Nowhere To Runway: Or the time I waited for a rescue flight

I’ve been on a bit of a writing hiatus while away on a whirlwind July and August of adventure. I was in the Limpopo Region of South Africa by way of London, Paris and Johannesburg followed by an even more elaborate hopscotch across the globe on my way back from Cape Town. My last flight…

Men and Motorcycles 2: Or the time I assimilated in silk pyjamas

People don’t travel to remain unchanged. They travel to learn something new, see something new, or be someone new. No great journey started to stay the same. Like people, places change us. I have had so many places that have left an indelible mark on my person. Places that when I could bring myself to…

Learning Lobster: Or how I got a PhD, or therapy, in PEI crustacean

We all have inexplicable fears, pet peeves; odd triggers for our anxieties or annoyances. Most of the time they make absolutely no sense at all. You might be tall and hate heights. You may love the water but are completely creeped out by fish. You might scream for a mosquito but stand too close to…

A Mile a Minute: Or a mutt-delayed marathon

I’ve always wanted to be a runner. I know that sounds ridiculous, since I could in theory, throw on sneakers, move my legs, and run. Running always appealed to me as I drive fast, talk fast, think fast. I categorically want to push anything or anyone that slows me down out of my way. But…

The White People Letter: Or why I wasn’t lost in translation in Shanghai

Canadians generally pride themselves on knowing the hellos, goodbyes and thank yous of the countries to which they travel. Perhaps it is the whole mosaic concept, but we generally aim for achievement in multilingual greetings so we are not mislabelled as unappreciative or unkind. It’s as Canadian a habit as punctuating a statement with ‘eh’….

Canadian Invasion: Or the time it got private in Parliament

“The whole object of travel is not to set foot on foreign land; it is at last to set foot on one’s own country as a foreign land.” – GK Chesterton In fairness, Chesterton probably didn’t trek too far from home. Typically he would lose track of his way, or tire shortly with the weight of…

Vision: Or my top five spectacles… not made by me this time.

The term “vision” is used and overused in many different ways. We will often hear of an artist’s vision for his or her work or, by way of a compliment, an individual may be referred to as a “visionary”. It feels as though the term is thrown about with as little consideration as using one’s…

Polishing Up On Herstory: Or glow-in-the-dark digits in the Dam

In thinking of International Women’s Day, I am brought back to a time when, on my twenty-fifth birthday, I stood in the presence of the powerful words of a brave young woman. The Anne Frank House in Amsterdam doesn’t seem like an ideal way to ring in one’s birthday, but it did make me face…

Disturbing the Peace: Or my faltering hush in Hong Kong

I haven’t yet mastered the art of meditation. Quite frankly, I haven’t even been able to do it for more than a minute. My mind races, one neuron to the next, and I spend more time making a to-do list or practicing a reply than I do listening to my breathing or saying a mantra….