Sunday, December 11, 2016
Europe jumped out of the wee bag that holds my swim access card today. My first time in the local pool since before my summer, 2016 trip to Europe, I found in my wee bag a receipt for cookies, from the Tesco grocery store in Hove, beside Brighton. I also found a one-cent Euro coin, from Germany.
I remember paying 40 British cents for those cookies on the sunny early-September day I walked through Hove, where we house sat for two weeks, to a Medieval church, in whose by-donation book box I found a 2009 English translation of Celestina, Rojas' 1499 picaresque novel, a century before Cervantes' Don Quixote. I read and gave away Cervantes' decades ago, and Rojas this fall, before I gave it to the local recreation centre for the person who teaches conversational Spanish.
The recreation centre, two rinks, a concert hall, and the pool, is halfway through a two-year expansion which will result in two pools and a water slide. The wading pool, hot tub, steam room, and sauna are gone; in their place the lane pool goes up, across a temporary wall from the current lane pool. When the new lane pool's done, the current lane pool will close, for the building of the leisure pool and water slide in its site.
England, the mother of parliaments, votes, as did Williams Lake in the October, 2015 municipal election referendum to approve the borrowing of ten million dollars for the recreation upgrade.
While I upgraded my own recreation this morning, I thought of Hamburg, Luneburg, Cuxhaven, Berlin, and Rostok, the German cities I saw this summer, courtesy of my generous sister. I know not where the one-cent coin came from, but I am glad I kept a few European and British coins as souvenirs.
"Was I in Europe this summer?" I marveled. "Did I spend four weeks at a Hamburg house-sit? Three nights in Berlin, the farthest east I ever was? Day train trips to Cuxhaven and Luneberg, on the North and Baltic Seas, respectively?" My generous younger sister was why.
"Did we walk the Brighton beach many times during our two-week house sit in adjacent Hove? Did we eat great fish and chips in a London restaurant, after a day in renown art galleries? Did we house sit for two weeks in Manchester, ride its funky street cars, and see the canals still plied in this Industrial Revolution epicentre? Did I watch 75 000 pour out of the Manchester United stadium after a soccer game?
As I swam along, back crawl, this morning, I thought, "My, what a generous younger sister I have! She bought me a plane ticket from Edmonton to Hamburg, and another from London to Edmonton. She fed, sheltered, and entertained me. She translated for me in Germany. We spent eight weeks together, our longest time together in more than 25 years."
We flew together to Canada, her first time out of Europe in more than two years. She plans to return to Europe in early 2017. Why not, eh? I'm glad she got me there, this time, and two times before: 2015 to Britain and Ireland, 2011 to France.
The Tesco receipt and European one-cent coin, sitting on the desk beside this laptop, remind me that I was in Europe this summer. What memories!
Sunday, December 11, 2016
Sunday, December 4, 2016
First Ice Skate of the Winter
Sunday, December 4, 2016
"Don't know much about history," minor hockey, frozen tobacco smoke, the Rideau Canal, Joe the sport reporter, the Fort Providence snye of the Mackenzie River, and reverse direction came to mind, and feet, as I went for my first skate of the winter. It was free, one of the monthly skates sponsored by this or that local business or charity. It was in the smaller of the two indoor rinks here. My old legs, on my 40-year-old skates, did 100 laps in 55 minutes. The biggest challenge was dodging the 100+ other skaters, perhaps all of them younger than I, some using plastic walkers to learn to skate, many going in unpredictable directions, including down. This is good agility practice, although skating backwards is not allowed this year, unlike last year.
First on skates at age seven or so, I sometimes brought them to my Grade 1-3 school because it had an outdoor rink. It was easier then that it would be now to sit atop snow, such as surrounded the boards of that rink, and put on and take off my skates.
At that time, decades ago, for 25 cents a person could public skate on Friday night in the local indoor rink in the town where I grew up, about 700 kilometres east of where I live now. The music today was Christmas carols, mostly old, sung by Dean Martin, Nat King Cole, Bing Crosby, and Mahalia Jackson, among others. I distinctly remember childhood skating nights with "What a Wonderful World," by Louis Armstrong on the rink speakers.
Minor hockey, which I played from age 9-14, was all boys; but today's skate saw many girls, 10-12 years old or so, bigger and stronger than boys at that age, in hockey skates, flying around the rink as I did at that age. Today I used the skates I got at age 14, during my last minor hockey year, in 1975-76.
The youngest players played the earliest on Saturday mornings. I remember getting to the rink for a 6:00 A.M. game, Dad tightening my skates. He would watch from the stands. Like others, he smoked in the arena. Frozen tobacco smoke was a smelly feature of the Edson rink and lobby, as was hot chocolate. When I was a bit older, my games sometimes had freshly-flooded ice. Today's hoard on the rink snowed and scratched the ice pretty thoroughly.
Later, at 20, I first skated on Ottawa's Rideau Canal, the world's longest rink. It winds seven kilometres from near Carleton University, where I finished my Bachelor of Arts in English that year, north through Ottawa, past Parliament Hill, and into the Ottawa River.
The next winter I was 21 and a newspaper reporter in Whitecourt, Alberta. The sports reporter, Joe, from St. Catherines, Ontario, did not skate well, but he signed up for a fundraising skate-athon. Several times, before the event, he and I went to the local indoor rink so Joe could practice skating. During the event, Joe did not fall, and he did skate the required distance, 200 laps, I think.
A few years later, in the winter of 1986-87, I worked for the Hudson's Bay Company in the Western Northwest Territories. I began in Fort Simpson, spent the winter in Fort Providence, and filled in for a week in Fort Resolution and a month in Fort Liard for managers who were away. The Mackenzie River flows past Fort Providence. Just downstream from the dock for barges, a snye, perhaps against flooding, opens perpendicularly from the river along the edge of this village of several hundred. This waterway was about 20 m wide and 80 m long. When it froze over, it was as clear and smooth as glass, until snow covered it. That made for joyful skating. The village had an outdoor rink, too.
Today's skate, overseen by three "Skate Patrol" teenage girls, two on the ice at any one time, did not go only counterclockwise, as Edson public skates went. Every 45 minutes, a patrol person announced on the arena speakers that everyone was to skate in the opposite direction. Thus, 53 of my 100 laps were counterclockwise and the other 47 were clockwise. I was there for about an hour, but this free skate lasted three hours. Staying longer might have pained my left knee, which hurts a few days per month, but only mildly.
At 55, seniors age for the local recreation complex, currently amid renovations that will replace the existing 45-year-old 25m, 6-lane pool with the like, and add a leisure pool, which will include a water slide, I am happy that my health is realtively good. Before today's skate, I'd walked five kilomtres for various errands. I'll walk farther tomorrow, twice to and from my part-time job at the local Loomis Express courier office, and on various errands around town.
"What a wonderful world it would be...."
"Don't know much about history," minor hockey, frozen tobacco smoke, the Rideau Canal, Joe the sport reporter, the Fort Providence snye of the Mackenzie River, and reverse direction came to mind, and feet, as I went for my first skate of the winter. It was free, one of the monthly skates sponsored by this or that local business or charity. It was in the smaller of the two indoor rinks here. My old legs, on my 40-year-old skates, did 100 laps in 55 minutes. The biggest challenge was dodging the 100+ other skaters, perhaps all of them younger than I, some using plastic walkers to learn to skate, many going in unpredictable directions, including down. This is good agility practice, although skating backwards is not allowed this year, unlike last year.
First on skates at age seven or so, I sometimes brought them to my Grade 1-3 school because it had an outdoor rink. It was easier then that it would be now to sit atop snow, such as surrounded the boards of that rink, and put on and take off my skates.
At that time, decades ago, for 25 cents a person could public skate on Friday night in the local indoor rink in the town where I grew up, about 700 kilometres east of where I live now. The music today was Christmas carols, mostly old, sung by Dean Martin, Nat King Cole, Bing Crosby, and Mahalia Jackson, among others. I distinctly remember childhood skating nights with "What a Wonderful World," by Louis Armstrong on the rink speakers.
Minor hockey, which I played from age 9-14, was all boys; but today's skate saw many girls, 10-12 years old or so, bigger and stronger than boys at that age, in hockey skates, flying around the rink as I did at that age. Today I used the skates I got at age 14, during my last minor hockey year, in 1975-76.
The youngest players played the earliest on Saturday mornings. I remember getting to the rink for a 6:00 A.M. game, Dad tightening my skates. He would watch from the stands. Like others, he smoked in the arena. Frozen tobacco smoke was a smelly feature of the Edson rink and lobby, as was hot chocolate. When I was a bit older, my games sometimes had freshly-flooded ice. Today's hoard on the rink snowed and scratched the ice pretty thoroughly.
Later, at 20, I first skated on Ottawa's Rideau Canal, the world's longest rink. It winds seven kilometres from near Carleton University, where I finished my Bachelor of Arts in English that year, north through Ottawa, past Parliament Hill, and into the Ottawa River.
The next winter I was 21 and a newspaper reporter in Whitecourt, Alberta. The sports reporter, Joe, from St. Catherines, Ontario, did not skate well, but he signed up for a fundraising skate-athon. Several times, before the event, he and I went to the local indoor rink so Joe could practice skating. During the event, Joe did not fall, and he did skate the required distance, 200 laps, I think.
A few years later, in the winter of 1986-87, I worked for the Hudson's Bay Company in the Western Northwest Territories. I began in Fort Simpson, spent the winter in Fort Providence, and filled in for a week in Fort Resolution and a month in Fort Liard for managers who were away. The Mackenzie River flows past Fort Providence. Just downstream from the dock for barges, a snye, perhaps against flooding, opens perpendicularly from the river along the edge of this village of several hundred. This waterway was about 20 m wide and 80 m long. When it froze over, it was as clear and smooth as glass, until snow covered it. That made for joyful skating. The village had an outdoor rink, too.
Today's skate, overseen by three "Skate Patrol" teenage girls, two on the ice at any one time, did not go only counterclockwise, as Edson public skates went. Every 45 minutes, a patrol person announced on the arena speakers that everyone was to skate in the opposite direction. Thus, 53 of my 100 laps were counterclockwise and the other 47 were clockwise. I was there for about an hour, but this free skate lasted three hours. Staying longer might have pained my left knee, which hurts a few days per month, but only mildly.
At 55, seniors age for the local recreation complex, currently amid renovations that will replace the existing 45-year-old 25m, 6-lane pool with the like, and add a leisure pool, which will include a water slide, I am happy that my health is realtively good. Before today's skate, I'd walked five kilomtres for various errands. I'll walk farther tomorrow, twice to and from my part-time job at the local Loomis Express courier office, and on various errands around town.
"What a wonderful world it would be...."
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