Warmer evenings.

It is August at last. This is a wonderful month. A favourite. I wonder why . . .

Something about hot, fine weather. Sunsets glow just a little different. And if you didn’t know it was summer before, by the time it’s August there is no doubt.

Something that we’ve been enjoying has been the lazy evening bike rides around the neighbourhood. I’m sure I’ve mentioned it before . . . Simply strolling or riding in lazy circles, biking is a definite favourite. Yesterday we even managed to bike while munching on a cob of corn. Delightful.

Not sure what else is on the roster as we’re back to work this week. We certainly are planning some more island hopping. Salt Spring Island Saturday Market is next. We’ve made terms that we’re not letting summer slip by. No matter how much planning or preparing it takes (or spontaneity) we’re making the most of August.

Another neat highlight from the day? We’ve recently cooked some traditional Hungarian goulash. The whole deal. Burner, bogrács or caldron suspended on a tripod and all the fixings. Diced slab bacon, chopped onion and hot pepper medley. Stewing beef topped up with just enough water. Add paprika. Hot. Chopped carrots and sausage–potatoes last. Let all cook down for a few hours and season to taste.

Wish we had a picture, but we ate most of it. Served with some summertime bread and butter sun pickles and homemade sauerkraut. Yum times a hundred. Would gladly share some if you were here.

Back to work again tomorrow, but, fortunately, we have these delightful memories and fun plans to look forward to. And did anyone mention it’s Friday tomorrow? Always a call to celebration in our household.

Here’s hoping that your today and your tomorrow are simply grand. Make sure tasty food is involved. That always helps.

Sorting.

It has taken me a while to get down to it. We have been on quite a kick lately. Sorting, downsizing, minimizing. Why does it feel so good to do so? All the extra boxes of books, papers and knick-knacks.

At some point I had the view that collecting a few things in life–in my case antique-like things–would make for a neat collection. They would add substance to my person. Things like an old Parker fountain pen; an old leather-bound volume of Wordsworth ca. 1924; an Underwood typewriter from the thirties.

It’s not that I don’t want these things any more. It is more a matter of going through it all and cleansing myself of what I know I don’t need. Sorry, none of the above is for sale. Not that you’d want any of it, I’m sure.

The greatest chunk has been school papers and notebooks. Another issue I’ve had, besides copious note taking in school, was to write thoughts and observations on scraps of paper. These scraps abound.

It has been days, weeks maybe. I have gone through boxes of books and these countless little items. The rough sort is done. The whole family seems to be on the same page. Let’s get rid of what we don’t need and live a simplified life. Have you heard of the capsule wardrobe concept? I’m not one for jumping on the band wagon, but it doesn’t seem like a bad idea.

One of the best feelings in all this? Relief. Stuff gone? Feels good. It’s a pretty rewarding cycle. We’re simply donating what we don’t need to the thrift shop. Someone will be happy. And so will we. It kind of feels like the less we own (and we’re getting there) the more of ourselves we can see–and feel.

All this clutter is like the water in a tide pool. How kelp and vegetation floats about when you walk after a Dungeness crab while crabbing. You can’t see a thing. But if you stop, wait and let the sandy waters settle (and the crab, too) you’ll get a good look at what you’re aiming for.

Am I talking about crab fishing? Well, yes and no. Am I the crab in the murky water? Maybe. To my point: stop, settle. Let the waters clear. Clear away the clutter. Then have a look around. You might like what you see.

I’m going to keep on clearing and settling–and see what I can find.

Call it goat.

The desire to write oozes out. Fingers quiver; heart flutters.

I picked up a style guide this evening. I wanted to read. I was overcome by the urge to write.

It’s a Sunday. I thought I would leave this day a family day. You know, be present today, write tomorrow. Couldn’t resist.

Today consisted of a nice, slow start. That and a hearty breakfast. We mucked up our hashed browns in an under seasoned skillet. They were, thankfully, recovered by searing in another pan. Oh, yes, there was coffee. Two doubles, actually.

Today was a park day. Parksville Community Park. When we arrived in the afternoon we were surprised to find the annual Van Isle Shriners Show & Shine in full swing. It was, by midday, winding down. We stole parking and ventured out. Truly amazing collectible vehicles on show. 1929 Ford Model A’s and the like dotted the field. Loudspeakers, prizes, people milling about. In the distance, la spiaggia. The beach awaited.

The tide was out no less than two kilometres in Parksville Bay. Beach goers dotted the sands in all directions. Tents, beach umbrellas, gleeful toddlers and families enjoying the tide pools and sun. We opted to walk the boardwalk passing the Island Farms ice cream stand toward the Beach Club Resort and back.

Lounging in the shade near the children’s water park and snacking on blueberries and freestone peaches was just the start. Goats were next.

Goats On Roof. Yes, you heard right. An outright attraction and longtime mid-island stopover, Coombs Old Country Market (OCM) followed. Having changed much over the years, the OCM still offers trendy snacks and international treats, cheeses, ice cream–all kinds o’ fun.

Yes, we spied some goats on the green roof of the market. Never fails to impress. Again we needed food. I’m beginning to see a cycle here . . . We grabbed a baguette, Cave Aged Gruyere and some Hot Calabrese Salami. Snack, anyone? We perched under some chestnut trees near Billy G’s Doughnut Shop and munched. Washed it all down with another large–gulp–Canadiano. Local honey in the mix. Splash of cream, splash of milk. Dreams.

See? I told you. Goats. And you didn’t believe me. We braved the market stand too and drove home with local Chilliwack corn, a case of blueberries and mushy apricots. Tomorrow’s breakfast.

Call it a day. To top it all we rode our bikes lazily up and down the street under the setting sun. Sounds pretty rural, doesn’t it? No secrets here. I’m sure your summer fun is just as picturesque. Summer is here. I dare you to make the most of it.

To market.

It’s Saturday morning. Something we make a point of doing? Marketing. Saturday markets. This weekend we headed to a favourite: Qualicum Beach Farmers’ Market.

There is nothing like braving the morning. Summer sunshine the reward. This early start held yet another promise for those wishing to catch a whiff of fresh coffee–the crunch of fresh baking. Exactly that happened today.

Parking nearby, mum had market basket in arm. The rest of us grabbed what we needed and hit our first stop. Baking. Bodhi’s Artisan Bakery to be exact. Bread pudding, cinnamon bun and a peach danish. Imagine sweet, imagine the crunch of perfectly browned pasty. Just right.

Coffee from Qualicum Coffee Roasting Company. Two drips and one Canadiano as they like to call it. They pull the espresso into a shot of hot water and you top it up to taste. I appreciate that.

We sat and dined out. Plastic table, veggie-print table cloth, wasps . . . check. It’s just that time of year. We gobbled up our goodies and were off to shop. Pickling cucumbers. I suppose that was all we really needed. Well, that and breakfast.

Once sated, we drove to Nanaimo for a few hours at the mall. Woodgrove Centre. Those that need to shopped and bargain hunted till we were again famished. My purchase? Caffé Landucci’s Caravaggio. Mild espresso beans from Tuscany. One kilo, fourteen dollars. Just had to.

Lunch this time was Noodlebox, a local establishment originally from Victoria, BC. Pad Thai hot? Fresh red Thai chilis? Yum. A great meal for a great price–one we indulge in on occasion.

A typical day? Maybe, maybe not. But a day at least where family gets to enjoy a few simple things. Together.

Another round.

We’ve recently had the pleasure to visit Denman and Hornby Island. Both islands are a short ferry trip from just outside Courtenay, British Columbia.

Again utilizing our trusty BC Ferries ferry network, we were only two ten-minute sailings between islands. It’s always fantastic visiting small communities. Both the scenery and the people change–and there’s more time to chat with locals.

Time seems to slow down as you hop from one island to the next. Calm waters about, Denman rose ahead of us as we spied our arrival terminal from the water.

We knew we were driving Denman in a hurry. Aiming to get the most of Hornby, we planned to return to Denman briefly at end of day. We raced from Buckley to Gravelly Bay and made the line up for the Hornby vessel with time to spare. Time enough for a decaf Americano from a pop up coffee stand.

Time spent on Hornby was full of surprises. We were in need of food. Studying the maps in hand we started east around the island and landed at Hornby Island Bakery & Pizzeria. With little available late morning, we bought a handful of poppyseed bagels and a nutty brownie.

Enjoyed a delightful time at the Ringside Market by the Hornby Island Coop Grocer. At this little hub were a series of small stalls and eateries all clumped together. We dined on a mound of a taco from VORIZO Cafe surrounded by potters, artists, children and chess-playing fellows. We really felt like we had escaped society and had a brief taste of island life. Delightful.

We carried on around what we thought was a ring road and were cut short at Ford Cove. We retraced our tracks to the return ferry line up. The Thatch Pub & Restaurant served up a hearty helping of fish and chips.

Back on Denman we were getting ready to return home at last. We took time to stop in at Ima’s Kitchen, providing hearth-baked organic breads. True to the honour system you wrote your purchase in the log book and left cash. We selected a wild yeasted sourdough loaf and a savoury pita. Nine dollars total.

Humming back across the water to Vancouver Island at last we felt we had seen two other island worlds. Not far from home but far enough. Zipping homewards back down the highway we recalled warm welcomes and unique experiences. Who could ask for more?

There’s rain today.

Espresso in hand, rain tapping away outside, cold floor under foot. I am ready to write.

The first coffee of the day is one of the best. It is essentially the only coffee of the day. All the rest that follow are maintenance cups. I try to keep it to two cuppa a day.

I read into a volume on coffee. The word was that espresso has less caffeine than brewed joe. It is something to do with brewing times. Whatever it is it works for me. A good strong coffee the answer. Mildly balanced, full bodied, dark, intense. Just not too much acidity, please.

And where to today? Well, I suppose I could start with Gabriola Island. We enjoyed a nice drive around the island with family a short while ago. Our first stop was coffee at Mad Rona’s Coffee Bar. Bright, sharp coffee. A neat spot to boot.

The main highlight was the view. We spied Nanaimo Harbour back across the water from South Cove at Descano Bay Regional Park. Here we enjoyed a quick picnic with local loaf from Slow Rise Bakery.

Fresh air, sunshine and a cool breeze on a hot day. A quick ferry home. Felt like a real getaway in our Vancouver Island backyard.

A follow up visit.

Already time for another post. Missed one yesterday.

This blog is for my benefit; not yours. Why publish it online? Why go digital instead of pen and pad? Times have changed. I suppose I have to change too. What I hope to accomplish is to develop the habit of writing continually. By doing so I aim to develop my style and clarity. Writing, after all, is my trade. How can one get better at it without practicing it?

And readership? Well, I’m certainly not here for that. If you find something interesting here, good. Though I suppose my reason for publishing posts online is a lot like showing someone your sketches or having someone taste your cooking. You have to put it out there to complete the experience. At least that’s how I’m approaching writing.

So with a mug of espresso at hand and some electronic music bouncing on the nearby speaker–let’s write! Today’s track is Ashley Smith’s Another Day from Subculture and Black Hole Recordings.

Grey skies, and late July humidity. Are you reading, writing or gardening? Hope you’re doing what you enjoy on this summer day.

First, to begin . . .

Not a formal introduction–not yet.

I suppose this blog is overdue. And this post? Well, I’ll have to dig back into recent outings and see just what we can dig up.

What I realize is that although international travel is something we long to do (something I really do, too) there is a flip side. We often dream of travelling far across the ocean to some stellar place. What we may not realize is that where we already are is actually some place others want to be. I may be living in someone’s Italy, someone’s Provence.

Where I in fact find myself is Vancouver Island’s East coast. True to pictures and descriptions there are sea anemones, and sea life just a few steps from our door. There are old growth trees. There are even remnants of a recently functioning railway. Sounds beautiful even to me as I write it.

So am I happy here? Indeed I am. This summer is our family’s opportunity to get out and enjoy the coastlines and tiny islands dotting the water all around.

So, we travel. Whether near or far we have things to see. We must remember, we are where others long to be too. So let’s dig in and enjoy.

oh, have you missed the memo?

I apologize as the spud seed intention of this blog was that it would run day in and day out -weekly- with bursting posts about life in Japan.

Oh, but it has!

However, work and life take turns -all kinds of colours, yes…

With life abroad being a force to reckon with I have shifted blogging efforts to a local blog written for my town.

Have you not popped over there yet? Have you missed the posts here?

Well, sigh not. Follow the link and see just what the life of an assistant teacher abroad can be full of -now that it’s summer…

ENJOY!

embetsustyle.wordpress.com

STOP!!

What a tell!!

I knew that this blog would be good for something!

So, here is the scoop, last night as I was returning home from a friendly dinner at a nearby family’s home, I was stopped -by the police!

Now this is certainly a first for me.

I have been to Japan only but a few times, however I did not know (to any level of certainty) that bicycles are essentially ‘vehicles’ -on par with cars (at least to some extent).

So as I was rounding the final corner and climbing the slope up towards my house last night and there was an idling police car at the intersection. Of course my part of town is so quiet at night that one can occasionally hear the thundering of a semi-truck plummeting by on the highway. That is about all the action we see!

But seeing this police-like car in the intersection I respectfully bowed my head and continued homeward. In the next moment the car was driving up beside me and I was asked to remain for questioning.

!Shock!

I have been told about the dire necessity of always having a foreigner registration card on hand, and tonight’s event proved just that. One ought always to keep proper identification on hand!

The police exited the vehicle and began to inquire about my bicycle. Apparently I was ‘operating my cycle’ without proper lighting, and they couldn’t find a cycle ID number. Albeit I had forgot to switch on the handlebar lamp at the front of the cycle. And this is a pardonable offense! (Along with riding with intoxicated, carrying two people on one bike, etc. This is all so new to me!) I mean in Canada we really only need to wear a helmet and know the rules of the road -and some people forgo the helemt in Canada altogether!

Anywho, the two officers were pertinent but polite enough pulled out flashlights, turned my bicycle up and down. I was held for about fifteen minutes altogether. They copied out information from my identification card, and took my name, address, and had me fill out a warning card from which they detached a small portion and handed to me.

After all this shock they said no, they didn’t need to contact my office, or anything of the sort. (Relief!) They thanked me, though I was feeling a little nervous, and they left. I switched on the lamp on my bike and ‘walked’ my bike the next twenty steps to my house. The police car drove slowly away.

This was the first time I have seen a patrol car in my town. Let alone the officers seemed to be from another township as when they inquired of me where I was from and where I was going; and when I arrived to Japan, etc., they knew very little about my local township, and such.

Well, chalk this one up for experience. I can now say that the stories that I have heard (at any rate) are true. As for myself, I will continue to keep my identification card on me at all times and lighting my bike lamp in the dark!

Oh, gosh. The learning curves never seem to cease. And you bet, all this shuffle and surprise for one evening certainly made a tall cup of joe, a little stronger than usual, a necessity the next morning. At least this all makes for a good story!

Until next crime,

Ciao!