Modes of Transportation

So the other day, I saw a twenty-something women riding one of these in a skirt. -->

Then, shortly after, saw one of these weird things.

These are not things you see everyday in Canada and it got me thinking about writing this blog entry. I was just going to grab more google images, but then I looked through my own photos and realized that I already have some of my own shots of transportation methods here!  I wish I had a shot of the woman on the scooter. Speaking of "scooter", I've recently realized that that word can signify many things in my Canadian English. The above, "push scooter" and then the following Vespa-type "scooter"

This is my own photo meant to display an interesting corner...a Medieval style building, and various methods of transportation.  Note the car in the process of parallel parking--a staple to any driving here.

We also call these "scooters" and I've seen a couple of these here, just motoring down the road or sidewalk, whatever was most convenient.

This is not my photo obviously.

But that analysis of "scooter" types is slightly off-topic and I will continue on now...





 You've seen some photos of cars (and another scooter) in this blog post and yes, cars are definitely around.  As you imagine, most are a lot smaller than in North America.  Here is a glimpse of the tiny Nissan I drove to La Rochelle a couple of weekends ago.

And here are some cars (a little larger), parked outside of my apartment building. (Yes this is where I live!)

Parked behind my building, are a lot of these!  A classic and popular French car.  I'm hoping that we get a Renault for our upcoming road trip, because I have yet to drive any French model.

Ok, then we have the ever popular bicycle!  (You saw some already parked at that corner in the shot above.)  Here's another attempted artsy shot from my first week here.

And, as evidence that bicycles are ridden in La Rochelle too, here was another artsy shot attempt.

Since La Rochelle is at the sea, one also finds boats!  Imagine!

Above and below you can also see the always popular choice of...

This is a random man walking in Vieux Tours

...walking.  In September, I was doing a lot of this!  Then I got sick.  And school got busier, so I bought a bus pass!  And now, this is my primary method of transportation.

Notice that it is one of those "accordion" buses, AKA "articulated" buses.  And notice the ever-present construction, making way for the future...

This is obviously not my photo!  That is the City Hall in the background.

 ...TRAM!

This is the front of the Palais de Justice and behold another, yet non-articulated, bus.

Nearly every day, I go here...

...beside the Round About and bus stop called...

.

 ..."Trois Rivières.  (Look, the sun isn't that high yet...it's quite cold in the mornings on my way to school.)

This is across the street, where I get off the bus (or get on, if I'm heading north to the supermarket or mall).  La Chevalerie is a Tabac, or convenience store that sells tons of magazines and newspapers and it has a little bar in it too.  Definitely a different combination than what one sees in Canada.







And then we have...

...the gypsy caravan!  I haven't seen many of these (just this one, in fact, at a bizarre fair thing).

And finally, the bull.  (Also not too common, but found at bizarre fair things.)

Just when you think things can't get any worse...

The last week in Brazil, I was attacked in the night by a stealth army of mosquitoes. They left evidence of their attack on the lower half of my back. I didn't even view the evidence for a couple days and when I saw it, I was disgusted. As was every other person who saw it, or even just saw a photograph of it. (A photograph I will not post here, since the image is just too graphic!) I looked diseased. Measles or chicken pox or something. And of course, there was the itch. It was hard for me to be sympathetic to any other person's bites at that point. I was feeling quite excited about getting back to Canada so my back could heal.

After reflecting and blogging last week, I was looking forward with some more peace and good expectation than I had had in awhile. I finally was getting back into the swing of life and one element of my life before I went away, was bicycling a lot. (I bought a new used bike this summer. It was a sweet deal. It's a kind of retro Miele. Here's a pic.) So finally on Wednesday, I got back on my bike, riding it to the office. I really only just got out of my driveway, when I found myself face-first on the road! I had a bag with my lunch in it that I had wrapped around the handlebars and it got stuck in the front wheel spokes! I saw it happening, but it was too late to do anything and I'm pretty sure I flew right over the handlebars. I recall that I adjusted my helmet, so it must have been hit. My teeth hurt and I touched under my nose when a lady in her car stopped and asked if I was ok. "I think I'm bleeding," I said. My house was right there, so I just picked up my bike and carried it and myself home. Yogurt was everywhere! And my peach and tomato where squashed. (I had to later cut the cloth bag out from the spokes, it was so wedged in.) When I saw myself in the mirror, I freaked out! It wasn't my nose that was bleeding as I had thought. My chin was all scraped away and my lip was puffy and split. Throughout the morning, I would continue to find scrapes here and there on my body. And yogurt randomly crusted on me too!

I was REALLY upset about this for the whole day. Even after I found out from the nurses at the doctor's office that I didn't need any stitches. It was so upsetting to me to have to have big pieces of gauze on my face and to be worried about forever carrying scars on my already acne-scarred face. And would my teeth ever stop hurting? "What if they're messed up and fall out later?"

Later that night, I called my dad to let him know that I would indeed be coming for the meeting with the nursing home the next day. Before I could pour out my sad details of my day, he had "bad news" for me. My mom's psychiatrist is starting to think that my mom is showing signs of dementia, which, unlike mental illness, is something that just happens with old age and is irreversible.

A few days later, I learned that my friend had a hellish weekend on top of an already difficult situation and I wonder at how she is even keeping herself above water.

Talking with another friend about all of our struggles and the struggles of those close to us, it really is too heavy. Is this what being an adult is?

On Sunday, a friend threw a big birthday party for her husband. It was his 44th birthday, so not particularly special. But emotion was in the room as she began the toasts by explaining that she wanted us to join in her celebration that he is still with us for this birthday! In February, our friend Fred was hit on the head by a tree when he was working to collect sap to make Maple Syrup. It was a scary and upsetting time as we waiting for the outcome of this horrible accident. And many people prayed.

On Sunday, this same group of friends were reflecting that another friend of theirs died ten years ago when he attempted to rescue some children from a river. So here we are, back at those questions. Why does it seem that prayer works sometimes and sometimes not? Or why do bad things happen to some people?

This week, I received an email from one of the Brazil team who had compiled a few stories of the children in the shelter we helped at. Stories of children being abandoned by their families; young girls being raped and baring the physical affects of this; and, boys being prostituted on the street and resorting to glue-sniffing and other drugs. I had heard some of these before, but reading them again seemed timely.

As I look at this last week, I have to admit that bad things happen to most people. When I was all upset about my messed-up face, my friend Sharon said to me, "Beth! Think of Fred!" (From his accident, Fred had to have his whole face basically rebuilt and for awhile, he looked quite different. Nowadays, he has a big scar on his forehead and difficulties with smell, taste, weather and temperatures.) I finally got to the place where I realized it REALLY could have been A LOT worse.

Fred's brother-in-law ended the toasts on Sunday with a prayer. He said that it wouldn't be long before we would feel pain again about something in our lives, but today would be our day to celebrate. We would celebrate for the miracle that we do have.

And I guess we just keep praying. And we give thanks that when we don't feel like we can pray, there are others out there praying for us.


By the way, I am completely in awe of the ability of our body to heal. There's the fading mosquito bites. My teeth don't hurt anymore. The inside of my mouth is nearly all healed and my lip is looking normal. You can barely notice anything on my face either! Even where it split!

This is My Father's World

What a great day! It all just kind of "came together". I had no plan for my Sunday afternoon, but during the sermon in church this morning, my mind wandered to the idea of going for a nice, long bike ride. So after making lunch, I applied my sunscreen, filled my water bottle and went.

As much as I like biking around city streets, I was thinking of going out into the "country". Every day that I drive out to Pfennings I see great bike routes and realize that I really do have a draw to small towns and countryside. At the same time, I knew that I wouldn't be able to physically handle going so far on such a hot day and on an unfamiliar bike (I wanted to try out my housemate's). K-W has some good trails in the city, but I figured they'd be busy with walkers today, so I decided to stick to the city streets.

I was chucking along University Ave. heading out towards RIM Park when I came upon a sign for the Grand River Trail. Yes, this sign. (I try to illustrate these blogs as much as I can.)...

Now as a much as I love Kitchener-Waterloo, I have always found it hard that there is no lake, beach or attractive nature around (at least not, compared to my hometown--that's Wasaga in this pic...)

Every so often around town here, I cross this "Grand River", but well...yeah. I had heard of this trail, so I decided to take it.

First, I discovered this huge Kiwanis Park place that I never even knew existed in this city--looks like an awesome place to swim!

Then I was on this trail that basically winds around the river. I ended up biking along it for about 8 km, completely alone. I was no longer in the city. I was in the woods, I was at the river's bank. I was up, I was down, I was going through long, long grass and I had no idea where I was. I saw no one for a long time and no one saw me. In fact, no one in the world knew where I was (not even myself), which felt a little risky at moments, but brought back many childhood memories of me doing basically the same thing in the areas around our farm. I figured if I was safe as child, I was just as safe today.

I really can't describe fully just how much I enjoyed those kms along the trail today. It was as though I entered a secret little world or something. One moment I was in Waterloo and the next, I was completely hidden in nature. There was the feeling of familiarity with biking on trails that took me back to happy, childhood times of solitude. There was my catching glimpses of the treeline as it would only be along the edge of a river and that reminded me of the Amazon. There was my accidental detour off of the correct trail, right into wildgrass--a little precarious on a bike! There was me getting off the bike, traipsing through the grass, my foot falling in a hole, but me not injuring it and feeling relief that I didn't, seeing as I was in 'nowhere'. My delight with Lisa's bike that has thicker tires than mine and allowed me to bike without fear over such a variety of terrain. There was my successful ascent up a steep grade. And so many, many smiles out loud. Honestly, I couldn't help but smiling to myself. And to whoever else was there with me.

There was practically a laugh out loud as I coasted speedily down a gravel hill (again, without any of my usual skinny-tire-fear), passing some other people who said hello and then realizing I was re-entering the world. And where did I re-enter exactly? At The Dollhouse. LOL. (Kitchener's strip club.)

Today is Father's Day and I didn't visit my dad. Mostly because of gas prices and the fact that I am driving 40 km per day to work at this farm with the hopes of saving money! (I will see my dad next week though since I have to do a teachy gig at a camp up there.) This morning at church a woman whose father lives in Missouri shared her plan to spend today in her "Father's world". She then beautifully sang the hymn that I had forgotten has been a favourite of mine in years past. It came back to mind this afternoon as I spent the time I did--particularly as I walked through the tall, tall grass.

This is my Father's world and to my listening ears all nature sings and round me rings the music of the spheres.
This is my Father's world: I rest me in the thought of rocks and trees, of skies and seas; his hand the wonders wrought.
This is my Father's world, the birds their carols raise, the morning light, the lily white, declare their maker's praise.
This is my Father's world: he shines in all that's fair; in the rustling grass I hear him pass; he speaks to me everywhere.