2025 A Year of Challenge and Patience

November 21: Have you ever noticed that the quality of background music is worse when you are forced to stay in one place and listen to it ? This thought occurred to me as I stood in line waiting at the Service Ontario kiosk in the basement of the Canadian Tire store listening to a batch of treacly, repetitious and moronic songs playing over a crackling and scratchy PA system. There was no escape, and the only saving grace was the fact the they were not yet playing an endless loop of even more treacly, repetitious and moronic Christmas music.

I was at Service Ontario to replace my Driver’s License, Health Card and vehicle registration documents. The originals were stolen, along with my wallet, while I was in a Starbucks on Yonge Street at Davisville, listening to a somewhat better selection of background music with Kate and our friend Michel. I had draped my bag, containing my phone, my wallet, house and car keys and a note pad over the back of the chair. When we got home later in the afternoon, there was a text from TD VISA saying that a “potentially fraudulent” purchase ( $3999 ) had been made at the Apple store in Yorkdale. When I called them back, I discovered that my wallet was gone along with my identity documents and all of my credit and debit cards.

I spent the next hour or so, calling each of the card companies to have the cards locked and get replacements. They had used the VISA card for 3 purchases of roughly $60 each at Shoppers, a $590 buy at Harry Rosen, and then the big ticket buy at Apple. Similarly, they rang up another $200 at Shoppers on a Master Card and then a couple of other big buys at other stores. When I asked the Master Card rep how they managed to get around the PIN security, he said that someone had called and changed the PIN number using my personal data.

It’s brilliant really: someone steals the wallet with both the charge cards and the personal data which allows them to circumvent the bank “security questions”. Having just called them to block the cards, I knew that the banks asked really tough questions like your home address and birth date – information obviously available right on a Driver’s License. It’s like locking the door and handing a thief the key.

When I went to the Police this morning, the officer said that this sort of thing happens “dozens of times every day”. The thieves go to a restaurant, steal cards from a purse or wallet and then go to a store ( like Shoppers ) to buy Apple gift cards. These can be redeemed at Apple for merchandise. If, as in my case, they find personal information as well, they can unlock the cards and use them to make a big ticket buy. Whatever they buy is then sold on Kijiji, or through an accomplice  in a store for cash.

There are a couple of bright spots in all of this. Firstly, they are apparently uninterested in my personal information. The cop said that in the hundreds of cases he had handled, there had never been a theft of identity. “Your stuff is in a dumpster at Yorkdale.” The other bright spot is that Kate and I were able to end this horrible day on a high note. Specifically, a high G sung by David Clayton-Thomas at Koerner Hall. He was doing a benefit concert for Peacebuilders – a charity which provides restorative programs and services to young people and works towards effecting change in the justice and education systems. It was a really special night ( our seats were upgraded to front row …). The music buoyed my spirits and I realized that, unlike the Muzak at Canadian Tire, this is actual music that I could enjoy for a very long time.

http://peacebuilders.ca/

November 5: Just as the Saucer Magnolia at the end of the street is a harbinger of Spring (see May 9), this Maple in the north courtyard is clearly telling us that Winter is just around the corner. For reasons I don’t understand, it is the first of the large trees to get buds in the Spring, and the first to go scarlet and begin to drop leaves in the Fall. Today it is completely devoid of leaves.

Perhaps because I was a summer baby born in July, I am not a huge fan of the colder seasons. As a Canadian, I understand that Winter is a fact of life. But I view it as something to be tolerated and complained about, rather than celebrated and enjoyed more fully. So it is that Autumn feels like the “end of the year” to me.

Spring and Summer are full of promise and vitality. We become more active and spend more time outdoors recreating or enjoying meals on the patio with food made from produce straight out of the ground. The world is alive. People travel more, enjoy vacations and time with friends. Days are warm, nights are fresh. Autumn is clearly the threshold between these warm and sunny days of summer and the colder, grey days of Winter. There is a finality to it – the falling leaves are as inevitable as the falling temperatures. There is no escape.

This time of year feels like it should be celebrated in some way that marks it as a special moment of transition between the heat of summer and the cold of Winter yet to come – the end of one year and the beginning of another. I think the Pilgrims were on the right track when they decided that they needed to celebrate their survival for another year and created Thanksgiving.

On the other hand, we celebrate our “year end” on New Year’s Day which falls smack in the middle of Winter when poorer weather is fully entrenched. There’s little hope that the date will mark a change to better weather (although it frequently gets worse …).  New Year’s feels like an artificial holiday that was manufactured to keep greeting card companies and liquor stores in business after the cash-register season around Christmas. ( In fact, the same could be said for many of our holidays: I’m looking at you Halloween and Valentine’s Day. )

So perhaps we should enjoy and celebrate the good weather and colourful trees while we have them. They mark a passage to a much darker ( literally and figuratively ) time of year.

November 11: And, as if on cue:

 

October 26:  I have said in the past that leaving for Europe often felt like Wiley Coyote pursuing the road-runner. Things become so complex and I become so rushed that I feel I have run off a cliff and am pedaling furiously in mid-air, before dropping into the abyss. This time, I have had that feeling on returning from Europe.

I knew this would happen. Before I left I decided that I would move to the new apartment on Friday, October 4. That meant that I had 4 days to pack everything in the apartment, make arrangements to transfer the various cable and telephone systems to the new place, and begin the process of organizing the new digs. On Monday I began packing and was lulled into that false sense that everything was under control. On Tuesday the Rogers cable guy arrived (on time) and started to work. He could only get the basement TV working; the upstairs would require a WIFI connection which was not part of their service. On Wednesday, the guy installing the new blinds arrived. He was done in less than a hour but sadly, the blinds he installed were not the ones we ordered.

That afternoon, I went to Home Depot to search out shelving units and other items for the new place. Kate called my cell phone as I stood in the hardware section with the news that she had been retired early. While it was totally unexpected – I thought at first she was kidding – it’s really a good news / bad news situation. We will certainly need to review the financial implications closely. On the other hand, she is free of the pressure and obligation of a full-time job that she did not entirely enjoy.

Throughout these few days I was expecting some contact from the mover. I had called him in August (from Donzenac, France) and had a verbal commitment to do the move on Friday. But when I finally reached him, he said that he had no record of the appointment to make the move. After stifling my rising panic, we discussed what had to be moved and he concluded that he could “fit it in”, starting at 1 PM.

And indeed they did move everything I owned in about 3 hours: out the back door of the apartment and down the walkway to the new townhouse. Of course, this was just phase one. Kate moved the following week, and we’ve spent the last week sorting through various boxes of things and finding mutually acceptable places for our various possessions. Rogers came back to complete installation of a WIFI system for the TV and internet. We rented a new storage unit and stashed a whole bunch of stuff “on a temporary basis”. Shelves are in. New drapes are on order and the place is starting to feel more like home.

It is said that moving is one of life’s most stressful events. (Job loss is another….) Although it looks simple when I see it described in words, there were certainly times during the last couple of weeks when I felt like Wiley Coyote on the cliff. There have been adjustments (where did we put …?) and many little jobs yet to do. But in the end, Kate and I are in a new place – both as a home and as the beginning of a new stage in our relationship. So far, it’s a very happy place.

September 21: On the road for 7 weeks now, this trip has felt like a series of chapters unfolding in slow-motion.

I faced the first chapter alone, getting the bike organized in Heidelberg and spending just over a week in Alsace and central France. No matter how many times I do this, there is always something new to challenge me, something different to confront. One difference this year has been a determination to take the time to be in the moment. I have often felt the urge to “move on” and I still have to push myself to just rest quietly and take stock of the things around me (like this scene from Ornans). This obviously takes more time and attention, but I ask myself what I am rushing to accomplish that can’t be done tomorrow. Or the next day. I have the luxury of time.

The second chapter unfolded with the arrival of my cousin James on a rented BMW motorcycle. He too felt the need to take a relaxed approach to the tour, having had a hugely busy and complex few months in Toronto. We ride well together; his strengths fill my weaknesses, and vice versa. It soon became apparent that much of what we might have thought possible ( a trip to the Stelvio Pass for example ) was wildly optimistic, given this more relaxed pace. That said, we covered more than 1,500 km in France and Switzerland over 2 weeks.

I’ve now entered the third and final chapter of this adventure. My partner Kate arrived last week. We spent 3 days in Paris and then took the TGV to Valence, south of Lyon, where we picked up a rental car which we will have for almost 2 weeks.

I believe that travel amplifies personal behaviours. If, like me, you are naturally cautious, travel can make you anxious and apprehensive. Although I felt comfortable and relaxed while moving around, I have encountered some difficulty sleeping throughout the trip which I attribute to the stress of anticipating things that might occur and finding options to fix them. Kate jokingly ( I hope ) calls me a Border Collie – always herding and looking for the next problem, even where one might not exist. She too has traits that have become more apparent with the pressures of travel. But together we found this pretty view of  Eze le Village.

Just before leaving on this trip, Kate and I decided to live together in a townhouse unit at Garden Court. It felt then, and still feels now, like the right thing to do at this stage of our relationship. When I left, Kate stepped in and did much of the heavy lifting in terms of getting the move organized while I ate and drank my way through Europe. I owe her a lot for that. Now that we are together, travel has become a stress-test of sorts, for the more intimate relationship we will face when we go home.

As we make that transition together, there have been stressful moments, and there will be many more to come. That’s the adventure in any relationship. I think the fun part in all of this – the travel, the emerging relationship with Kate – is to be just outside my comfort zone, challenging myself to evolve my views and behaviours to become a better man.

September 20: 

Think where a man’s glory most begins and ends,

and say my glory was I had such friends.

W. B. Yeats

September 14: When Notre Dame caught fire last spring, there was a wide-spread sense of loss. Although initially things looked bleak, it emerged that although the roof structures were largely destroyed, much damage to the church may have been avoided.

As the money poured in, President Macron suggested that Notre Dame might be re-built in 5 years, an idea that I find ridiculous. The French can hardly organize going to dinner in 5 years, never mind restoring a monument with international significance. Whatever the case, much work has been done in the intervening few months. The roof has been temporarily replaced and many of the flying buttresses have been reinforced. It may be difficult to see in the accompanying photo, but the timbers used in the roof structure are gigantic. They may be 2 metres thick.

I find it remarkable that so much has been done given the scale of the challenge and the work itself, and it’s surprising to me that so much is in place so soon after the fire. It continues to be a major project that will occupy the heart of Paris for many years to come. I only hope that they can accomplish it in under 20 years.

September 9: When Canadians run out of things to say, they fall back on the weather, which is invariably too cold, or too hot depending on the season. So lacking inspiration, today we start with the weather.

As I reflected on my trip last year, I realized that I had encountered only one day of rain that affected my travels. This is partly because there was so little rain, but also because I can make plans to stay in one place for a couple of days if the weather is threatening.This year has been  similarly kind to me so far. And this week I spent 2 days in Ribeauville to avoid the worst of some passing showers. This is the main square in the older part of town; my hotel was in the new town, which is to say that it was built post-1700.

It has been very cool and overcast for the last 3 or 4 days. By cool I mean 10 C in the morning and 15 C or so in the afternoon. Without the sun, it never seemed to warm up much, and riding the bike was a real chore. At 10 C an 80 k/hr windchill can make it pretty cold pretty fast. I resorted to wearing my rain gear to stay warm. This morning was cool and partly cloudy; some of the clouds were taking a nap on the valley floor down from the hotel.

Once the sun came up, it warmed into a wonderful day for a tour of the Black Forest, which lies in the southwest corner of Germany, with France on one side, and Switzerland on the other. As the name implies, there is a lot of forest, and a lot of forestry happening hereabouts. It feels Swiss in may respects because of the similar topography, but also because it is a very “tidy” part of the country. What isn’t forest is very well looked after. This happens to be a picture of Waldau; my hotel is the brown building to the right of the church.

Tomorrow, I start my trip back to Heidelberg to park the bike. In 2017 the only serious rain I encountered was on the last day into Heidelberg from Waldau and it rained hard the entire trip. I was soaked to the skin. The forecast looks good for this year, so let’s hope there will be no need to talk further about the weather.

August 31: My cousin and travelling companion James and I have spent a couple of days here in Andermatt. It’s in the heart of the Swiss Alps and has the great attraction of being at the bottom of 4 of the higher passes in these parts. For that reason, it’s swarming with motorcycles in the summer, and skiers in the winter.

On our first day here, we decided to do a loop through Susten, Grimsel and Furka passes, before returning to Andermatt. This is a picture taken in the town of Gletsch. You are looking at the west face of the Furka pass which you can see snaking its’ way up the side of the mountain. To the left is a “Y”-shaped area of rock and gravel that is, in fact, all that remains of the Rhone glacier – the source of the Rhone river. When I attended school in Lausanne (yes, 50 years ago) they called it the “Angel glacier” because the shape resembled a white angel on the side of the mountain. The wings are the top of the “Y” shape, and the main part of the glacier, which started about where you see the hotel mid-way up the pass, extended down into the valley. You could walk through a tunnel into the glacier for a small fee.

Now there is only a small lake at the top, fed by a few small fields of snow. I’ve seen the glacier grow smaller on every trip I have taken through these passes – climate change in real time – but this was by far the most sobering as it has now essentially disappeared, never to return.

James and I departed Andermatt by climbing the Oberalp pass. It heads east out of town. In this picture you see Andermatt itself, and the east face of the Furka pass in the background. The Oberalp is the most benign of the passes, with wide, well-engineered turns and a fairly steady rate of climb. As we left town, we were some distance behind a group of local riders and I thought it might be a good opportunity to gauge my riding ability against someone with more experience on these roads. With patience and some application of my limited skills, I actually found myself gaining on the last of the riders. It took a long time, but eventually I reeled them in. It was only then that I noticed the bright blue “L” sticker on the back of the bike. This was someone learning to ride and it had taken me a good part of the morning to catch up.

I have a lot to learn – humility first and foremost. Apparently, I am in a good part of the world to learn many of life’s lessons first-hand.

August 27: Today I’m in Andermatt, in the heart of the Swiss Alps. Shortly after arriving yesterday, a parade of Porsche’s – obviously some sort of club on a tour – appeared at the hotel across the street. Over the next while a few other special cars turned up, including these. The one in the middle is a Pagani Huayra. Powered by a 12 cylinder motor, it cranks out 800 hp and will do something over 310 km/hr – just the thing for a winding mountain road with no guardrails. Retail price starts at $2.5 million. When we mentioned the car to the waiter in our hotel, he said that cars like this are common. They come to that hotel frequently. Retail price for the rooms starts at 790 Euro a night.

https://www.thechediandermatt.com/de 

I thought about referring to this hotel in my previous post. The Hotel Rossle is in Altenstieg Berneck in the Black Forest corner of Germany. It’s been in the family for generations, although the “new hotel” – pretty much a modern copy of the old hotel – is just 8 years old. It sits below the centre of the old town which is perched on a rocky outcrop high above the hotel. The most special car here was a ’70’s vintage Alfa Romeo, and the rooms start around 70 Euro. You get no bonus points for figuring out where I would prefer to stay.

https://www.roessle-berneck.de/home/ 

Coming to Andermatt from Lausanne, we passed through part of the Bernese Oberland and the lake district around Interlaken. Switzerland is a beautiful country, but these areas are particularly attractive because of their geography. Lying right along the northern edge of the Alps, the views over the countryside are incredible. As my cousin and travelling companion James said, it is as if someone gets out and grooms the entire country every morning.

On the other hand, France is a very diverse country that can appear a little ragged in some corners. When I first visited in 1977, I found it quite unkempt and shoddy. It’s roads were in bad shape and it really seemed to be miles behind Switzerland in terms of the quality of its’ public spaces and infrastructure. All of that has changed. France is now a much more prosperous place, and provides a quality of life that I personally envy. Thankfully, it retains enough of its’ slightly rumpled past that its’ unique character isn’t lost, as seen here in Pont en Royans.

And finally, not far away, I found Puy en Velay. It is well known since its’ Romanesque cathedral – a UNESCO heritage site –  is a major gathering point for pilgrims on the Santiago de Compostela. It is an impressive building in its’ own right, but the builders didn’t stop there: The church of St Michel de Aiguilhe (seen here) and the statue of Notre Dame de France, both of which are built atop the remains of dormant volcanoes, sit nearby. It is a remarkable sight that leaves me in awe of the extent to which we go to show our devotion to our particular gods.

August 18: Today I find myself in Donzenac, a small town in the Correze. I’m staying at a hotel I first visited in 1977 with my good friend Dennis. We found the place quite by accident, and I enjoyed the memory so much that I have returned at least a dozen times. The hotel (La Gamade – a small lark common in these parts) was started in the ’60’s by Madame Salesse. She was a formidable presence, managing both the hotel and a restaurant up the street for more than three decades. I recall seeing her sitting at a table in the window of the restaurant doing paperwork, watching the street, and greeting neighbours and prospective clients as they passed.

I was concerned that when she retired, the quality of the place would drop, and that sense of commitment would be lost. Fortunately, the current owner – a formidable woman in her own right – has maintained the vision established so long ago, and a stay here remains a comforting ritual for me. These days, Madame Salesse surveys the scene from a framed photograph in the lobby.

A few days ago, I stayed at a hotel in Murol, a small town crawling with tourists. Several places I tried were fully booked, so it was with some desperation and trepidation that I found les Pins. What had once been a well-established and top quality hotel was now a bit frayed around the edges; the lobby and restaurant are dated, the rooms are small (without either TV or WiFi), and the gardens need a really thorough weeding. The owner seemed to be an older woman who was doing paperwork in the dining room; the manager was a diffident guy who may have been her son. I was prepared for the worst.

I took a room and a package that included breakfast and dinner along with some wine. The room had 2 single beds, and a bathroom including a shower which could not have been bigger than 4 feet by 4 feet. At dinner, salmon en croute appeared for everyone, followed by some cheese and fruit if requested. The wine was local plonk (red) in a carafe left on the table. Although it was all quite acceptable, I couldn’t help wondering what would have happened had I an allergy to something on offer. There didn’t seem to be a lot of options….

There were many paintings in the main rooms. When I was checking out, I asked the manager who had done them. He said that it was his grandfather, the youngest and last member of the Murol school. It was founded in the town during the early years of the 19th century, and included Georges Clemenceau among its’ members. When I asked if he painted himself, he said no, that he was a sculptor. Some of his work was in the lobby as well. As we chatted, a young woman stood nearby. It was his daughter. She was clearly struggling with some sort of disability – whether Down syndrome or something else was not clear – and was demanding of her father’s attention.

He was kind and patient as we concluded our business, As I departed I began thinking about the people we encounter as tourists: servers, store clerks, hotel owners. Our encounters are superficial; a transaction and then we are gone. Yet behind each of these people there is a story – a history even – of a life being lived. They are not just players in a scene contrived for tourists; they have dimension. Sometimes they succeed, and sometimes perhaps they find themselves in a less happy place. Whatever the case, they are trying to make life a bit more comfortable for me and my fellow travelers – a thought that I will try hard to remember over the next few weeks.