Belief is...

What is a cynic? A man who knows the price of everything and the value of nothing.

Oscar Wilde

I was reading a book lately whose main thrust was that you do what you believe, whatever you say you believe. The things you love and the things you believe will be evident in the running of your life. For instance, let me illustrate this by talking about a couple of my friends who sprang to mind as I was cogitating on this subject here in Mariposa County, California, as the dust and ash from the nearby massive forest fire settled on my dinner.

Simon believes watching sports is interesting. I don’t have to ask him to know this; it’s clear from the hours he devotes to his TVs. He also clearly believes it’s important to help people, you can see this from the amount of time he gives to his friends. John believes Leeds Rhinos should win every game of rugby they play. You can tell from his reactions to their performance. Their beliefs are not contained in statements, you can just tell by being with them, the same as the rest of us.

I was just wondering what it seems to my friends that I believe, and whether my faith shows in my life. If it does at all, I am convinced that it is generally not enough. I don’t see myself spending a lot of time with the poor and broken. I don’t see myself meeting people as equals with love and not judgement. I don’t see myself preferring others needs to my wants. My friends deserve my being a ‘better Christian’, whatever that is. I believe that if I was really doing a good job on my life with Jesus people would be battering my door down on Sunday evening for a ride to church. So, all of you, I’m sorry for not being a better Christian. Trust me when I tell you Jesus is much nicer than I am and he loves you all very much, and I’ll keep working on being more like him. I think you’ll like him, I really do.

Ooops

We've just had a lovely day at 'California's Great America' in San Jose. Lots of roller coasters, a magic show and fun in the pool.

Then we set off for the hotel we'd booked this morning in San Jose.

There are lots of San Joses the whole Spanish speaking world over, I assume. We forgot to check which one we had booked into. We just blithely assumed it was the one we were in, here in sunny California.



I began to question that assumption as we spent 2 hours looking for it only to discover no-one had heard of the street it was on. Eventually got some help from a lovely chap who ran a Hawaiian drive through and the sweet manageress at a Best Westin who fed us cookies as we stood in stark disbelief.

We were due that evening at the Hotel Petit at 24th St and Paseo Colon...




San Jose...




Costa Rica.




D'Oh!!!

Still, all's well that ends well and we're now tucked into a WiFi'd up motel in the San Jose we wanted and ready to get a much needed good night's rest. Tomorrow we plan to see the Winchester Mystery house. Wikipedia that for the full scoop, but it was built by the heiress to the Winchester Rifle fortune who felt massive guilt for all the killing done by her father's guns. A phony medium (are there any other kind) convinced her that the ghosts would be assuaged as long as she kept building her house, so she kept building and building random additions and alterations for donkeys years. There are stairs that go nowhere, pointless corridors, random extra chimneys etc etc. Should be interesting.


Getting back from Hawaii was hard. On the last day, our 4th Anniversary, we were up bright and early and by 6 AM we were catching waves outside the break at 'Canoes' on Waikiki Beach, standing up and riding sweet. A good day!

The day before we'd been 30m under the sea on a ship wreck hanging out with a pair of 6 foot long Hawaiian Green Turtles. Awesome! After that we rented 50cc moped and biked over to Diamond Head for a hike to the top.My beautiful wife looked oh so sexy tooling around on her moped.

Hawaii was good for us, and I hope we get to go back some time. Aloha everyone.

And another thing,

Tropical horrors!!

Being here in Hawaii has brought back memories of Rwanda I had completely blocked out.

The ants get every where. Only the fridge is safe, so my beer is relieved. this means everything we want kept ant free is in the fridge, even the chips (SORRY!) crisps .

You'll have to all be kind to us when we get back while we make the lingual shift back to proper English (or as close as we get in Leeds.) I promise I still say Herbs, but mt OrEGGano annoys even me.

Aloha!

The sun is setting on me in our third floor guest house, dipping below the pacific and bringing some welcome coolth to the end of another warm day here on the North Shore of Oahu, most populous of the Hawaiian islands. Today we dove (yep, that's what they say over here) with Hawaiian Green Turtles at a a point called 'Turtle Car Wash' where these graceful ocean dwellers come in to get cleaned up. They hang around in the shallow water while little hungry reef fish nibble the algae off their shells that accumulates at sea. One large lady (you can tell by the small tail) looked me right in the eyes from a foot away. You could see the age in them; being a reasonable size she was probably thirty or forty years old. Turtles never stop growing their whole lives, so the bigger they are, the longer it took them to get that way. Whether that look held any kind of wisdom I couldn't say, but it was certainly a deeper look than you normally get from the local critters when you're under water.
We saw more turtles yesterday before we went surfing. Two of them were just basking on the beach, getting warm and letting the sun's heat help them digest their diet of seaweed. Surfing was hard. It felt like I'd mastered the basics in Cannon Beach, Oregon. We were comfortably standing up and riding waves 'inside' the break on our first day so getting on the bigger blue waves outside should only be a simple step, right? Not so much, it seems. So far surfing has been both exhilarating and frustrating, but we'll keep trying.
Tomorrow we've got to be up at 5 to get a ride down to Waikiki on the South Shore to go wreck diving, something I've always wanted to try. While we're down there we hope to tour Pearl Harbour and get another surf lesson. Then in three days we're travelling back to the mainland on our anniversary. 4 years is apparently silk or linen. That reminds me, I must get a card...

Since last I blogged the highlights have included tasting some lovely 'Champagne' in Napa, Alcatraz (you HAVE to see it if you can) and driving over the Golden Gate Bridge. The experience that wowed me the most was definitely walking though the massive Coast Redwood sof Humboldt-Redwood Park in the North of California. Walking though these mighty giants, many of whom are one or two thousand years old, is a humbling and eerie thing to do; just imagine the world events that have passed them by while they grew, relentless and unknowing. You can see their tall straight trunks scarred by fire, some hollowed out into 'Goose Pens', so called because early settlers really did keep keep their geese in them. These colossal Sequoias, the world's tallest tree, shoot straight up out of the ground, their massive cylindrical trunks uninterrupted by branches often for over 150 feet. It leaves you walking through a forest that doesn't resemble any other, unless perhaps you work in a telephone pole storage facility. We missed church that weekend, but somehow just sitting under those impressive trees reading my bible was like being in a much older church, one whose architect was as alive and present in the towering life around me as he was in the book I read.

The world's biggest tree is another Sequoia, the Giant Redwood we hope to see further inland at Yosemite.

Well, bedtime now. Being close to the equator the sun goes down a lot sooner here. It'll be dark by half past seven and we've got a lot of sleeping to do before tomorrow's dive.

...

...also, in Seattle, I tried on a kilt.

Check out http://www.utilikilts.com/

I thought I looked amazingly cool! Vicky thought all my friends would take the piss relentlessly and refused to stand by and watch my dignity go down the pan.

I thought that you would, eventually, relent.

Whaddaya think?

A hurried "catch you up"

"Paper or plastic?"
Checkout boy at our first Stateside supermarket, Seattle, WA

Wowzer! We're already two weeks into our grand adventure and I haven't once set finger to keyboard to keep you all (or should that be 'both') up to speed. Sorry about that, but we have been just terrifically busy. I'll start with a run down of some of the adventures we've had and try for some added colour later.

As you see at the top of the page, the good old US of A announced itself to us in a small but distinctive way. I had wondered how different it would be here South of the 49th parallel; was all of North America the same bland TV world we had come to know? No. In both countries it is not the done thing to pack your own shopping at the supermarket; either the checkout person does it for you and hold up the entire line while she packs and scans at the same time (a level of multi-tasking at which I have noticed women checkout assistants are vastly superior to their male counterparts) or there is an assigned packer per till. Still, in Canada I was never offered a choice, just a barely adequate plastic bag. Down here in the land of the free, choice is king. Paper or plastic? We chose paper as it would double up as kindling for our many expected campfires.


Portland wowed us. There are more brew-pubs per-capita than anywhere else in North America, hundreds of drinking fountains, free and fast public transport within the city centre, the world's largest independent new/used book store, a retired submarine which we toured and it's pretty to boot; lots of parks, trees and bridges. It had a very liberal bohemian feel, much like I had always imagined San Francisco would feel (we'll see...) but was smallish too. We also discovered there the supermarket chain whole foods; fabulous in every way! If there was one place in America we would move to it would absolutely be Portland. (Top event; free pizza from a place called Pizza-Schmizza that also sold local micro-brew beer! I'd live there)

We've decided in recent days that we're ready for a dog when we get home as the first new addition to family Denton. I was dead set on a retired racing greyhound but having swotted up from my find in Portland "Retired Racing Greyhounds For Dummies" (this series knows no bounds, and hurrah for that!) we've decided that might be too much work for a first dog and not ideal when little ones turn up, hopefully soon. So we'll get feelers out for an older mutt looking to slot into a loving home.

We've been up the space needle in Seattle and I had another Manhattan, a new tradition for the top of any major tower. We were also on the beach in Seattle for the 4th of July fireworks. I think the show was marginally better than the Canada day display we saw in Kelowna on the 1st July a few days before, what with Seattle being huge and Kelowna tiny, but few events will ever touch the memory we made watching the Kelowna show on a speed boat in the middle of Lake Okanagon with such good friends as Donna, Bernie and Jake, Blossom and David. We plated the phantom of the opera music through the boat's speakers as the skies erupted above us in what felt like a private show. Magic!

In Kelowna we also spent time Tubing (lying on a rubber ring behind a speed boat while the driver tries to throw you off. Enormous fun!), wake-boarding (Hard) and sea-dooing (brilliant, but I did scare the wife a bit).

We met a princess of Norway at last night's campground and spent 3 evening hanging out around the campfire with hr very ordinary family. Apart from the throne and tiara you would never have known! That's a story we'll tell you in person!

Surfing for two days in Cannon Beach was great, we were both getting up and riding well on day one when we were 'inside' the break surfing white water, but on day two we couldn't quite get in any unbroken waves 'outside.' Progress still to make when we get to Hawaii.

There has been kite-flying, beer drinking, book reading, beach walking, fruit eating, wood chopping, Volcano viewing (mt St Helens), island hopping, sea kayaking, church going, pool and cribbage and crazy-golf playing (Vic's kicking my bum), Oyster sampling, fire lighting, bike-riding and mucho mucho driving.

Please comment and let us know what you're ll (...both...) up to!

R n V

Pause for thought

Beer is proof that God loves us and wants us to be happy

Benjamin Franklin.

One week to go now until our giant trip down the west coast. I am gently filling my days at work with tidying up and paperwork tasks, Internet research on San Francisco, Napa Valley wine tours or surfing techniques (as I could learn anything useful at all sat behind a Cow Town desk). It's been 5 or six weeks since I ran anywhere due to continued pain in my IT band but it seems to be slightly better after lots of stretching, so, all covered in well engineered tape by Chantal at school I am prepared to go for a trial run this afternoon. I have yet to make any decisions about the half marathon, but I am relentlessly optimistic

On the long weekend at the start of May Victoria and I returned from camping in Jasper via the Columbia Icefield and we took a tour ON A GLACIER! We were driven out on a kind of hand-built bus with balloon tyres on a hot sunny day and stood in awe on a sheet of ice 30m thick. Our guide was something of a Glacial expert (doctorate in it etc) and told us about Glacial retreat. Apparently the glaciers in the Rocky mountains have been in gradual and constant retreat since about 1850. It is currently retreating at about 2 metres per year OHMIGOD!!! GLOBAL WARMING, AARGH!!!

Nope.

It has retreated 1600m in the last 100m years, an average rate of 16m per year.


It's currently melting MUCH MUCH SLOWER than it has done for last 160 years.

Now, I'm not denying global warming; heaven forbid. All of my left leaning friends would have me stoned in the street, but this doesn't seem to chime with the alarmist figures I hear again and again. Yes, the earth is getting warmer, but more than normal?

So, drive fewer miles in a smaller-engined car, recycle, turn off lights etc etc, but also, for Socrates' sake, keep an open mind...

BTW, after a year of three, four or even five litre V6, V8 and V10 car engines it will be nice to get back to a place where our 1.8 litre Ford is considered excessive by some.


Many friends are saying goodbye this weekend. We have both felt so very welcomed here in Calgary and we will miss all of you. Please, come find us in Leeds. I'll show you what the Good Lord meant when he said 'Let there be beer.'

Graduation and wedding

Last Friday saw 95% of our 18 year old grade 12 students graduate from high school and walk the stage in the auditorium at Calgary University. It was a significant ritual in their young lives and one they have worked hard to achieve. They were genuinely proud and nervous as they stepped onto the stage beside me and walked off to collect their graduation certificate from Mr MacFarland, the Principal. I was on stage announcing names, a task generally performed by teachers who are retiring that year. It was a real honour to be asked as I am just going home, but I didn't realise how big a deal the whole shebang was until it began. I've been trying to explain to folks over here that we don't so much graduate from High School as simply stop going, any celebrations being a more personal affair as one picks up the insignificant looking envelope containing results of A-levels or GCSEs. Seeing as our graduands had yet to finish their exams and therefore didn't know for sure that they would actually graduate I was expecting this to be all pomp and circumstance, a sop to a North American tradition, so it was a treat to be proved wrong and a privilege to be a part of an afternoon these young people will remember for the rest of their lives. Well done all of you, may your lives continue to be filled with the hope and promise we all see in you.

As soon as I left grad we were off to witness the start of another great adventure: the marriage of Jen Van de Laak to her farming beau Jim in the small prairie town of Leader, Saskatchewan. It was a truly beautiful day and the weather could not have been better. We spent much of the day surrounded by country music, cowboy hats, pick-up trucks, wide-open spaces and the friendly welcoming atmosphere of a small town where everybody knows everybody else's business and cares about them. All 235 guests ate well and enjoyed themselves and the happy couple were genuinely happy all day, surrounded by people who loved them. It made Vic and I remember our wedding day fondly, as weddings always do. The only other time in your life all your friends and relatives will get together to celebrate you is likely to be your funeral and I am not hoping to have that party for a good while yet! Vic and I finished our day as the wedding photographers with 849 photos to edit and touch up. I can't even imagine how much it would have cost to do a wedding back in the days of film.
Jim and Jen tied the knot at 3.37 pm. God bless every minute you guys spend together, and thanks for having us there.

I am putting the finishing touches to this on Friday morning, the 6th June. I have 3 more teaching days left between now and September and I am both excited about the upcoming adventure as well as sad to be leaving what has been an excellent year all round; great school, nice kids, friendly dept, the most welcoming church I have ever come across. awesome skiing and a whole heap of fabulous friends. That said, it's going to be great to get home and see all our friends there who we have missed so much.

I promise to write again soon,,

R

Bare Naked Ladies

Sorry it's been so long, I've been terribly busy. A swollen ITB is keeping me from running, but otherwise life is fab.

What with it being Vic's b'day party lately we have had several cocktails and I have cracked the art of Manhatten making: mostly whiskey, a dash of vermouth (I prefer Rosso) and a dribble of the juice from the jar you spooned your maraschineo cherry from. It's the only fruit I get most days ;-)>

Anyway, Carmen and I were sat on the sofa drinking away our rough days with a pair of these creations when I considered the name. A Manhattan is the name of this divine creation when one employs American sour mash bourbon. Such a concoction built on Scotch (and I haven't yet brought myself to lavish my Bowmore on one!) is called a Rob Roy. We are using a bottle of Canadian whiskey, so we thought we needed a suitable Canadian name. Having rapidly dismissed 'the Celine Dion' and 'the Bryan Adams' we settled on the sublime, the delightful 'Bare Naked Lady.' Fun, frolicsome and a guaranteed good time! Perfect. In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if Brian Wilson wouldn't have enjoyed a few, lying in bed...


I promise I'll post more soon about V's Birthday adventures; our trip to the Hutterite (modern Ahmish-ish), a day at the water park inside the world's second largest mall and my visit to a rural primary school, not to mention our wonderful James Bond themed murder mystery party at which V was Dr Yes and I was Hugh Onlee-Livtwice! Many a martini sunk there, shaken , not stirred. It's much easier to blog now that I've set up the wireless system and can do it like this with a tipple on the sofa.

Ciao for now,

R

Rob Runs Frisco!

I am heartily sick of winter here. Two weekends ago it was utterly and delightfully springlike. Vic and I spent Sunday hanging out in the park playing frisby golf (some call it frolf! coolest blended word ever?) with Bea and Royce. Top fun. I was beginning to look forward to getting back in shape.

Then it snowed. Then it snowed some more. it's about -5 now and still snowing, but I refuse to let this get me down. To get me running anyway I have signed up for the San Francisco half marathon in August. 13.2 miles over the Golden Gate Bridge! To make matters worse it kicks off at 5.30 AM, although this gives the twin benefits of running before the heat rolls in and allowing one to run into the sunrise as it appears behind one of he wonders of the modern world.

So, the training starts here. 10k last Sunday on an indoor track (59 mins), 5k yesterday on a tedious treadmill and some unspecified distance in the snow today (26 mins) accompanied by the sublime mutterings of Laurie Taylor on my Thinking Allowed podcast. I'll keep you all posted as to my progress, and please pass the word and get me sponsored. All funds going towards Watoto Childrens Villages for orphans in Uganda, a new home and a fresh start for children with literally nothing, and building a generation of leaders with integrity in Uganda too.

Thanks,

Rob

Odd weather precipitates confusion, frustration

Scene: Weds PM. Glorious weather outside at home after long day at work.

*much joy!!* Now is the end of our winter of discontent. Spring has sprung! As much as I have enjoyed this year's winter for it's skiing and other forms of Mountain frolics, it has been too cold to run outside and I rebel against the hamsterwheel nature of treadmill running. Rather than force myself through an arduous regime of icy tolerance or a tedious routine of indoor jogging, I accepted this winter as a one off experience and temporarily resigned from the ranks of runners. This would be a fat winter.

I am aware that last winter had the same effect on me but I hope this will cease to be the case upon returning to blighty. I have always classed myself as a fair weather runner, but I hope having struggled through snow drifts and 40 below days I will have revised my opinion of 'fair-weather' to include virtually anything an English winter has to offer, provided I can get some water proof running shoes (Eughh; wet feet!).

Anyway, I had accepted my fatness for the duration of the season, but I was starting to get a little tired of expanding. True, being off beer for lent had helped, but Lent was over so I was looking forward to starting up running again. Whenever I have run I feel like I have earned the right to a big dinner and a couple of beers, but not running hasn't stopped me, I just feel a tiny bit guilty and self indulgent and I was looking forward to going back to feeling a little bit smug instead. Wednesday marked my return to running, and after a half hour run that evening I was looking forward to another short one on Thursday.

I awoke to find that it was snowing on Thursday morning and by 8.00 am there was the best part of a foot already fallen and it was still coming. Big, wet heavy flakes that made the roads deadly due to both slipping and sliding as well as the poor visibility. It looked like there was as much snow in the air as on the ground. It took two and a half hours to get to work. We started driving, but we soon turned back because not only was our minivan with "all -season" tyres blatantly not equipped for wading through this stuff, but plenty of other people seemed to be having similar trouble. We saw a number of fender-benders and decided to retreat back home and bus our ways to our respective schools, discretion being the better part of valour where surprise blizzards are concerned. At the bust stop it transpired that many other good burghers of our neighbourhood had reached similar conclusions and the first few buses to arrive were full. I walked most of the way to school before a bus with some empty spaces picked my up at 10.00.

By that evening it was well into positive temperatures and the melt had begun in earnest but a foot of snow just doesn't melt that quickly so no running for Mr D on Thursday. Bugger.

Still, they do say that if you don't like the weather in Calgary, wait 5 minutes it's bound to change. I was back out running again on Friday and Saturday followed by frisbee-golf (I like the term 'frolf'!) on Sunday with temperatures well into the twenties. Surely NOW it was spring!

As I write this on Monday morning, it's snowing again.

Just a quickie...

On our way back from Skiing at Kicking Horse in Golden these last few days Victoria and I had a singular experience. We looked everywhere for a haircut for me in Banff and then passing through Calgary and finally found one near my school run by an Iraqi gentleman, the first Iraqi I have knowingly met (lovely fellow, can't see how a nation like that could be any bother, assuming they're all exactly the same, of course). Anyhoo, following a very reasonable priced wash and cut I was just admiring my newly and fashionably coiffured visage in the mirror when the Gentleman with my hair all over his shirt sleeves brandished 2 feet of white cotton and asked if I wanted the hair in my ears and on my cheeks removing, and perhaps between the eyebrows? No? Well, having had these follicular outcroppings pointed out by a professional I could hardly refuse, so he set about 'threading' my face.
It was an odd and uncomfortable sensation as a roll of cotton plucked all the tiny hairs from the sensitive skin on the outside of my ears, escalating to actual pain when he laid into my cheeks just below my eyes, a level of pain easily comparable with a 45 minute tattoo. This is the same procedure with which I am assured some Muslim women depilate themselves, top to toe! Head and eyebrows are often the only hairs remaining on a devout Muslim lady. Bare (sic) that in mind the next time you see someone in a Burqa!


Tomorrow we're off to Leader Saskatchewan to Jim's farm for an authentic Canadian Farm experience. We'll be helping out in the meat shop on Thursday, helping to turn two cow carcasses and two pigs into beef, pork, steak, burgers and sausages and on Friday we'll be helping Jim slaughter two cows. Being a city-boy I am fascinated by the whole farming life and this will be a wonderful opportunity to educate myself on where the meat on the little styrofoam trays in the supermarket really comes from. We'll be videoing as much as we can so that we can share with you all the story of your staek.

Cars and holidays

It's the holidays at last! Hoorah! Now that Victoria is working as a classroom assistant in a school in the South of Calgary we have the same holidays, so we are both free this week, and what a packed week we have planned! Currently Vic is round at Donna and Bernie's house having her hair dyed so she'll look ultra-glamorous for the rest of our week's activities, as skiing and cow slaughtering should only be done when one looks one's best. More on both of those in a moment...

First, I must confess that two weeks ago on Thursday night I was unfaithful. I went out on a date with another woman and I didn't even have the common decency to feel guilty! Marco, another math teacher at St Francis had got hold of two tickets to the Calgary Car show but he couldn't go; did I want them? Did I ever! I came home all excited and told Vic what I had planned for date night that week, could we go? Now, Victoria is tolerant and kind and puts up with my passing obsession with cars with good grace, but she absolutely did not want to spend a whole evening looking at metal. After all, if they all get you from A to B, what is all the fuss about? She sent me on my way with all good blessings and planned a welcome early night and some catching up on housework for herself. I now needed a temporary partner in crime, so I asked Trish from school, a fellow math-bod if she fancied coming with me and she said yes, tempted more by the opportunity to meet swathes of men than the cars, I think, albeit petrolheads the lot. We also planned to have sushi for dinner as Victoria's not really a fan so I don't have it very often. Turns out Trish isn't really that big a fan of the delights of raw fish and wasabi either, but she does like yam tempura (deep fried battered sweet potato).
So, Thursday rolled around and we headed off straight from work to get Sushi and tempura, killing a bit of time en-route looking in Lululemon, a yoga oriented athletic wear company here in Canada. They make these black pants (or trousers, if you prefer) that are simply magic. I looked at them in detail in that shop and I couldn't fathom any special tricks or trapdoors so I don't know how they do it, but these wonderful pants do special things to any buttocks nestled within them. Most bottoms look simply fabulous in them, poor ones look good and the odd spectacular backside looks so jaw droppingly awesome as to leave grown men crying in the street in droves behind any well bummed woman who moves herself around the world in these wonder-pants. I am endeavoring to persuade my slender and beautiful wife to acquire a pair soon. They also do menswear but it doesn't seem to have the same anatomy enhancing nature.
Anyway, I left Lululemon none the wiser and chowed down on salmon, yellow-tail, scallops, tuna and soft clam in their wonderful raw states, washed down with a glass of cold tea (odd, and not recommended) as it was still lent and I was off the beer, and then we hit the car show. Allow me to summarise this geek-fest in as few words as possible while still imparting a few thoughts to those fellow car nuts out there.

Trish thought the Bentleys looked good, so did the Aston Vantage and the MX-5. Possible because they were all shown in what can best be described as 'baby-blue.'

The Audi R8 looks mean. I had lustful thoughts. If ever I have $160,000 to spend on a car it will be fight to the death between Audi and their Stuttgart compatriots' Porsche 911.

The new VW Passat Coupe was possibly the best looking car there, and coming with a V6 engine and 4WD should satisfy the drivers market it's pitched at. Prepare to be surprised by how much you want one.

I still want that MX-5. We sat in a new on and everything about it felt right. At 14,000 pounds its a realistic dream too.

American truck are too big. They are. Anything that makes a Hummer look like a reasonably sized car has no place as a personal vehicle. I swear the Ford F350 Trish and I sat in had an intercom so the driver could talk to the passenger it was so wide. Of course this may have been just to compensate to the noise coming from a) the giant six litre engine and b) the hordes of ordinary people laughing at the man with the tiny willy in the giant comedy car!

Overall American cars did not compare well with Asian or European cars. I can see why GM and Ford are losing money. Their cars were uninspiring and poorly built. The designs didn't catch the eye ,with the notable exception of the Dodge Challenger which nearly caused me to swallow my tongue. That car is a visual kick in the crotch. They just didn't have those little finishing touches and finesses: I sat in a top of the line Buick saloon with some forgettable name, the Buick Anachronism perhaps, and found that the mock wood finish looked like it had been stripped from a 70s music centre, the brown carpet was a colour Datsun abandoned years ago and the steering wheel, which was of a size more suited to a bus, or possibly a container ship adjusted for rake but not reach and left it entirely impossible to find a comfortable driving position. That this car was priced along VW, AUDIs, Hondas and such was a joke. An American would have to be very nearsighted in his patriotism to continue to 'buy-American' when the products are so substandard. Even Albertans who insist on driving their giant trucks are beginning to be drawn to Toyota and Nissan for their oversized vehicle needs, whose giant offering are just as silly as GM, Dodge and Ford but far less likely to rust, break or fail to start and give slightly better mileage to boot.

Rant over, and those of you skimming over the car bits can come back now, I'm done.

We're going back to Golden today, a 3 hour drive West of here and home to Kicking Horse resort. We went there last weekend with Gavin and Nickie and were blessed with fresh snow. We got up on Saturday morning to discover that they had had nearly a foot of fresh powder overnight at Revelstoke down the road so we headed off there to make the most of it. I skied so hard and pulled so many jumps I pulled some muscle in my back and so on Sunday I had to sit out and watch the others ski. Still, I did get to do it at the Eagles Eye restaurant 8000 feet in the air right at the top of Kicking Horse mountain, one of the most truly beautiful places I have ever seen. Sat in the cedar framed lodge enjoying a medicinal high-altitude beer (it WAS a Sunday; it's allowed) looking at the majestic peaks of the Rocky mountains the view compared favorably with sights like sunset from a hammock under palm trees on a beach ion the Sesse Isles in Lake Victoria, afternoon drinks from a bar in the middle of a pool overlooked by the Pyramids at Giza or a long slow drive though the myriad colours of Autumn in New York State. If you have to spend a day not skiing, I can't think of anywhere finer. Still, it was a little frustrating so I am very glad that my back is ticketty-boo now and Victoria is going to show me the wonders of Kicking Horse resort tomorrow. 13cm of snow yesterday and more forecast for today and tomorrow! We're going to stop along the way at Canmore for a bit more cross country skiing to replace todays jog, Calgary's weather having switched from 13 degrees yesterday to snow today. Getting fit again after a fat winter is a long slow process.

The advantages of terrible teaching...

A couple of weekends ago we decided to investigate Nakiska; Calgary's closest skiing and home of the Olympic downhill runs 20 years ago. The previous weekend we has cross country ski-ed at the location of the Olympic track so it was nice to complete the symmetry at Nakiska. Whenever we are at a new hill we like to hook up with the local volunteer on-hill tour guides, normally called "mountain friends" or "mountain hosts." These sessions had been outstanding at Fernie and Panorama so we were optimistic of having an enjoyable afternoon finding new parts of the mountain in good company. I suppose you could say that Nakiska was the exception. It took us a while to work out when and where to meet as there were none of the usual signs saying "mountain friends meet here at 1.00" but we eventually tracked down an administrator who found someone to take us out. It transpired that there were no hosts available that day so we went out with an instructor. At this point I was very happy, thinking that I might get a few tips from an expert. In the end it was an inspiring afternoon but for all the wrong reasons. I have never been taught anything so badly as I was that afternoon. Partly it was the language barrier (after 30 years in Canada the aging Italian's English was still heavily accented and not very clear) but mainly this chap had no idea what good teaching was. He kept showing me what he wanted me to do in terms of body position, skis and poles, and then say "see, like this!" and then be off, skiing away down the mountain with nary a look back. Meanwhile I'm stood at the top of the mountain fuming. It's all well and good to see it done, but I kept trying to do what he showed me and I didn't know how to do it! Then he would shout at me, tell me to do it better and bugger off again. Very frustrating indeed! I finished the afternoon in a terrible mood and skiing worse than when I had started, but it did make me stop and think about teaching. Some conclusions:



There are times when no teacher is better than a bad teacher. Bad teachers make students begin to dislike the subject. If I can get anxious and angry when I am trying to improve at an enjoyable hobby I have volunteered for, then how much more easily will immature pupils in a classroom taking a subject they are made to do be discouraged by bad teaching!



Good teaching is not just about how much you know. This guy was clearly an expert skier, but all the skiing knowledge in the world wouldn't make him a good teacher.



Good teachers have empathy, confidence, communicate well, encourage their students and are patient and kind. These are hard things to teach someone. When new trainee teachers turn up at school these are the qualities I look for. If they have this, they can learn the rest of the skills needed to teach well. If they don't, it's an uphill struggle for them to change who they are before they can learn what to do.



Good teaching is knowing where you want someone to get to, helping them to understand where they are and equipping and motivating them to make the journey.


I never would have thought that a bad lesson could be so inspiring. It really made me want to have an impact on raising standards of teaching more widely than I can do in one classroom. I'll keep pondering where this might lead me.

Alberta (barely) Votes!

It's been a while since I updated you all, so sorry for that. We've been engaged in the usual stuff, plenty of weekend skiing, an awesome day's snowshoeing with the new Aussie exchangees and beavering away at school. My skiing is really coming on. Last weekend I went to Sunshine, our favourite local mountain, with Peter, Roger and Chantal from school as well as Kylie and Iain from Oz. I found some new black runs I hadn't explored before and found myself comfortably getting down a run I had had to walk off just 3 weeks previously. It was very satisfying to see such tangible evidence of my progress because it's hard to be objective. Whenever we go out I push myself to ski better on harder runs, so I generally feel like I'm out of my depth until I can compare my skiing to previous experiences on the same run.

Alberta voted yesterday, or at least 40% of them did. A very poor show and representative of the general apathy about provincial politics here. Whether that apathy is the cause or effect of the fact that the Conservatives won their 11th straight victory and after 37 consecutive years in power now hold about 80% of the parliamentary seats I don't know, but I am stunned. That kind of track record doesn't help keep politicians honest, doesn't make them motivated to make any changes and the poor turnout doesn't give much of a mandate. That said, anyone suggesting putting up taxes to pay for schools and hospitals would not get much of a hearing over here. Canadians are amongst the nicest people I have met, but Albertans persist in driving over-sized trucks everywhere which precludes the economy of scale necessary for a good, green public transport system. There is very little fair trade anything available and many people are utterly unfamiliar with the concept. There is very little courtesy shown on the road. All of these point to a selfishness in Albertans when considered 'en-masse' which I don't be live is present in the individuals I meet. How it is possible I don't know, but I'm disappointed.

So; Vote! Drive sensible cars! Buy Fair trade coffee! Drive nicer! Canada expects...

Weekend of firsts- part I

Communist dictatorships change their government more often than the province of Alberta does!~ Ben Wiggins, Brit Wit

It was another busy week last week. School was out on Thursday and Friday for the annual Calgary Teachers' Convention. This meant going to some sessions and lectures downtown at the TELUS Convention centre, wandering around some exhibits, pleasant unpressured lunch with colleagues I normally only see for half an hour and, most importantly, having a lie-in. Although not really a holiday as we had to stay in town and attend some sessions, it was a nice relaxing couple of days. I love my job, I do, but I occasionally wonder about the fact that I love NOT doing it even more.

On Friday evening the Brits descended on us. The other two exchangees from the UK, Ben with girlfriend Helen and Dave from Cardiff, came to stay the night before heading off for a weekend frolicking in the mountains. It was nice to relax with people sharing the same sense of humour and to vent a little about the minor gripes we have being a long way from home on unfamiliar cultural territory. Brianna joined us for fajitas and I hope she wasn't too put off by the relentless use of sarcasm and our moaning about Canada. In all honesty there isn't much to moan about; people are lovely here, but it IS TOO COLD, we miss the beer, there are too many big trucks and not enough fair trade coffee. Nuff said, moan over.

On Saturday we got up and convoyed our way to Canmore, the closest town to Calgary in the beautiful Rocky Mountains. Vic and I went with Dave in his car and it was a real treat for us not to have to drive there and back. Upon arrival our first activity was Dog Sledding, or 'Mushing' as the sport is known. We went out with Snowy Owl tours and had a great time. We shared our sled with a guide but lots of our friends got to drive their own teams. Our dogs were super keen to be pulling all the time and it was wonderful to work with them as a pack. They really seemed to be enjoying themselves, so don't worry about them being abused. They were bred and raised for pulling people around, so the worst bits of the day for them are when you pull over for a break. They couldn't wait to get started again! We learned that you don't say 'mush' to start them off, despite what the sport is called, you say "Hike!" A nice calm "whoa!" will slow them down, but you have to use the brake on the back too.

Since we got back lots of Canadians I’ve spoken too have been very curious about the sledding. It's very touristy thing to do, I suppose, so people who have lived here their whole lives never think to get around to it. Well, don't let that stop you! It was great fun, so get out and do it if you get a chance.

The afternoon had been set aside to mooch around Canmore by those running this exchange-club weekend away, a lovely town and worth seeing for all the newly arrived Aussies, but Vic and Dave and I had already seen it and Dave is Mr Sporty and wanted to do something active. I spotted a leaflet for the Nordic Centre, built 20 years ago for the Calgary winter Olympics to host the cross-country Skiing and Biathlon events, so off we went to try our hand (or feet!) at that. It's not often you get to try a sport as a complete novice at a world class Olympic facility, this was a treat. We rented 'Classic' skis for $15 each and set off in the pre made tracks. These skis have a grippy bit in the middle that only moves forward, so if you shuffle your feet backwards and forwards you should end up gliding gracefully forwards. That’s the theory at least. It took us a while to get the rhythm of it all and I found it very difficult to time when to push on my poles, but we were soon whipping along at a good speed, if still not all that gracefully. Cross country skis don't have a metal edge like Alpine skis so even if you step out of the two ruts you go along in and try to brake not much happens. This meant that the downhill bits were quite exhilerating, especially on the intermediate trail we found ourselves on. I'm keen to try it again, because it was a similar effort to jogging but you can go a lot faster. You must use very different muscles than any other sport because I hurt in places I didn't even know I had places for days afterwards. Some of this might have been from the little fall I had; I was going up hill very slowly at the time and lost my balance. The skis are only about an inch wide, very slippy and you're only connected to them at the toe, not the whole foot like on regular skis. All this rather exposed my utter lack of coordination and balance with entirely predictable consequences. All in all I count myself lucky not to have fallen more often.

Anyway, two hours of hot sweaty ski action were more than enough for us beginners so we headed home for a soak in the hot tub at the hotel and a pizza evening with the new Aussies a nice way to end a lovely day. Tomorrow we would be snow-shoeing...

Revelling in it!

I do not feel obliged to believe that the same God who has endowed us with sense, reason, and intellect has intended us to forego their use. ~ Galileo Galilei (born 15 February 1564)


What a busy few days it's been since last I blogged. Well over a week into lent and not a drop of booze so far. To be honest I have been having so much fun I've hardly noticed. Last Friday Victoria and I went our separate ways to enjoy two very different weekends. She departed with the girl guides for a winter camp at which there was singing, gaming and the building of "Quinzys" (a type of rudimentary snow shelter). I left to get on a tour bus with Gavin and Nickie and a load of other Edmonton University post grads for a ski trip to Revelstoke, a new mountain in B.C. (I say new mountain, obviously only the ski facilities are new, the mountain itself has been there for thousands of years). The arranged pick up was at the legendary Peter's-Drive-In in Calgary, famous for 2 things, one good and one bad. The good thing is that every burger comes with one and a half burgers in it, 50% extra beefiness for your money. They sure were yummy burgers and top-notch fries too. The bad thing is that there is no indoors. Normally this is ok, you just eat in your car, but I got dropped off by taxi so I had to wait outside. Now, I'm a hardy sort of chap not given over to moaning (well, sort of...) but last Friday it was -28 degrees out plus wind-chill. I could put up with this for a bit, and I was 20 minutes early so I expected to get a little chilly and I had dressed up warm with my thick winter parka on. When the bus was an hour and a half late due to the over cautious driving of an inexperienced driver unused to winter conditions I was a little annoyed. I have never ever been that cold in my life. The women working the counter in Peters kept looking at me, whispering and pointing. I believe that if I hadn't been carrying a pair of skis they’d have called the police because only someone mentally unbalanced would be stood out in that kind of cold for that long.


Anyway, the bus finally arrived and we eventually got to Revelstoke at 4.00 AM, our cautious driver taking no chances on the winter roads through the snow bound passes through the Rockies. After 3 hours sleep we got back in our smelly bus (some of the early drinking had got out of hand on the back seat and out of stomach too) and sallied forth to greet the fresh snow at Revelstoke Mountain resort. It was awesome, simply awesome. If you do ski and you can get there, then go. Acres and acres of untracked powder straight off the main lift. Steep and high and fluffy, even I, a usually piste bound runner of blues found myself throwing myself down the mountain through the trees up to my knees in snow with abandon, joy and ever increasing confidence and skill. Double black diamonds all the way, baby! No limits (within reason!). The solitary blue run I did in order to get my aching legs back down to lunch seemed tame. I have been converted to big mountain skiing. I loved the wild raw nature of being off piste, finding my own lines through ungroomed powder, not following the lines of a piste dictated by a resort manager. I truly can't wait to go back and I look forward to more of the same at Kicking Horse next weekend.


The downside of the weekend is that one of our group, Eli, didn’t make it down on Saturday. It turns out he got stuck on the mountain outside the ski boundary in a gully he couldn't walk out of, but we didn't know what had happened. We worried and prayed all night for him, trying to think the best but as time wore on, only expecting the worst. It kept the party in a somber mood as you can imagine. The relief the following morning when he was found by a rescue helicopter alive and well was unbelievable. I did not expect that anyone out on a mountain alone at night would survive. Thankfully it was not too cold, only about -5 degrees and he was well equipped with good snow clothes. No cotton! After that good news we all skied hard, safe in the knowledge that a more experienced bus driver and a clean bus had been dispatched to take us home. I got in at 2.00 AM on Sunday morning and Vicky picked me up. That's real love, getting out of bed to get me from a skiing weekend she would have loved to have gone on. I felt sorry for the Edmonton guys who got home at 5.00AM, no time for more than 40 winks before work on Monday. Still, it was worth it all for skiing that good, and much easier to get a 10 hour bus ride that have to drive that long across winter roads in the dark. Thanks to all at Backside tours for making it so good, especially Rahul and Erin.

I promise to continue tomorrow with tales of this last weeknds frolics; dog sledding, cross-country skiing and snow-shoeing. Here's a joke Ben told be on Friday night to keep you going, but probably only the Brits will appreciate it:

One gent to another in a Korean restaurant: These meatballs really are the dog's B*****ks!

pankake day

The only way to get rid of a temptation is to yield to it

Oscar Wilde

Yesterday we threw ourselves into the Great British tradition of Pancake day. From 4.30 to 9.30 a steady stream of Canadians and Australians passed through our home consuming what the locals insist on calling 'creps' (sic). Over here a pancake is small and thick and fluffy, much like we understand Scotch Pancakes to be. We had savory ones with cheese and ham, chicken and guacamole and sweet ones too. I always think you can't beat lemon juice and sugar but berries and whipped cream was popular as was Nutella. Someone even had a Bananana but I haven't worked out who so they have escaped punishment so far. Mike from school put in a stalwart performance behind the pan, flipping with gusto, ease and elan; a marvelous debut to the pancake cooking world an a skill I hope he will take with him to Japan when he leaves on Sunday to get married.

No one managed more than four pancakes. We missed you Cooper.

Another Great British Tradition was the comment I heard several times around the room along the lines of "these are great, aren't they; we should do them more often!" Of course they are, and of course we won't.

Today has been Ash Wednesday. You really notice it at a Catholic school because all the students are taken to church one grade at a time for a mass and come back with the sign of the cross on their foreheads drawn in Ash. I didn't go as none of my classes were scheduled to go during maths, but I am going to our local church tonight. It seems odd to me that in all these years of going to church I have never been to an Ash Wednesday service or a Palm Sunday service, so I'm looking forward to it.

Also, I've been fasting today, which I thought would be interesting and it certainly has been. Every now and then throughout the day I have felt hungry (more often as the day wore on) and then remembered why I was fasting, prayed a bit and reflected on Easter, Jesus, my faith and a whole bunch of other spiritual musings. Then Vicky asked me to bake cookies. Not an easy job for a hungry man. They are chocolate ones too, so I'm going to have to work really hard on not being tempted as I put them in the oven now. I'll let you know how I do...

Lent Looms

A lot of people say there's a fine line between genius and insanity. I don't think there's a fine line, I actually think there's a yawning gulf. You see some poor bugger scuffling up the road with balloons tied to his ears, he's not going home to invent a rocket, is he?
Bill Bailey (I just though it was funny)

It can be hard to write about my faith, but sometimes it's the most important thing going on in my life, so here goes. Feel free to skip this one.

Every year Lent comes around and I feel compelled to address my sundry addictions. I have usually successfully resisted any temptation to address my personal shortcomings or to attach any spiritual significance to the still small voice urging me to progress my faith through sacrifice, wilfully attempting to believe that my actions (or lack thereof) had no bearing on my faith (or lack thereof). In church on Sunday morning lent rolled around again, today being Shrove Tuesday and tomorrow being Ash Wednesday. For some reason or another it played out rather differently this year. I felt a strong and specific conviction, like God was saying to me "Hey, get off your spiritual backside and do this, it's not an empty gesture but a meaningful personal sacrifice and I will bless you because of it. Stop hiding." It feels like taking these 40 days up to Easter is an opportunity to intensify my Christianity. The way I see it, faith is a journey not just a moment. I started being a Christian when I said "OK God, you're the boss" but since then I haven't really done much to move forward. It's been like getting past the bouncer at some great nightclub and then standing by the coat check all night. Sunday felt like a call from God onto the dance floor of Christianity, where all the fun is. In this bizarre bar analogy, I will be the designated driver because I'm giving up alcohol for lent. This is a HUGE deal for me, and I've always shied away from it before, partly because I was scared of failing and partly because I love drinking. Not being drunk, you understand, just having the odd beer or malt or glass of wine, but I do love it. Maybe I loved it more than I loved God. Now, if God really is as fabulous as he must be, then surely he should be worth doing this for? I'm also going to try fasting on Ash Wednesday before going to church and trying to learn a bit of the bible, Isaiah 53.

One thing I have yet to decide about is Sundays. Lent is the period of 40 days running up to Easter Sunday not including Sundays, so Sundays don't count. I don't know who decided this, some Pope or other a long time ago, but those seem to be the rules. I don't know whether allowing myself a beer on Sunday will be a pleasant treat or whether it will feel like a necessity I have to promise myself all week to get through the dry days. If it's the former, that's great. If it's the latter I will be a little concerned that I've developed a real dependency while I wasn't looking. We'll see, and I'll keep you all posted on how it goes.
Next year, if I'm really up for it, I might try coffee. Now that would be a challenge.

My concluding thought on the matter is that Easter should be a bigger deal for Christians than Christmas and I don't think it has been for me.

Ohmigoditssocoldithinkimightactuallydie

Men have still not realized that letting women do so much of the work for so little reward makes a man in the house an expensive luxury rather than a necessity. ~Germaine Greer

Today's temperature in Calgary, -31 degrees. With wind chill, feels like -43 degrees.

-43. That's so cold it no longer matters if it's Fahrenheit or Centigrade.

-43. That's so cold my eyelashes froze to my glasses at the bus stop.

-43. That's so cold my lungs HURT when I breathe.

-43. That's so cold the car won't start because the oil has frozen.

The pupils return to school tomorrow for semester 2, so I'm exactly halfway through the teaching part of my year. Better go and get ready...

Suspense is worse than disappointment. Robert Burns

(tonight being Burn's night)

A rather random collection of thoughts and events today.


I had a longer drive to Starbucks than I had anticipated just now. Having left the car lights on this morning the battery was too run down and weak to start the V6 beast under the hood/bonnet of our dilapidated Dodge Caravan. The advantage of being at a Senior High is that they teach 'shop' here (car mechanics) so I was able to borrow a jump box and start it up, but I needed to run it for 20 minutes or so to get the charge up. I also needed a run to Starbucks to jump start my brain as three hours supervising our immaculately well behaved grade 12s doing their English diploma had left me dazed and dopey. Driving back there was a slight breeze blowing along Northmount Drive knocking marshmallows and feathers of snow off the trees to drift eerily by under a clear blue sky. A tiny moment of joy in a year that has abounded with them.

Sitting here with my Starbucks cup I am reminded of an incident in Vegas (of which much is yet to be written, I know. Bear with me). Early one morning Vic and I were in a queue at the tour company we were going to the Grand Canyon with. The family behind us were clearly, like me, of the fraternity of caffeine fans/addicts. They had been to Starbucks that A.M. and noticed as they were stood behind us the spot of wit and wisdom printed on the side of their cups; Starbucks contribution to enlightenment "The Way I See It." This particular item said something like "if you disagree with someone, try shutting up. You can often learn something by listening." This seemed to be something of an epiphany to the lady who exclaimed at length and volume what a startling lesson it was, and I was gobsmacked. Surely nobody in their Fifties should be seeking their life lessons from a paper cup, although I was not surprised after 5 minutes queuing in front of her that the twin concepts of quietness and reflective listening were new to her. I proceeded to spend the next few minutes in a cycle of hoping we were not going to be sat by her on the coach or in the helicopter down into the canyon followed by guilt for judging my fellow man and for my ego in feeling myself superior to anyone else. I guess I still have some way to go in the humble stakes, not corners I look forward to getting rubbed off by the Big Man Upstairs.

Anyway, moving on, try this if you can. It's a BBC psychological test to see if you can tell if smiles are real or fakes. I got 16 right. I found it on someone else's blog (http://sscalia.blogspot.com/)

http://www.bbc.co.uk/science/humanbody/mind/surveys/smiles/index.shtml

Yesterday's news in Calgary was dominated by Lulu Lemon Athletica, a gym and yoga fashion company very much in vogue with twenty- and thirty-something women. It really is nice stuff, but this blew me away. They took over the Stampede Hall for a giant warehouse sale for a day and let the word just slip out through stores and face book. They spend not one cent on advertising, but everyone I spoke to knew about it. Word of mouth took it from pillar to post. Victoria went down with Carmen only to find about 2000 people in a 5 hour queue to get in. All this on a day well below freezing. People had taken days off work. The streets around were gridlocked as gym-bunnies from all over Calgary flocked in to this rarest of events. Vicky and Carmen soon gave up and moved on but many stayed and queued.

And finally, I spent too much of last night in front of the TV. One of the shows was "Are you smarter than a Fifth Grader?" on which adults compete with fifth graders (8 or 9 years old I think) to answer questions from the elementary school curriculum for large cash prizes. The format is a lot like who wants to be a millionaire but with allegedly easier questions. It was amazing how poorly people did, especially the guest 'class' of the Dallas Cowboys cheerleaders who got most things wrong. I finished up getting about half of the questions wrong myself, but I think mostly because I'm English. I simply never learned that much about the geography of the United States and I have never used Fahrenheit in my life. Still, no excuses; as the contestants are forced to admit on camera before leaving, I am NOT smarter than an American 5th grader. For your interest here are the questions, please post answers as comments.


1 How many states above tropic of cancer?

A 52 B 50 C 49 D 48

2 Zero degrees centigrade is how many degrees Fahrenheit?

A zero B 28 C32 D 37

3 What is 7 x 13 (no calculators now!)

4 What is the singular of the word 'lice'

Exam weeks

Speed has never killed anyone, suddenly becoming stationary... That's what gets you. ~Jeremy Clarkson

It's been exam time at school these past two weeks. An odd time, as there are no lessons and a school without children is rather like a car in a garage. You can get a lot of jobs done you've been meaning to get around to but it isn't really what it's for. Still, we're all beavering away on bits of paperwork and catching up in minutiae and trivia of varying import, and mostly recuperating from a long term and getting ready for the next session. All downhill from here, I'm told, with many more breaks than last semester. I can't quite believe we're halfway through; my how time flies when you're having fun. That looks set to continue with more skiing trips booked for the next few weekends to Castle Mountain, Revelstoke and Sunshine. Somewhere in there is also Superbowl Sunday, a great North American institution I am looking forward to spending at Roger's house (a colleague in the math dept). It's a very social game to watch as it takes a few hours, more than long enough for a couple of beers, and the frequent stops leave plenty of time for conversation. In my case the frequent stops allow plenty of time for someone to explain to the Englishman what the bloody hell is going on. I'm getting much more gridiron-savvy but I've still got a way to go with some of the rules. We'll be rooting for the New York Giants who seem to be the underdogs against the might of the New England Patriots.

We were at church last night for the Beta course, a kind of follow up course from the Alpha course which you may have heard of. It struck me that I rarely mention my Christianity on the blog and I'm not sure why, so I resolved to do so occasionally. We didn't do the Alpha course here, we were just helping with the catering but Vic and I did it together back at St Georges in Leeds a few years ago. I had only recently come back to my faith so it was a really useful time to meet some people at church and try to get my head around exactly what I believed. Vicky was and remains rather skeptical about God but came then as she does now with an open mind to ask the questions she still can't find answers to in the hope that whatever all we Christians are making a fuss about will suddenly become clear. She's waiting for God to switch her on and I'm not sure why he hasn't yet, but I persevere in faith hoping that he will. He's pretty good at guiding other parts of my life so I can only assume he's managing Vicky according to his own agenda.

Fernie, and Rob gets on his high-horse reviewing restaurants.

I love deadlines. I like the whooshing sound they make as they fly by. ~ Douglas Adams

Last weekend saw us at yet another new ski resort, Fernie in BC, about 3 or 4 hours drive South of Calgary. It was steep and beautiful, the snow was soft and both Vic and I had a great time on the slopes. Once again we availed ourselves of the services of the mountain hosts. These are often retirees earning themselves a free lift-pass by taking groups out and touring them around the mountain twice a day. They sign up for 18 days over the course of a season. What a brilliant idea! We get to ski with a group of new friends, see bits of the mountain off the beaten track we might not otherwise try and I personally find that I have a lot more confidence to push myself knowing that I have an experienced leader to get me out of trouble and not wanting to hold people back makes me strive to keep up. I was carving turns on blue and black runs all weekend, and trying to find my way in the powder too, although this mostly lead to a couple of giant wipe-outs. I also saw what the locals term a 'garage-sale;" a wipe-out so complete that all of one's equipment is laid out for onlookers to peruse and collect. A ski to the left, a helmet to the right, here a pole, there a pole etc.

Off the snow we ate very well. Should you ever find yourself in Fernie I have two recommendations for you. For regular Canadian gourmet cuisine try the Cedar Tree restaurant. Fabulous service, an interesting menu cooked to perfection and a reasonably priced selection of local wine and beer all in a modern and cosy atmosphere. We were wowed by the place and look forward to going back. Of particular delight to us other than the delicious food and English waitress was their flexibility, which made a pleasant change. I fancied the chicken from the special three course menu but they were all out, so they put together something similar for me at the same bargainous price of $19, even accommodating my gastronomic peculiarities (feta and tomato salad hold the tomato, if you will!). Last time we were in a restaurant and asked for a change of ingredients it was a different story. Over Christmas we went for a curry at the Moti Mahal (17 ave and 14 st SW for Calgarians). We had been ever so excited as we love a curry and are still trying to find a great one in Calgary. The menu looked interesting and although it was a bit more expensive than we're used to for a curry we were looking forward to a great night out. Everything was proceeding according to expectations until we ordered. I fancied the look of the chicken Jalfrezie, but I do love a mushroom and I try to get a bit of paneer in whenever I can (paneer is a type of Indian cottage cheese) so I asked the waitress if I could add them to my curry. I didn't anticipate a problem as several other dishes on the menu contained both ingredients. Turns out chef won't do it. Chef knows best. These dishes are how they are and there are no substitutions, so no, I couldn't have and mushrooms or paneer in my chicken Jalfrezi. I was a little put out and thought that chef was possibly labouring under the delusion that he was further up the Michelin rankings than was actually the case, but I was prepared to extend him the benefit of the doubt. Maybe he was some kind of spicy savant with an unerring eye for the perfect concoction. I awaited his creation with baited breath. I could always have a mushroom omelette tomorrow. It arrived looking 'gourmet,' and indeed it was. 'Gourmet' in pretentious inverted commas, not actually gourmet and good tasting. The chicken was certainly tender but cut in two or three giant cubes, as were the peppers and onions which were also woefully undercooked. None of the sweated down loveliness diced onions take on in the gravy of most curries. The place was busy and it gets good reviews; I can only assume most of the patrons have never been to Bradford, home in exile of the humble curry. Suffice it to say we left disappointed and are unlikely to go back or recommend it to anyone else.

Still, while I am on about curries, let me heartily recommend The Curry Bowl in Fernie, where we were met at the door by a friendly expat. The Bristolian maitre-d showed us upstairs to a little waiting nook as it would be about half an hour until he could squeeze us into his packed restaurant. A great sign. We crowded in while he served a selection of wines and beers from around the world. Over a can of Old Speckled Hen we met some of the other patrons waiting for seats and the atmosphere was very relaxed. It was more like being in someone's lounge meeting strangers at a party than anything else. Our host regaled us with banter and trivia and a gay old time was had by all present, and all this before we'd even seen a menu. When we finally sat down the food as good as the atmosphere had lead us to hope it would be. When we go back to Fernie (to stay for free with a mountain host) we will have a devil of a time trying to choose between two fabulous restaurants both rating a well deserved 10 out of 10.

Anyway, enough for today. I'm off to watch the end of Miss Congeniality (feel entirely free to judge me; I would!) with a slice of birthday cake (thanks mum, thanks Vic). Tomorrow, fingers crossed, I'll cover the rigours of exam week, Las Vegas and solicit advice on the next novel. Look after yourselves,

R

Happy Birthday to me...

Today's quotes come from those auspicious persons who share my particular nativity, and with subjects close to my heart...



On talking...

The finest eloquence is that which gets things done; the worst is that which delays them. ~ David Lloyd George

On booze...

We hear of the conversion of water into wine at the marriage in Cana as of a miracle. But this conversion is, through the goodness of God, made every day before our eyes. Behold the rain which descends from heaven upon our vineyards; there it enters the roots of the vines, to be changed into wine; a constant proof that God loves us, and loves to see us happy. ~ Benjamin Franklin

On writing...

All true histories contain instruction; though, in some, the treasure may be hard to find, and when found, so trivial in quantity, that the dry, shrivelled kernel scarcely compensates for the trouble of cracking the nut. Whether this be the case with my history or not, I am hardly competent to judge. I sometimes think it might prove useful to some, and entertaining to others; but the world may judge for itself. Shielded by my own obscurity, and by the lapse of years, and a few fictitious names, I do not fear to venture; and will candidly lay before the public what I would not disclose to the most intimate friend. ~ Anne Brontë

On the force...

The Force is strong with this one. James Earl Jones (as Darth Vader)

On God...

Everyone has the same God; only people differ. Anton Chekhov.

Others sharing our birthday are:

Muhammad Ali

Kid Rock

Jim Carey

Al Capone

Vidal Sassoon

Eartha Kitt

Susanna Hoffs

Andy Kaufmann

Nevil Shute

Rock Hudson

Aga Khan

Paul Young

Steve Earl

Stanislaw II August Poniatowski, last king of Poland (1764-95)

With a list of luminaries like this I had better get on with accomplishing something. I'm doing alright in many respects and so far at the age of 32 I couldn't be happier with my marriage, my faith, my career and myself in general, but I don't think anyone will be putting my name on their birthday list in another 50 years. Is that something worth striving for? Not sure.

This is my first birthday blog. I wonder if there will be another. Will I keep this up once I'm back in sunny Leeds? Who knows.

Today started well. Coffee and breakfast in bed provided by my beautiful wife, some presents and cards, birthday cake from mom miraculously sent across the pond, a phone call and happy-birthday sung to me from my mother-in-law and a fresh sprinkling of snow to make the world seem clean and new just for me. It being exam week I was in no hurry to get to school so I turned up here at 9.00 am to get a few more jobs done in an empty classroom listening to Billy Joel while my cherubs are all at home revising hard. The math dept and I are going out for brunch imminently where I will gorge myself on Eggs Benedict (wonder if the new pope like his eggs like this?). This afternoon we have an exam to administer then it's home through the snow and we're going out for prime Alberta AAA beef in the form of a New York cut steak at the Cactus Club with Manhattans (ideal accompaniment to a NY steak, no?) and friends. Overall I anticipate the whole day being just grand. Hopefully we'll top it of this weekend with a skiing trip to Fernie and we'll be rushing through powdery snow up to our armpits. Hurrah.

Last night saw us trying another new adventure in Calgary. I went along with Vic and her girl guides to the Calgary Inter-faith Food Bank. Here families can come and get a hamper that will last them about a week if they are down on their luck. They can only come up to 3 times a year, so it's real emergency relief for the people stuck at the bottom of the pile in this city of a million affluent people. We had a lot of fun doing it. assembling the crates of food and it took me back to the many dull hours I spent in warehouses in university holidays. The same thing that used to bore me is kind of fun when you're doing it because you choose to and for a couple of hours, not all day all week. We'll go back, and I encourage other Calgarians to give it a go.

I know I still need to blog about Vegas, and I will, but I feel those eggs a-calling.

Ciao for now,

Roberto.

There and back again.

Writing, is not necessarily something to be ashamed of — but do it in private and wash your hands afterwards.

You can have peace. Or you can have freedom. Don't ever count on having both at once.

Robert A Heinlein, Author

(I've been reading a lot of Heinlein lately, so he's on my mind)

So we're back from Vegas and it's Wednesday of my first week at school in 2008. In some ways a very different start to 2007, but very similar in many respects. I am already exhausted and most of the day it feels like I never left, but from time to time I remember the things I have seen and done and I smile. We've been far too busy for me to catch you all up in one blog so I'll spread it out. Also, this week is marking hell so it might have to wait till next week but I'll try and fill you all before my birthday on Thursday next week.

Forgoing the holiday entirely, let's begin with last night and our first hockey game. As I have mentioned Victoria is volunteering as a leader with the local girl guides, the pathfinders. She is out with them now making plans for their winter camping trip next month. Tents in the snow? Silly idea if you ask me but then again these girls have to live in this ridiculous climate, I suppose it'll do them good to get toughened up a bit. Anyway, being a member of the girl guides Vicky gets complementary tickets to the women's under-18 ice hockey world cup (they just call it hockey over here, no need to specify). We saw one of the opening games, the hosts vs Germany.

It was a hell of a game, fast paced and high scoring with Canada emerging victorious, the final score being 10-1. I was amazed how quickly those girls moved around and not surprised that they substituted most or all of the team every minute or two in a rolling programme off the bench. Those girls were doing the equivalent of sprinting on ice so they get tired pretty quickly. That's why hockey teams are so very big. 17 people to put 5 players and a goalie on the ice. And those goalies! I know they're wearing a lot of padding, but those girls proved me wrong because I always thought it must take balls to put yourself in front of a puck flying at 100mph. Anywhere else they'd call that a missile.

At some point I'm going to need someone to explain when charging into someone on a pair of knives and hitting them with a stick is allowed and when the rules preclude it. I could not work out why players were sent to the sin bin sometimes and not others. Still, they did prove that it's perfectly possible to play an hour of hockey (in 3 periods of 20 minutes) without squaring off at centre ice for fistycuffs like the boys do.

To cap it all I had beer and popcorn while the team I was cheering won. How could a night be any better!

We did chuckle on the way out. We picked up the team sheet with all the players stats on it, and I think it's a little unkind to print the height and weight of a bunch of 17 year olds. I'm sure their self-confidence is fairly high what with making the national team, but it can't be nice to have your size details out there for all the world to see.

So the holiday part one:

We started at Panorama, a 4 hour drive down on the Saturday took us to our room about 10 meters from the chair lift. We drove through the snow, optimistic of skiing conditions on the mountain. En-route we stopped at Radium hot springs where we floated around in super hot water while moonlit snow fell out of the chilly night sky past the steep sandstone cliffs. A truly beautiful sight and one you should all experience sometime. There were hot springs (possibly not natural) at Panorama too. An excellent place to soak aching muscles after a day on the piste, getting ready for a night on the ...

Panorama was also home to the only really pubby feeling pub we've encountered in the West of Canada. The Jackpine was a down to earth little establishment run by a local volunteer fireman. Around the world one thing I have found to be true is that good landlords run good pubs, and Bruce was definitely a good 'un. You could sit at the bar, pay for your drinks as you went and anyone looking to have a peaceful beer or a boisterous few was made personally welcome. Darts and pool topped it off nicely, along with a reasonable ale.

Two paragraphs and no word about the skiing! Well, it snowed a lot, which is good. The mountain was big so we found a wide variety of pistes to entertain us, but best of all were the mountain friends. These guys volunteer to take groups out and show them around the mountain in return for a free skipass. Going with experienced locals gave us the confidence to push ourselves and the group structure meant that Vic and I could ski together or apart as we saw fit. Vic is way more confident and as yet more skilled on her board than I am on my skis, so we could both push ourselves with groups at the right level, or she could slum, it with me and take it easy. She did a bit of both, sometime carving fresh tracks through virgin powder off the summit of the mountain, looking like people in those extreme snowboard videos weaving through trees and up to her armpits in snow, sometimes with me on the blue and black runs I was gaining confidence and skill on. I was lucky enough that one member of my group was Keith, an ex-army ski instructor who gave me so many tips you can only call it a free lesson; thanks Keith, it definitely did the trick. He helped me really carve my turns and find a way to make the skis bite on ice.

Christmas eve saw us open presents after a nice turkey dinner. Many thanks for my outstanding fashionista scarf, Mum, thanks for the pigs Dad and a good set of handy nick-nacks from Jim n Eve; bookmark put to immediate use. I toasted all of your health with a dram of 12-year old Bowmore my gorgeous wife bought me. I had already opened my 'truck-nuts' from Carmen before we left; a giant pair of plastic testicles you can hang off the back of your truck. Not having a truck I don't know where to put mine at the mo. Currently they function as a ridiculous pull on the blinds in the kitchen.

We both enjoyed our time there apart from the loud noise from the bar keeping us awake at 2pm on two of the nights, the king size bed which was really two singles pushed together with a consequent gap down the middle and the fobbing off we got from guest services when we complained about these things. It was a great mountain to ski, but try not to stay at the budget end if you want a comfortable stay. I'm not sure we'll be going back.

Anyway, we drove our weary way home after 3 days hard skiing on Christmas Day, where it was nice to feel at home again. We had a few days lounging around, I had a snowboard lesson (and I think I've cracked it but for a little practice) and we went to the cinema a few times to see Charlie Wilson's War (9 out of 10), PS I Love you (8 out of ten, but it did even get me a bit weepy and Vic cried throughout) and Sweeney Todd (another 8, this one not V's cup of tea so I went with Carmen).

It was nice to take a little time to relax, ready for the next vacation onslaught.

The rest will have to come later...