Tag Archives: family

Honouring Fridays: October 23rd, 2009

As many people may have heard, my grandmother died last week. She was in her late 90’s and still managed to go for a swim everyday in Lake Okanagan, knit woolly booties for the new babies at the hospital, and spend as much time as possible with her family. Back in the day she was a talented figure skater, a baker of the most delicious fudge, and a practical joker of the highest degree. She took pleasure in stuffing home knitted socks with jaw-breaker candies as big as my head (at least they felt that big when my 10 year old eyes watched my Dad pull them out of his new socks on Christmas morning) and she could always be counted on for warm hugs, a great game of rummy (she cheated, but we all let her), and some laughs – she was always laughing.

Grandma Frances. So, this week I am the most grateful for my grandmother and the wonderful life that she was able to live. I can only hope that I have inherited an ounce of your kindness, a funny bone or two and perhaps a drop or two of your delicious fudge-making talents too 🙂 We love you and will miss you Grandma.

Ginger tea. During our 5-day trek in the hills and mountains, after climbing for 4-5 hours, we would reach the guest house exhausted and hungry. Dinner would usually be some warm and filling potato or egg dish but what we all looked forward to more than dinner was the steaming pot of ginger tea at the end of the meal. It was quite simple – black tea with fresh, chopped ginger and a splash of honey dumped into the pot. No infusion of ginger essence or synthetic ginger flavouring, just real fresh gingery hot tea. It was a warm hug before bed, a muscle rejuvinator before the next day of hiking, a chance to reconnect with family about how the day went, and a moment of calm, full-belly, peacefulness. I plan on making this concoction throughout the cold months here in Nepal to ward off H1N1, common colds, chest infections, and stomach irritations – even if it doesn’t work it will still bring me back to the cool crisp evenings in Nepal’s mountains sitting with family and sharing a wonderful pot of tea.
Rotisserie chicken. While my parents were visiting earlier this month we made a wonderful discovery. The small and unassuming toaster oven that graces my counter is also a rotisserie! In preparations for a small Thanksgiving dinner we had planned to roast a chicken in the toaster oven. I found some odd spear and dagger like instruments in the cupboard and starting putting the pieces together. On inspection of the oven, we discovered that lo and behold, the large spear-like apparatus rotates! AHA! Spear the bird, slap it on the rotating device and voila – rotisserie chicken – a zillion times better than any Swiss Chalet affair and truly Thanksgiving worthy. You can rest assured that we will be re-enacting this magical moment for Christmas dinner as well 🙂

Rekindling a love affair. Despite the fact that I sometimes take you for granted, I am reminded just how appreciative I am to have you. The sweetness of reconnecting feels good. It is also especially good when the object of affection is so steady, familiar, and altogether unchanging. When it can feel like you were never apart. And so I have rekindled my love affair. You keep me connected, give me entertainment, and suffer as pound out my weekly installments of gratitude and yet never have I once shown any appreciation for you…the tool. You may have lost the ability to hold any charge in your battery due to random power surges but you will always have my undying affection.

Honouring Fridays: July 24th, 2009

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Last weekend we took a fantastic day-trip hiking along the edge of the hills that surround the Kathmandu Valley. Spectacular views, excellent company, incredible Buddhist monasteries, and some much needed peace were the highlights. The single low-light: the most crowded and painful microbus ride through almost knee deep monsoon puddles after waiting for 45 minutes. It was totally worth the pain but clearly I need some practice on the whole Buddhist zen…the following conversation occurred between me and my brain during said painful micro ride:

Breathe in deeply (except while my nose is crammed into the armpit of the guy in front of me).

Breathe out deeply (and hope that guy in front of me doesn’t mistake my excellent belly-breathing as a sexual advance).

Let all the muscles from the top of your head to the bottom of your toes just relax and release (except for the muscles that are hanging on for dear life to the roof of the 10-person microbus that is currently carrying me and 50 other people through torrential rains).

Close your eyes (but occasionally scan the rain streaked windows for any landmark that looks familiar where I can make a fast exit).

Imagine you are floating (actually, I am floating, there are so many people on this bus that they have squished me upwards for lack of space and your feet are no longer connected with the ground).

Your weight is fully supported by a gentle breeze (actually it is not a breeze but the heavy breathing of the 50 people crammed inside this small space).

Let any thoughts you have surround themselves in bubbles and float away (how do I surround every curse word I have ever known in a bubble?).

Allow yourself to drift away, slowly, gently into the state of peace (or how about I just get the heck off and find a damn taxi!).

So despite my inability to release my ego and be zen, I do have many things to be grateful for.

Bacon. Greasy and salty, crunchy and chewy, deeply savoury goodness in the form of a fried strip of pig meat. Bacon is something I rarely eat here in Nepal. But the breakfast buffet at the hotel I stayed at for a workshop this week served bacon. And I ate it. All of it. I couldn’t stop myself – I actually went for a second helping of just bacon…who does that??!!! I think it reminded me of home and filled some sort of hole in my soul. It felt almost spiritual – like some inner food-god connection had been unleashed. Perhaps if I had carried some bacon on the micro with me the conversation above would be different. Don’t you worry bacon…we will have a rendezvous again soon, although this time I might just arm myself with some lettuce and tomato. Until then, I will keep you in my thoughts here.
I am grateful for realizing that it’s no longer my problem. We had a proposal due for funding today. It isn’t yet finished. I don’t know when it will be. We might get an extension but we might not. I poured heart and soul into helping to write this thing but couldn’t do it alone. I asked for help and nobody heard my call. I was seriously saddened and frustrated until I spoke with a good colleague, Jeevan, and he reminded me that it wasn’t my problem. I was propping up a crumbling building alone – even if I managed to stabilize one corner, it was still doomed to crumble. I did everything I could but if the building crumbles…I will be sad but it’s just no longer my problem.
Being in the right place at the right time. During our hike and monastery visits last week, just as we arrived at the final monastery, the thunder began to clap and a light rain began to fall. Almost at the exact same time a large drum began to sound inside the monastery. The Buddhist monks were being called to prayer. It was a practice of one of the traditional Tibetan chants. We were able to sneak inside and sit near the back and observe the ritual chanting. It was a beautiful combination of sounds – the booming of large drums marking a return to mindfulness, the gentle snap of fingers when a particular state of consciousness or being had been achieved and the gentle murmur of about 100 voices repeating the soft and rounded Tibetan words. With the rains outside it was the perfect place to be, without a plan and finding ourselves sitting on the edges of daily life in a monastery.
Rex. He has been trying to make it onto my blog for weeks. But I always tell him that I am ALWAYS grateful for him so don’t need to blog about it every week. But this week, I am more grateful for him than usual. He has been away in Hetauda and I am always reminded, when he is gone, just how much support, love, kindness, patience, laughter, and joy he brings to my life. You made the blog sweetie – now get on that crowded smelly microbus and come home soon!

Honouring Fridays: June 26th, 2009

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Terrible nasty chest infection and head cold-2. Tlell-0. I had thought, and pardon the visual nature of this next paragraph (please skip if desctiptions of illness, bodily fluids or somewhat gross cultural habits make you the least bit naseous), that any sickness I would encounter in Nepal would likely result in symptoms of the spewing variety or the ever persistent and enviable “bottom explosion”. I discovered, however, that my achilles heal when it comes to sickness is respiratory. I must have a magnetic field that attracts the bugs that cause the worst possible head colds and chest infections. The coughing, hacking, I-just-swallowed-sandpaper, head pounding type of cold that confines one to the Neocitron, sleep, groggy movie watching, sleep cycle has gotten me twice in the last 6 months. And I have no doubt it will strike again. The plus…I can eat as much unwashed fruit and unsantized vegetables as I please and seemingly never have stomach or bowel problems…the minus…I still haven’t got the hang of blowing my nose by standing in the street, pressing one nostril in, blowing out the other, and letting whatever comes out drip into a puddle on the ground…I rely heavily on tissue and am a-ok to keep it like that…it just means I have to carry around rolls of toilet paper in my purse.

Asparagus. Like a light sabre of glowing green goodness, the pointy green spears lured me. I had never thought that asparagus would be a vegetable of discovery here in Nepal but just up the road from my house there is an small organic asparagus growing farm, which conducts research and hosts workshops on how local farmers can grow asparagus. I eagerly popped into the small lane and nosed around until I found the place. ALAS! They didn’t have any just yet…that was 4 weeks ago. And today (trumpets please!) the large grocery store near out house had bundles and bundles of them! Who could resist? Tomorrow morning, we plan to have an asparagus eating competition, followed rather closely by everyone’s favourite toilet game…how can you tell I ate asparagus today? 😉
Eating in restaurants where nobody asks you “how does everything taste?”. There was a moment of clarity this week when out eating in a restaurant where we realized why it was so much more enjoyable than eating out in Canada – they let you enjoy yourself and only interrupt when you beckon them! Genius! I am all for prompt and efficient service in restaurants but I do believe that the continual witty banter, checkin’ in, and crouching next to my table to really get to my level has gone a bit too far. Granted, sometimes you can feel neglected, ignored, or even snubbed but it doesn’t take long to realize that the power is really in your hands – when you want something you just have to ask and when you want for nothing, you can bask in it knowing that nobody is hovering to anticipate your every need.
All-natural silver cleaner. My silver jewelery has been taking a beating since we arrived (explains why every Nepali woman is decked out in gold…apparently silver tarnishes much faster than other metals and is accelerated in places with high humidity…Nepali women know best!). In efforts to stay away from harsh chemicals I did some quick searching for a natural solution. All you need is baking soda, aluminum foil and hot water! Or toothpaste.
Visitors! We are eagerly awaiting the arrival, in just over 2 1/2 months, of my parents from Canada. There is something so satisfying about having a date, firm and confirmed, in the near future when you will have a new injection of excitement into life. You get to see your new home through fresh and unjaded eyes which can make everything look so very different. I think it will gives us new appreciation for what an amazing adventure we are having and the last kick of energy before we close our time in Nepal. I am grateful for counting down…only 80 days left!

Needing less, learning more