2008, The Year in Retrospect

Another year is behind us, or will be in just a few days. On a foggy and wet day like today the sanest thing a man can do is to stay at home dry, warm and content. Maggie outdid herself again with vanilla cookies and cabbage rolls--both are old Croatian recipes which she brought to perfection. They are usually served during the holiday season and it brings the sense of home. We sat after a hearty lunch of cabbage rolls with a glass of red wine each and reminisced the events of the year. I mean everybody else does it at this time of the year--all the TV channels and radio stations, even the podcasts we download, reviewed 2008--so why not us?

The highlight of the year was our vacation in Barcelona, for many reasons. First and foremost, it was the v-a-c-a-t-i-o-n! It was relaxing, we've seen a lot, enjoyed a lot, and had some grievances too. We didn't like Barcelona's pickpockets and its hurried, unfriendly people. I loved the town of Tarragona with its Roman past and ruins. Maggie's face lights with smile when she thinks of Bar Celta in downtown Barcelona, where we went for our dose of tapas, good red wine and friendly service.

The Barcelona vacation was also important on a very different level: it tought us to appreciate what we have at home. Upon return, the tiring restlessness was gone and with it the perpetual search for another place to live, another country to settle in. Barcelona made something click inside us--Bar Celta's red wine untied our tongues and we talked about everything; we compared our lives with the lives of people around, people we knew and the ones we didn't; we re-evaluated what we've accomplished and set some goals and targets. Coming back felt like waking up from a long and restless dream. We came home, looked around the house and the neighborhood and decided that's where we want to stay. So what if it snows 6 months a year?

No one can talk about 2008 without talking about economy. The catastrophe may have started in the States with the sub-prime mortgages--the term the whole world learned quickly, as the debt spread globe-wise like cancer and bank after bank collapsed--but financial uncertainty also hit us personally. People are getting laid off around us, friends and colleagues we knew for years, and we are worried about our jobs. True, both have been re-assured at work that we have nothing to fear (at least for now), but who's to know when will the guy who's deciding who gets fired make a deeper cut? Job uncertainty is driving us crazy.

In 2008 I ran the longest official race of my life--a half-marathon. Hopes and plans for 2009 are to finish one, possibly two full marathons. Physically, I haven't felt this good in many years. Maggie's energy was focused down different alley. She honed her culinary skills. I always knew we complement each other nicely: I run to spend calories so I can enjoy her cooking without remorse.

We both share the same favorite book for 2008: "The Time Traveler's Wife" by Audrey Niffenegger.

Boxing Day shopping

I admit, I have no clue where this tradition of Boxing Day shopping comes from. I promise, I'll look it up in Wikipedia for the next year. All I know is--the stores have crazy discounts on the day after Christmas, some of them open early, and shoppers line up even earlier in front of the store to grab the best "door-crasher" deal. I hate shopping and I can't quite understand this tradition. But I have my deal-searcher, my special envoy to the crowded shopping frenzy: Maggie. She may not like the hustle of Boxing Day, but at least she doesn't go insane in crowds. Benefits of growing up in Hong Kong.

This year she performed her biggest heroic shopping feat yet: she bought us six leather dining chairs for a bargain price and survived to shop another day! What is that to survive, you wonder? If you've never experienced Canada's Boxing Day, you may be forgiven. On that day everybody goes shopping mad. It is impossible to find a parking spot near the shopping area. Cars circle around like sharks, fighting for every emptied spot. Inside it gets even worse. Elbows are drawn, shoulders used, along with any carry-on bag one may have, to clear the path to the best priced article. It's a bruising experience. I'm thinking about buying hockey pads for Maggie for the next Boxing Day. Until then, we'll enjoy the comfort of our new dining chairs.

Snow (shovel)

It's snowing. I know, no wonder--this is Canada, after all, where the snow-shovel is your best friend. Still, when you have blisters from it before December, it makes you wonder where the heck is global warming when you need it?

Politics and recession

For the "week in retrospect" part, we had a very interesting one. Reminds me of that Chinese curse "may you live in interesting times." The ruling conservative minority government came up with the fiscal update which was as inert as they are. No protection or bonuses offered to ease the pain of the global economy collapse. Oh sure, we were told that we won't be affected by the subprime mortgage fallout which spread from the US like cancer and metastized throughout the whole world. Yeah, Canada was supposed to be an Oasis of Fiscal Sanity in the fiscally insane world. Guess what--we ain't spared! We just lost over 70,000 jobs last month and are officially in recession. Anyway, the government bullied the opposition with unacceptable fiscal update, certain that they'll get away with it, because we just had elections and no one will dare to challenge them and risk another election. What a miscalculation! The opposition showed they actually grew some balls and formed a coalition which is ready to vote down the government. The conservatives started backpedaling and avoiding the vote of confidence. At the end, the Governor General (that's Canada's peculiarity--a figurehead, a "Queen's representative," a theatrical role held by a person we didn't know has any kind of power other than looking pretty, giving away annual literary awards and pinning the Order of Canada medals on the chests of old guys and gals) prorogued the parliament. For those like myself who have no clue what that meant, it means the parliament is suspended. In our case for 60 days! During which time the conservatives hope the coalition will fall apart, the recession will go away, the economy will miraculously heal itself and the Canadians will forgive them all. Well, this is a weird country, anything is possible. Tune back in 60 days, I'll tell you what happened.

As recession hit home, Maggie let me buy a leather office chair. I guess we'll be spending more time at home, so may as well keep my butt from hurting in a nice and comfy chair. Besides, we helped the economy by spending recklessly when frugality is advised. We'll help it some more tomorrow, if we find those bar stools Maggie liked, for the breakfast bar in the kitchen.

300

Today is a quiet celebration: 300th run since I started logging runs on Nike+ web site. In just over a year I logged 2143 km. Admittedly I'm bragging, but I worked hard for it.

Terror in Mumbai

Series of simultaneous attacks were launched across Mumbai, India at 10:30 p.m. local time. Hostages were taken. Attackers targeted the hotels, restaurants and a train station, asked the hostages to present the passports and especially singled out the British and Americans.

I'm watching CNN. They call it terrorist attacks, although there is no confirmation who's behind it. As always, they had a plethora of analysts and "experts" on air, already discussing connections to Al Qaeda. CNN turned into a disgusting, self-serving, sensationalistic cable station. They seem to have forgotten that their duty is to present the news based on facts. More often than not, CNN develops its own theory based on partial information. After 20 years in journalism myself, I can't stomach such dilettantism.

Leaving CNN with repugnance, I log onto CBC.ca to get my fill of the news, Canadian way. I like their measured, professional and factual tone. Then I make the second mistake of the evening and scroll under the news story to see the readers comments. Either this world is filled with complete imbecils (which I refuse to believe), or only the stupid dare to speak aloud, because they can't judge how stupid they are. There are hate comments, religious and racial slurs and outirght verbal fights among some of those to comment. Am I really so sheltered in my tiny circle of intellectual friends, that I haven't noticed all the idiots populating the world around us? Or, are the idiots just the fastest on the keyboard, while the others take time to think before they write?

Universal Power

Once or twice a year some punks from Direct Energy come knocking on our door. They usually flash some sort of the ID and demand to see our gas bill "to check if we are getting the fair price". I admit, first time they came around, I thought they were some sort of inspectors and by the time I realized they are soliciting for their gas distribution service, they already had my phone number. It took a while to get us off their calling list.

Tonight, another aggressive energy delivery solicitors came about. A young black man first rang the door bell, then when we didn't open fast enough, started banging on the door so fiercely I thought he was going to break it. When I answered, he pulled the same trick like the Direct Energy guys: he flashed an ID, said he's with Universal Power and said he came to see our energy bills, electrical and gas. To his misfortune, I do learn from my own mistakes and flatly refused to show him the bills, to which he tried to convince me that I can't do that and I must listen to what he came for. He was incredulous when I told him, with a polite smile, that I am not interested.
"You're not interested?" he asked in a voice full of threat and disbelief. He sounded like a cop who asked you to do the breathalyser and you refused. It sounded like "you're going to regret this." So I repeated even sweeter that no, I am not interested, thank you and have a good night, and I slammed the door.

I don't know who trains these young thugs to literally attack a potential customer in this manner. Whoever it is, they should spend some time on the internet and check the effect their approach has--there are numerous blogs and message boards warning people not to fall, even not to open the door when either Universal Power or Direct Energy guys are making rounds in the neighborhood. If you read this and you live in Markham, Ontario, watch for the Universal Power ruffians, they are on the prowl.

Birthday - Lunar and Solar

Maggie's birthday was on the 14th this month. A gentlemen never speaks of a lady's age, so I can't mention that she's 35. Oh well...
She was disappointed when no one in her family remembered the birthday. But they remembered yesterday--a week later! While we function on the solar calendar, Maggie's family half a globe away works on the lunar one. It seems that the moon is lagging a bit, but it eventually arrives at the same spot a week later. Happy b-day Maggie!

For Whom The Bell Tolls?

The Hemingway's book was on the list of books I was supposed to read for the literature class in high school. I was always a bookworm, but in high school I rebelled against being told what to read and when to read it. Instead of the books from the list we were given, I read what I found interesting. The casualties were, among other masterpieces, "For Whom The Bell Tolls", "Ana Karenina" and "War and Peace". In order to pass the literature grading in school, I made my classmates tell me in details what was in each book. I know the story and that made me avoid these books for all this time. However, curiosity won at the end, and I ran with "For Whom The Bell Tolls", literally! The story carries me away and sometimes I forget to watch where I put my foot and I blame it for running through puddles and, more recently, slipping on the ice. As long as the twists and pulls are only in the plot and have nothing to do with my joints and muscles, I will keep enjoying it. It's me and Ernest (Hemingway) running together at dawn on -13 C through the empty streets of my sleepy frozen neighborhood.

Lazy

I can barely make myself to blog--getting really lazy in winter months. Since the temperature dropped under the freezing point, all I do is stretch on a sofa with a book. Maggie is no better, huddling next to me and pushing her cold feet under my thighs to warm. She's also reading a lot. On Saturday we joined the town's public library and now have the unlimited source of books within easy reach. Ideal to turn into a couch potato(es) for the winter.

Today is snowing. Radio promised 5-10cm by morning. It's fun to run on powder, but it's not fun for driving. Like every year, people seem to forget how to drive on snow and the first snowfall creates chaos. Traffic barely crawls, and the cars slide all over the place. It will be an interesting trip to work tomorrow.

We're feasting on sarma. That's Croatian for cabbage rolls. Maggie makes the best sarma in this part of the world. Which will probably result in me gaining back all the weight I lost in the past year. I am thinking about extending my runs to burn all the cabbage-roll-calories.

Remembrance Day

On the eleventh hour of eleventh day of eleventh month each year we pause to remember all who had given their lives for the country. For days, Canadians walk around with a plastic red poppy flower pinned to the lapel. As the fallen are remembered, I notice most of them had fallen in wars abroad. Now, if each country had the army ONLY and EXCLUSIVELY to defend its own borders, there'd be no war at all.

My fellow countrymen will have to excuse the lack of poppy flower on my coat. I don't believe in war and I don't mourn soldiers killed as a part of an occupying force.

Hip-hop President

The hip-hop nation down south have chosen its first hip-hop president! I don't mean that in a negative way. On the contrary, I like the fact that someone young, fit, modern, intelligent and black will rule the Americans. Go Obama!

I wouldn't like to be in his shoes though. No matter how popular he is right now, no matter how smart he is, he's bound to disappoint. As Newsweek magazine pointed out, no man alive can live up to the challenge of righting so many wrongs: two wars, broken economy and health care, shattered image in the eyes of the rest of the world. It will be very interesting to watch how the first black president dances around all those issues, and to see what will bring him down. Too bad, I kind of like the guy!

On the positive note, there'll be no more campaign messages, for next little while. Even up here in Canada, we got tired of it.

Thank God...

...it's almost over! I am talking about the U.S. elections. There has never been longer pre-election campaign. Tons of ink was spilled on it, thousands of miles of TV tapes, millions of terabytes of internet coverage. We will have to endure some post-election analysis, but by the next week it'll be over! And thank god for that! As interesting as it has been, the over-extensive coverage made the whole continent weary and we can't wait until it's done, so we can return to our dull lives and spill endless ink on ice hockey.

A Million Little Pieces

James Frey wrote the book about a junkie in a rehab. A sobering and eye-opening tale. It was advertised as a memoir, highly praised by critics and endorsed by Oprah. No, I don't care about Oprah, but millions of readers do. Then it was revealed that the book is a work of fiction. Frey was condemned as a fraud. Oprah invited him again and tore him to a million little pieces on her show. He knew what was going to happen when he accepted Oprah's invitation. Still, he went. I praise his courage.

I bought the book knowing all this. I love it. What does it matter if it's true or fiction? The power of the words is the same. And this is a powerful book!

Words...

I think I may have found the way to feel... happy? No, happy is not the word... Content! Yes, that's it! I may have found the way to feel content with my life.
I haven't felt that way for a very long time. Longer than the time I've spent in Canada. Almost as long as I can remember...

I come from work, I change, put my headphones on and I run. While I run, I listen to a good audiobook. (Currently, it's A Million Little Pieces by James Frey.) I'm running, I'm free, and the words stream through my head, and I'm in a happy place. The words stay even when I stop, they put me in a funny state of mind and make me think about life, about how I feel. They make me think about Maggie, who is at home and smiles when I enter all sweaty and smelly and purple from cold. They open my eyes to small details that build our lives, small things we built together. I like what I see. And, for the first time since I can remember, I don't think about moving away in search for a better place. I found my better place--it was here all the time.

Wind

Winter is creeping in, every day is colder than the previous. Today the temperature wasn't really low, but the wind made it almost unbearable to stay outside. I am not a tiny person, but I really had to lean into the wind during my run, so it won't blow me off the path. This Summer had been the wettest, rainiest, cloudiest one of more than a decade of summers I spent in Canada. Every sunny moment we treasure this year, because they are so rare.

I saw the TV footage from Barcelona today--it's snowing there! The cars are sliding on the roads, people slipping on the sidewalks. I'm half sorry for them and half glad that those impolite suckers who spoiled our vacation got an early bite of Winter.

Mom's big 70

Mom's birthday is fast approaching--it's in December and it's big 70! This year we didn't plan going to Croatia, and even with our best intentions, our bank statements speak against it. Still, mom hopes without hope and is sending us an invitation. Sigh. The whole family will gather at her small apartment in Zagreb, friends and neighbors too. True, none of them is more than 50 km away. We'll have to somehow make it up for her next year.

Skis

Finally, they are home. We bought the skis in Spring. The store kept them until we buy the boots, so they can fit the bindings and the boots with the skis. At the time they were out of ski boots, and we bought them only two weeks ago. It was all fitted and completed, brought home--it amazingly fits into our little Toyota Echo when we fold the back seat, no need for a roof-rack--and we spent some time skiing in the bedroom where we tried the boots and the skis on for the first time.

Snow in October

I can't believe we had flurries yesterday! I thought my winter runs through slush and snow pellets will not start until at least late November. And what happened to that global warming? Send some of it to Canada, we must be missing on all the fun. If it's to judge by such an early start, we're in for a looooooooong winter! I am not looking forward to it!

Toronto Half Marathon

I'm quite proud of myself after finishing my first half-marathon race. I was aiming for the time between 1h30min and 1h35min, so I clung to the 1h30pace rabbit (that's the runner hired to run the course in certain time) planing to let him pull me as long as I have wind in my lungs. It turned out that I trained well, had a lot of energy and wind, so the rabbit, whose name was Frank, and I finished ahead of time. My time is 1h27'55". Now, that may not seem much of a difference, but to illustrate the point, it means that we left all the runners running 1h30 about 1/2km behind, and all the runners running my predicted pace of 1h35 were 1.5km behind. The winner ran the course in 1h08min.

The 21.1km route started on the north end of the town, at Mel Lastman Square, and went along Yonge street mostly downhill, through the downtown to Ontario Parliament building on Queen's Park. It was nice, sunny and chilly morning, perfect for running. But, as much as I loved this race, it still left me only half-fulfilled. I'm craving the full marathon.

Federal elections

We had federal elections in Canada yesterday. The results today showed that, as expected, we didn't accomplish anything. We are still ruled by minority Conservative government, just as before the election. Stephen Harper, our Prime Minister (in Canada that's equivalent to a president with the exception that he is not being elected by the people, but rather by his own party) called the elections claiming that his minority government can't accomplish anything because of the opposition. After spending over $300 million on election, nothing has changed. He's still the leader of the minority government and will have to work with the opposition.

Maggie and I both support a social democratic platform of the NDP party. However, in our riding the party's candidate is a kid who just came out of university and figured it's easier to get into politics than to find real work--in short, the NDP put up a candidate without experience who was parroting the party's policies but had no individual stands and ideas. We felt let down by NDP's choice, and since we couldn't bring ourselves to vote for neither of dominating parties, Conservatives nor Liberals, we voted for the Green Party candidate. Alas, the Green party won no seats in parliament, although they had about 7% of popular vote. It's nice to know we are not the only dreamers in Canada.

Our elections paint a dull but true picture about the country--we are not capable of raising excitement resembling even a fragment of the pre-electional hype they have in the States. Even as our bland leaders squared off in a TV debate, we had more Canadian viewers watching the vice-presidential hopefuls' debate in the States. True, a dumb but pretty Alaskan hockey mom against a seasoned but sometimes unbridled politician promised a better show than childish bickering of domestic politicians. In the end, both debates turned to be a complete bore. In desperation, I switched to a hockey game!

Saving journalism

"...it may not be possible to save newspapers, but it ought to be possible to save journalism" - Steve Smith, former editor of the Spokane Spokesman-Review in a radio interview for On The Media.

I am not convinced there's anything worth saving in journalism as it is today. Maybe we should just let it go down together with the newspapers and cable news, and rely on blogs and gossip for our dose of (ir)relevant information?

Thanksgiving

Going away to Spain for vacation last month provided not only a well-deserved rest from work and daily routine, but also gave us a new perspective on life as we live it. We realized that even in "cultured" Europe people could be impolite and unfriendly, cities polluted, and life more expensive. Return home brought relief and a new appreciation for the lifestyle we have. So for this Thanksgiving Day we showed our gratefulness by sacrificing a turkey. Although Thanksgiving is plainly North American tradition, it couldn't go without a mix of cultures and recipes. Our sacrificial turkey was subjected to special eastern European and Canadian seasoning, followed by hours of slow roasting and served with fantastic Balkan-style pastry called "mlinci" and north American-style cranberry sauce. To top it all up, there was some of Maggie's apple pie left from the previous blog.

Ski boots

We bought ski boots! Probably not the most sensitive thing to do, with our bank accounts deep in the red from vacation, but at least we are ready for the snow season. It took almost 3 hours of foot measuring, testing and trying on different boots, until we both settled on perfect fit. The boots will be fitted with our skis and ready for pick up in a week. Bring on the snow!

Party's over

Even before it started, the party is over. Every year we have an anniversary party at the company to celebrate surviving another year against all odds. This year it was supposed to be a big 10th anniversary. However, the big boss sent a memo last week explaining that the party won't happen "because of the economy". I'd like to think that the management is being fiscally conscious, but deep in the guts it feels like a bad omen. When the inevitable cuts start, hope they won't start from the online department.

Apple pie

Last Saturday we visited Big Apple Farm in Colborne, a couple of hours drive east from Toronto to try their "famous" apple pies. We were not impressed--the pies were mushy, soft crusted and bland. Maggie was so disappointed that she made her own pie when we came home, and it was a winner! I'm not saying this because I know Maggie will read it, I'm saying it because it's true. The crust, the flavor, everything was there. So, tonight Maggie challenged herself to best the last effort. The pie is steaming on the kitchen counter and before we taste it and the judgment is passed, we took a picture. I'm certain it's just as yummy as it looks.

Wow: Greatness

"Be not afraid of greatness. Some are born great, some achieve greatness, and some have greatness thrust upon them." - from Twelfth Knight by William Shakespeare

WOW stands for "Words of Wisdom"

Wow: Stephane Dion

"Poor, hapless Stephane Dion (Liberal party leader)... he really does seem like someone who wandered into the convention to use the washroom and suddenly discovered that he'd been elected leader" - Joanne Rochester, professor of English at the University of Saskatchewan, on CBC radio's As It Happens

WOW stands for "Words of Wisdom"

Autumn

We left Spain in Summer and landed in Toronto in Autumn. Ever since we came back from the vacation, the temperatures are barely passing the 10 C mark during the day and falling dangerously close to zero at night. Colors of Autumn are so rich and so abundant! So cruel of Mother Nature to paint the dying leaves in the most vibrant colors, almost as though she's mocking their existence. Or, maybe somewhere there is a hidden message for all of us to flash our best colors at the time of departure? In any case, I love all the shades of fading green, yellow, orange and red sprinkling the trees. But, I hate the rains of Autumn, I hate to see my breath during evening runs, and I hate the persistent drizzle which soaked through me tonight. I'll take the colors, you keep the rain!

Goulash

Maggie must have been a Hungarian in previous life. I mean, there's no other explanation how an Asian woman can make such a killer goulash every time! It's always perfect, always the right balance of flavor and texture. Tonight I'll stop wondering how she does it and just enjoy a nice bowl of goulash.

Words of wisdom (Wow): a couple of quotes

"I've gotten older now and I understand it, very much so,... Youth can be very, very threatening. And I was very young." - Diahann Carroll in NPR interview, talking about the older colleague's reaction to her rising on Broadway.

"Mama used to say: 'Boy, I had to do so much with so little for so long, I can do anything with nothing!'" - Chris Gardner, author of the autobiography book The Pursuit of HappYness in an NPR interview talking about the financial crisis in the U.S. and worldwide.

What a week it has been!

I neglected the blog, I admit--trying not to spend too much time on the computer, with all the training in the last 2 weeks before the half-marathon race. As soon as I'm home from work, I'm off for a jog.

Since the last entry, the U.S. sub-prime mortgage crisis caught up with the rest of the world. Markets kept falling; Bush proposed to inject 700 billion dollars into Wall Street: the U.S. Congress rejected it; markets recorded the greatest loss in history. Then the Congress quickly accepted the bailout plan, but markets kept free-falling. So today the news channels finally used the "r" word they've been avoiding like a plague: recession. Seems that we are in it for at least a year, according to the CBC analyst.

I wonder what it all means for us? We are locked in the mortgage for another year. With a little luck, the financial mess will clear until then and we may even avoid a significant interest hike on renewal. Other than that, I guess there won't be pay-raise any time soon: my employer, apparently, isn't doing well. Maggie and I may need to consider doing some freelancing on the side to help us out. I'm certain it'll all end well.

We have federal elections in Canada on October 14. As usual, there's no one really I'd vote for. Politicians are all the same. Besides, I'm really ticked off by Canadian system where we're supposed to vote for the party and its platform, not for an individual representative. Unfortunately, the conservatives are ahead in polls. I wish them another minority mandate.

18:52

18:52 was my time at 5K race today. I finished second in the media category and 18th overall, out of almost 3000 runners. So tired and satisfied!

Racing kit for Sunday

I picked up the running kit for my 5K Media Challenge race, a part of Toronto Waterfront Marathon weekend, on Sunday. A colleague who is also an avid runner convinced me to register. I wasn't planning on running another 5K this year, especially since I registered for the half-marathon on October 19, but now that I have my racing bib I can't wait to see how much I've improved (or not) since April. The last 5K I ran in 19:10 time. The goal for this Sunday is to go under 19 min.

Back at work

Getting back to work was easier than expected. Not that I missed work, but I guess the vacation was long enough to properly rest me and make me want to do something.

In the newspaper I work for, one can never be sure if he or she will have a job tomorrow, so when my access card opened the entrance door, I was relieved. The first thing being taken away when a person is fired is the access to the building.

In the two weeks I was away, three of my colleagues left the job for better offers. One of them was Joe, a Taiwanese/American/Canadian who was the editor for one of my daily video features. It's quite shocking to see so many people leaving. It makes me wonder about two things: will the newspaper survive at all; and am I not good enough in what I do, since I'm still here and everyone else's gone?

Traveblog Barcelona: Summary

It wouldn't have been much of a vacation if I spent hours every day blogging every step we made in and around Barcelona. Therefore, here's just a brief recap of things that left the impression.


Running uphill, getting lost downhill

Montjuic is a park on the hill on slopes of which was our hotel. It offers beautiful view of Barcelona in addition to the Olympic stadium, fortress, museums, etc. Every other day I tried to keep in shape by running up the hill. Strangely, I always managed to come up the same way every, then got lost on the way back. Monjuic's numerous paths and roads wind and intersect, and one time I emerged a couple kilometers to the west, next time I overcompensated and ended up about a couple kms to the east. It was no third charm, as I missed the path again. Finally, the day before we left, on the very last run I made it right, retraced my steps and came down the same way I climbed the hill.


A town that reeks of urine

It seems that bar-hoppers in downtown Barcelona don't bother searching for the washroom--they relieve themselves literally on every corner. The downtown being a maze of narrow, paved streets baked by the sun during the day, it's perpetually enveloped in the vapor and stench of urine. There are cafes and restaurants with tables spread on the squares and sidewalks, for those who don't mind sipping a beer or having a dinner amidst the unpleasant aroma.

At night shady, dirty characters crawl out to sit or crouch on the street and eye the passers-by. Each time we passed by a group of them, I half-expected to be robbed.


Gaudi, Dali - geniuses or lunatics?

You can't make a move around Barcelona without hearing or reading about Gaudi. He is so revered that you'd think he constructed half of the town, not "only" a handful of houses, including the Sagrada Familia cathedral which is still under construction and won't be finished at least until 2026. I must admit, there was so much overwhelming advertising about Gaudi's designs, that I had developed a dislike without seeing them. It all changed in Casa Batllo, house designed and inspired by the theme of water, a contemporary of Jules Verne's book "Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea." Walking its rooms and stairways makes one feels like submerging in a captain Nemo's luxurious submarine. Seen from the inside, Gaudi's "melting wax" designs started making sense and even revealed a weird kind of beauty.

Another famous case of unconventional designs and art is Salvador Dali, who purchased a theatre in his birth town of Figueres and turned it into a museum. While his eccentricism lurks in every bit of it, so does his genius--from experiments to present his art in 3D, to the manipulation of space and colors. He turned one whole room into a portrait of the actress Mae West, painted a portrait of a nude woman which, when looked at from afar, turns into a portrait of Abraham Lincoln, and so on... His jewelry designs are equally eccentric and breathtaking, the most fascinating piece being the beating heart made of gold and jewels. It truly is beating!


Tarragona

Finally, tired of looking over our shoulders for pickpockets, we went searching for friendlier and cleaner air. And, we found it in Tarragona. The town an hour southwest by train is so unlike Barcelona: laid back, clean, friendly and beautiful. With occasional dog-poop on the sidewalk. It's built on the remains of the Roman settlement of Tarraco. The emperor Augustus spent some time there and left many marks on the town, some of them still visible today. Roman ruins are fascinating, from the amphitheatre to the circus, forum and old walls.

We just happened to be there at the start of Santa Tecla celebration. St. Tecla is the saint matron of the town and in her honor there's an annual 2-weeks long festival. The most impressive part of the festival is the building of "castelli" or human castles where scores of people climb on each others' shoulders and build a tower several stories high. We were lucky enough to witness it. The real thing, however, happens every 2 years in October, when Tarragona hosts the world championship in "castelli" competition.


Air Transat

Worth mentioning for this vacation was fantastic service we had on board the "Club Class" on our Air Transat flights. Especially flying back to Toronto, when we scored sits 1A and B with legroom more than needed and even the passable food.

Traveblog Barcelona: Catalunya Day

We were blessed today--for the whole day there was not a mention of 9/11. Actually, no mention of 9/11 made in USA, but plenty of things happening connected to Sept. 11 Catalunya's way. Today was the Catalunya Day, a public holiday, which meant that most of the stores were closed, all the tourists and the locals mingled together along La Ramblas and the sea shore, with nothing to do but eat, drink and wonder aimlessly around. There was a brief but noisy demonstration of sort, with hordes of young people wrapped in Catalunya's flags marching on the Parliament building and shouting slogans in Catalan, which I could not understand. Other than that, it was blessedly free of pathetic commemorations and somber ceremonies. I understand that over 2000 American lives were lost on this day 7 years ago in the attack on World Trade Center, but that terrible event was used by the American leaders to justify two wars--Afghanistan and Iraq--in which many more thousands lives were lost. I simply can't feel for the Americans and not feel for their victims.

Traveblog Barcelona: We fight pickpockets, isn't that someone else's job?

You can't come to Barcelona without being bombarded by Gaudi on every step. So, today was our Gaudi day. Started with the visit to Park Guell, designed by Gaudi. All the buildings are built in his "melting wax-like" style. Even the walls and sidewalks were deprived of straight lines and sharp angles. The park was infested with tourists, to the point that it was difficult to move around.

As we didn't have enough Gaudi for one afternoon, we went to see his cathedral Sagrada Familia, which has been under construction for over 110 years. Suckers as we are, we paid 10 Euros entrance fee to see the inside of the contruction zone, scaffoldings, bricks and tarps. I am not sure which side is the front and which is the back, but there's a very modern looking side which was an eyesore for me, and there was a much more stern looking side, even scary, but definitely more church-like and easier to digest. I'm glad I saw it, but I don't think my life would be empty if I didn't!

On the subway back toward La Rambla a man with a suitcase was leaving the train when a gang of dirty looking pickpockets appeared. One of the gang hid his hand behind a newspaper and had his fingers in the men's back pocket when Maggie of all people, grabbed his hand and started shouting "Don't do that". All of a sudden several other men started shouting at her and I held the thief's arm, afraid that he might try to hit her. Then several of them started swearing at us and spitting at us, and I decided it's the best if we leave the train on that station, so I walked by them and Maggie hopped behind me and out to the station. Sadly, none of the native Barcelonians moved to back us up.

After two bad episodes of pickpocketing in 3 nights, we were badly shaken and were thinking about re-locating our vacation to Madrid. Then we read about similar and worse episodes of pickpocketing in Madrid, and decided to stay in Barcelona, but be constantly on guard for the pesky small criminals. Thinking about buying a pepper spray for Maggie.

Traveblog Barcelona: Things to see and do in Barri Gotic

We woke up late, took the subway to Barri Gotic, had a sandwich and a coffee in a small cafe, then strolled the narrow streets of the medieval neighborhood. Of the things to notice was the visit to the Catedral, whose facade is under construction, but was impressive on the inside. We tried local sweets, bought and sent postcards and listened to street performers on almost every corner of the old town. Following La Rambla, checked Moll D'Espanya with its flashy (and so touristy) shopping mall, bars and restaurant, then walked back to the town.

The dinner was at Bar Celta where we ate tapas seated around the bar. It was really memorable, a thing to repeat in the days to come. After the dinner and a couple of cervezas, we joined the hordes of tourists along La Rambla, then took refuge at crowded Placa Reial for a hot drink. A bunch of rowdy English football fans entertained the crowds with out-of-tune interpretation of the British national anthem and other football songs. England is playing Andorra tomorrow on the Olympic Stadium in Barcelona. As one England's fan explained, Andorra's stadium is too small for all the English fans who want to see the game.

There were girls sitting around the fountain in the centre of the square and the guys trying to pick them up. There also was police everywhere, keeping an eye on the Brits. The square is framed by bars and restaurants and it seemed that the high point of social life was happening right there.

Traveblog Barcelona: Pickpockets on day 1

The flight was almost pleasant, although the plane was packed. We got the upgrade to the "club class", which is Air Transat's version of business class. Unfortunately, they stuck us to the triple seater in the middle. But there was plenty of leg room and food was no worse than usually.

Arrived to Barcelona at 11:30, half an hour ahead of time, claimed the luggage and hopped on the Airbus which stops exactly in front of the hotel.

Hotel Ayre is a pleasant surprise. Room is small but clean, modern, with queen size bed, plasma TV, free Wi-Fi internet and free mini bar. The mini-bar contains 4 bottles of water: 2 regular and 2 sparkling ones, so nothing to envy us on.

Since neither of us could sleep on the plane, we dozed off for a few hours, woke up at 6 PM and went to search for a seafood dinner. Logical choice was Barceloneta, the port. I hate to admit we went to the most touristy part, where the restaurants are lined up next to each other, and waiters pull your sleeve, or in the lack of it, grab you by the elbow to get you to their restaurant. We ended up at the place where no one was hunting the tourists and shared a yummy seafood paella and black rizzoto.

After dinner went for a walk on the sandy beach where no one would serve coffee that late. The beach was full of young people, unfortunately fully dressed. No one was swimming.

On the way back to the hotel, the pickpockets made their first move on me. It was close to midnight, we took the escalator after leaving the train. A young, dark skinned man inserted himself on the escalator between me and Maggie, most probably planning to stall me while someone behind me works on my backpack. Since all the booklets and brochures we read about Barcelona warned about pickpockets, we were not unprepared, although I can't say I really expected the following to happen, especially not on the first night out in town. The man played with a set of keys and made a show of dropping them right at the top of the escalator. The drop was done so badly that I could tell it was intentional. Then he bent to pick them up, blocking my way. Since the escalator was crowded, I was turned sideways, my back towards the wall, then I literally kicked the guy in the butt with my knees and pushed him out of the way. He started shouting something, but then walked on as the other people started paying attention. A very pleasant English-speaking couple asked us if everything is OK. They complained about being pickpocketed themselves. All the zippers were closed and everything was intact, but the experience left both me and Maggie shaken.

About Traveblog Barcelona

It had been hectic few days trying to tie all the loose ends before going for vacation to Barcelona. That's the reason for this self-imposed silence on the blog. However, the travelog, which I will call Traveblog, will have to be brief. I can't spend hours typing in this stuff, I'm on vacation! Let's start from the beginning.

10K Human Race

I ran with the rest of the world, Maggie following on her bike and carrying a bottle to keep me hydrated. Even in our sleepy neighborhood there were runners all around, in small and bigger groups. The morning was gorgeous, clear and sunny, but not too hot. As I type this entry, I am sitting on the 6th spot in Canada, but that will (unfortunately) change when faster runners sync their Nike+ kits with the website.

Here is the video showing what it was like in cities around the globe where the race was held:

Human Race 10K

I know, two running-related blogs in a single day, it could be a bit much.

But I can't help mentioning that this Sunday, August 31, Nike organizes the Human Race. It is by far the world largest race. It's a 10 km race organized in 25 cities around the world, but also, anyone who has a Nike+ running kit can participate anywhere on Earth! All we need to do is run 10K on Sunday and sync the run to Nike.com. And--yes, I'll be a part of the race ran by an estimated 1 million participants around the globe!

Marathon plans

Kenny, a guy from work, is an avid marathon runner. A serious one, too.

He's done a number of marathons already, New York and Chicago included. And he is my newly found motivator. Already, he urged me to register for Toronto's half marathon in October, which I did yesterday. We were also plotting which races can get us qualified for the famous Boston marathon. My plan is to try to reach my qualifying time (which will be 3h 30min for Boston 2010) next spring at Mississauga marathon. Failing that, there's still another Toronto marathon in Autumn 2009. It would be really, really great to run Boston in 2010--especially because it falls on my birthday!

Going vegan in Toronto

Ever since I settled in Toronto almost 12 years ago, there was something to survive, some big crisis to overcome. There was 9/11 scare, then anthrax scare, both of which turned out to be just panic overflowing from the U.S. There was no real danger for us here. Then there was SARS (Severe Acute Respiratory Syndrome) outbreak, which actually happened and was to blame for several deaths in the town and the country. Following next was the big blackout mentioned previously in this blog. Soon after, the tourists could buy a t-shirt reading: "Toronto 2003, I survived..." and listing all mentioned crises. Now we have another line to add to that shirt: I survived listeriosis in Toronto 2008! Every day the media bombards us with the count of deaths caused by little mean green bacteria.

Listeria (from Wikipedia)

The Maple Leaf meat factory apparently had listeria contamination in one of its meat processing plants near Toronto, which caused serious health concerns nation wide--Maple Leaf is Canada's biggest meat producer. However, the deaths being blamed on listeriosis are the total of all the deaths in which the bacteria was present in the body, even if something else was stated as the cause of death. Until now, it could not be confirmed that the bacteria actually caused the death of all the victims, but the media decided to spread the panic anyway. To be safe, avoid meat altogether! So, here I am--going vegan in Toronto 2008!

The week in retrospect

What a week it has been! It seemed filled with constant movement. Last weekend, a week ago, Maggie's brother who lives in NYC came to visit with his wife, daughter and mother in law. He is funny that way, travels with mother in law. Well, he says he does it for two reasons: first, he can't leave her all alone in NYC, second--she helps with his daughter. As cute and smart as the 2-yr-old is, she demands constant attention. In restaurants, that means the parents would go hungry if it wasn't for mother in law, who takes the little girl around for a walk, so the parents can finish their meals. Seeing that, I found logic in taking mother in law on a trip. Being around two wonderful kids in two weeks, being able to play with them, leaves both me and Maggie slightly nostalgic and baby-sick. I don't mean sick OF the babies, but rather sick FOR them.

The family left on Monday, and the same day we signed the contract with the fence company who will finally separate us from the next door neighbor. The fence posts should be "planted" this week and the fence finished before we leave for Spain on September 3rd.

Ahhhh, Spain! The week had been busy at work too, finishing all the hundred of little and not-so-little things, so we can go without worry. We bought a "learn Spanish" audiobook and are rushing through the lessons, getting our non-existing Spanish on some sort of communicating level. I'm afraid that, other than being able to say my name and ask how are they doing, we won't be up for much of a conversation. Mental note to self: pack a few note books to be able to draw what I can't explain. There'll be a lot of drawing going on!

Saturday was the shopping day. We went to Vistek, the only professional camera store in town, to get a new point-and-shoot camera for Maggie, who decided against lugging around 15 kg of photo equipment, like she did on our last vacation in Italy. Although it was good for muscles--and, yes, I did a fair share of carrying her camera too, along everything else: my camera, books, maps, sweaters, water bottles, etc.--we decided to enjoy the vacation this time. The new small Nikon Coolpix S600 we bought seems quite capable of capturing some precious memories. Maggie is walking around snapping pictures "to test the camera" for the past two days. I have a permanent yellow burning spot in my field of vision from all the flashes. Needless to say, I'm the guinea pig for Maggie's photographic experimantation. Can't wait to arrive to Barcelona so she has other things to point her camera at.

The Olympcs are over. It was fantastic, colorful, spectacular with all the broken records and amazing results. They'll be remembered by flashy (and somewhat kitschy) venues and events and by two names which already entered history books: Michael Phelps and Usain Bolt. As always, the Olympics left me craving for more non-hockey sports events I could follow in Canada. But, that's wishful thinking. Right now the Canadian Olympians are lobbying to get more funds so they can do better at the next summer Olympics. This year they're taking home 18 medals, of which only 3 are gold. Judging how it went after the previous Olympics, it'll all be forgotten in a few days, and then remembered in 4 years, when our struggling athletes get ready for London 2012. How does the proverb go: "Smart learns from other's mistakes, idiot learns from his own"? What to call those who don't learn at all? When it comes to "small" sports, Canada doesn't learn.

On the last day of the Olympics, Samuel Wanjiru of Kenya won men's marathon in time 2h 06min 32sec! Yesterday I did 19 km in 1hr 29min. That means I'd need about an hour and 30 min longer than the Kenyan to finish. And I even thought I was running fast! Luckily, there's no danger of me having to participate at the Olympics, so I can take my time.

The up-close view of a road rage

Picture source

Don Mills Road, which takes me home every day, splits around a small plaza called "Peanut Plaza". Three northbound lanes circumscribe the plaza at east, while southbound lanes bind it at the west side. The road is fairly wide there and traffic usually moves fast. Occasionally, there'd be a slowdown in the left lane, when cars turn into the plaza. I usually stay in the middle lane until the north lanes meet the south ones at the north end.

Approaching the traffic light at Peanut Plaza today, I saw a driver getting out of a red SUV stopped at the light in the middle lane. Presuming that his car broke down, I moved to the left lane. It gave me the front row view to a real-life episode of the road rage. The driver of the SUV, a tall and muscular black man, walked to a small black Pontiac stopped ahead of his car, leaned through the open window and delivered a series of quick punches to the Pontiac's driver. Then, before the lights changed, he returned to his SUV. The light turned green, but no one moved, letting the combatants get on with what was inevitably going to be a street race. The Pontiac crossed the intersection and stopped in the right lane, waiting for the SUV to follow. The SUV started with a screech and disappeared in the street to the right. Slowly, the rest of us moved on. The Pontiac's driver, a dark-skinned, young man with a baseball hat turned backward, was cursing after the SUV, but he already passed the street and could not pull back in the one way traffic, to give a chase. I caught myself laughing.

The whole episode was so surreal, it's hard to believe it really happened. Those are things you usually read about in the newspaper. To witness it first-hand feels like participating as an extra in a cheap sitcom. I admit, there are times when bad drivers provoke the lowest feelings in me and I imagine myself doing exactly what the SUV driver did: walking to the culprit and punching his face. But, imagining is one thing, doing it is completely something else. I don't think I could ever bring myself so low to actually do it. After today's event, I am certain I never will! Although, I can't promise I'll stop imagining it...

Confusing Olympic cheer

I was wrong. On Saturday, the 8th day of the Olympics, Canada started winning medals. First day there were three: a gold, a silver and a bronze. Then the medal flood-gate opened for Canada and it's still pouring in, a few medals every day. We are a little shy on gold, but there's silver in abundance. Today alone there were three silvers and a bronze (silver: diving men 3m board, trampoline men, triathlon; bronze: athletics 100m hurdles women).

I already confessed to being crazy about sports. The Olympics, however, are emotionally confusing for me. I feel that I should be cheering for Croatia; after all, I spent more than half of my life there. My first memories, first love, first of everything I am today belongs there. Canada is my adopted homeland, and there are times when I feel that I don't quite belong here. When does a man start calling a foreign land his home? When does a foreign land stop being foreign? When he finds love, starts a family, finds friends? When he gets a job, buys a house? When he knows the names of the bars and restaurants in town? When he knows the names of the athletes competing for his country at the Olympics?

I read about the feats of the Croatian team at the Olympics: I don't recognize the names. The flag is familiar, but the faces are not. Even joy I should feel when they are victorious is just the excitement of an impartial observer: they are all strangers to me. When Canadians, on the other hand, hit the sports field, I straighten in the chair and grind my teeth as they struggle. I'm elated when they win and dejected when they lose. I recognize their faces even without the name tags, I know their stories, their injuries, their victories and losses. And, I admit, I know the lyrics of the anthem Oh Canada. Have I become a Canadian? Or am I just a well behaved guest here? I am not certain what the right answer is, but I know the Olympics are much more fun to watch when you have someone to cheer for. Go Canada!

Blackout, the fifth anniversary

Blackout in Toronto (Wikipedia photo)

Today is the fifth anniversary of the big blackout. It's one of those things that makes you remember where you were and what were you doing when it happened.
I was in the air! No kidding!

That day I was working on a story about home-built replicas of the WW1 biplanes. The retired plane enthusiasts who built those planes offered me a ride, fitted me with a leather cap and those round 19-century goggles; before I could change my mind, I was in the air, off the runway of a small airport in Brampton. When we landed, the airport was without power. Only when I left the airport some time later it became obvious that the power outage was wider than I thought. All the traffic lights were out in Brampton, in Toronto, in most of Ontario and eastern United States. The trip home, which usually takes less than an hour, took me almost 5 hours! Every intersection in town was a bottleneck, people were walking everywhere, civilians were directing traffic. There was a lot of frustration, but also a strange camaraderie, neighbors got to know each other, people were huddling around the transistor radios, actually taking time to talk to each other. We should have a few blackouts a year, to re-learn how to socialize with other humans, without texting, emailing or messaging.

Orwell's blog

George Orwell (from Wikipedia)

George Orwell started blogging!
That is quite an achievement considering he died in 1950!
Actually, the Orwell Prize is publishing his diaries in the blog form, matching the dates of the diary and the blog with the delay of 70 years.

We are in day 5 of the Olympics and still no medal for Canada. After all the pre-olympic boasting, it's becoming very likely that my grim prognosis will come true.

In all the previous Olympics the cheating was done by some doped athletes. Beijing's are the first Olympics in which the cheaters are the organizers. Today's media is full of the damnation of the glorious opening ceremony, after it was revealed that some scenes of the breathtaking fireworks were pre-taped and added to the broadcast as "live". Another faux pas was the lip-synched song of a gorgeous 9-year-old girl during the ceremony. Apparently, the voice was of a 7-year-old audition winner whose face was "too chubby" and teeth "not straight", so the organizers picked a tune-deaf but pretty girl instead to lip-sync.

Back home, all is as usual--I closed the office door at work to keep the annoyance out of it. After work I went for a 13 km run and was congratulated by Nike+ iPod for running over 1,500 km (1,505 to be precise) since November last year. Not bad for an old codger! And now, as soon as I post this entry, a glass of milk and a slice of German marble cake topped with nutella spread wait for me.

Thoughts about doping

Erythropoietin (EPO)

I ran away for my run as soon as I came home, to sweat out the pent-up frustration. It was an extremely frustrating day at work. Blessed running helps me forget it all, at least for a short while.

While running, I usually listen to podcasts or an audio book. It occupies my thoughts much more than music. Today it was BBC's documentary about doping in sports, as a lead-in to the Olympics. The reason the authorities can't catch the cheaters using EPO (drug which enables blood to carry bigger amount of oxygen and helps the body regenerate and recover much faster) is because the drug is detectable in urine only 24 hours after it's taken. Its effects, however, last up to 3 months. The athletes simply need to take it few days prior to the competition, and they can't be traced. It seems that good old science is losing the battle in catching the druggies.

It brought a memory of my army days. I trained with a team of runners for an all-army 3 km race. The ten of us were going to represent our whole garrison. Our drill sergeant, who was our trainer and a participant, wanted to win by all means. Before the race, during the pep talk, he gave each of us a white pill. It had something written on in Russian. "Take it an hour before the race," he said, refusing to elaborate what will it do. I make no excuse for myself--I was curious to see what the pill does. Besides, I never perceived army competitions as something of importance, so if the pill has counter effect I won't be sorry. Knowing what I know now, it was a really idiotic reasoning--for all I know he could have given me something to make my heart explode. Luckily, all the magic pill did is propel me with fantastic energy and stamina through the most of the race. Unfortunately, its effects disappeared after 2 km. With another 1000 m to go, I felt drained, breathless and wanted to quit. Somehow, I dragged myself for the remainder of the race and still managed to finish 11th out of 3000 soldiers.

That pill was the only instance I cheated in sports, and still stings my conscience to these days. Listening to BBC today, however, I could see no end in doping cheating in sports. That's when a thought came: why don't they simply forget about the doping control? Let the thieves inject whatever they want and see how far they go. They are doing it anyway. But, legalizing doping could level the game--if the athletes who are not doing it yet start with the doping, they'll catch up with the cheating "elite". And maybe--just maybe--someone will realize that it's the same if everyone takes drugs as if no one takes it. But, that would be too much, expecting the world to turn better instead of worse.

The Olympics

It was impressive: colorful, artsy and well synchronized. I'm talking about the opening ceremony of the Beijing Olympic Games. With all the talks and politics leading into it, I half expected some incident, but thankfully nothing happened. Now, if only the politicians could just take the back seats for a couple of weeks and let the sport rule. But, that's like asking the thief to be honest and a psychopathic murderer not to kill. I'm sorry, no other analogy seems appropriate for the politicians... But, back to the opening ceremony. It took us through the history of China and its discoveries of the gunpowder, paper scrolls, printing and compass. Through the flurry of colorful costumes and scenery, smiling faces, flying acrobats, to the gracefulness of dancers in traditional garbs, all spiced up with the fireworks, it was an event to remember. Of course, the culmination of the show was the lighting of the Olympic flame. Although, in my opinion, nothing can come close to the Barcelona games opening, when the flame was lit by a burning arrow shot over the crowd, this one was impressive in its own way. Partly because the last torch bearer was Li Ning, a gymnastic legend, and partly because of the way he lit the Flame.

Li Ning and me go way back, precisely 26 years back, when he was winning his Olympic and World Championships medals. The World Cup 1982 was held in Zagreb. He was an easy character to spot even before he started "cleaning" the gold. He wore the greenest green shirt for the warm-up, so uncommon in the sea of white, red and blue, which were the colors of the gymnastic elite. We even tried to buy that shirt from him, but he just smiled and went on winning his golds, six gold medals in total at that World Cup. So, he was a familiar name when he held that last torch, hoisted at the top of the Bird's Nest stadium. I wouldn't recognize him without the name tag--he's older, grey-haired gentleman with a potbelly. Besides, he didn't wear the trademark green shirt! He ran a perfect slow-mo round around the roof of the stadium, dangling off the ropes in the air and set ablaze the end of a giant scroll which enveloped the Olympic flame's bowl. As a former athlete and a current running fanatic, now I can lay back and enjoy the two weeks of sports on TV. Let the games begin!

Monday run

It was a gorgeous morning for run, so nice that I set my iPod + Nike pedometer on 7 km, but ended up running over 12 km. I went through the farmland. Along the way I passed a couple of runners and scared them witless. Somehow, they didn't hear me coming from behind although my steps were pretty loud on the gravel. When I was passing them and they finally saw me, both jumped like seeing an angry moose galloping by.
Few kilometers farther a hawk swooped on a small animal which was crossing the road. I didn't have time to discern what kind of animal it was before it was carried in unforgiving talons to the tree near by. It might have been a field mouse.

For the rest of the morning we took the sister in law and the baby nephew for a walk around Toogood Pond in Unionville, dined at the Country Inn Viennese Restaurant (good) and enjoyed the beautiful day.

Running guest

Three times a week Maggie joins me for a run. We usually go her 3.5 km and finish back at home where we started. Then I turn around and do additional 5 km or more.
Today we had a guest runner. Our brother-in-law decided to join us in spite of his flat feet and a bad knee. He ran Maggie's part, braving a naughty blister his running shoes caused on the sole of the foot. I was so thrilled with the expansion of my running flock that for a moment I considered starting a running group. At least I'm trying to keep the family in shape, although brother in law has a wonderful blistery excuse for not running for some time.

We spent the afternoon in the Distillery District (again), where we had some good blues and bad food. The Pure Spirits Oyster House & Grill was overcrowded with slow and non-responsive service. Food arrived after more than an hour-long wait. The burger was OK, but really if they'd managed to screw up the burger, they'd deserve to have the license revoked. However, the seafood Maggie ordered was less than mediocre, the portion was small and mussels and shrimps were tasteless. The same goes for the salmon my sister in law had. I made a mental note never to go to the Pure Spirits again. Luckily, there are many other restaurants in the area.

After lunch, brother in law flew to Chicago on his way to Des Moines where he has a conference to attend.

Visitors

Maggie's sister arrived yesterday with her hubby and chubby. Chubby being a perfectly adorable baby boy who doesn't mind being hauled across the continents at 9 months of age. He crawls, smiles, puts everything he can lay his tiny fingers on in the mouth, and is perfectly content even with me tossing him around. I have to say for the record that I have a dismal experience with toddlers; they usually start crying as soon as I get close. If I stretch my arms to hold them, they scream like they are being skinned alive. That's why I wisely keep myself out of sight and out of reach of the babies. And that's why I'm absolutely thrilled with my baby-nephew's indifference toward my horrifying presence.
While the whole visiting family is getting over the jet-lag by sleeping the afternoon away on the living room's floor (Chubby) and the guest room's bed (Maggie's sis and her hubby), I tiptoe every now and than to the living room to steal another glance on his sleeping-slobbering chubbiness.

Pound For Pound

F.X. Toole, the author of the celebrated short story on which the Oscar winning movie "Million Dollar Baby" is based, wrote "Pound For Pound" on stolen time. He died from cancer before he could re-write the final draft of the novel. Nevertheless, it is an interesting and deeply human story about boxers and trainers who dream to make it big despite all the punches life throws at them. The book makes me wonder about the profile of people involved in professional boxing. I don't mean promoters and managers, I mean the athletes and trainers, all of whom seem to come from a poor background, some honest to the core, others cheating at every step. While the richies turn to golf and tennis, the poor end up in the rink, with the gloves on. That, appropriately, brings to mind Paul Simon's verses:
"In the clearing stands a boxer and a fighter by his trade, and he carries the reminder of every glove that laid him down or cut him 'till he cried out in his anger and his shame: 'I am leaving! I am leaving!' but the fighter still remains..."

The Bench

I had a video shoot in the business district in downtown Toronto, just like every Wednesday. It was an early affair, and lasted about an hour, so I was back home around 1:30 PM. Since I had to pick Maggie up at 4:30, I changed into my in-house shorts, kicked the legs up and read the book. I'm laboring through Ann-Marie MacDonald's "The Way the Crow Flies". It's a big book, some 800 pages. MacDonald is setting up the plot for so long that I left and re-started the book twice. By the page 300 nothing really happened. My eyes slipped and stumbled across the pages. Slowly, I dozed off. When my eyes sprung open the digital display of the clock was laughing at me: 4:15. I rushed out in my house wear. Of course, as it happens in such situations, the traffic was worse than usual. After several of Maggie's exasperate phone calls, I was finally there half an hour late, with a shamed smile and lowered eyes. Maggie made me go with her to a nursery, as a punishment. And so I went. I successfully dodged buying more plants, but capitulated when we came across a garden bench. It seemed to have been made for our porch.
"Imagine having our nightcap drinks sitting on it on our porch," said Maggie.
We assembled it as soon as we came home.
It was a very costly punishment for oversleeping. I'll make sure the alarm is set next time I feel relaxed with a book.

Deflated

Tomorrow will be 2 weeks since I was at the job interview with a broadcasting company. They said they'll decide who will be hired within two weeks. I have a feeling if that was me, they'd call already. I tried not to think about it and told myself the chances were slim. Still, I can't help but feel deflated. What a party it would be if I could escape from my current job! Getting up every morning and going to that place feels like going to execution, which by the end of the day gets postponed until tomorrow. Damned mortgage, bills and dependence on steady income which keep me enslaved!

Getting younger

Last Friday our family doctor called Maggie and me to visit and go over the results of our annual check-up. I must admit, I was a little nervous that something bad has crept from our blood or urine tests. A year ago I had high cholesterol and the doc strongly suggested I change the diet. Maybe it didn't work?
It turned out that she only wanted to see us to compare the results from last and this year. I am officially younger! My cholesterol is normal, heart rate lower, blood pressure and all other test results show significant improvement from the previous year. My past 9 months of constant running finally paid off. Now if I could only somehow iron out the lines around m eyes and the rest of my face. Oh, and re-grow some of my thinning hair.

Canadian Olympic dream: cash.

L'important n'est pas de gagner, mais de participer. (The important thing is not to win, but to take part.) - Baron Pierre de Coubertin

What ever happened to that famous motto? For me--a former athlete, sports fan and a huge phys-ed buff, going to the Olympics just to participate, is a dream that'll never come true. I know many athletes who train for 4 years just for the chance to go and compete. The norms to qualify for the Olympics are usually so high that just getting there is enough of an honor. But, not for the Canadians! Canadian Olympic team is getting ready for the trip to Beijing, where the Summer Olympic Games start on August 8. This year they "turned the page" and boast about "going to win". The reason? The Olympic sports need more cash, and cash follows the medals. I hate to think what will happen when all the boasting doesn't produce the expected result, when the athletes who went to China to win a medal return empty-handed. I don't think it's fair to put such expectations and pressure on the athletes. The Olympics should primarily be the celebration of sport.

As with everything else, the pressure to make money takes over the sports. In Canada, where "sports" means ice hockey, and the plural comes from different hockey leagues, there's precious little interest for any other form of sweating and competition, save the beer-drinking contest. And although contemporary Olympic sports may be threatened at the moment, their long-term popularity is guaranteed even in Canada. With the global warming soon there'll be no ice to keep the beer mug on, let alone to skate on it. The beer drinkers will have to turn to the summer sports for their dose of sportsmanship from the TV screen, and what's better to go with beer and popcorn than the Olympic games?

Karadzic: update

Just a quick update to my yesterday's rant: Radovan Karadzic decided to defend himself at the Haag War Crimes Tribunal. Like his political mentor Milosevic, he probably thinks his intellectual capabilities can outclass any of the world-class prosecutors the tribunal can throw at him. The self-confidence of Serbian war-time politicians knows no boundaries. The only thing larger than their boastfulness is their ego, but the two come in a package anyway.

So, either Karadzic believes he is smarter than anyone he'll face in Haag, or he believes he's innocent. But, if he thinks he's innocent, why was he hiding for 12 years? Or, maybe he knows how much blood is on his hands and decided to mock the whole process by choosing to defend himself. Since there's no hope of the death penalty, I wish him some slow progressing terminal disease to eat at him for long time and with a lot of pain. A cancer would do him just fine.

Hang him!

Bosnian monster Radovan Karadzic is finally captured. He was the president of self-proclaimed Serbian Republic within Bosnia, the man who authorized the 4-year siege of Sarajevo, the man behind organized rape where Bosnian women were systematically raped by their Serbian captors and held captive until they were in such a high pregnancy that abortion wasn't possible. They were then released to give birth to “more little Serbs”.

Karadzic and his military sidekick general Mladic were behind the massacre of Muslim men and boys in U.N.-protected enclave of Srebrenica. More than 3000 men were taken away right in front of the Dutch U.N. soldiers, to be slaughtered and dumped into several mass graves. U.N. did nothing to stop the Serbs.

Karadzic and Mladic successfully avoided capture for 12 years and no one really believed they'll ever come to answer for their crimes. Karadzic's capture really is a big surprise. With such an impressive portfolio of crimes, he deserves no trial, but outright death sentence. Execution should be public, so the thousands of survivors of his bloody plans could watch and get at least some satisfaction for the suffering he caused.

But the war-crime tribunal can't hand out the capital punishment! There are no death sentences in European Union. All we can hope for is that the tribunal will exhaust Karadzic until his heart just stops dead, the way they did with Milosevic. Somehow, even that doesn't seem right. It may sound cruel, but I would be satisfied only if I see him hanged. And I know there are many hundreds of thousands who think this way.

A breastful day

Toronto Distillery Summerfest is in full swing, the Distillery District erected many stages throughout the cobble stoned pathways and squares and many more or less anonymous bands are trying to capture the visitors' attention. Sleeman beer brewery is the main sponsor, making sure everyone is in good spirit.

An interesting band performed on the main stage in the early afternoon. "Dr. Draw" features the front man on a violin, backed up by a rock band. The violinist was electrifying, playing an opus of classics with the modern beat, Russian folk songs and some unrecognized pieces which could easily be Dr. Draw's own brew. He wasn't exactly Vanessa Mae, but for a Toronto Distillery stage he was a welcome refreshment.

Other than Dr. Draw's performance, today will be remembered by breasts. Some of them came into my field of vision unprovoked and uncalled for, others I glanced from the corner of my eye. A few of the latter instances were the cleavages of the Sleeman's young hostesses selling beer and sandwiches. The organizers must have had special requirements in that regard, because I don't believe so many of the busty young girls happened to work the stands by pure chance.
The other instance is the one I intend to rant about. As Maggie and I sat down with coffee and dessert, a triple-D young mom by the table next to us took her infant baby from the stroller and flung out her oversized breast into poor baby's face. The cafe we were sitting at has tables in the corridor leading to the public washrooms. On a hot day like today, many people were passing by to refresh themselves.
I know that feeding a baby is a natural thing, but shouldn't mothers try to show a touch of modesty in that regard? There were several options a civilized mother could have chosen: to turn her back to the passing crowd; to take her chair closer to the wall and turn away from the crowd; or imagine actually going to the ladies room to feed the baby! None of it occurred to the shameless woman sitting next to us; she faced the busiest part of the passage, exposed to everyone who bothered to look. I made a point of turning away the chair so I wouldn't see this public display, but some of the older and less considerate men passed by several times and stared openly. DDD-mom was unfazed and went on with her business.
When she was done, she moved with the baby and the stroller down the corridor, then sat by another table straight in front of me and did it all again. I admit, I looked. It was a huge, flashy specimen with enormous areola. I felt sorry for the tiny baby boy choking on it. No wonder he fell asleep somewhere mid-way through the lunch. Those heavyweights would knock out a grown up man too.

Don't think I have anything against breasts. On contrary! I like them, just find it really weird to have such an exhibition in such a public place. The Distillery is, after all, a high-end place with lot of expensive boutiques and art galleries. It is also a big tourist attraction, bound to be crowded at all times. In short, it's a place where breasts should be kept under wraps. And cleavages? They get my blessing!

Mosquitos

Our enjoyable evening drinks on the porch met with a serious mood-spoiler yesterday: mosquitos. We braved persistent buzzing and bites for about half an hour and made a strategic retreat when we couldn't take it no longer. My legs and arms were covered in itchy bites. Maggie was smarter and wore long sleeves.
But today we found the way to enjoy our favorite evening pastime--we bought an anti-mosquito lantern. It's a regular candle-lantern with a little slit on top where a mosquito repellent strip is inserted. The repellent emits smoke when heated by the candle, and apparently mosquitos don't like the smell of it. It worked like a charm! There was not a single mosquito for over 2 hours we spent on the porch working through a bottle of red wine and talking like we haven't seen each other for months.
The wine makes blogging a bit challenging, but I'll sleep like a baby without scratching my skin off.

Job interview

So, I had a job interview this morning. Questioned by four people for a little over an hour, I felt like I've never talked this much before. A national broadcaster opened a position for multimedia product manager and I auditioned. Now, I never performed a job interview in front of so many people. As a matter of fact, until now that was always a one-on-one affair, so this was slightly unnerving. But, the interviewers were really a pleasant bunch and I left with a good feeling. Even if nothing comes out of it, it was a pleasant and worthwhile experience. I learned the questions being asked at an interview and will be ready for them next time.
Anyway, they are supposed to let me know the score within two weeks. Keep tuned.

Moonlit drinks

We developed a new summer-habit: every night before sleep we sit on the porch and have a drink. It started just after we finished the garden. We sat on the porch stairs and enjoyed the evening and the new garden. The habit caught on and we are out every evening, when no one else is around and the only witness is the moon. As of today, it became even more pleasant. Maggie bought a couple of folding chairs--concrete stairs become increasingly tough if you sit on them for longer time. It is so peaceful to sit in our sleepy neighborhood late in the evening and study the moon which every night shows a sliver more of its celestial body.

Half-marathon

It's amazing how days blend into each other. There's nothing in the past week to make it outstanding. Oh, except Wednesday. We went to a blood lab and gave blood, a part of the annual checkup. They took quite a bit--I believe 7 vials--from each, me and Maggie. Now we sit and await the results. Actually, they will call us only if something is wrong. So, with a little luck, there'll be no call from the doc.

Today I finally pushed myself over the half-marathon line. I ran 22.1 km in just under 1:50. It felt wonderful, my longest run so far. I needed a few hours to regenerate, but other than that everything was the same as after the shorter runs. But, although the half-marathon went better than expected, it also showed how far I am from the full distance. I felt like I could have gone another 5 km, maybe--and that's a big maybe--even 10 km more, but the legs would definitely not carry me for another 20 km. So, the dream of running a marathon will have to wait to be fulfilled.

Maggie spent the day "planting" a plastic liner to line up the garden bed. She explains that's supposed to prevent the grass to grow back onto the fine soil we bought for our fine plants. Speaking of which, some of our "fine" plants are showing signs of exhaustion. Two specimens (don't ask me which, I can only tell a tree from a flower, if the tree is big enough and the flower small enough) are quite withered. Maggie hopes they'll re-generate and miraculously spring to life. I'm cautiously pessimistic--if they were not in the ground already, I'd bury them.

Order of Canada

Some things drive me mad in this new homeland of mine. This is one of them.

Last week Dr. Henry Morgentaler, proponent of the women's right to choose the abortion, received the Order of Canada, Canada's highest civilian honour, for his work and fight to give women the right to choose. Right away, a B.C. priest Lucien Larre returned his Order of Canada in protest. Well, one can understand a priest not wanting to be in the same category as the abortion specialist. But it doesn't stop with the priest. Today, a former New Brunswick lieutenant-governor Gilbert Finn says he'll return his Order of Canada in protest. Now, that's a little too much for a righteous observer such as myself. If those politicians are so narrow-minded and so intolerant towards the difference in opinions, then maybe they didn't deserve to bear the Order of Canada in the first place. It is supposed to be rewarded to special people for special services to the country. I don't think that intolerance and ignorance feature on the list of the characteristics for the bearer of the Order of Canada. So, if they want to return the medal – let them! It was rewarded to them by mistake!

Finger

This is one of the first memories I have of Toronto.

I was new in town, just a few weeks since I came from Calgary. I was driving through a nice neighborhood on a beautiful June afternoon and stopped at an intersection. An old woman was crossing the road slowly, leaning on a walker. Her hair was completely white, her shoulders bent, her wrinkled hands were squeezing the plastic handles of the walker like her life depended on it. Her feet were shuffling on the pavement, inching forward. I might have had enough space to pass before she crawled into my path, but I wasn't in a hurry and didn't want to startle her. So, I watched her labor across and, when she came right in front of my car, she gave me a twisted grin and raised the closer hand, leaning shakily on the other side. Before I could wave back, her arthritic fist crumpled into an unmistakable gesture: she was giving me the finger! The expression on her wrinkled face I mistook for a grin, was actually a scowl.
She was risking her fragile balance to give me the Toronto's favorite "greeting". I was so shocked by the unprovoked gesture that I sat there for almost a minute after she shuffle-squeaked away.

Devil May Care, but why should I?

Devil May Care by Sebastian Faulks
I am quite disappointed with the book. There was a big hoopla about Sebastian Faulks writing the first James Bond novel since the death of its creator Ian Fleming. Maybe the expectations were too high? Maybe we are all so influenced by the 007 movies, that leaping back in time into 1960s seems unrealistic. It's hard to get in the mood of the book at the time of the cold war, without mobile phones and other super-gadgets that made movie-Bond so attractive. Especially since we all know the book is contemporary, just written, its ink still wet.
In addition, the story is naive, the plot too simple and too predictable, the villain too unforgivably bad without the clear reason to be bad and there's no suspense. I guess I endured through this book in the memory of the original Bond books from my youth, but will not repeat the mistake, unless the Fleming estate changes the author.

A rant about economy

General Motors, the embodiment of the American dream, is on the verge of bankruptcy. The fuel prices and economy downfall, helped with crooked American home loans which turned stinky earlier this year, make Americans dream small. Small cars, for example. And the GM brass, who for some reason failed to notice that they are not dictating the rules of car industry and American economy any longer, didn't adjust. They kept the "dream big or die" motto, and kept rolling out monster trucks, SUVs, and other fuel suckers. In the meantime American consumer started buying smaller cars. So today--surprise, surprise--GM announced they'll start making a small car in North America, which is supposed to turn their fortunes around. While it's nice to see the conceited Americans humbled into submission, it makes you wonder how come it took them so long to see what the rest of the world knew for years?

Apparently, the main culprit behind the GM's misfortune, and all the price hikes and inflation worldwide is the high price of oil. Which is not driven by greater demand than supply can handle. It is driven by speculation. Those people in suits who think they can predict the value of things, they figured that it can't be long before the demand for oil will surpass the supply, so why not get the prices up right now? Gosh, how I hate the stock market! It drives me nuts, the idea that the value of things are being decided by the guys who, I guarantee you, can't foresee the future, and are not even imaginative enough to guess it! No matter how many people are involved in stock market, they are still only people. They are prone to panic, especially because everything in stock market is the matter of their own financial well-being. I wish we could have things back the very old fashioned way, when the value of a company was determined by the value of its assets and its product at present, and not on a wild prediction where the sales could go in future.

Hatred

I can finally and officially announce: the first phase in our gardening endeavor is over! The last 2 cubic yards of soil and 2 cubic yards of mulch were delivered yesterday. The thing is--we ordered only ONE cubic yard of mulch. And even that was a bit much. So we are stuck not only with more mulch than we can use, but more than we can even store. Since it was free anyway, we'll try to offer it to the neighbors. As long as I don't need to shovel it to them, it's fine!

Last Sunday Spain won Euro Cup and today on FIFA's rating list they rate first! They deserved the title. It was a pleasure to watch the young and energetic team playing inspired football. In the final they beat lame Germany 1-0, although they should have won with much bigger score with all the chances they had. In the quick video summary of the game there wasn't a single opportunity for the Germans. It was Spain who had all the chances and near misses. We'll celebrate this September in Barcelona.

I got a call from the national broadcaster for a job interview in two weeks. It is a management position, I will write more about it after the interview.

I have a colleague at work who is Taiwanese born American and soon-to-be Canadian, when his triple citizenship application is processed. Of all the countries he is a citizen of, he gets upset the most about Taiwan and its ongoing cold war with China. I made an innocent remark about the first Chinese female tennis player who reached the semi-finals at Wimbledon this year, and he went ballistic about Chinese oppression and how he wishes them all nuked and destroyed... My jaw dropped. I always find those ultra-nationalists funny. It's easy to be brave and bang your chest for Taiwan while awaiting Canadian citizenship some 7,500 miles away. It was such a strong sense ofdeja vu , that hate speech in my own office. It reminded me of the war I've been through, the madness that spread amongst the good people I once knew. It's really troubling how much hatred floats around the world, even in this lame country of the maple leaf.