Beginning again where once we were

We have been in Canada for a month now – for the first time in ten years. And the country has changed, and so have we – but not entirely.



In 1998 Greg came here to the province of Ontario for Christmas, and then escorted me across the ocean to his home in Oxford, proposing at about 2a.m. on the first day of 1999. Now, three countries later, we are back again, beginning yet another adventure. And glad to be doing it together.



It was very hard to say goodbye to dear friends in France. Neighbours old and new spoiled us with goodbye dinners and in giving us help sorting and preparing. The most snow we’ve ever seen at Pré Borel arrived the week the movers were there, impeding vans, making for very mucky work,

and undoubtedly covering various things on the lawn that remain to be discovered by the new owners.
The snow was actually so heavy that the 10+metre bamboo grove was bending right to the ground – and bending all that was beneath it.


The cats were less than pleased with all the goings on, and Percy, the French stray who somehow has insinuated himself into our lives (Percy is short for ‘Persistant’…) decided to pull a disappearing trick – after, of course, having visited the vet for all his shots and international paperwork. (After a sufficient amount of stress, and some frigid searching, he was re-discovered – twice. At least it was beautiful out -- here's our last views of Raymond's foals and Pappy's bee-hives).

We had a last wonderful fondue dinner with friends and colleagues, were pampered by good friends and were wowed with the beauty of fresh snow,

and then – much to the dismay of the cats – were onto the airplane.

We definitely fared better on the journey than our poor felines. The affable Pumpkin, well known to many of you, and well travelled too (she hails from Oxford, lived in Eaton, moved up to Scotland, took the ferry across to Belgium and drove down to France), had the hardest go of it. Perhaps due to medication, she seems to have suffered some type of seizure, and when she came out of her box in Ottawa she was blind and partially paralyzed – and we were really worried. Fortunately a friend and neighbour is a vet, and gave us good advice and hope, and the cat is now back to normal. Pumps is getting old – at least 14 apparently – but she still has enough umph to try to put Percy in his place.

Percy we *had* been worried about. He’s petrified of strangers, loud voices – especially of men -- loud noises, of being in a closed room, etc etc. Yet, for a string of reasons we still had decided it was better to bring him than leave him. Honestly, I did harbour fears of how the trip would affect him mentally.
And it seems it has – but bizarrely, in a manner that has made him much more social! He’s still shy, but far less of a scaredy-cat, and he is an absolute sucker for attention now – not only from us, but also from Greg’s parents and even the occasional honoured guest. The wild-thing has turned into a lap-cat (though wild moments definitely persist).

At the moment we are keeping them indoors – not only are the temperatures considerably colder than they have ever encountered, but we are close to a busy city street, and Percy knows naught but fields and walnut groves. So far so good – except Perc utilizes his extra energy by sneaking up on Pumps, much to her disgust (he is twice her size, but about 9 yrs younger). Poor guy desperately wants her to be his best friend, but he could use some relational counselling. Persistent he may be, but in desperate need of new methodology.

The cats aren’t the only ones needing to adjust to the snow and cold – while we are, for the most part, enjoying it, we definitely need to re-learn this aspect of being Canadian! Upon arrival we immediately began to Canadianize our wardrobe: Real winter boots, Real winter coats, Real mitts, Real hats….and darn good thing we did it right away: official records indicate that there has been over 125 cm of snow since our arrival (that’s on top of what was already here – and it’s still only January), and temperatures have even plummeted below -30C (-22F) – and that’s *without* the wind-chill factor! (it’s not that cold everyday! But the temps have regularly been in the negative teens, and not infrequently in the -20’s.) We have to re-adjust to the time it takes to bundle-up to go out, as well as to the time it takes to remove gear once one is back inside! …how to survive in heated shops when one has all one’s outdoor gear on; how to breathe carefully when first stepping out of doors, so that one doesn’t choke on the cold air, or freeze one’s nostrils together; how to enjoy frozen smoothie drinks quickly enough that they don’t become too solid for the straw – yet still not get brain-freeze! (Does any other country in the world keep its ice-cream and smoothie stores open in -30C weather – and still get good business??!) We need to reacquaint ourselves with the concept of plugging one’s car in, of, indeed, warming up the car so one can bear sitting still in it, and of always having spare anti-freeze fluid. So much to reach back into dusty memories and recall!

Despite being kitted out in our new Canadian gear, it still has taken some time for it to sink in that we’re not just here on holiday. It’ll probably take some time yet to truly do so. But especially as we arrived at Christmas time, until recently it felt like we were just here for the holidays. Greg’s parents kindly put up with us and the cats, and even allowed the cats to hang out in their room when they (the cats!) decided we were too boring. Now we are in our great rental home though – a house that Greg has known since his teenage years, and one in which I too have spent many delightful visits.
So it’s starting, slowly, to sink in that the Christmas holidays are over.

Christmas was a good way to begin though!
As our decorations are all packed in boxes, various nieces & nephews, godchildren & goodchildren made us some *beautiful* ornaments! We were graced with a most stellar tree in our bedroom, and went to sleep many a night with the lights reflecting off of sparkles and casting silhouettes.


Stars came to us from Scotland and England, across Canada and the States, and were incredibly imaginative and memorable. Some filled the room with fragrances of apple and cinnamon, others were made of pine-cones,
acorns, twigs,
shells, and straw.













My eldest goddaughter Erin made a brilliant straw star -- which survived its trek across the nation -- to top the tree, and it was complemented by a grand Scotch-pine star on the facing wall, placed above the nativity scene, which had travelled all the way from Aberdeenshire.







We walked through falling snow to a beautiful candle-lit ‘Nine Lessons and Carols’ service, which included readings and carols in French as well as English.
We were regaled on Christmas Eve by our goddaughter Tasha and her family, who welcomed us in to share their meal and traditions (the tumbling of the tree probably should not become a tradition…but it miraculously survived, to be lit and remain resplendent!)
We shared Christmas day & dinner with my Grandmother and aunt and great-aunt, and friends – which brought forth many memories and stories. And through the snow we travelled that night, to be met at the end of an icy road by Greg’s dad and sister, who transported us down to the family cottage beside a snowy icy lake -- where, with the Johnson family, we feasted on roast and fondue.
By New Year’s Eve we were in Québec celebrating the fact that we *could* celebrate with old friends for whom two years ago on the same night we’d been baby-sitting as they travelled to a far-away hospital, Gina’s health in grave state.
This time Steven introduced Greg to the advancements in cross-country skiing (which unfortunately doesn’t include blister-prevention), and Grace introduced him to new dance moves and hair-do’s.






We were spoiled with wonderful meals and lattés, and were, for the second time in a week, forced to admit that there are now local cheeses in Ontario and Québec that truly rival our favourites in France. We sincerely did not believe this could be possible. It is.
The price differential is, however, quite considerable. Nonetheless, we look forward to sharing this new discovery when friends come from France.


During this visit we also had coffee in the world’s largest log building (with its incredible six-sided stone fireplace),


and took a snap-shot of what is surely one of the largest ever home-made snowmen (honestly -- this is real snow!)


Our last festive-fling before moving into our temporary home was a marvellous weekend at a secluded B&B in Québec, a wonderful Christmas gift.
(note the very Canadian home-made hockey rink on the lake ice in front of the B&B)

(lake, with iced-in raft & pier, and snowed-in canoe on shore)




The Gatineau area of Quebec is beautiful -- this is Wakefield, on the Gatineau river (unfrozen here due to the rapids -- but plenty of ice-fishing huts both up and down river!)



The signage cracked us up...














On the Saturday we took our Canadian induction one step further, and went dog-sledding!





I was bundled up in a big down sleeping bag and fastened into the lead-guide’s sled.

Greg, on the other hand, had to learn to drive his own dogteam!















Fortunately the morning temperatures of -32C (not including wind-chill) had risen 15 degrees by the time we went out, but the mid-way break for hot chocolate was welcome nonetheless. And we were incredibly grateful for my sister’s appropriate Christmas gifts of hat & muff!






Twenty kilometres up and down through snowy forest, in glorious afternoon sun – it was grand!



We highly recommend the venture! (though we were glad that there was a Parisienne in the group to help translate the Québécois accent for us!! *That* is an adjustment that will take us some time!)


(after the dogs were returned to their station, it was still a bit of a trek back to our cars. As I'm not so mobile, matters were taken out of my hands, my pride blatantly disregarded, and a team of cheery humans grabbed the dog-leads and pulled me along!)


This concept of bundling me up into a sled is one we're slowing getting used to. Last weekend we re-introduced ourselves to the Rideau canal – the largest skating rink in the world, which weaves through Ottawa.

(sites along the canal)

In addition to being a venue for leisure, the canal is a transit route: people use it to skate to work, school, church and the shopping mall.


And here I am in my increasingly well-practiced position of leisure, ensuring good exercise on the part of my increasingly muscular husband:
























Not often one sees folk queued up for food while on skates!
(This photo shows the access onto the canal which is closest to Greg’s parent’s house…the same entry point he and his groomsmen used when lowering in the canoe that they then paddled to the church for our wedding! )



As I’m not overly mobile at the moment (one foot is on holiday), we are grateful for the loan of an extra wheelchair – and we’ve given that a trial run on the canal too. Late at night, the smell of ice and Beaver Tails … it’s quite romantic really, and is giving Greg a regular work-out!
Beaver Tails…for you uninitiated, Beaver Tails are a decades-old Ottawa tradition that is apparently beginning to span the globe. (Our wee book on Ottawa informs us that they are now sold even in France & Scotland!) Deep-fried dough slathered with maple butter and/or cinnamon sugar and/or lemon juice and/or whipped cream – what’s not to like? That, and poutine, hot chocolate, and hot apple cider is available from kiosks up and down the canal, all day and late into the evening.
Poutine…that may be another new one for some of you: chips (aka fries) slathered (such an appropriate term) in gravy and cheese curds (and if you’re lucky, some vinegar on top). Excellent! Originally a Québécois fare, I imagine it’s still mostly just found in Canada…although I did discover a wee café in Huntly, Aberdeen that bizarrely had it on the menu. [I shouldn’t have ordered it though…]

So, you see, we’re settling in. Greg’s busy at work (more photos and descriptions to follow in the next blog – he *promises*!!)
(Here's a glimpse of his workplace, taken last week)


[Greg's also perfecting his latté presentation: pictured here, his first ever tiered latté. Ooh la la!]
I’m a little less busy just now, but hoping that that will change soon with a co-operating body.

(Greg & the Pros testing out my equipment)




We’re still living out of suitcases, thanks to communication errors between the French & Québec transport companies (that accent again…) -- but hopefully that will change in about ten days. We are missing France, and Europe in general, but are finding things to enjoy here too. Some days are sunnier than others. Good people help. A family funeral meant the sadness of not sharing a special great-aunt with Greg, but it initiated his introduction to some of my many great relatives that populate the Ottawa Valley.


(Greg with my dad's cousins, my aunt, my great-uncle, my grandma, her sisters-in-law....)




(Grandma and great-uncle Melvin, with me trying out grandma's walker/chair -- I get my own next week [maybe we should have races!])


We are learning how to navigate different administrative, government, and health systems…change driving licences, open bank accounts, update papers, etc, etc. The navigation may be a pain, but strangers occupying these offices keep cheerily welcoming us ‘back to Canada,’ which is nice. And we need to say that we are Very Impressed with Ottawa's branch of the Canadian Arthritis Society -- they are awesome. [And their on-line 'Patient Forum RA Presentation' lecture is by far the best thing we've seen for explaining RA to patients or friends/family.] While we can’t find satisfactory chocolate (how spoiled we were!), we do live right around the corner from a brilliant wheat-free café, that makes great bread, muffins, and the best chocolate brownies ever. We even have a local butcher who makes haggis! (photo: Kara carving up the Scottish beast...)


I will close this lengthy missive, however, with our greatest culinary travesty.
It concerns Greg’s wine cellar.

In the months before we moved, Greg had carefully assimilated an admirable collection of French wines, to be treasured and stored – and brought across the ocean with us – for future delectation. Some bottles were to be aged carefully for years. Some were rather valuable gifts from friends, from various occasions over the years.
Catch the past tense??
Last week we discovered that due to a communication error between customs & the transpo company, instead of going straight into a warehouse, our container had been sitting on the pier for about 8 days -- during the -30C weather. Greg drove up the next day to identify the stuff as ours...
...and found his worst fears confirmed: a significant number of his very carefully selected & specially-gifted 130 bottles of fine French wines had exploded (despite the wine-transport insulation), and the rest had frozen solid.
He was pretty gutted, to say the least. The customs officer was all sympathy, but there isn’t much that can be done. The few bottles that did not explode can be thawed and used for cooking and mulled wines, but they shan’t quite be what they were intended to be.

All condolences more than welcome!