Travels

Are you sitting comfortably? Then I’ll continue…

Sunday we all picked up and drove back to our respective homes. The departure was anything but early and I got back to Portland, to an extremely psyched puppy, by about 10pm. It was great to be home, but the odyssey wasn’t quite over. I was supposed to drive to Michigan to Mike and Kelly’s wedding the following Friday, but I bowed out and the couple were very cool about it. It was just too far, too soon. I really, really wanted to be there, but I was shattered. I also had something else I really needed to get done which I moved up to that weekend.

Gratuitous recent photo of Shep and Bella. Because I can.

Reiner is my first cousin and although I hadn’t seen him in 4 years, we’ve remained very close. It’s one of those relationships where you don’t really have to work hard to maintain it – it just is. It’s a family thing, after all. Reiner had been home from Spain for nearly 3 weeks by the time I finally got to see him. The deal was thus – “I drive to Hamilton and pick you up, take you to Burlington, you help move me out of my uber-expensive storage locker there and then drive a UHaul back to Portland while I’m in my car in front of you. In return I build you a 3d graphic designer (pause for the cause) website, entertain you in the country for a few days, drive you back to Hamilton and to top it off you get a 60 gig iPod“. Pretty good arrangement if I do say so myself.

We had a blast in the process – it was insanely good to see him and was like no time had passed. I hope to go visit him in Spain, maybe for a sort of spring break, and he has promised to come back to Canada about every six months to see his family. Our eventual return to Hamilton – after two long car rides spent listening primarily to the Magnetic Fields , Beta Band and Joy Division – was timed perfectly with Canadian Thanksgiving! We rolled in on the Thursday and stayed up until 3am with his parents (my Aunt Susan and Uncle Heinz) drinking, smoking and talking on their back deck. Yes, the extended Pye family likes to smoke. It’s like being in a Hemingway novel most of the time.

The late night conversation got pretty emotional, as we discussed my father and several other extremely juicy tidbits of family history I had absolutely no clue existed. In addition to stories about my father specifically, which knocked my socks off on a couple of occasions, I learned the truth about his father and uncles – who apparently ran the rackets in Hamilton during the 20’s/30’s and shipped rum and whiskey down to the USA during prohibition. They were all very large men and two-fisted drinkers and gamblers the lot. I also learned that my father’s mother’s father – who I’d always thought of as my “British Grandfather”, was actually born in Ireland. This brings my family ancestry, with the exception of my mother’s father Jimmy who was Scottish, to almost 100% Irish. As recently as 3 years ago I was under the impression that I was primarily Scotch/English. In reality… I think I’m a mick! My House of Pain and Pogues obsessions make perfect sense now! I need to call Kent.

“Thanks, but we’re set. We have 3 prostitutes back at the house.”

Friday night we went to Toronto to hit a birthday party. I managed to convince the illustrious JV to come with us, and we spent most of the night being silly and having fun. He actually said to me at one point, “Dave, stop making jokes about that girl – she’s gonna hear you. We’re too old for this shit.” I was momentarily concerned. The king of the ball-busters is telling me to lay off my brilliant “she has knees like fucking Bill Laimbeer” jokes because we’re adults? I immediately asked if his wife Amy was pregnant – and she isn’t. So what was afoot? My fears about Jason suddenly turning into Danny Glover were thankfully dashed half-an-hour later when he tuned his back to a guy and girl who were totally smushing me against the wall for no reason and walked backwards, imitating their drunk conversation until he has pushed them about 3 feet away from me. “Hey man! You’re an asshole,” they screamed. “I know” he replied. And all was right with the world.

Reiner and Dave kept their Uncle Richard in stitches. And concerned for his safety.

Saturday was the big family dinner at Aunt Susan’s and we arrived around 2pm strapped with our assigned foodstuffs – 6 bottles of red, pumpkin and bumbleberry pie, olive oil mayo, salad fixings and 2 cases of beer. I hooked up my PS3 for the kiddies – OK, me and Reiner – and slowly the family started to arrive. Aunt Rose, Uncle Richard, Kathy, Erynn, Chris and my “little” cousins Thomas, Christopher, Seth and Jakob were also on hand. It was a wonderful afternoon and I really needed it. Everyone asked about Gordo, and even more stories I hadn’t heard emerged. Particularly from Dad’s older brother Richard, with whom he shared a bedroom for many years. I think I will have to save them all for a separate post. Anyhew, the food was delicious, the laughs long and hard and we ended the evening with a viewing of the woefully underrated and insanely hilarious StepBrothers .

Sunday we drove back to Portland after picking up a friend’s Grandparents on the way back. Grandma started telling me a story about World War 2 (they are Latvian) and paused before admitting that she talks a lot. I said if you’re going to talk about history and specifically WW2, feel free to talk my ear off. I heard tales of Nazis fighting Russians in the fields of her father’s farm while they hid and watched, and was thoroughly engrossed as she continued to describe their desperate flight to England and then finally Canada in 1956. It made the 4 hour trip go so much faster, and she even brought sandwiches and cookies!

“One last shot of Jaegar and I’m cannonballing into the lake.”

That evening my Mother and I were invited to the Abele’s house for another round of incredible food. Turkey was once again the order of the day, and the Eastern European influences to the meal made the bird seem like a completely fresh notion. The awesome view of the Big Rideau in the background didn’t hurt, and they even had us back the next day for lamb. But much was to transpire before Monday, and it was to get a little bit crazy before my 7-week odyssey finally drew to a close.

“This will almost make up for all the errant charges to our credit cards over the summer.”

Vilis got a call around 8:30pm which saw the local bar, which is part of a marina and closes for the winter, inviting us all down to help polish off the perishable liquor stock. We thought about taking the boat but finally decided to scoot over in the Charger where we met Dawson, Shane and a bunch of my other new local friends. After polishing off a few half-finished bottles of wine, Vilis decided to invite the whole lot of us, staff included, for a bonfire on his soon to be developed 36 acres of beautiful property – which happens to be around the corner from my house – and the night went late. Very, very late. When I finally crawled back to their house for lamb around 2:30 Monday afternoon – I wanted to take my own life with baby laxatives. What a capper to a truly exhausting, enjoyable, heart-warming and necessary month-and-a-half long journey.

Throwing the can of boat gas on the lit match was a bad idea. But sometimes, bad ideas work.

This last weekend was the first in 7 weeks that I was actually at home, and it was lovely. However the dock still needs to come out of the lake, the boat has to be winterized – as does the Winchester. I have my work cut out for me for a while yet. But I’ll be home, and that’s always time well spent. Even if I’m up to my waist in freezing lake water with one foot cut to ribbons by zebra mussels. It’s my lake. They’re my zebra mussels. And it’s Oktoberfest Night at the cove this Saturday. I’ll raise a stein and be just fine. I’d better start resting up for American Thanksgiving as I plan to drive down to Boston again to partake. Will it ever end? No – and I thank Christ for that, everyday. Friends and family are why I get out of bed in the morning.

My good friends Jason and Cary have started their own travel blog with which they will be documenting a two-month trek through Europe. The writing and pictures are superb so far, and if you’ve been through the continent, or are thinking about it, I’d recommend having a read.

“So that leads us to Fussen……we got behind the wheel and made our way south this afternoon. We plan to spend the next few days visiting the castles and medieval villages in the area before heading to Ischgl, Austria for a week of skiing. I think we’re looking forward to the drive as much as we are to skiing – the Bavarian Alps and Tyrols should be stunning! We’ll be sure to update the blog and post more pictures in the next few days…..oh, and more on Fussen later…..what a great little town!”

Jealous much, Dave? Yes, I am. I think I should re-read the 24 Hour Work Week and start planning a few jaunts of my own. Godspeed in Germany, kids. And whatever you do, don’t mention the war.

I’m home, I’m safe, I’m a little dehydrated – but I’m so very happy that January is over and my life is returning to some degree of normalcy. I look forward to kicking off the hilarity of regular blog posting but I have to head to Kingston for some important errands. In the meantime, please enjoy this piece I am creating for a client about some of the horrible things which have occurred in Valentine’s Day History. I’m back, kids. Lock up your daughters, liquor and maybe a couple of the dogs, too.

I’m back at gate 11 in the Ottawa airport, once again trying to get on my flight to Orlando. Yesterday my 11:30am flight was eventually cancelled around 3pm, and currently that same flight is the only flight throughout every airline that still hasn’t been cancelled. As visibility through the window beside me is about 25 feet – I’m not optimistic.

I’ve never seen fog like this. Did anyone see The Mist a couple of months ago? I did, and everytime I longingly look out at the runway to see if the fog has lifted, I expect a giant monster bug to smash against the glass. This is unreal. My mother’s surgery is tomorrow and I have to get down to look after my father. But what do you do? Is it worth even getting mad?

I’ve already called the hotel and re-booked my room for another night, because there’ll be another swarm of Orlando-bound cancellites scrambling for them in about 3 more hours. Tonight I may venture out of the hotel, do myself a favor and treat myself to a decent dinner. But to be honest – I have no idea what’s around. In my 3 times now driving to and from over the last 2 days, the various cabs and shuttles can’t see farther than about 10 feet in front of them.

At least WestJet is making it as tolerable as they can. They automatically rebooked my on today’s flight immediately after yesterday’s was cancelled. By the time I got through to them on the phone, they were like “Yep, same time tomorrow.” So I have that going for me. And total conciousness on my deathbed. I’m a looper. A pro jock.

I’ll be heading into Boston tomorrow at 3pm for the first time in quite a while, and obviously I’m beyond excited to see my friends, attend my buddy’s wedding and finally have a Harpoon IPA. Words cannot begin to describe how much I have missed this particular beverage, and I’ll likely be marinated in it like an over sized steak tip by the time I return to Canada. To say I miss Boston would be true, but not all that much to be totally honest. I’ll be back again in October for business and by the time the snow flies I’ll have likely had enough to last me through the winter. What I will miss is Thanksgiving at the infamous Red House in Concord – but what are you gonna do? It’s been sold and that last bastion of high-school hijinks is now ancient history. I’m sure the boys will come up with another bastion.

Today I am taking my father to the International Plowing Match in Crosby, Ontario. I went once when I was a tadpole and remember it being a big fair laid out like a town with streets of vendors hawking tractor toys and fried dough. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to get my work done to ensure that I don’t have to miss the Queen of the Furrow Crowning Banquet later this evening. You can’t win if you don’t attend.

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