31~ Komorebi, Ruby Reds, Cheerios and Cosiness in Oakville, Ontario

Spotted and committed to camera back when I arrived in North America- a photo
taken which I intended to share with bestie Fee (fellow cinnamon lover)

Little did I realise, until I found myself bedding down in the family home of Sarah and Evan in Oakville, that I may have been craving a little of the comforts that are synonymous with home. Family, a house, a room that feels your own, a wardrobe to hang items, cupboards that you can open and stare into. Cereal you can grab in handfuls and snack as you contemplate the fridge and wait for the kettle to boil. Splaying out on the floor and standing on your head if you feel the need. These sorts of behaviours not so appropriate at an airbnb or a youth hostel. Reluctant as I am to confess to homesickness (I do not believe this is what I was suffering from; homesickness sounds so awful and is so, so awful when you are in the realms of this affliction) but perhaps a better description would be a need for homeliness. There is no place like home, but my ruby red slippers had brought me somewhere pretty damn close. I recognised this only when I was in the midst of my time in Oakville. I snuggled right on into Sarah and Evan's welcome; literally feeling like a child, wriggling and gently nudging them self to get close into the embrace. 

My little soul roots, planted across North America, continue to plant themselves with all the lovely experiences, places and people that I discover connections with. Here, I already had a root. History made it that bit stronger. Sarah's face; her smile; her way; her voice were all so familiar. I remember her well from when I was 8. Mama Wolff's pal that came and visited from Toronto. She came with toddler Evan in tow and Steph and I were quite smitten with this cute kid. While Sarah and Mama Wolff knocked back wine, sharing the type of laughter and chatter that old friends do, Steph and I faced a frightening moment that has left an imprint on all our minds. We were playing with Evan on our bunk bed and he, in his diaper (I seem to remember) and his smooth baby skin, began to slip, headfirst over the edge of the bunk. Now, I remember grabbing his foot, Steph and I screaming for Mama Wolff and Sarah. They were rather slow in their rescue; pretty sure their initial reaction was to ignore us, with utterances of 'What are the bloody children up to now!?' and then a holler of 'What do you want??'. Needless to say, they recognised (eventually) the desperation, put down their g&t's (or quite possibly arrived at our bedroom door with these still in hand) and reluctantly came to the rescue. They were certainly surprised to see the severity of the situation. Evan was immediately scooped to safety in Sarah's embrace. I remember the feeling of holding on to him, his chubby toddler legs, baby skin, feeling him slip from my childlike grip. He was literally and very dangerously, dangling. HEADFIRST. So whenever Mama W mentions her friend Sarah Porritt, this dangling Evan story is a total go to, continuously retold.

I couldn't wait to get my hands on Evan again, maybe reenact the childhood event. I wasn't quite prepared for the 26 year old that appeared from 'The Dungeon', hurried by Sarah insisting he come up and greet me. ('The Dungeon' is the basement room where Evan watches his TV, sorts the laundry and heads up for snackage and chats intermittently throughout the evenings. I managed a few headstands down there and draped his clothes horse with a manner of all girly washed items, nothing bothered him; his relaxed and lovely demeanour simply great to be around.) The toddler was quite transformed. I was somewhat dwarfed by his tall frame and somewhat overwhelmed by his beauty. This guy is heartmeltingly handsome. Hell, he even looks good with a Cheerio on his chin. He and I munched our way through his Apple and Cinnamon Cheerios, bonding over a shared love of cinnamon produce. I had gazed longingly upon these Cheerios in my favourite supermarket section: the cereal aisle. So when Sarah looked in the cupboards and realised Evan had done a bit of boy food shopping- 3 bags of potato chips and 2 honking boxes of sweet cereal, I wondered if the stars had aligned themselves. I daren't purchase a box of these delights, in fear of snaffling the lot, but with a brotherly type to share, I could hopefully find a better cereal balance. He even made the perpetual cereal to milk ratio error my brother would- too much milk and going back for second and third helpings to complete the munching process. With a dribble of milk decorating his face and a cheerio perfectly positioned on his chin, I felt as if I was sitting opposite Adam at the dinner table.

I do believe that the photos I have taken of Evan do not do him justice. His spirit, kindness, openness and interest in others make him all the more beautiful. It is not only his gorgeous face that draws you in, it is him in his entirety. If I could have packed him in my backpack and brought him along on my world wide adventure, I would have. I don't think it would have been fair on the sunsets though, as I would happily have neglected my penchant for dusky skies and early morning splendours to gaze upon his lovely face and share his lovely conversations. Fortunately, my history with this family meant that I felt sisterly love for Evan. The same way in which I feel towards my brother (although I believe you Adam to be very beautiful, Evan has a slight edge on you). I wanted to tease him, rat him out, play tricks on him, have fun with him, sit and chat,  and mostly just savour the safety, closeness and care that you can feel with a brother.

Between Sarah and I was also a familial bond; our relationship embodied that which has evolved between my mother and I. Maternal care and love is ever present but a special friendship is there too. We planned the week out together. While Sarah was at work, I would yoga and explore the area. I joined a great studio and borrowed her friend's bike so I could bomb down Lakeshore to get to town and the variety of yoga classes on offer. I would amble down to the lake (2 minutes from Sarah's house), park myself on the nearest bench and look out at the wonderful expanse of Lake Ontario. I wandered the supermarkets and made dinners for my Oakville family. Chatting in the morning- sometimes over cereal with Evan, Sarah grabbing her lunch, coffee being poured- daily schedules would be touched upon. At the end of their working days we mostly regrouped and broke bread together. Not always an easy feat in Sarah and Evan's schedules; they tend to eat at varied times, pass each other like ships with their different life patterns. But with an adopted, expectant girl in the mix, eager to see her family, we settled into a workable routine. Post dinner would be early pajamas- my perfect bliss. Sarah and I watched a series called 'Orphan Black'; I would lay out on the floor, Sarah on the settee, snacking and chatting, Evan occasionally appearing from the dungeon for a snack and brief chat too. A couple nights Evan and I stayed up, chewing the fat but part of Sarah's routine that I fell in line with meant an early to bed routine was mandatory (more about that later).  My Oakville mom had initially worried that I would be bored out in the sticks but she and I both came to realise that this was just what I wanted and needed.

Area around Niagara Falls

So the homely and family vibes were the highlight of my time in Ontario. Niagara Falls was up there too. It was quite something; sharing chats and stories with my Oakville mum, and of course the splendour of the Falls. Very strange and incongruous, the way the border separates the falls, as is the tack that pervades the area around this wonder of nature.

I must say, the falls have enough natural beauty to dispel the icky feeling that the nefarious design that the surrounding area infringes on the experience. Casinos, rubbish paraphernalia, seaside-y type crap. No good. But the Falls: the sound; the spray; the vista; the stretch of powerful water, churning, gushing, crashing... the absolute, sheer grand demeanour of the Falls. Pretty awesome. 

Wonderfully evocative too were the local woods which Sarah and her buddy Kate frequent. These two chicks are hardcore. They meet at 5:45am every Monday, Wednesday and Friday (this requires rousing ourselves at 5:15am). They walk 6 km. There are hills. It takes 55 minutes. We do not dilly dally. This is quite something. We talk and talk. We have silent moments. We huff and puff. We laugh. We stop momentarily to soak up the beauty. There are hills and stairs and streams to contend with. But the saving grace is that we are encompasses by trees. That glorious Canadian forest. We are right in the middle of wonderful, wonderful trees. Sunlight streams through the leaves, dancing and dappled effects surround us. Tree colours, expanses, gradients, shades of green. Komorebi. Thank you, Fee Anke De Hoog for bringing my awareness to this word. I remember a post on her FB page awhile ago and as I searched for a word to convey the wondrous forestry illuminations all around me, I recalled this word. Komorebi is a Japanese word, for which we have no English equivalent; a word for when sunlight filters through the trees- the interplay between the light and the leaves. (It is well worth looking at this wonderful sight; these words are so particular to their cultures and I just love it. Waldeinsamkeit is a German word specifically related to the feeling of being alone in the woods and connected to nature :-), great, eh? Check out some other word magic...) Sarah and Kate tell me even though they stomp these grounds so regularly, they never fail to appreciate the nature around them. Something that I begin to realise is a very Canadian thing. There is a love of the outdoors, an appreciation of their lands, the nature, the country and the world around. Well, these gals blast out this walk come rain or shine, come summer or winter. I am in awe. I consider myself hardcore but these two have the edge. I mean winters here are INTENSE. They wear shoes that have special bottoms that can grip the ice. Like the Lonely Planet had commented: 'They're often mummified in winter layers but Torontonians still like to stay in shape. Outdoor activities abound, with folks cycling, blading and running along the lakeshore, hiking up the city's ravines and paddling on Lake Ontario during summer. Ice skating and hockey are winter faves, but don't be surprised if you see hard-core cyclists on icy streets, or hockey players skating on artificial ice in mid-July.' Yep, these chicks certainly do not disappoint on this front. 6:00am on a winters morn- the forest would be a completely different experience...pitch black, freezing conditions. I guess they embrace the waldeinsamkeit and forfeit the komorebi come winter. 

I am so happy to have been included in all aspects of Sarah's life. On Friday night, Sarah, Evan and I had played board games and drank wine. Evan had headed out with his buddies, after whooping our butts at Yahtzee and Scattegories. I loved Sarah's friend Kate and her bestie, Julie.

They bought a great house together years ago and have lived together ever since; I adore this and can see me and my sister or one of my besties replicating such a great living and sharing arrangement.

The Oakville folk welcomed me into their circle and I certainly nestled on in. A Saturday coffee and luncheon, with a spot of shopping down Oakville town was lovely, reminiscent of the Saturday afternoons I would enjoy back home. 

A shared platter of all things Greek with Sarah and Kate, lakeside with passing cyclists, runners and rollerbladders enjoying the weekend afternoon sun was a lovely weekend treat:

My welcome was extended to Sarah's family too. 

A Sunday BBQ, poolside with the family. Pool fun with the kiddos and a lengthy enquiry from the twin boys about my worldwide trip was particularly sweet. Bec, a Toronto city gal, Sarah's niece, showed me the ropes in the city.

Treating me to dinner in the funky area of Kensington, walking me through all the different areas, pointing out buildings of potential interest. She provided me with a little history and current info- just the right amount! She was concerned that some of her more hazy facts and areas which lacked info were a failure but her patter was just right for me- a little bit of this, a little bit of that, gossip and chatter interspersed. An onerous hashing of Toronto's history it was not. In fact, it was like a perfect date in the big city. Bec even took me right to the Oakville train with seconds to spare, embracing me and sending me off with a real Toronto insight and a little bit of a lingering girl crush. She knew all the best places, was so smart, fun, interesting, great style and very warm. What more could a girl like me want?

I had another Toronto date with Cecile. My Swiss buddy from Montreal. We had an awesome day too. She took me to a building where she had taken part in a musicians evening.

She had heard that there was a rooftop that had panoramic views of the city scape. We managed to get to the top but the door was locked and required a fob from a tenant. Resident artists and the likes inhabited the offices

and we connected with a very interesting man. A calligrapher, residing in a gorgeously adorned office, with an in depth knowledge of the origin of letters from various cultures and histories- the formations, evolutions and meanings of these curious symbols. Some of this linked to so many things I have become interested in and as I gazed at the Cape Forchu poster, I realised that this all seemed so coincidental. Recently, I have learnt that a coincident is not necessarily random events that come together; in fact to coincide is a scientific term referring to two rays of light that hit the surface at the same place and at the same time, or mathematically, coincident describes two lines that fit together perfectly. I love it. Things are seemingly random, but really they

are not. At times there is some organising intelligence that draws us and brings us just where we need to be.

This man was from Yarmouth. He knew of Linda Coakley, he knew of my favourite bakery, but was more keen on Edna's Bakery, situated right beside the 'Hook 'n' Sea Craft and Gift Shop' and of course he knew the incredible woman that owned it (she has a background in research, archive and ancient ruins). He was so interesting, he brought all my Nova Scotian memories and people vividly back to my mind and he gave us our very own tour of the rooftop terrace which had amazing views of the cityscape:

The views were awesome but his chats and office held our interest for much longer...

We wandered the city and happened upon so many lovely spots and people:

Later, back in Oakville, I met Sarah's 'paddling' friends. I think you must agree, just by looking at this photo, that her regular 'paddles' are a lot more intense than the action that paddling suggests...

One evening we attempted to go out paddling but were thwarted by a storm.

The storm were the remnants of a hurricane that had travelled up from America. While Sarah and I drove home, Evan called. He was sheltered in his car and waiting for a chance to make a run for it to the house. The rain was bouncing and incessant. We spotted two runners, caught out by the treacherous conditions, continuing on their way. This confirmed my suspicion that Ontarions are generally of a hardened disposition- I mean, we could barely see the road as we journeyed home. As quick as it came, it was over. The next morning, the tree on our (6k at 6:00am) walk shows just how powerful this storm was.

Suddenly time had run away. A day of lasts: my yoga class, a downtown wander, a chat with the neighbour, a cycle down Lakeshore, a bowl of apple and cinnamon Cheerios, a headstand in 'The Dungeon', a walk with Sarah and Kate, a chat with Julie, a seat on the bench overlooking Lake Ontario.

The weather so warm and so breezy. The blossom tree offered a romantical farewell. Confetti, fluttering and sweeping across me and the two elderly gentlemen that came at different points to enjoy the solitude and strange, wizardry weather on my bench, engaging me in sweet conversation and wishing me well. I touched the blossom petals beside me on the bench before I got up to return home, where my bags were packed and ready to go. They felt warm from the winds and like velvet in my fingertips.

Gifts were exchanged. I had bought Sarah 'The Alchemist' . We had talked so much about paths and signs in the world around us and it seemed the perfect parting gift. Of course, in the sleeve, I wrote about komorebi and the specialness of her and what she meant along my journey. Evan, well easy. He is a fellow cookie monster and I purchased him some particularly gooey, chocolately ones along with a bar of cinnamon chocolate- perfectly apt and an upgrade in some ways from the Cheerios because I did feel they were lacking me desired level of cinnamony-ness. Sarah had bought me a beautiful necklace charm. A silver leaf. Representing our time together; komorebi and the depth of meaning that it evoked for us and, of course that Canadian element in the form of a maple leaf. 

Sarah, Evan and I met Bec downtown, dropping my bag off at the train station, then heading to a dinner and final treat from my Oakville mom and brother, a quintessentially Canadian experience: the baseball game.

We left the game early, my Ontario family walking me to the train. I could have cried but held it together. Bracing myself for a 4 day incarceration on 'The Canadian', I had to soldier on and deal with the next part of the journey. Quite an epic part of the trip; leaving behind Eastern Canada for the Western shores, where my childhood roots remain. A new mantra and meaning to the mantra too: 'There is no place like home, there is no place like home...' Time to click my ruby reds and embark on a cross country train. Vancouver, here I come. I had not thought too much about the train journey and was unsure what to expect. Cecile (she was doing 'The Canadian' a week later) had done some research and assured me that there would be no need to take snacks, it all sounded good- apparently great food an entertainment. As we stood in the strange departure lounge, I could already feel myself choking up and had to go back for second hugs. I would message them as I chugged across the provinces and keep them updated, I promised. Wifi and WhatsApp a necessity, a useful modern tool to cushion the feeling of being plucked so abruptly from my happy home.

Home is linked so closely to my transient worlds because of modern technologies. Hell, I think I am in more contact with my mother than when I lived across the road! So my old life seems extricably linked to the new; world travels and my cosy Hull home (or indeed, the new homes I make along the way) are not the two hopelessly segregated existences that one might suppose. I do not believe myself to be homesick in the slightest but my Oakville nest, Toronto Mama and brother made it apparent: there is no place like home. Making new histories and stories is fantabulous but dipping the toe of my ruby red slippers in old histories, making those Canadian roots all the stronger, is just wonderful. Thank you, Sarah and Evan and my Oakville friends; a perfect flourish and bowing out of a sensational stint in Eastern Canada. My time with you was the cherry on the cake, the cosiness of a familiar nest, the sparkle on a (figurative) ruby red slipper, the komorebi on a morning walk, the cinnamon on the Cheerio. A girl with my tastes? Well, she can't ask for more than that. 

30~A Quick Stint in the Montreal Metropolis

An early morning start and the bag of pain to contend with, I headed back to the metropolis that is Montreal, noting that Quebec City had a village-y feel compared to this mega city. This is the point that the poetical bubble I had immersed myself in began to break down. I put sown the Anne saga and watched the rain stream down the windows; the gorgeous holiday-esque sunshine that I was spoilt with in Quebec had finally caved. It was even rainier in Montreal. I foolishly thought I had my bearings. It was a bit of an ordeal; rain, bag, rush hour, subway break down, walking, sweating. Not pretty. I realised finally I was close, a man in an apron who was smoking and evidently on a break spurred me on. I must have looked destitute. "Talk to me," he demanded gently and told me I was not far from where I needed to be. He squeezed my shoulder and I carried on in a completely different spirit. Touched by him reaching out, just when I felt like giving up. Jean (the airbnb guy I stayed with during my first stint here) greeted me with two kisses and an exclamation of, "You look like a wet dog!" He helped me with my sodden Converse and bag and it felt pretty cool to be back to this familiar spot and in Jean's care.

Jean had been super busy with all sorts of incredible guests; he has worked in the service industry and it is telling in how he conducts his airbnb hub. Neil, an interesting Irish bloke was in one of the rooms and Cecile, a girl from Switzerland arrived shortly after me. Jean loves it. He likes the fact that the world literally arrives on his doorstep. His passion and knowledge of Montreal, his care for his guests make this an awesome little city spot. Cecile and I made friends immediately and went to the Portugese restaurant that I had enjoyed the first time round together. We shared food and stories and it was set- we would hang out in Montreal.

The next day we set off with different agendas with an arrangement to meet at 'Shambala', a Tibetan restaurant recommended by Jeff back in Cape Breton. We were both scuppered by the rain. I happened across a wonderful little spot where I devoured a crepe with a caramel butter sauce and Cecile in her confinement app-ed me her serendipitous discovery.

Unrelenting rain resulted in a long stay (4 hours) in my cafe; blogging, people watching and ordering little bites off the menu. I got chatting to the waitress who was a traveller too. She was between worlds: Brazil and Montreal. There was a man involved and she was unsure of her next move. She said now that mid-forties she was unsure if transient life style and massive change was what she wanted. She was shocked at my age, supposing me to be mid-twenties. She said I was "a god blessed child". This is what an elderly woman had said to her when she met her on her travels. She had told the elderly woman that she was a traveller, had not settled and was a little sad to not have children in her life. The woman had held her hand and said how beautifully lucky she was to be free to travel and she was a "god blessed child". My cosy and unexpected spot:

My intention had been to discover a neighbourhood called Mile End. It was not meant to be and this was a perfect spot for the afternoon. The rain had finally ceased and the sun came out. I met Cecile and we enjoyed Tibetan food, a first for the both of us:

There was so much happening in the city while we were there. We wandered a street festival. 

We meandered to a music festival in the downtown part of the city, called the Francophile.

When the rain started again, we went underground and happened upon some amazing performers that were stopping a lot of people in their tracks. 

Cecile was just my type of girl. We would meet in Toronto. I had a day left and she went on her way. I was determined to hit Mile End and wanted to get up to Mont Royal and enjoy the view. I had a ridiculous day of walking. Jean reckons I covered at least 15 km- 20km. The sun kept creeping out and I got so lost. I ended up in an amazing cemetery.

At one point I just sat on a rock and was close to giving up. But I really wanted to see Mont Royal. A kind man, walked by and pointed me in the right direction. The climb and hike I had to undertake, well, it was all worth it. I got to the top of Mont Royal, a talented piano player providing an epic soundtrack to accompany a special view. 

I stayed for a couple hours and lay. Listening to the piano and reading Anne. I was back in a very happy place. I had made it and I could survey the city where my sister had been born. I was leaving the next morning and looking forward to the next part of my trip in Ontario.

I left Montreal early the next day. It was gorgeous. 

I hit the Megabus and immediately made a friend. We chatted the journey away. He was a fellow Brit and had interesting stories about the Navy and the work he did. We both had enjoyed a quick stint in Montreal and all the wonderful things going on in the city. They really cram the summer months full of stuff to take the edge off the isolating winters. Before I knew it, I was in Toronto and disembarking the bus. Everything was about to be super easy- I was being met by Mama Wolff's pal from back in the day and I was staying with her for a week. Happy days- no negotiating public transport in a new city, no lugging of the bloody bag. No quick stint, either. A whole week in one place, a certain luxuriance in that. Oakville, Toronto I am ready for you...