LIKE GOING TO A 3-D MOVIE

Travelling without an understanding of local history is like going to a 3-D movie and refusing the glasses. Reading that one opening line in a book by Rick Steves has had a profound effect on Jim and I and how we have learned to travel. We endeavour, I admit not always successfully, to gain some insight into where our journey is taking us before we board that  jet. What we are visiting today is impacted by its history, art, architecture, food and culture.

The emotional impact of sites is certainly stronger with a pre-understanding of their history. From the enormity of the monument at Vimy Ridge, France to the isolated Dolomite mountain trenches of WWI in which more Italian soldiers died from exposure than battle injuries to the haunting Jewish Ghetto in Venice to the tiny Sealers’ Monument in Elliston, Newfoundland, Jim and I have found ourselves more than once reduced to tears.

And no more than with our upcoming trip to the Outer Hebrides has Rick Steves’ quote resonated with me. What was at first a means to pacify Jim who for eons has had these remote isles on his bucket list has become an I-cannot-wait-to-get-there journey for me. I had envisioned endless deserted beaches and isolated windswept cliffs. Beautiful, but after a few days.....yawn? For sure we will experience plenty of those, but it is the history of these far-flung isles and their life on the edge that has riveted Jim and I for the past months.

Books have passed between the two of us and endless discussions ensued.  Jim is currently reading When I Heard The Bell, The Loss of The Iolaire by John MacLeod and I, The Guga Hunters by Donald Murray.

 Maps have been dragged back out, routes have been altered and unique accommodation experiences (Gearrannan  Blackhouse Village, for example) have been reserved.

Who knew that when Jim first mentioned the Outer Hebrides an ordinary trip, in my mind, would be transformed into a highly anticipated adventure by simply ingesting a dose of history. 

RECIPE FOR AN EARLY MORNING WALKING GROUP

6:30am??? Are you kidding me? I whined.

I’m friends with the lunatic fringe, I groaned to myself.

I’m retired; I’ve been there, done that ‘early morning thing’, I complained.

My mind desperately searched for viable excuses.

Suggested by our inspirational Walk15 Instructor, Antonietta, ten of us dove into the five-day-a-week program. Gee, thanks Antonietta, I groused, but here I am in the fourth week of our Uxbridge Walkers group. Yup! I could conjure up no legit excuses.  😩 My alarm pings (yes, I am too old to be jarred awake😂 so ping it is) at 5:15am. Shocking as it is, I am on the track early, by 6:00am, and readily confess that I am loving this early morning thing. By 7:30am and before the summer heat becomes oppressive, 7k+ and over 10,000 steps have been registered on my FitBit. Okay, now bring on the rest of the day!

To make us accountable, Antonietta suggested that a daily photo be taken at 6:30am and be tagged to each walker on Facebook. Early and now accountable! Whaaaaaa! 😩 The upside of the photo is that many Facebook friends of Facebook friends have asked to join in. The more the merrier, is our group response. Our 10 walkers have now expanded to 18 and counting.......

The local Ux high school track was chosen, thus allowing everyone to walk at their own pace while being visible to one another. That visibility will be an issue as mornings begin to darken at summer’s end. So be it. I find our little band of walkers growing tighter by the day. The social benefits far outweigh the agony of that 5:15am ping. Mornings are filled with challenge, laughter, good cheer and encouragement. No more is the I’ll do it later part of my vocabulary. I am energized for the day ahead.

Interested, but Uxbridge is too far out in the boonies for you to join us? Then here is my recipe for a successful early morning walking group:

Set timer for 6:30am

1 dash of contagious inspired idea

1 whole organizer

20+ legs of walkers

1 stick of selfie

1 tbsp challenge of self

1 tsp each of goodwill, humour and smiles

1 cup blossoming friendships

Toss lightly. Garnish with encouragement and serve on 500-metre oval track

Stay healthy and enjoy!

ONCE YOU HIT A CERTAIN AGE.....

A dear friend of mine (thank you Laura)  recently posted this on Facebook:

After I stopped laughing at how much the posting hit home, I decided that although I would likely piss off many with MY list, what the hell, I’m blogging this anyways. None of the following “unimpressive s**t” is personally directed. I admit that it is perceived through my value system and thus suspect to many. However, these are the s**t that, as I age, no longer impress me.

Designer Labels. Don’t take this as evidence that I prefer cheap throw-away fashion. I do, however, look at designer labels and, valid or not, see a purchaser attempting to display status. Insecure? is what I really want to ask. Why else would you want to wear or carry someone’s logo, advertising them for free? Truth be known, most people are perfectly capable of recognizing quality clothing, belts, purses and shoes. Sorry, but designer labels leave me cold.

Wealthy Parents. Frankly Scarlett, I don’t give a damn what your parents’ social register name was, where they lived, what lofty position they held or how much money they banked. Too many highly successful men and women in our world have come from families who had virtually nothing but instilled in their children the values of hard work, perseverance, overcoming obstacles and generosity of spirit and where there was a dearth of parental guidance, these men and women found within themselves the determination to build a better life. Now THAT is admirable. So what impresses me? What kind of human being YOU are, not your parents.....YOU!

Negative Nellyism. You know who I mean: in the winter they whine that it is too cold to enjoy life, and in the summer, too hot. It’s raining too much, we haven’t had enough rain, it’s too cloudy, it’s too sunny......and on and on and on. We all experience our negative moments. That is life! But, like the flu, chronic negativity is contagious. For self survival, I need to keep my distance. Life is too short to be dragged down mentally by doom, gloom, frowns and whining. Instead of grumbling that roses have thorns, why not celebrate that thorns have roses? Chronic negativity does not impress me. As I get older, I avoid it at all costs; I haven’t got enough time left in my journey to waste it listening to negative s**t.

The Best. During a wine tasting at Chateauneuf-du-Pape, I learned what constitutes “the best”. Asked whether the best wines are French wines, the chief vintner smiled and then, to our complete surprise, answered that whatever wine sits well on your palette is “the best”. He added that although he would like to announce that French wines are the world’s finest, nothing is “the best” unless you personally like it. If a plonk wine is your favourite, then it is “the best”. Whenever I am informed that they (whomever that amorphous they is) say that something is “the best” - olive oil, wine, restaurant, hotel, car, where to live or whatever, I am not impressed. If it turns your crank, then it is “the best” for you. Tell my why you love it instead. Hmmm? Well that is, unless we are talking about our country, and then, although the Danes and Norwegians might argue, I will agree that Canada is “the best”. ❤️🇨🇦😉

Upon rereading this, I asked Jim if my words were too strong. His answer? Sweetheart, having lived over 70 years gives you the right to define what in your mind is bulls**t. So be it.

Aside from my blogs, what doesn’t impress you as you age?