In The Mood for Winterlude

There comes a time in every man’s life when he must cast caution to the wind, explore the unknown and launch himself into an adventure of epic proportions that he himself never thought he would be capable of – yes that’s right, a road trip to Ottawa, Ontario.

In layman’s terms (or for those of you living in Rio Linda), Ottawa is Canada’s equivalent of America’s Washington D.C. – different system of politics but the same level of waste and corruption still exists…but I digress.   This trip was not, as some of you may think, a diplomatic mission where the US sent me to better understand Canadian culture and why, for instance, they color code their money to be strangely similar to Monopoly currency.

No, no – I ventured to Ottawa for two main reasons...firstly as an invite from my good friend Jelena, secondly because I wouldn’t have to drive in the snow thanks to another good friend Angela and thirdly (ok apparently more than two reasons) I had nothing else going on for the weekend and thought “what the heck?”

During this time of year Ottawa hosts an annual winter festival titled Winterlude where people – believe it or not – celebrate winter (add that to the list of cultural understandings) with musical guests, ceremonies, ice sculpture contests and my new favorite part of Canada, skating on the Rideau Canal.

After a late arrival Friday evening and battling some pretty intense traffic through Ontario our 5 hour car ride turned to 8 hour car ride delivered us safely to the house of Matt and Rebecca Cragg, host and hostess extrordinaires who graciously opened up their home to us to stay for the weekend.  Rebecca, a native Canadian, lived for a number of years in Japan and as such has an incredible knack and flair for Japanese culture.  Following a true career passion, Rebecca now runs Camellia Teas of Ottawa in which she hosts official Japanese tea ceremonies and trains people to be tea hosts/hostesses .  Over the course of the weekend Rebecca prepare for us what can only be described as the most incredible tea I’ve ever had.  Much like wine growing and making in California, there is a very intricate process to growing, harvesting, processing, distributing, making and even pouring tea…who knew!  A very BIG thanks to Matt and Rebecca for opening up their home.

On Saturday Jelena and I ventured downtown to explore the Winterlude festivities including touring the Canadian Museum of Contemporary Art (I witnessed my fist Picasso painting), ice sculptures, pulled pork poutine (delicious) and then was able to participate in an official Japanese tea ceremony hosted by non other than Rebecca.  After spending Saturday evening with a friend of Jelena’s currently in law school we woke up early Sunday morning to attend church with Angela’s family (her brother-in-law Michael works for Parliament in Ottawa) and then lunched with the family back at their home.  Michael and Brenda (Angela’s sister) have a little boy Levi who quite possibly ranks as one of the cutest kids in Canada.

Later in the afternoon the three of us, Jelena, Angela and myself, headed back downtown to participate in the most coveted of all Winterlude celebrations – skating the Rideau Canal.  The canal runs through the middle of Ottawa and in part separates Ontario from Quebec.  This man made structure was built long ago to allow for better Canadian access in case of a war with the United States (I guess they didn’t think we were going to be so friendly!)  During the winter the canal freezes and provides an 11km long ice rink free of charge.  So in -20C weather we laced up our skates and set off down the canal for an afternoon stroll.  Along the way we stopped for some delicious Beaver Tail pastries (yes, they actually have food stands, skate rentals and bathrooms on the canal – so convenient) and after 2 km of skating we called it a good afternoon.

To cap off the weekend we met a friend of Jelena’s on Monday afternoon for lunch.  The friend, Daniel, just happens to work for Canadian Parliament and as such was able to take us into the Library of Parliament on a “VIP” tour not normally extended to standard tours – thanks Daniel!

On Monday afternoon as Jelena, Angela and I were making the long trek home I received a phone call that I’d been waiting for more than a week and that has now changed the course of my time in the Great White North.  Fellow blog readers, The California Canuck is going home.  The call was from a company who I had been interviewing with over the past couple of weeks and decided to extend me an offer to join their Sacramento team.  The company, AdFarm, is a full service public relations/marketing firm with offices in the US and Canada.  My new official role will be Account Executive and I am very excited to be joining an incredibly well established, innovative and forward thinking organization.  Although bittersweet to leave my new Canadian friends I am ready to be back in the California sunshine – I arrive back on March 12^th.



Ice Sculpture



Building of Parliament

Jelena loves on some poutine!



We survived Angela's driving



Rideau Canal

The skating Canadians

The Bow That Tied Us Together – Dixie Dog

Twelve years ago my brother insisted that the only thing he wanted for Christmas was a new Australian Sheppard puppy – specifically a black tri colored female. 

As a family we scanned the papers (pre Craigslist of course) and much to my mother’s initial dismay (we already had two dogs on the farm) my brother found a breeder nearby who just had a litter who were ready for new homes.  On a cold and foggy valley morning my dad’s Chevy truck rolled into our driveway with my brother in the passenger seat holding a black ball of fluff.  As Chad walked through the kitchen door holding the puppy in his arms my mom slowly wandered over to him and peered down, ready to raise a skeptical eyebrow at the new responsibility that she secretly knew was going to become her next chore on her never ending list of household to-do’s.  The puppy unwound itself from a curled up ball, looked up at my mom with those big brown eyes and the rest was history – my mother was sold.  The stipulation however, was that the dog – affectionately named Dixie though none of us can recall who thought up the title – was to be an outdoor farm dog whose days were to be spent chasing sheep and guarding the house.  Dogs were meant to be outside, not inside.  The theory almost worked had it not been for a very cold winter and my mother's maternal instincts to keep the puppy comfortable and warm but only as far as the laundry room.  As soon as the days heated up the dog was to be outside.

The days, weeks and eventual months however turned into spring and the dog’s territory inside the house expanded into the kitchen and rooms beyond.  She was taught tricks, easily potty trained with never an accident, learned to respond to commands as if she was almost human and even helped mom with the laundry as she went through the homestead picking up our dropped socks and piling them up.  Ever so quietly Dixie had become a permanent fixture in the Souza household.

Just four short years later two of the Souza kids flew out of the nest to go to college and only one remained, Dixie, standing by to keep mom company as dad logged long days on the ranch.  The clicking of nails on the tile provided comfort to an otherwise quiet residence; the small thud of the dog’s body laying down on the floor became commonplace; the barking to alert of approaching strangers was heard more than our doorbell.  Her three litters of puppies brought spectators from all around – we never kept one but giving them away was like departing with grandchildren with the comfort of knowing they were going to homes where they would provide the same level of joy and comfort their mother had given us.

The years lingered and Dixie’s fixture in the home was more that of a family member than a dog.  She had her own stocking on the fireplace at Christmas, enjoyed regular appointments to the groomers, vacationed with us and even maintained a colorful wardrobe of scarves that mom tied around her neck according to the seasons. 

For twelve years Dixie dog was the bow that tied our family together and this old farmhouse might never be the same without her…Dixie, you will be missed.

Blizzards, Soup Kitchens and Coffee Houses…Oh My

If you were a resident of Southern Ontario this week you might have felt that you were being prepped for Judgment Day.  News stories from all communication mediums were professing the apocalyptic storm on a direct path for Canada, taking with it everything including women, children and yes, even cute puppies.  Much like a sorority semi-formal, watching the build up to the event was much more exciting than the actual occasion…schools and large businesses closed, generators fueled-up and standing by, intense Italian and Portuguese men so eager to use their snow blowers they could almost smell the exhaust fumes…but alas, disappointment quickly ensued.

After an excited anticipation for what the “experts” were calling the worst thing to hit Ontario since the Toronto Leafs (kidding), I was left with nothing to show except for large unopened vats of peanut butter and Costco-sized pallets of water bottles – yep, the storm was a dud.

Now don’t get me wrong here folks – we did receive a fair share of snow and ice (which later had to be shoveled out of my driveway) but altogether the predicted 40cm dumping was in actuality a dusting of about 5cm – just enough to form that perfect front yard snow angel without the worry of a mini-scale avalanche as your Golden Retriever tries to dig you out from what appears to be a treacherous situation…I mean, what else is he supposed to think when you’re laying on the ground flailing your arms and legs?

But I digress.

For those of you whom I haven’t spoken with in awhile, I’m now volunteering at a soup kitchen on Thursday evenings as part of my time with the Young Adults group I’ve joined.  Apprehensive at first I’ve come to enjoy the fellowship with the patrons and I’m continually fascinated with the different stories that everyone has in regards to where life has taken them and how they got there.   For some it’s been relapses into substance abuse, others have no family and simply come for the warm meal and friendship…it’s been a great chance for a step back into humility and a new level of appreciation for all that God has given me.

As tradition dictates the volunteers all trek to Red Brick Coffee House after the kitchen closes at 9:30.  I have also come to enjoy this routine as the group catches up on the week’s activities and discusses weekend plans and current events – amazing how much entertainment a $1.85 cup of coffee can bring you sometimes.

Now for those waiting in dire angst for my next trip to California you need wait no longer.  Saturday I’ll be flying into San Francisco on a direct flight landing at 10:45 a.m. – I’m planning on spending some time in “The City” with friends so if you’ll be in SF be sure to give me a ring (remember, no texting while I’m on my international plan).  Sunday/Monday will be a short stop in Sacramento and then down to the farm for the World Ag Expo and my grandmother’s 80^th birthday on Saturday the 12^th – a jam packed week but I’m looking forward to the visit.

I’ll end this post with a favorite quote, reflective on my life right now.

"Life is no straight and easy corridor along which we travel free and unhampered, but a maze of passages, through which we must seek our way, lost and confused, now and again checked in a blind alley...But always, if we have faith, a door will open for us, not perhaps one that we ourselves would have thought of, but one that will ultimately prove good for us." - A.J. Cronin

Shoveling out the driveway

Finished Product!

Angela washing dishes before strategically dropping a spoon so I would have to bend over and pick it up.

Tomato Soup and Egg Salad Sandwiches...yum



And Angela again - funny how she wants to be in all of my pictures.



Red Brick Coffee House

You Belong In...Brandon?

It’s funny sometimes the places that life (or for that matter, work) will take us.  For myself this past week, work and a trade show was the culprit that landed me behind the walls of a frigid cold front on the outskirts of Winnipeg, Manitoba.

Contrary to popular belief amongst my California friends, Canada is not a giant igloo encapsulated in ice blocks and unbearable temperatures.  Southern Ontario, where I am located, does in fact get cold but offers an ebb and flow in nature’s thermostat, often providing sunny days that I call “crisp” but which are certainly manageable.  Manitoba however (just one province to the West and up a “bit”) varies greatly in temperature…so greatly in fact that I learned by first hand experience there is a level of cold that exists in which Celsius and Fahrenheit equal each other – yes, unbelievable.

Along with my colleague Alison West, a native of Ontario, we hopped a direct flight on Monday from Toronto to Winnipeg where we rented a car and drove 2 hours west to a town titled no other than Brandon, Manitoba.  The hilarity of the weather (when we arrived a brisk -30C) and the fact that we were staying in a Motel 6 off the main highway should have been comedic relief enough to warm our souls for the week but no…enter the small farming community’s signature tag line to entice tourists and thrill seekers alike to visit their sprawling metropolis – “You Belong In Brandon”.  Now I’m not sure how the visitor’s board came up with this original and albeit catchy marketing scheme but I can assure you, they did not have my best interests in mind.

With all do respect to the people of Brandon, Manitoba, I’m sure your town is great in the summer but you can bet your farm I won’t be buying a winter home there anytime soon.  Any area in which you have to plug in your car overnight to prevent it from freezing is, in my humble one-man opinion, just plain ridiculous. 

One small uptake however was the ability to connect and spend time with some family in Winnipeg that I had never met.  My great-grandparents on my mother’s mother’s side of the family ended up in Winnipeg after their departure several decades ago from the Azores islands.  With my first meeting of my second cousins once removed, we were able to reminisce about the family, the old country and other traditions over homemade Portuguese wine and just a dab of moonshine (after experiencing their weather I can’t blame them for making their own booze in the basement).

Winterpeg, Manisnowba



Yikes




Mini Family Re-Union