My Dad passed away Jan 27 2017.
I cannot say everything about him that matters to me, but here are some of the things I want to share.
His passing was not an utter shock, but still unwelcome. His heart had been slowly getting worse, he had had a heart attack many years ago, and it was functioning under 25% according to his doctor in spring of 2016.
No one lives forever, and during my grandmother's eulogy, my dad mentioned how lucky he was to have been with his mom as long as he had. I can now echo that sentiment, having been very glad to spend a couple months with him during the last few summers. It is part of life to lose some of the ones we love, and it is natural that a child out live the parent, but that does not mean we have to like it.
We all see people from various points of view. I know that my brother Glen had a totally different experience growing up as the son of my father than I did. We have talked about that a bit. My other brother, Lyle also had a different perspective than either Glen or me.
I have long known that we present different aspects of or selves to others, and that the face I show my daughter is not the same as the one I show my friends, and that is different from what I show the general public.
This means to me when you give the list of associations, each one is from a different perspective, thus we have son, brother, friend, boyfriend, co-worker, lover, husband, father, grandfather, great grandfather and others. It is all of those aspects and more that make up a life. The face that he showed to me is one I will always treasure and trust.
There is a fear in those considerably younger than my Dad that anything less than a great or extraordinary life is somehow a failure.
To me this is far from true, and my father achieved a life story of great worth by being a good man. That was all he really strove for, it was more than enough for him. The number of people he called friend, the number who loved him for who he was and the joy and humour he gave relationships was all he needed. Although I wish he had lived longer, I doubt he thought he could have lived better.
I can imagine that as a youth he was more than a bit wild, and got in more than his share of fights and scrapes, but I also imagine that he rarely if ever let down a friend. I know he did his best in my raising. He could have been better in a few things, but I also could have been way better kid, and he did a lot to show as well as teach me how to be better.
The older I get the more I realize how much he taught me, and how much more he taught me by example, rather than in the words he said or punishments or rewards I received.
There are many words that briefly sum up a life. Beloved is one. It encompasses so much and yet says so little. It is a word that lets you fill in the blanks and allows you to see the emotions he shared with the ones he could call intimates. Playful, the way his humour was always hiding somewhere just below the surface. Honest, I doubt he ever applied that word to himself, but it is one many others have used to describe him. Willing, he was never real generous with money, but always generous with his time and always willing to help those in need.
The words 'I love you' did not come from him often, but that did not matter to me either growing up or later in life. He did not really need to say the obvious, and his attitude and warmth to me said far more than his words ever did.
He rarely swore. Only once can I remember him really swearing. We were doing some spring work on the farm, and there was a rock he wanted to get rid of from the field. Rather than break out the tractor and rockpicker, he drove up to it in the half ton and we lifted it into the back. About 3/4 of the way up his back went out, and he quietly said fuck. It was amazing to me how much emotion and venting could be laden in a truly soft voice and a single word.
When you grow up in a stable family. there are many things you take for granted. One of those things is the relationship between your parents. Until I experienced life, love and divorce for myself, I had no idea just how special a marriage that lasts could be. Dad was surprised that his marriage had stood the test of time for over 65 years and was still in love with mom. It was not the thought of the marriage lasting that long, nor the love between them that surprised him, but the fact that he was still alive to experience it.
What he taught me, how he showed me what he felt about me will be with me for forever.
I love and miss you Dad.
Sunday 29 January 2017
Sunday 22 January 2017
Cochabamba Bolivia
Where to begin, perhaps with my first impressions.
I took a bus from La Paz to Cochabamba, and it was a long slow journey. Although portions of the trip were at 80kph, for the most part the bus was going closer to 55 than anything faster. There was some construction along the way, but for the most part the slow speed was due to the terrain, making for a steep and twisty road. The road itself was decent well paved and smooth.
Arrival at the terminal was in the mid afternoon, and the place was quite busy. I had gotten used to being in areas where there are a fair number of tourists, and this was suddenly not one of them. The number of non-Spanish people in the depot was..... well it was limited to me, near as I could tell.
Stepping out of the terminal, it was onto a busy area of the city with what looked like a market close by along with a few hotels across the street. I booked into a hotel for 2 days, just so I could rest, orient myself and find a cheaper place.
The next few days, I wandered around, finding a hostel that was cheaper, but still a little pricey, and finding that most of the hostels were quite busy and that hardly anyone spoke English. The areas easily walked to included the financial district and a major park, Plaza 14 de Septiembre. And wow do I like that park.
Here are a few pics.
The only thing that was odd, in terms of other places I have been in Latin America, is that when I sat down and read, I was not interrupted by people wanting to chat. There were a couple wandering vendors selling stuff, and I had to deal with about one every twenty to thirty minutes but I have been used to locals seeing if i want to chat, and that did not happen at all.
North of the plaza, the city takes on a more modern and perhaps developed feel. It still has a very strong Spanish colonial influence in its architecture, but there are more moderate high rises, and fewer street vendors.
Walking on the city streets feels safe, and for all that it is one of the poorest areas of Bolivia, it also seems to be one of the cleanest and the buildings painted and finished the nicest. There is graffiti but not lots, and some street art inspired by graffiti.
The restaurants and cafes are numerous, and I found a great Italian place where the pasta is made on site and the staff are great. The street food needs to be seen to be appreciated and it seems over half the city eat at the cheap places in the the market every night.
There is not a lot for a tourist here, in terms of ruins or museums, but in terms of getting to know the locals, in terms of wandering around and enjoying life, people watching and feeling welcome, this place is unmatched.
I took a bus from La Paz to Cochabamba, and it was a long slow journey. Although portions of the trip were at 80kph, for the most part the bus was going closer to 55 than anything faster. There was some construction along the way, but for the most part the slow speed was due to the terrain, making for a steep and twisty road. The road itself was decent well paved and smooth.
Arrival at the terminal was in the mid afternoon, and the place was quite busy. I had gotten used to being in areas where there are a fair number of tourists, and this was suddenly not one of them. The number of non-Spanish people in the depot was..... well it was limited to me, near as I could tell.
Stepping out of the terminal, it was onto a busy area of the city with what looked like a market close by along with a few hotels across the street. I booked into a hotel for 2 days, just so I could rest, orient myself and find a cheaper place.
The next few days, I wandered around, finding a hostel that was cheaper, but still a little pricey, and finding that most of the hostels were quite busy and that hardly anyone spoke English. The areas easily walked to included the financial district and a major park, Plaza 14 de Septiembre. And wow do I like that park.
Here are a few pics.
North of the plaza, the city takes on a more modern and perhaps developed feel. It still has a very strong Spanish colonial influence in its architecture, but there are more moderate high rises, and fewer street vendors.
Walking on the city streets feels safe, and for all that it is one of the poorest areas of Bolivia, it also seems to be one of the cleanest and the buildings painted and finished the nicest. There is graffiti but not lots, and some street art inspired by graffiti.
There is not a lot for a tourist here, in terms of ruins or museums, but in terms of getting to know the locals, in terms of wandering around and enjoying life, people watching and feeling welcome, this place is unmatched.
Saturday 21 January 2017
Self Evident
For all it's flaws, the American Declaration of Independence has the most recognizable opening lines in modern political history.
We hold these Truths to be self evident; That all Men are created Equal.
With the significant change from Men to People, that is a statement I can get behind.
My feelings on law, politics and social issues are wrapped up in that one simple statement.
Uncountable numbers of humans have given effort, pain, blood and far too many their freedom and lives for that simple concept.
There are many ways we humans have decided to rule over others, and none have them have been without flaws. As a Canadian, I long thought our government did okay, but the longer and closer I looked at how our aboriginals people have been treated, the more ashamed I have become.
For decades the Canadian government forced the natives into poverty and squalor, pushing them farther and farther from our centers in hopes that they will disappear, those few who make their way into our society, only allowed if they blend in and strive to not be noticed.
The political chaos in 2016 will bear fruit in the coming years, and I fear we are in for very interesting times. The political leaders in most of the modern world need to come to grips with a very fundamental fact, and that is that in our age of digital and social media, the truth will out. As readers of social media, the public needs to learn how to sift truth from bullshit, facts from distortions, but the difference I see between a Statesman and a politician is the Statesman (or woman) will do it all above board.
I feel there needs to be a revolution in the way that government is done.
With the exception of national security. All meetings with all politicians need to be public.
All financial records for all politicians need to be public.
All financial records for all political parties need to be public.
All statements given in debate may be fact checked for credibility , and if proven false the presenter must withdraw from the debate, and not be allowed to vote.
If our society as a whole wants to become better, we must be able to hold our politicians, in their public service to the standards we as a whole want for our society. That in turn means a truly transparent process for government. What they do in their personal life is their business, however screwy, as long as it does not spill over into how they govern.
The sooner our political parties come on side with this, the less painful our progress will be. The more they dig their feet in and ignore the right of the people to full transparency, the more painful and perhaps bloody the changes will be.
To all those who fight against transparency, your day is waning. What you have done may not be illegal, but if it is moral, why did you have to hide it?
We hold these Truths to be self evident; That all Men are created Equal.
With the significant change from Men to People, that is a statement I can get behind.
My feelings on law, politics and social issues are wrapped up in that one simple statement.
Uncountable numbers of humans have given effort, pain, blood and far too many their freedom and lives for that simple concept.
There are many ways we humans have decided to rule over others, and none have them have been without flaws. As a Canadian, I long thought our government did okay, but the longer and closer I looked at how our aboriginals people have been treated, the more ashamed I have become.
For decades the Canadian government forced the natives into poverty and squalor, pushing them farther and farther from our centers in hopes that they will disappear, those few who make their way into our society, only allowed if they blend in and strive to not be noticed.
The political chaos in 2016 will bear fruit in the coming years, and I fear we are in for very interesting times. The political leaders in most of the modern world need to come to grips with a very fundamental fact, and that is that in our age of digital and social media, the truth will out. As readers of social media, the public needs to learn how to sift truth from bullshit, facts from distortions, but the difference I see between a Statesman and a politician is the Statesman (or woman) will do it all above board.
I feel there needs to be a revolution in the way that government is done.
With the exception of national security. All meetings with all politicians need to be public.
All financial records for all politicians need to be public.
All financial records for all political parties need to be public.
All statements given in debate may be fact checked for credibility , and if proven false the presenter must withdraw from the debate, and not be allowed to vote.
If our society as a whole wants to become better, we must be able to hold our politicians, in their public service to the standards we as a whole want for our society. That in turn means a truly transparent process for government. What they do in their personal life is their business, however screwy, as long as it does not spill over into how they govern.
The sooner our political parties come on side with this, the less painful our progress will be. The more they dig their feet in and ignore the right of the people to full transparency, the more painful and perhaps bloody the changes will be.
To all those who fight against transparency, your day is waning. What you have done may not be illegal, but if it is moral, why did you have to hide it?
Wednesday 11 January 2017
The Differences
I have been to an assortment of hospitals in Canada, most of those, visiting friends. None that I can remember in the States.
I went for a walk in Puno Peru, and noticed something as I was walking past the hospital there. It was not a tall place, but sprawled out encompassing an entire block, with two sides walled in completely.
Being walled in was completely normal, but it was the businesses across from those walls that caught my eye. In Canada, I would expect a few clinics, a pharmacy, a junk food place and one or two small cafes. In Puno, there were a few tiendas, a pharmacy and four funeral homes.
I both giggled and paused for thought. Giggled at the 'recommendation' of having that many funeral homes that close to a hospital.
But then I thought, where else would you group them together? Why is it in Canada, that the funeral home is never within view of a hospital? What is it about the reality of death, and especially death in a hospital that makes it so abhorrent that we cannot have a funeral home near to a hospital?
The more I thought about it, the more practical the attitude in Peru seemed, but at the same time, I cannot see it catching on in North America.
Just one more of the differences between cultures.
I went for a walk in Puno Peru, and noticed something as I was walking past the hospital there. It was not a tall place, but sprawled out encompassing an entire block, with two sides walled in completely.
Being walled in was completely normal, but it was the businesses across from those walls that caught my eye. In Canada, I would expect a few clinics, a pharmacy, a junk food place and one or two small cafes. In Puno, there were a few tiendas, a pharmacy and four funeral homes.
I both giggled and paused for thought. Giggled at the 'recommendation' of having that many funeral homes that close to a hospital.
But then I thought, where else would you group them together? Why is it in Canada, that the funeral home is never within view of a hospital? What is it about the reality of death, and especially death in a hospital that makes it so abhorrent that we cannot have a funeral home near to a hospital?
The more I thought about it, the more practical the attitude in Peru seemed, but at the same time, I cannot see it catching on in North America.
Just one more of the differences between cultures.
Sunday 8 January 2017
Cusco to Puno
It was a long bus ride from Cusco to Puno, and I had the choice of doing a night or day trip, and I chose the day trip.
I did not take any photos as the windows on the bus although they started clean, quickly built up a film and would not have made for decent photography.
The area around Cusco is a fertile valley quickly giving way to rugged hills and mountains. The slopes are covered in trees and grasses and a lot of the slopes, even some of the steep ones are broken to the plow. The whole area seems packed with villages that slowly peter out as the elevation gets higher.
After being on the bus for hours, the villages stopped and the vegetation had changed, all of the trees had disappeared and very few shrubs were seen, and after a bit even the shrubs faded out. The land was still used for pasture however, and sheep, alpaca and even a few cattle were being grazed with shepherds watching them closely. There was the odd collection of farm buildings, but nothing really big enough to even call a hamlet for over and hour of travel.
From November to near March is the rainy season, and there was a come and go series of showers as we went higher. The top of the pass has vegetation I have come to expect in the far north of Canada, similar to that around Tombstone Park in the Yukon. A green blanket covered the ground gving way in spots to gravel, but rarely getting above ankle high. At the top of the pass, the altitude was over 4,500 metres, pretty close to 15,000 feet.
The diesel engine on the bus had a happier tone when we finally started down. We did not drop quickly, and after about half an hour of travel, the vegetation had gotten taller and thicker. The valley we had been traveling through opened up gradually until it was obvious we were in the Altiplno, the high Andes plain that stretches between Peru and Bolivia. From reading on this area, the largest segment of the economy is agriculture, followed by minerals and last, tourism.
The bus would its way slowly through the city of Juliaca, and I was less than impressed by it. Compared to just about any other place in Peru, especially considering its size ( pop. 200,000+) it was a drab, colourless place with very few paved streets. The amount of construction happening was large, and the people seemed quite used to dealing with thin mud everywhere, but it would be way down on my list of places to visit.
Puno itself is on the shore of lake Titicaca, and there is a steep drop between the plain and the city, leading up to a delta that runs to the lake.
Perhaps my impression of the area is also coloured by the climate. For the most part it has been cloudy and cool, with a high temperature of about 16c and light winds. As half my purpose in leaving Canada for the winter is finding warm places to be, this area of Peru is not my cup of tea.
My next post will feature some of the photos I took of the people who have chosen to live on floating islands in Lake Titicaca.
Bolivia is not far away, and as soon as I arrange my bus ticket I will be off.
I did not take any photos as the windows on the bus although they started clean, quickly built up a film and would not have made for decent photography.
The area around Cusco is a fertile valley quickly giving way to rugged hills and mountains. The slopes are covered in trees and grasses and a lot of the slopes, even some of the steep ones are broken to the plow. The whole area seems packed with villages that slowly peter out as the elevation gets higher.
After being on the bus for hours, the villages stopped and the vegetation had changed, all of the trees had disappeared and very few shrubs were seen, and after a bit even the shrubs faded out. The land was still used for pasture however, and sheep, alpaca and even a few cattle were being grazed with shepherds watching them closely. There was the odd collection of farm buildings, but nothing really big enough to even call a hamlet for over and hour of travel.
From November to near March is the rainy season, and there was a come and go series of showers as we went higher. The top of the pass has vegetation I have come to expect in the far north of Canada, similar to that around Tombstone Park in the Yukon. A green blanket covered the ground gving way in spots to gravel, but rarely getting above ankle high. At the top of the pass, the altitude was over 4,500 metres, pretty close to 15,000 feet.
The diesel engine on the bus had a happier tone when we finally started down. We did not drop quickly, and after about half an hour of travel, the vegetation had gotten taller and thicker. The valley we had been traveling through opened up gradually until it was obvious we were in the Altiplno, the high Andes plain that stretches between Peru and Bolivia. From reading on this area, the largest segment of the economy is agriculture, followed by minerals and last, tourism.
The bus would its way slowly through the city of Juliaca, and I was less than impressed by it. Compared to just about any other place in Peru, especially considering its size ( pop. 200,000+) it was a drab, colourless place with very few paved streets. The amount of construction happening was large, and the people seemed quite used to dealing with thin mud everywhere, but it would be way down on my list of places to visit.
Puno itself is on the shore of lake Titicaca, and there is a steep drop between the plain and the city, leading up to a delta that runs to the lake.
Perhaps my impression of the area is also coloured by the climate. For the most part it has been cloudy and cool, with a high temperature of about 16c and light winds. As half my purpose in leaving Canada for the winter is finding warm places to be, this area of Peru is not my cup of tea.
My next post will feature some of the photos I took of the people who have chosen to live on floating islands in Lake Titicaca.
Bolivia is not far away, and as soon as I arrange my bus ticket I will be off.
Tuesday 3 January 2017
Pisac
Pisac. The southern entrance to the area currently labeled the Sacred Valley. Ollantaytambo marks the northern edge of the Sacred Valley and acts as the gate for Machu Picchu, but Pisac ( or Pisaq ) marks the start. During Inca times it was a very thriving community larger than it is now. There was both a settelment where the current town is, plus another one over 1,000 feet higher up the mountain. The higher place has been abandoned since the Spanish conquered the area.
The higher area was extensively fortified, and I really only had the energy to go through the first and largest set of the mountain top ruins. First shot, is looking down on the fertile area leading up to the area. The valley you see has readily available water, much more so than most of the higher terracing. I do not know if it is due to it being in a historical park or not, but most of the higher terracing looked to only have grass in it. During Inca times excavation has shown that there were a variety of crops grown, along with the fact that a lot of the topsoil was hauled up from the valley floodplain far below.
In the above photo part of the terrace wall has fallen away, and it shows how the steps were lodged into the terracing. Not all of the terraces have these steps, and in a few of the fields there are more than one set, sometimes even showing in a patterns when viewed from a little distance away.
I do not have a decent photo of all the terracing on this mountain. Part of that is because there is a great amount of it, and part because not all of it has been restored. This in turn leads me to a second thought or observation.
Peru is not a wealthy country, and it does have a large amount of agriculture. The amount of abandoned terracing int the mountainous terrain though brings up a number of questions. Did the Inca feel a lot more pressure than modern Peru to make use of every scrap of arable land? Has there been enough climate change that the higher terraces are too dry and thus no longer viable? Or is it the awkward locations that make hauling away of produce and grain problematic?
There are many places in Peru where plots of land of under one acre are worked with hand labour, and some which use animal labour, plus the larger fields that use tractors. All that leads me to think that the higher places are used only for pasture as a more efficient use of labour.
I recommend going to Google Earth and zooming in on the archeological area north of the town and noting the expanse of the terracing on all sides of the mountain.
I did notice a herd of sheep flowing its way across the fields as I took the trail down from the mountain, but could not get my camera lens changed in time for a decent shot.
All for now.
The higher area was extensively fortified, and I really only had the energy to go through the first and largest set of the mountain top ruins. First shot, is looking down on the fertile area leading up to the area. The valley you see has readily available water, much more so than most of the higher terracing. I do not know if it is due to it being in a historical park or not, but most of the higher terracing looked to only have grass in it. During Inca times excavation has shown that there were a variety of crops grown, along with the fact that a lot of the topsoil was hauled up from the valley floodplain far below.
 |
| I believe this is a small series of crypts, but have not confirmed. |
In the above photo part of the terrace wall has fallen away, and it shows how the steps were lodged into the terracing. Not all of the terraces have these steps, and in a few of the fields there are more than one set, sometimes even showing in a patterns when viewed from a little distance away.
I do not have a decent photo of all the terracing on this mountain. Part of that is because there is a great amount of it, and part because not all of it has been restored. This in turn leads me to a second thought or observation.
Peru is not a wealthy country, and it does have a large amount of agriculture. The amount of abandoned terracing int the mountainous terrain though brings up a number of questions. Did the Inca feel a lot more pressure than modern Peru to make use of every scrap of arable land? Has there been enough climate change that the higher terraces are too dry and thus no longer viable? Or is it the awkward locations that make hauling away of produce and grain problematic?
There are many places in Peru where plots of land of under one acre are worked with hand labour, and some which use animal labour, plus the larger fields that use tractors. All that leads me to think that the higher places are used only for pasture as a more efficient use of labour.
I recommend going to Google Earth and zooming in on the archeological area north of the town and noting the expanse of the terracing on all sides of the mountain.
I did notice a herd of sheep flowing its way across the fields as I took the trail down from the mountain, but could not get my camera lens changed in time for a decent shot.
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