Roughing it at lake o'hara

by the third night i could stick my feet all the way down to the bottom of the sleeping bag without flinching.

what can i say: it's a phobia. i can't put my hand or foot anywhere i can't see. when most people lose something under the driver's seat, they reach down and retrieve it. me, i go to therapy.

so it was no small accomplishment, getting used to the sleeping bag. and it did make the rest of our rough life seem easy by comparison: pulling water from a stream, sleeping in common quarters, using the stinkiest outhouse in tarnation, cooking for a dozen, going without electricity, without showers, without email, facebook, twitter, wikipedia or blogging.

from 21-24 june we stayed at the ACC's elizabeth parker hut up in lake o'hara. although EPH's popularity means that most people enter a lottery for a chance to stay there, we have an in through family friend al hunter, who's been going there regularly since 1959. every year he puts together a ragtag group of campers including, for the last four years, my folks. also along: al's son craig and two of his colleagues from BC social services, al's daughter jody and her 23-year-old son sam, and our friend katherine. it was a shockingly good group, generous and fun and easy to be around, with the right combination of together and alone -- and fantanstic food: blueberry pancakes and ham for breakfast, fresh chili for dinner, dried meats and hummous for lunches, along with organic vegetables and penticton fruit, single-malt and st andre cheese at 5. most importantly, the ear plugs worked.

what people love about camping at lake o'hara is that you start at such high elevation that it's easy to get to the wiwaxy gap, or the yukness ledge, or up to abbot pass. even with the weather pissing rain, or blowing snow or, on wednesday night, hailing, we had some great hiking. and mo's pictures can make anything look beautiful:






nothing like chilly hiking to make even a sleeping bag feel cozy.

year-end catch up

it's been so long since i've blogged -- over a month -- that i'm not sure i remember how to do it anymore. and i'm not sure what to write about, so many ideas have come and gone.

i was going to write about post-course tristesse, that sense of loss and desire i still experience when i watch my students write their final exam. i look at each serious head, bent to the ruled booklet, and wonder exactly what will become of katie the nurse, or johnny the class clown (what's he hiding? when he does finally take himself seriously, how painful will it be?). i look at hac, who's spoken english for under ten years yet wants to write like the BBC commentators he reads online: could i have spent just a bit more time with him in my office, talking writing? over in the theory class, i'm still marveling at the single mom who brought her 8-year-old to exposure's trans day of remembrance, thrilled at the varsity hockey player whose world was blown wide open by eli clare's gender ambiguity -- gender wealth? -- and curious as to what motivates alex, the quiet military guy who didn't miss a trick all year. i watch them write and i think, hard, about who they seem to be now and who they might become, and hope that what i've been able to offer these past few months is enough. in this way, teaching is painful, and it only becomes more poignant by realizing, as i have this year, that so much of what's just happened will be forgot -- by them, by me....

i was also going to write about more generally about what it was like to be back in the classroom after so many years away -- i loved it, obviously -- but also what a mysterious thing it is to learn something, by which i mean: i know that i am different from two or three years ago, but the difference is so evanescent that i can't really pin it down. i think differently, something like that. and so, yeah, i get tired, but i don't (can't?) work beyond my limits any longer. i was savaged on the dep't listserv, and just moved on. i was flattered, no doubt, to be nominated by my students for a teaching award, but it didn't serve as a measure of my sense of worth. a therapist might say i make better decisions now, but as usual the decision-making process is so habitual and, well, quick that it never feels like you're sitting at the table saying no to the day's special in favour of the tried and true.

christmas has been really good, one of the best ever, in both edmonton and ottawa, and i was going to write all about that: my sister's life-changing brussels sprouts, how my uncle got up at 5 in the morning to purchase a wii fit, the conviviality around dan and tony's dinner table, what it's like to spend evening after evening just visiting with good friends and family. among other things, we've seen a ton of children this christmas, and i really enjoy my relationship with them: laura's diva style, morgan's love for shoes, maggie's ballet and daisy's made-up song, eria's cuteosity, stella's blue pjs, harriet's brute intelligence, the other morgan's shy, sardonic and dangerously passionate approach to the world -- i feel lucky, on an almost daily basis, to have exactly the relationship with children that i want to have.

i was going to write about how aunty jo told everybody at boston pizza that yes, heather and maureen are going to ottawa this year but she just didn't feel up to it. i was going to rave about how many new design blogs i've found (though i suppose you can see them in the blogroll) and how keen i am to rearrange everything on the main floor of the house. i was going to talk up the exposure board for anyone interested in arts and culture and event planning and hard work and fun. i was going to mention that my first column in unlimited magazine will be posted here after 1 jan.

but now here we are, 2008 is on its last curtain call, its brave bow turned bored and its glance to the techs in the rafters more and more worried: any second now the curtain comes down for good, and there will be no time left to write any of that.

No good deed...

in addition to all the work i'm scrambling to do, i'm organizing a birthday party for my sister, who's turning 40. (what do you mean, which of us is older? back to my story!). the deal was, she'd pick the date and provide me with the guest list and i'd do the rest.

since this event will take place a week from today, i made some time on wednesday to send out invitations. shannon had thoughtfully provided everybody's email address in an excel spreadsheet, so all i had to do was cut and paste. the data was dirty, as they say in the biz -- lots of duplicate addresses and so on -- but shannon is working fulltime and mothering four children as well as selling one house and taking possession of another, so i didn't pay this much mind. busy myself, i came up with some wording that was serviceable, if not fancy, and fired away.

i got home from work around 10 that night to a message from a sheepish sister. turns out that somehow she sent me the wrong file. she sent me, in fact, the address of everybody she'd ever sent an email to -- friends, colleagues and family, but also their old UK landlord, some guy they bought a chair from on ebay, and all the parents of the kids she coaches.

so, it's going to be a big party. if you're reading, this, you've probably been invited, and we'll look forward to seeing you next saturday night.

Colonia

for someone like me, trained as a postcolonialist in the english tradition, colonia is an uncanny place. it reminds me of english colonies like fort edmonton, or fort louisburg in nova scotia (okay, french and english traditions) but colonia, caught between the spanish and the portuguese, is all catholic all the time. it's also really pretty. i've loaded pix here.

we met up with my cousin bevan, his wife kirsty and their two children, findlay (10) and janine (8). bevan's in uruguay doing a forestry project and kirsty teaches ESL. they were the consummate hosts, so generous we'll never be able to repay their hospitality. as you know from an earlier post, kirsty planned a marvelous weekend for us, and bevan drove tirelessly. we like them because they're curious about the world around them, easy-going, smart and fun. if you are reading this, thank you again, so much, for everything.

our time in colonia was mostly about sight-seeing and getting to know each other a little more. to give you a sense of why we like these guys so much, let me tell you about eating lunch at a little restaurant called lobo. kirsty and janine ordered pasta, mo (of course) ordered beef, bevan and i had lamb with fried cornbread in a tannat (wine) sauce -- i know, i know, poor little lambs -- and findlay ordered a hamburger. when it came, it seemed to be a breaded patty prettily arranged next to a mass of mashed potatoes. "oh!," he said. "so that's a hamburger."

sometimes you just gotta take it as it comes.