 … its glorious architecture and funnily enough, its banana daiquiris.

Nothing would do, but we four were to meet Mom and Dad at the Ocean View for a visit to one of the oldest hotels in the Caribbean, daiquiris on the hotel veranda…

… and then lunch in the dining room. I will cut this story short by saying that when drinks were ordered, the waiter gave my Father the sad news that they had no bananas. Dad was crestfallen.

Cut to 1983. This year, I am convinced that my parents’ time in Barbados was deliberately coordinated to overlap with our week on the island just so my Dad could complete our daiquiri experience at the Ocean View. The waiter began again to sadly explain that, I am sorry, Sir, but … It was in that instant that I noticed the small paper bag discreetly sitting beside my Father’s chair. Before the waiter could complete his apology, my Father lifted his little paper bag from the floor announcing, Actually, you now DO have bananas. The drinks were awesome. You were right, Dad!

In was also on that day in 1983, that Jim and I wandered down for a peek into the Crystal Room with its view over the  Caribbean. The dining table was set in the full splendour of fine china, gleaming silver and sparkling crystal. Two liveried waiters informed Jim and I that we could not enter as the Prime Minister and his cabinet were due at any moment for their weekly Monday business luncheon.

That luncheon was not to happen. Beloved Prime Minister, Tom Adams, never made it to that meeting; he succumbed to a massive heart attack at his home, plunging Barbados into deep mourning.

My Father passed away in 1987, after which Jim and I were never able to bring ourselves to visit the Ocean View again. So much history! So many memories! In 1996 the hotel closed.

While in Barbados this year, we discovered that a book had just been published about the Ocean View. Eager to read more history about this grand old lady and to enjoy photos from her past, Jim wrote to the Bajan publishers. Our copy of this treasure arrived today.

It is at moments such as this I realize how enriched our lives have been, the history we have witnessed and the memories we have created in over forty years of travel to Barbados. I also cherish the fact that Barbados is now truly as much Jim’s island in the sun as mine.

REMINDING MYSELF…

In the early 1980’s Jim had the epitome of the ugly American grouse at him that he hated Barbados…..”they have let too many blacks on the island”.  Within an instant, my husband’s face took on the visage of a dark, threatening storm cloud. “They were here before you”, he thundered and stomped away. How close that bigot came to personal injury he will never know.

Last year, on Barbados’ 55th anniversary of independence from the United Kingdom, the nation severed ties with the British monarchy, at long last transitioning to a republic. At the time a few friends commented on how sad it was that Barbados had taken this final step to sovereignty. A Jamaican Canadian warned me that Barbados could go the route of Jamaica. I don’t think so. I can appreciate all of their comments, but strongly disagree.

Barbados has finally broken its ties with the source of its brutal history, one of economic rape and slavery; it has taken the step in severing its ugly colonial past. Even Prince Charles alluded to this fact during last November’s ceremony referring to “the appalling atrocity of slavery that forever stains our history”. I get it Barbados. I understand why and I applaud you.

I find it easy to forget the island’s slavery beginnings. Barbadians are an educated people. In fact, Barbados now enjoys one of the highest standards of living and literacy rates in the world. There is a large, stable middle class. Bajans are a warm, welcoming, generally happy people. From early childhood, they learn in school how important tourism is for their country economically; this understanding shines through in contacts with we interlopers. And the country is generally safe. No large gated communities or all-inclusives are necessary to keep you safely enclosed and away from the general population. No tourist buses have been stopped and robbed at gunpoint. Travel around the island is encouraged. Meet our people! Explore our sites! And don’t be frightened if you are honked at in your rental car. Frequently when Bajans see the “H”designation on a hired car, they will honk in welcome. Walking to a restaurant after dark is not fraught with danger. I love to tell the tale of my mother and her sister, both well into their 80’s, walking The Gap road, little flashlights lighting their way, as they headed from Casuarina Resort to TGI Boomers to sit in the bar with locals and watch the Super Bowl. 😂  And Bajan leader, Mia Motley? She is considered one of the finest minds in the free world.

But it is too easy for me to take for granted the fine nation that Barbados has become as its brutal past of slavery is not continually shoved in one’s face. However, gentle reminders that the great wealth of the U.K  and New World was in part based on the sugar cane and rum provided by the blood, tears and death of thousands and thousands of enslaved Africans, are to be found everywhere.

The sculpture that moves me most is the Emancipation Statue which symbolizes the breaking of the chains of slavery. I can feel the joyous emotion in the statue.

Walking the historic streets and docks of UNESCO site, Bridgetown, plaques can be found, their words fracturing my heart.

And for those who wish to visit the statue of Lord Nelson, don’t bother…..it has been removed. As an elderly Bajan gentleman explained to Jim and I last Friday, “He did nothing for Barbados”.

Finally, for those who care to leave the sunshine for a few hours, Barbados’ fine museum guides you through the days of slavery to today.

My Grandfather’s family arrival in Barbados can be traced back to the late 1600’s; my Grandmother’s, to the early 1700’s. That my family most likely owned slaves leaves me deeply ashamed, an emotion I cannot shake.

I could go on endlessly about Barbados’ painful history, but I will leave that to the historians. I do need, though, to remind myself of those darker times to fully appreciate how far Barbadians have come in creating the incredible nation of today who invites visitors to join in their bounty and beauty. Out of the darkness into a bright future. “This is my island in the sun.”

RANDOM THOUGHTS ON TRAVEL (1)

ON AIRPORTS

I am loath to admit it, but our September 19 departure from Toronto Pearson Airport was a “s**t show”, to use my husband’s rather accurate graphic description. After 30 minutes in a “lab-rat-maze’ queuing system for baggage drop-off, we were rewarded with an additional 45-minute wait in the ‘lab-rat-maze’ queuing system for security. How do you add insult to injury? Arrive at CIBC’s Terminal 1 Dragon Lounge to be met by another 30-minute wait due to over crowding. What?  If I didn’t love to travel so much, our departure experience at Pearson would have rung the death knell for future journeys. God bless Air Canada who successfully boarded passengers on our filled-to-capacity flight, pulled away from the gate on time and arrived in Venice early. That and the quick efficient entry into Italy though Venice’s Marco Polo Airport restored my faith in air travel.

You can imagine that it was with trepidation that Jim and I stepped out of the shuttle van for our return flight from Rome’s Leonardo da Vinci Airport. From that moment to arrival in the boarding area was 35 minutes!  Whoa! It should be noted that the Dragon Lounge here is spaciously large. I need to ask, though! How does one of Europe’s largest airports move passengers in such a friendly, efficient, stress free manner? Italy was one of the worst hit countries during the pandemic. How have they returned to acceptable service levels at two of their major airports when Toronto’s Pearson appears to be incapable of doing so? 

HORDES OF TOURISTS?

Canadians, Brits, Aussies, Americans, plus, plus, plus…after two years of pandemic, the flood gates have been opened and we have been unleashed on the world! 

Most certainly Venice was busy, but the choking crowds from cruise ships, sometimes up to an insane 7 ships per day, were delightfully and visibly absent. Gone were hordes so dense that movement was next to impossible until after 4:00pm when the lemmings returned to their ships. Gone were the selfie-sticks we angrily referred to as ‘decapitation devices’. Gone were impassable bridges. Gone were…..you get it!  During the pandemic, Jim and I read with great relief that effective July 21, Italy had barred huge ships from entering Venice’s historic centre via the Giudecca Canal. Any shipping would be restricted to small passenger ferries and freight vessels. Good bye cruise ships! Long overdue, this restriction will prevent the destruction by these monoliths of Venice’s underpinnings and fragile lower level architecture. Thank god!  The change during the day was palpable; visitors and citizens could actually move about freely and fully enjoy magical and mesmerizing La Serenissima. Go! Enjoy!

Compared to our past two visits, I found Rome to be crazy busy. That said, major attractions remain easily accessible, some, such as the Borghese Galleria require reservations. Sadly, some sites now have restrictive fencing around them to, believe it or not, prevent tourists chipping off bits of marble or travertine as souvenirs. I can barely write that without breaking into a rant. On past trips, Jim and I have enjoyed many an evening, wine glass in hand, seated at the Trevi Fountain watching the show of marriage proposals, romantic kisses and coin throwing. Because a few disgusting tourists felt the fountain offered great swimming and urinating potential, that seating is now blocked off.

Rant building! Just know that the Trevi is the rock star of any fountain you will ever see. Visit and throw in the magical coins that will grant your return. Yes, Rome is more crowded, but that adds to the excitement! The eternal city will forever remain a city of history around every corner, glorious art, great food eaten al fresco, magical neighbourhoods, majestic fountains, attractive piazzas and crazy, exciting busyness. Go! Enjoy!

….to be continued!

NON DIMENTICARE

When Jim noted that during our time in Rome this year, he wished to return to the Borghese Gallery, my heart sang and my cheers upon securing reservations could be heard, I am embarrassed to admit, far and wide.

The Bourghese Galleria isn’t just Rome’s best art gallery; it is classified as one of the best collections of Renaissance and Baroque art in the world. Visitors  are permitted a two-hour time slot; with the exception of phones and/or cameras for ‘non-flash’ photos; it is mandatory that everything else you may be carrying - purses, even small purses, backpacks, waist packs, etc. - be checked before entering. Security, with vigilant guards in attendance, is extremely tight in each of the rooms.

Have you ever listened to music or viewed artwork that reached out to you, touched your heart, left you in awe and rendered you changed, never to be the same again? Bernini’s “Apollo and Daphne” (No, not  because of the name) spoke directly to my heart. Rick Steves, the travel writer describes the sculpture best:

In the mythological story, Apollo - made stupid by Cupid’s  arrow of love - chases after Daphne who has been turned off by the “arrow of disgust”. Just as he’s about to capture her, she calls to her father to save her. Magically, her fingers begin to sprout leaves, 

her toes become roots, 

her skin turns to bark, and she transforms into a tree. Frustrated Apollo will end up with a handful of leaves.

At 24 years of age 😲, Bernini, using ‘ancient’ drills, chisels and rasps created a masterpiece that would speak to my heart almost 400 years later. I stood in awe of the movement and action of the moment he captured. How at such a young age and in marble, did he accomplish this? 

The security guard, observing Jim and I on the verge of tears, came forward to whisper to us that the specialized cleaning crews marvel that so thin are the leaves that they make the sound of good crystal when being cleaned. Now my mind was totally blown!

I truly need to view this sculpture again, need being the most appropriate word. 

Italians have a phrase which I love. Non dimenticare! Don’t forget! I desperately need not to forget that in this dangerous time of horrific war in the Ukraine, China rattling its sabres over Taiwan, the precarious state of democracies around the world (especially just south of our border), increasing online hatred, and never-ending turmoil and famine in third world countries, that humans over time have not just waged war, but also created magnificence. I need to not forget that there is more than man’s ugliness and hate, that man is capable of creating great beauty which touches the hearts of mankind. I need to not forget that in the face repulsive actions there can be stunning beauty. I need to not forget that there is hope.

Non dimenticare!

THE ESSENCE OF……..

Warning: Apologies for this self-indulgent blog, but my excitement about once again boarding a jet, pulling away from the gate, feeling the thrust of those engines lift us from earth and not just travelling anywhere, but travelling to bella Italia, has been bubbling over. I am in danger of exploding if I don’t let it out. Consider yourself warned! 😂

Fingers crossed, we head to Italy this September.

At 75 years of age, Jim and I are past the check-off-another-destination travel. We have arrived at the where-are-we-happiest point in our lives and bella Italia is it.  We so enjoy the feeling of being home there, even when we are not.

In a pandemic moment of perhaps feeling his age or vulnerability, Jim asked me, if I knew I had just one more trip, where would I go; Rome, was my immediate answer. We have visited twice, 15 days in total and have not yet scratched the surface. Rome is not a city; it’s a world and it is my favourite world.

I just want to be in Rome, to explore charming ancient neighbourhoods, to enjoy a cappuccino or wine at an out-of-the-way trattoria, to watch and join in the evening passeggiata, to be mesmerized by salmon-tinted evening lights reflecting on monuments and structures as timeless as time itself and to absorb the pure magic that is Rome.

Renting an apartment will allow us to meet local shopkeepers - persceria, formaggi e mercato di populari. Romans are a gregarious, friendly people….even with we tourists. Nothing pleases a Roman shopkeeper more than being queried about his foods and then being asked for cooking advice, allowing him to share recipes his family has used for centuries. For a moment in time we will be able to immerse ourselves in Roman culture, enjoy the essence of Rome and pretend to be Romans.

When I responded, Rome, Jim laughed and agreed; it was Italy for him, too, but his choice…..Venice!

Jim’s love affair with Venezia has withstood the test of time and three lengthy visits. Why? Corinna Cooke, the travel writer, expressed it best: 

The audacity of it. To build a city in the water where no city should be, and on top of that, to make it not only one of the most beautiful cities in the world, but also the most unique city in the world. Then to defy all the odds and have it still standing proud, gorgeous and improbable 1600 years later.

Venice is small; have we seen it all? Not possible! Around every corner is something magical just waiting for you to discover it. And so we will wander, soaking up the essence of la Serenissima, visiting more sites of interest, savouring addictive cicchetti and a lagoon’s worth of seafood and relaxing over a glass of Prosecco lulled by the hypnotic music of rising and falling gondolas slapping on canal waters.

We have long wished to visit Umbria, the green heart of Italy. Then let’s do it!!!! An apartment for a week in Orvieto, we decided, will provide us with a great base. 

On my bucket list has been the mediaeval town of Civita di Bagnoregio, sitting atop a cliff of tuff. It is known as one of the prettiest towns in Italy - quite a claim in a country that has pretty towns galore. At under 25km from Orvieto, my dream will finally be realized.

We will wander Orvieto and Umbria, giving in to the urge to take that alluring turn, to follow that spire, to veer into the narrow gate of a village on market day to buy grapes and pancetta. We will hunt for truffles, explore Etruscan caves, examine the famous craft handiwork of Umbrian guilds, savour famous Orvieto Classico wines and experience the essence of Umbria.

Pearson Airport chaos, monkey pox, new COVID variants, rising inflation, increasing gas prices…whatever! I don’t just want this return; after over two years in hibernation I need this return. Italia ti amo!

MY OUTSTANDING FACEBOOK FRIENDS

I have realized during this past week of the truckers’ convoy (I refuse to classify this rabble with the word “Freedom”) how blessed I am. My Facebook friends have shown humour, passion and intelligence, taking nothing at face value. 

My friend, Vel, redefined Freedom as FREEDUMB, noun, “belief that your personal freedom outweighs those of others”. Funny, but so true. The City of Ottawa has been held hostage; citizens wearing masks have been intimidated (whose freedom); 

CHANNELING WEATHER MOM

I laughed to myself as I hung up the phone. There I sat in my office, Broker Owner of a real estate firm, responsible for 70+ agents plus administrative staff. Such responsibility was evidence of at least some level of intelligence, wasn’t it? Well how does that person inform her staff that she is headed home because her Mommy warned her of an incoming blizzard and advised that she leave work immediately? I didn’t leave, but smile every time I am reminded of weather warning calls from my Weather Mom.

It was my practice to phone my Mother every night to check in on her. Three words into my greeting and Weather Mom never failed to interrupt with updates on the next day’s forecast. Immaterial to her was the knowledge that Jim and I always watched the news and weather.

Our favourite family Mother story took place in September, 2005. My brother, David, and his wife, Lorraine, were headed to Florida for a vacation. Caribbean blood coursing through her veins, Weather Mom was apoplectic. Didn’t David and Lorraine understand that it was hurricane season? Her warnings became increasingly frantic as their date for departure neared. Meanwhile Jim and I were headed to the Royal LePage National Sales Conference in Halifax…..where on September 17, Hurricane Ophelia hit Nova Scotia. David and Lorraine? They enjoyed a sunny beautiful vacation. Correct forecast, wrong country, Mom. 😂

When my Mother passed away, her closest Bajan family members, Sheila and Michael, asked if we could possibly delay Mom’s Celebration of Life by a few days, giving them time to fly up from Barbados. During the memorial, many hilarious stories were told, but none as amusing as the numerous references to Weather Mom. During one Weather Mom tale, I noticed Michael nodding and smiling. Only then did I appreciate how far my Mother’s reputation as a weather beacon had spread.

Like Mother, like daughter, they say. Oh how I hate to admit the truth in that old adage, but find myself texting our son, Matthew, of incoming inclement weather or emailing Christopher with St. John’s blizzard and hurricane warnings. Responses to such weather alarms are generally, Channelling Gramma again, eh Mom? 

Like an addict, I am incapable of stopping myself. I’d like to blame 26 years of sailing for my fascination with weather radar, but sadly believe it is in my DNA. When my Weather Radar App (doesn’t everyone have that app?) notifies me of an advancing inclement system, I become glued to my iPad watching weather fronts move across the map, wondering who I should text. Oh Mom, you would be so proud of  me.

After a year and a half of not seeing Christopher and Stephanie, Jim and I finally fly out to St. John’s on October 7 to celebrate Thanksgiving with them. We have held our breaths and crossed our fingers, praying that Newfoundland does not experience another surge in COVID cases, messing up our plans. So far, so good. Well, that was until Sam ( Hurricane Sam, that is ) showed up on the weather radar. 😲

Okay! Okay! I hear you Weather Mom.

 

GOOD EAR, BAD EAR

One of the most important things you can do when travelling to a foreign country is learn a few helpful words and phrases in the language of that country. No, they will not expect you to be fluent in their language, but they will be pleasantly pleased that you made the effort, no matter how badly you mangle the phrase. I promise that your reception will be exponentially more courteous and helpful than should you expect them to speak fluent English. Believe it or not, many travellers do. Flash news! You are visitors in THEIR country.

This is why I smiled this afternoon when I found Jim beginning to brush up on his Italian for our 2022 trip.

In 2010, before a 2011 six-week trip to bella Italia, Jim and I signed up for a night course in Italian. The first six sessions were wonderful. Hallelujah, I could actually remember the meaning of Italian words the following week. And then…..aaaach! 😩 The teacher launched into sentences and conversation. Whaaaaat? Unlike Jim, I have a horrible ear for languages. When sentences were spoken to me they sounded like, jshurnwbxyvifkenxgcugoemxbcy. How do you respond to that…..and in Italian? 

Jim, meanwhile, happily conversed with the teacher and fellow students….no problemo!

Jim’s ear for languages is quite simply awesome. During our first trip to Barbados I had to ask him not to imitate the locals as it may appear that he was having fun at their expense. Jim, filled with incomprehension, rewarded me with his hurt puzzled puppy dog look. He had no idea that he was speaking with a heavy Bajan accent; his ear just picked it up and his mouth ran with it.

Three years at bilingual Laurentian University resulted in a French speaking graduate. Lack of constant exposure and Jim has lost most of that French, but he sure got by in France with flying colours. If you have the ear, it is amazing what returns almost instantly.

Italian? Me? I can read signs and menus and make myself understood with flailing arms and gesticulating hands. Jim? With a few months of brushing up on what he has previously learned and practised during past trips to bella Italia, he will be speaking like un vecchio gentiluomo italiano in no time.

Study on, James! I’m liking this personal translator thing.

LIKE SAND THROUGH MY FINGERS

Jim and I are half a year from turning 75. Neither one of us feels 75……..well, most of the time. 😂 We eat well, are active and according to our doctors, are very healthy. It would be naive, though, to think that this good health is infallible. We have watched too many ‘healthy’ friends suddenly suffer from or succumb to illnesses. Thus far we have been blessed.

My feet now suffer from chronic itchiness. I so wish to travel, to reconnect with that world out there, to feel the powerful thrust of a jet as it takes off, to lose ourselves in another culture and history, to visit Christopher and Stephanie, to enjoy the ocean breezes in Barbados with Morgan and Zachary, to wander the cobblestoned streets of Europe and to gaze at centuries-old sculptures and paintings, to eat different foods, to, to, to….I need the tonic of travel and I need it soon!

Neither Jim nor I are fans of cruises ships or bus tours. In fact, we spend our trips studiously timing our visits to avoid the crush of cruise ship and bus tour hordes. Give us a car, a map, our GPS, mostly small towns, no gitchy, made-in China souvenir stands, real people, local markets and regional food. The emerging problem for us is that car rental companies don’t much like drivers over 75. I would be lying if I didn’t admit that how to get around “on our own” will soon become an issue. Private drivers and trains, here we come? 🤔

As Jim and I twiddle our fingers waiting for travel to become relatively safe once again, I feel as if time, like sand, is slipping through my fingers. We have so much planned and being realistic, dwindling time. Courtesy of our unvaccinated, this pandemic has been prolonged. For now I will bite my tongue (deeply bite my tongue) on that issue.

Maps, books and the internet have been scoured; airfare and accommodations have been booked. Move forward, I keep telling myself. With fingers crossed we dream of soon boarding those jets and curing our itchy feet.

Dear Anti-Vaxxer, Ask Yourself….

I admitted to a close friend the other day that what I have lost during this pandemic is my patience, my ability to remain calm, and my tolerance…..of anti-vaxxers. My emotions, of late, have morphed exponentially into downright disgust, hostility and fury. I find myself full of anger and I don’t like this new me. A recent Facebook posting asked anti-vaxxers to respect the writer’s decision to be vaccinated as the writer respected theirs not to. Are you kidding me? I feel a rant coming on.

One basic lesson taught in Political Science 101 is that too much democracy destroys democracy, that there are sacrifices one must make to live in civilized society. No where in the Canadian Charter of Rights does it allow any citizen to pose a danger to another. Flash alert! For the good of the general population, the federal government has the right to mandate vaccines. That from a leading constitutional lawyer! There are only two valid medical exemptions: 1) a previous reaction to an MRNA vaccine, and 2) if after the first vaccine, a patient has suffered either myocarditis or pericarditis. Oh, and a primary tenet in economic theory is that there cannot be a healthy economy without a healthy population.

Dear Anti-Vaxxer, Ask yourself what the consequences for your country, province and fellow citizens are costing:

How many family members, friends, neighbours and innocents who were unaware of your vaccine status have you infected? How many deaths are a result of your decision?

How many citizens with serious medical issues are unable to receive life-saving hospitalization and surgery because “there is no room at the inn”? How many critical hospital beds are occupied by unvaccinated COVID patients?

Given the astronomical costs involved in ICU and ventilator treatment of COVID patients and given that the vaccine has been proven to reduce risk and seriousness of cases, what unnecessary taxes is the average Canadian paying to cover your treatment should you contract coronavirus? Are you interested in paying for expensive treatment that with vaccination was avoidable? Thought not!

Do you ever consider the personal trauma experienced by our exhausted, over-worked front line workers who have been at this for over a year and a half? Actually, do you consider anyone other than yourself?

As the Delta variant has been proven to provide a higher risk to our younger population, do you ever consider the danger you pose to our children?

Are you aware that the breeding Petri dish for variants is YOU?

You have exhibited your selfishness, but are you also lazy, stupid and uneducated too? Are you aware that legitimate scientists publish in scientific medical journals, not on Facebook and the internet? On what facts are your decisions based?

I was going to request that you hold a mirror up to your face and answer honestly, but why bother. We wouldn’t be here is this prolonged pandemic if decency, honesty, and consideration of others are what you believe in. I forgot….it’s all about you!

Phew! That’s off my chest. I feel better. Rant over!

A CONVERSATION WITH MYSELF

Our son, Christopher, wrote in his most recent blog that it is of no importance should no one read his writings as his blogs are “conversations with myself”. I love that thought. Putting my thoughts to paper does give them more personal meaning. And so, I am indulging myself, putting thoughts to paper, making them real to me. Warning! This blog is for me. I will not be insulted if you so not proceed.

In 2020, the pandemic threw a monkey wrench into our planned family reunion in Barbados. Thankfully we were able to spend precious time with Christopher and Stephanie who flew in from St. John’s. For all of us, though, the phone call from Matt and Michelle three days before they were to arrive was devastating. Matt’s company had restricted all non-essential travel and they were not coming. Heartbroken is a understatement! Lost was my opportunity to introduce our grandchildren, Morgan and Zachary, to part of their heritage, their “island in the sun”, and for Jim and I, after travelling elsewhere for many years, to return to be with Christopher and Matthew once again on Bajan soil where they enjoyed so much of their youth. What we ultimately suffered was dwarfed by families who lost dear ones. Selfishly, though, the ache remained.

A friend recently told me that her desire to visit Barbados was fueled in part by my passion for it. Until March, 2020 I thought that I had lost that passion. Jim and I had not returned since 2013. Was I ever wrong!

6:00 a.m. has always been a magical time for me in Barbados. There I sat, coffee in hand on our first morning enjoying the caress of trade wind breezes, glorying in a spectacular sunrise, listening to nighttime tree frogs hand over chirping duties to daytime birds, and hearing lilting Bajan accents as my island came alive for another day. Perhaps absence truly does make the heart grow fonder, because I felt “it” come over me; an overwhelmingly potent mix of happiness and peace and a realization of how deeply Jim and I have come to love our “island in the sun”. It is an intrinsic part of us and our sons, a second home. “Oh Barbados, how I have missed you.”

Last December I contracted a viral infection, not COVID, but a viscous close cousin. In my lifetime, I do not ever remember being as ill. When you are barely able to breathe, when a walk from bed to the washroom saps every ounce of your strength, when your hemoglobin tanks, your liver enzymes sky rocket and your kidney function slows, I can personally attest to the fact, no matter how remote the chance, if you have a vivid imagination.......you are dying! Say it. I know. I wear the crown of a hypochondriacal drama Queen.

When I wasn’t sleeping which was rare, I was mentally composing letters to my children and grandchildren about my deep love and hopes for them. When I got to thinking about what travels I would miss, I stopped. Suddenly in my overly dramatic “I’m dying” state, I didn’t care about any destinations....anywhere; I only wished to return to Barbados and with my grandchildren, if possible.

A regular dose of travel dreaming is good for the soul; I have dreamed of returning since March, 2020. About a month ago, Air Canada began taking bookings for Barbados. Jim and I booked immediately. “Half way there”, we thought. Today, Matt called. OMG, he and Michelle, Morgan and Zachary are booked for Barbados next March. A second chance!

The words of my favourite song, “Beautiful Barbados”, never fail to touch my heart:

Beautiful, beautiful Barbados

Gem of the Caribbean Sea

Come back to my island, Barbados

Come back to my island and me. 

Please come back where the night winds are blowing 

Please come back to the surf and the sea

You’ll find rest, you’ll find peace in Barbados

Come back to my island and me.

OMG! Dreams do come true. We are going home!

AH, COME ON......

If you remember the scene in Love Actually when Colin Firth stomps in frustration as someone steals into the taxi he was about to take, you will know what I look like most of the time lately. My feet are aching! Better than grinding my teeth or swearing, I guess. Does anyone tell the truth anymore? Does common decency not exist anymore? Oh, oh, I feel the need of a rant coming on.

The Drumpf announced this week that Canadians wish to open the border, but, god bless him, 🥴 he has insisted that it remain closed. Yah, right?? Apparently, given our massive cases of COVID 19 up here in the great white north, we pose an imminent danger to the U.S. Ah, come on! Where is the truth? That over 80% of Canadians have pressed their government to keep the Canadian-U.S. border closed is a well published fact.

Ruth Bader Ginsberg was a revered American icon who wisely and diligently served her country on the Supreme Court. Within a mere 12 hours of her death, McConnell and the Drumpf had politicized her passing, discussing the pushing through of a nominee to fill the vacant seat. Ah come on! This one gets to me the most. Where is the decency? Can Americans please be given a chance to mourn! How repugnant and disgusting can this White House get?  Oops! That would require another rant!

Did you know that global warming does not exist? According to the Drumpf, the California forest fires are a result of the Democratic Governor not having the forest floors raked. Ah come on! The truth, please. Mr. Drumpf, how exactly should California rake 3,451,428 acres of FEDERAL land. Just asking. A 4.5 quake rattled Southern California yesterday. I am now waiting for the Drumpf to criticize the Democratic Governor with not lubricating their fault lines.

Meanwhile in Canada:

When Erin O’Toole was forced to get tested for COVID in Quebec because of long waits in Ontario, he lashed out at Mr. Trudeau for not providing speedier tests nationally. Ah come on, Mr. O’Toole can we talk about truth? I had higher hopes for you than this. The fact that you were able to be tested almost immediately in Quebec belies the fact that federally we have an issue. Be honest; you couldn’t attack your provincial Conservative counterpart; you need his support. Better to take a dig, no matter how falsely based, at the PM. More importantly, though, if you are truly unaware that health care is a provincial responsibility, god help the federal Conservatives.

Throughout the pandemic, I have been pleasantly surprised, Mr. Ford, by your strong wartime leadership. However, you lost me when you blamed this year’s school turmoil on the teachers’ unions. Ah come on! Please don’t become a clone of Mr. Drumpf when it comes to accepting responsibility. The teachers’ unions were never consulted by you or Mr. Lecce during the process. Planning for this year’s school year was left until the last moment and then dumped on the school boards with little direction. And please don’t tell teachers to step up to the plate like our wonderful medical workers. Teachers have not received years of training nor experience in wearing gowns and masks nor in dealing with infectious diseases in the classroom. As the professionals that most of them are, they are stepping up and they will learn, but with little help from your government.

Okay, I feel better. Rant over and I didn’t have to stomp. My feet are relieved.

ANXIETY AND YEARNING

How are you dealing with this pandemic? As much as I am loathe to admit it, I’m not ‘doing this’ very well. 😢 

Some days I hop out of bed, determined to enjoy the great day ahead of me. I’ve got this, I think. And then, as with this week, I feel burdened down with anxiety - the pandemic, my daughter-in-law and grandchildren returning to school, recurring COVID spikes worldwide, the future economy, the U.S. and Mr. Drumpf, the explosion in Beruit..... Can I just please crawl back under the covers and emerge when this is all over?

I have so much to be grateful for - a healthy family, a husband with whom I enjoy spending time, food on our table (albeit probably too much), financial freedom, the opportunity to read even more, and keeping in touch with wonderful friends via email, Facebook or over coffee. That I have so much for which to be thankful only adds to my guilt when I yearn for those moments I can no longer enjoy. Perhaps too often I indulge myself in remembering what I miss.

I miss travel - everything about it: the pure joy of maps spread out on the table, books piled beside my chair and an iPad humming as research begins for a new trip; hearing Jim say, Book it Dano! 😂 ; sitting in my plane seat waiting for that exciting moment of takeoff; the wonder of meeting new people, learning about and visiting the culture and history of a country, trying new foods... Sigh!

I miss my cooking classes at the Passionate Cook. An evening of meeting 11 other people, drinking wine, listening and watching Lisa talk food, and enjoying what is always an extraordinary meal.

I miss swimming and UxPool, an hour of simply being in the water, intense exercise and my swimming buddies.

I miss hugging friends and family. Let me assure you that this pandemic is unbearable for a hugger.

Most of all, I miss my family. No planned Thanksgiving in St. John’s with Christopher and Stephanie. 😢 No sleepover weekends with my grandchildren. 😢 No family dinners with Matt, Michelle and the kids. 😢

I know! Suck it up princess. Okay, okay, I’m trying!  I imagine wrapping up all of my I misses in a box. When the pandemic passes, I will be able to open my box like a giant gift, savouring more than ever and never again taking for granted what I so yearn for.

JUNE....TOO SOON

As I watch Tropical Storm Cristobal work her way up the Gulf of Mexico, I am reminded of an old Caribbean poem:

June too soon

July stand by

August you must

September remember

October all over

This year in Barbados, as sands transported over 5000 miles from the Sahara Desert on bursts of strong winds, left a thin layer of dust everywhere and created breathtaking sunsets, I remembered 2001 when we last experienced this phenomenon on our island in the sun. My cousin, Michael, predicted a severe hurricane season that year. When questioned why, he explained that the hot layer of air spinning off the African continent increased the chance of vertical wind shears and thus hurricanes; the dust was evidence of those potent wind bursts. He added that Barbadians from years past, without understanding the meteorological reasons, would predict a year of bad storms when Saharan dust arrived in the spring. Hurricane Michelle Category 4 in November (yes, as late as November) 2001, moving slowly and stalling frequently, left widespread devastation over Central America and the Caribbean. One of the worst storms in Caribbean history.

The day after a glorious Bajan evening of pink skies, I commented to our apartment manager, Christina, about how beautiful the evening had been.

Christina: Sand from the Sahara is in the air. Be ready for a day of dust.

Moi: Bad hurricane season?

Christina: For sure!

Three named storms this year before June 7 and the NOAA’s 2020 prediction of an above-normal severe hurricane season sure lend legitimacy to those Caribbean wisdoms of yore.

Now, should we discuss Gramma’s chicken soup cure-all? 😂 

CAN I START AN AVALANCHE?

At least that can’t happen in Canada. How smug we Canadians are, me included, as we sit in the great white north witnessing the violent riots south of the border and passing judgement on our neighbours. Don’t rush to pat yourself on your self-righteous Canadian back yet or believe that racism does not exist here, that we are a nation of absolute cultural tolerance, because we most definitely are not.

😡 May I remind you of the Asian front-line ER nurse who was recently spat on and verbally assaulted.....by a 60-year old white woman.

😡 May I remind you of the Orthodox Jewish students who were assaulted on a Toronto Street.

😡 May I remind you of the plethora of reports of young Muslim mothers wearing the hijab who have been verbally insulted in front of their young impressionable children on Canadian streets.

😡 May I remind you of the disabled senior indigenous woman who was dragged from her vehicle and slammed to the ground by a BC RCMP officer as she wasn’t, on his instructions, exiting her car fast enough.

😡 May I remind you of the now highly successful NHL player who found himself often isolated at training camps and whose abilities were initially doubted simply because of the colour of skin he was in.

Our son, Christopher, is one of the most liberal, accepting, open-minded people I know; he is my inspiration. As a teen, alone on his way to meet friends, Christopher was crossing the foot bridge from Ontario Place to the CNE. Approaching him from the opposite direction and pointing at him were four black youth. For a flicker of a second Christopher wondered if he should be concerned about his personal safety. Worried, that is, until the young men hugged him and cheered, Yeah Barbados, Mon”. On Christopher’s t-shirt was the Bajan flag. Would Christopher have suffered that flicker of concern had the four youth been equally well dressed, but white?

This February, as the coronavirus garnered increasing concern, I stood in line for the registration desk at Markham Stouffville Hospital, maintaining the recommended 6 feet of social distancing. Fine, right? Sadly I am loathe to admit that when a Chinese woman joined her Caucasian husband already in front of me, I immediately increased my social distance by twelve feet. Why? Did I really believe that all Asians carried the virus? Driving home I was forced to admit that I was in denial if I thought that I harboured no racist thoughts. Damn! I thought that I was better than that.

How often have I been in social situations where I have heard a racial slur, but not wishing to cause any problems, have allowed the slur to pass? How frequently in Barbados have I witnessed tourists assert their perceived superiority by insulting locals because of their skin colour, but have not called out the racist?

My actions are not good enough.......not any more. If I ignore intolerance, if I don’t stand up to it, it won’t simply vanish. Racism and cultural intolerance will only fester and grow if I bury my head in the sand. Masai Ujiri, President of the Raptors stated today that, to overcome racism we must raise our voices.

A very wise friend once told me that, it just takes a pebble to start an avalanche. I need to be a pebble. I need to root out the latent intolerance which exists in my psyche and I need to call out racism and intolerance when I see and hear it. Want to help me start an avalanche?

SEETHING DISGUST

Thinking that your personal freedom outweighs the health and safety of your neighbour isn’t really a freedom issue. It’s entitlement. Any high school civics student could explain it to you. Your freedom to swing your arm ends when you hand hits my face.

I’m sick of this, he screamed at the young lady attempting to administer hand sanitizer before he entered the grocery store. Ignoring all floor directional arrows, he stepped within mere inches of customers to reach across them and grab items, manhandled pieces of fresh produce and sniffed them before choosing one, and yelled threateningly, What? at any shopper who dared to look at him askance. His behaviour was thankfully short-lived as the store manager arrived to escort him from the store. His, What about my groceries? was met with the manager’s calm,  I am sure we are capable of finding where to put them back, sir! My silent cheer almost morphed into a happy dance. Thank you Uxbridge Vince’s.

The disgust I felt at this yahoo’s actions pales, though, in comparison to the seething rage I experience when watching protesters in downtown Toronto. Whoever you are, this one is for you. If there is a group of more self-absorbed individuals in Canada right now, I am not sure where to find them. Kids at home too much? Spouse getting on your nerves? Desperately need a haircut? Oh, I know.....you miss boozy nights at the local pub with your buddies!

Can we juxtapose your uneducated, ridiculous demands with the number of Canadians who have tragically lost their lives to COVID 19, most having battled the virus alone in the hospital? How about the families who have lost loved ones? How about friends and family with compromised immune systems? I have an idea. If I am to lose a family member to COVID 19 because you find protocols too inconvenient to follow, how about you choose one of your family members to sacrifice? Fair is fair!

Most importantly, how about the sacrifices of our front-line workers who, nearing physical and emotional exhaustion and risking their own lives, head back daily to the frontlines? Frontlines? Yes, we are at war. We just can’t see our aggressor. I can only assume that an invisible enemy is too difficult a concept for you to grasp.

You’ve endured two months at home? Awww, poor babies! You have no bombs raining down on you, a full refrigerator, internet service, instant communication with family and friends, and the ability to enjoy the outdoors, albeit slightly limited. Damn it, even your liquor stores are open! This is a cake walk compared to your parents and grandparents who survived not mere months, but endured years of fear, the trauma of family separation, the loss of loved ones and strict rationing during World Wars I and II. 

It was a time of crisis; it was the same team, the same fight. We are facing a crisis now. It should be the same team, the same fight. Sorry you are inconvenienced, but get over yourselves. You are pissing me off.  Better yet, head to the U.S. where the President will encourage your protests. Just remember, there is no health care to cover you when you come down with the Coronavirus.  

TRAVELLING IN THE SHADOW OF THE CORONAVIRUS

One week today, God willing as my mother used to say, Jim and I will be in beautiful Barbados. Christopher and Stephanie fly in from St. John’s the next day and Matt, Michelle, Morgan and Zachary arrive on the Saturday for Spring Break.

This trip has been over a year in the planning and is eagerly anticipated by our whole family. Christopher has even taken a partial sabbatical in order to be present. No celebratory party, we told our kids. Our chosen 50th Anniversary celebration was to return to Barbados as a family, to spend time with Christopher and Matthew where they grew up enjoying their Spring Breaks and a Christmas and to watch our grandchildren, Morgan and Zachary, experience for the first time the island of their heritage. What I did not anticipate was how emotionally I would become invested in returning to my island in the sun.

And then COVID-19 cast its menacing shadow over the world of travel.

How does one remain informed but not glued to the mood-dampening, often panic-creating media coverage? Get off the internet; turn off the news? Will that calm my mind? But then how do I remain informed? How do I find the balance between obsessive worry and taking this health threat too lightly? A number of our friends have already cancelled European cruises scheduled for this summer. I totally get it. Jim and I are of the at risk age group. Matt and Michelle justifiably worry about Morgan and Zachary. Damn. Why now?

What was it that the Roman philosopher, Seneca, said? We suffer more often in imagination than in reality. Dig deep, Daf; let those nightmarish worries go. Be practical, I tell myself. Be 100% aware, educate yourself, take appropriate precautions and then get on with living. A frantic bunker mentality is also not healthy. Jim has always lived by the philosophy that it is a waste of emotional energy to worry about whether the sun is going to come up tomorrow.

Modern Canadian passenger jets have HEPA filters which filter the air of respiratory droplets. That said, packed in our carry-on bags will be hand sanitizer and Lysol wipes. We know the many areas to wipe down on and around our seats and to avoid the washroom, but if nature insists to immediately use hand sanitizer when we return to our seats. Common sense tells us to stay away from anyone coughing or showing signs of respiratory illness. I can only hope that such a person would be not allowed aboard. Thus far that has been Canadian airline policy.

Our destination accommodation is not of the sort ripe for spreading illness. It is not a cruise ship, currently referred to by some medical experts as floating petri dishes, nor is it a giant resort where we would be surrounded by strangers. Our two apartments are directly on the Caribbean and fully open to sea breezes. Little time will be spent indoors. Our modus operandi in Barbados has always been outdoor activities and living. The vast majority of restaurants are al fresco. We know to wash, wash, wash our hands. Hours of swimming and snorkelling in the sea should assist with that. Sunshine, laughter, exercise, sea breezes, fresh air, and healthy foods can only bolster our immune systems. Oh, and although she may be scrubless, we have our own personal lovely nurse.....Stephanie. ❤️

Excuse the language, but f**k you COVID-19. I will be alert. I will be cautious, but I refuse to be paralyzed by fear. Bring on Barbados. I am soooo ready.

LADIES and GENTLEMEN, WE HAVE BEGUN OUR DESCENT.......

Window seat, left (port) side of the plane. Don’t forget!

At 5 hours and 10 minutes, the flight time from Toronto to Barbados is not inconsequential, but it is one that with my eyes closed and with knowing only the time that has elapsed, I can tell you exactly where we are. I love and anticipate every moment of this flight. For me it is the ritual of anticipation necessary before setting foot on my island in the sun.

Take-off, chatter, coffee and breakfast kill the beginning few hours as we head over New York City air space and then bank south over the Atlantic picking up the Caribbean beam. At 2 1/2 hours, nose pressed to the window, what I am waiting for is the first sighting of the ocean colour change from dark, menacing navy/grey to vibrant, welcoming turquoise blue and the appearance of little popcorn-like floating clouds. Like the sunshine and sparkling sea, my mood brightens.

I know that we are closer when Antigua and Barbuda come into view below. Small green and brown land masses rising from the sea, they are circled by white lines of waves and brilliant turquoise waters. Look closely enough and white sand beaches are even visible. Excitement!

Just a bit more flying time. If you are conscious of what is to come, you can feel the subtle beginnings of Air Canada’s approach, and then what I have been waiting for, the First Officer makes his announcement, Ladies and Gentlemen, we have begun our descent into Barbados. Please take your seats, place your seats and trays in the upright position and fasten your seatbelts. Yesssssss! Now my nose has become one with the window, eagerly waiting for Barbados’ north point to come into view.......and then there it is. I can’t help it; I know I am a sap, but my eyes well up with tears every time. Almost home.

Window seat, left (port) side of the plane. Remember? And now our seat selection pays off. The flight approach to Grantley Adams International Airport tracks down the Bajan west coast,

 banks sharply at the Careenage allowing you to peer directly down into the sea 😲 and then levels out paralleling, our favourite, the south coast in. 

Sit on the left and Barbados is laid out before you. Sit on the right and you are still looking at the sea. With mounting glee, I identify favourite locales along the coast. At Ostins, Air Canada crosses over land and descends to the airport.

Exiting the plane, sunny warmth and the smell of jet fuel hit you. Sounds crazy, but at that moment I love the pungent smell of jet fuel. 

Step on the tarmac, head towards customs, hear the lilt of Bajan accents and smell the sweet salty breezes. Home at last! ❤️🌴🌞😎🇧🇧

WHERE DA RUM COME FROM

Kill Devil. Yup! That’s what he earliest version of Barbados rum was nicknamed during the 17th. century. Plantation workers experimenting with distilling molasses, a by-product of sugar production, into alcohol created a horrific, fiery tasting liquor not exactly known for its stellar quality. I can only imagine. 😂  Thankfully, by the 18th. century, the brew improved immensely and Barbados’ invention, now called rum, became known and copied across the Caribbean. Ultimately it was enjoyed worldwide.

In the birthplace of rum, it seems only fitting to tour the Mount Gay Distillery; established in 1703, it is the world’s oldest. You won’t regret the visit; I promise. View the truly fascinating process from sugar cane harvest to distillation and then best of all, visit the tasting room.

For years, Jim and I eschewed the little wooden, brightly painted rum shacks, 1500 of which dot the Barbadian landscape. Often ramshackle in appearance, Jim and I looked down our noses at them. Rather sketchy, we thought. Dear god, what misinformed insufferable snots we were. And we missed all those initial years of enjoying the essence of Barbados.

Rum shacks, now more dignifiedly referred to as rum shops, are to Barbados what pubs are to Britain - places to gather with friends, enjoy an inexpensive drink, engage in a wicked game of dominos or cards  and exchange gossip. Want to mix with locals, mingle with anyone from a farmer to a business tycoon, or learn about rum? Wrench yourself from that fancy resort bar, find a rum shack that serves delicious traditional snacks and enjoy the real Barbados.

For as long as I can remember, I have known the adult Bajan nursery rhyme:

One of sour,

Two of sweet,

Three of strong and

Four of weak.

Sour is fresh lime juice; sweet is sugar water (easily made and also served with iced tea in Barbados); strong is of course rum; and weak is ice. Add a dash of Angostura Bitters plus a punch of freshly ground nutmeg, and that ladies and gentlemen is the recipe for an authentic Barbadian rum punch. Forget pre-bottled punches or fruit juice versions, taste the real thing and you will never forget it!

All right,  need to go back.  ASAP!

THE BEST OF BARBADOS IS....

No argument! The best of Barbados is its charming, larger-than-life people. Hah! You thought that I would opt for the beaches, the cane fields, or the colours. Nope! If I returned for nothing else, I would return to enjoy the warmth and genuine friendliness of the average Barbadian. Mahatma Ghandi wisely said that, A nations’s culture lives in the hearts and souls of its people.

Don’t get me wrong. Barbados is not totally populated by perfect people. For that matter, neither is Canada. I must say that I have witnessed the most abhorrent behaviour not from Barbadians, but on the part of tourists. I marvel at how the majority of Bajans continue to smile for us.

An American couple, within hearing range of hotel employees, professed their dislike of the island. Aside from complaining that all they could get was island food 🤪 , the husband groused that, They have let too many black people on the island. Jim did not respond; he simply gave the couple a filthy look, stood up and pointedly walked away. After I scraped my shocked jaw off the ground, I followed him. We watched an elderly British gentleman (I use the term gentleman loosely) in a very public voice in a fine restaurant berate a waiter for what he perceived to be slow service. Did embarrassing his server make him feel more powerful? Whatever happened to discreetly speaking to management? And then there was the loud-mouthed Canadian who took on a street fruit vendor for not having apples. Really? In this case, the besieged Barbadian finally turned to the rude, insistent Canadian and with a dignified, firm and quiet glare said, Hey Mon, this is MY country and MY fruit stand, move on! I wanted to do a happy dance in the street....to a calypso beat, of course.

Why do so many feel because you are a waiter, a street vendor, a hotel employee, speak with a Caribbean accent or are of a different race and colour, that you are inferior and not worthy of basic human decency? Dear God!

The Barbados education system, fully funded by the government, closely follows British norms. Students at both the elementary and high school level wear uniforms. One of my favourite sights is to watch spit and polished, immaculately uniformed students en route to school. We could use a bit of that here in Canada.

Barbados enjoys a 99.6% literacy rate, one of the highest in the world. The U.S.? 99.0%......just saying! Tourism is now the leading sector in the Barbados economy. In response, the curriculum in Bajan elementary and high schools includes Tourism. Taught from a early age, the goal of the courses is to provide students with a better appreciation of the value of tourism to their country. Cave Hill in Barbados is the site of the University of the West Indies which in the 2019 World University Rankings ranked in the top 5% of world institutions. The Barbadian health care system is universal and is ranked as one of the best in the Caribbean.

Barbados is a stable, educated, middle class society. Bajans are famed for their warmth, hospitality, casual charm and exuberant love of life. They are passionately proud of their country and heritage. A visit to the outstanding Barbados Museum is evidence of that. 

Ask a taxi driver anything about his country and get ready; he will be happy to provide a dissertation on the topic. Jim and I still laugh about our taxi drive from the airport to our hotel on our very first visit to the island. Christopher noted that we were passing a cricket match and asked a question about the game. Our driver pulled over to the side of the road overlooking the cricket field and proceeded to explain the intricacies of the game. I wish  I could now boast that I understand. Not so!

Get lost on a lonely country road and chances are it will be one of the motor-biked postal service employees who spot your confusion and seem to intuitively know to stop and assist with a friendly smile and directions.

Here’s the thing. Rules of etiquette have been passed down through the generations, so much so that many joke that Barbadians are more British than the Brits who visit. If you are respectful, mannerly, kind and curious about their home, Barbadians will return that behaviour in spades. Be rude or condescending, then expect to receive the like in return. I say bravo to that. You get what you give.

As that fruit vendor said, This is MY country. News flash! You are not in your own country. It would serve we tourists well to remember that we are in THEIR homeland and to be respectful of that. Isn’t travel about experiencing different cultures, customs and cuisines? If not, if you need to bring your home country’s food and practices with you every where you go, please just stay home! Barbadians are beautiful, sophisticated, friendly people proud of their country and they deserve to be treated accordingly.

Cecelia Ahern once said, Home isn’t a place, it’s a feeling. God bless them, because the Barbadian people over the years have gifted me with that precious feeling.