Canada O (my god) Canada!

It's been a while since a blog but don't think we've just been sitting around watching the Kavanaugh hearings, observing the high jinks of M.B.S and drinking heavily.  No!  We have once more sallied forth to encounter one of our previous Allies and do another Apology Tour -- this time to Canada. Sometimes you just know a trip is going to be rife with trials from the get go.  In our respective decrepit states (see prior blog) we stumbled to the plane and buckled up.  So did the two guys behind us.  They started talking (who DOES that on planes) and then it started .  They went from banal pleasantries to a full throttle Mormon proselytizing assault in short order.  While the Mormon missionary rattled on, the poor Mexican guy being "converted" was trapped in his seat belt.  Each time the Mormon kid went for the sale (about 200 times) the Mexican guys would say:  "Yes, but, you know my wife is VERY, VERY Catholic." Undeterred, the missionary would invite him to bring his wife to the LDS Church and start the pitch all over.   I was ready to turn around and say: "Hey kid.  Cut it out.  This guy is Mexican and therefore WAY too polite to tell you to shut up.  Do not take advantage of his civility."  But that would have required talking on a plane and I have strict rules.

We made it to Montreal where Michael discovered that in addition to his two malfunctioning knees he was now experiencing extreme pain in his thigh which he attributed to a pulled groin muscle. Well, more on that later.  We were headed to Quebec the next morning and looking forward to exploring areas that had eluded us on prior trips due to inclement weather, sick children or broken cars.  But it was not to be (again....) because by now Michael was really in bad shape and couldn't walk more than about 100 steps which definitely puts a crimp in sightseeing.  Thus we were forced to eat and drink to excess (well at least eat to excess).

We chose the Chateau Frontenac as the perfect place to spend a rainy afternoon and a lot of money. On top of superb food and drink we struck up a conversation with the two couples on either side of us and two thirty-something women seated nearby.  We started talking first to the Canadian couple seated to our left.  Of course they commented about our "strained relations" and thus the apology tour began. Meanwhile, to our right, the two women at the table (both Elizabeth Warren  Democrats from Mass.) chimed in about how sorry they were about Trump.  So far, so good.  The Canadians are polite and don't personally blame any of us.  Now the two thirty year old women join in.  They are from Detroit and big Trump fans.  One makes personalized rosary beads that she sells on the Internet and says "Trump has made my business thrive".  OK. I can think of some reasons more people would be praying but I don't say that.  They then point out that they are second generation Americans whose parents fled Iraq because they were being persecuted for being Christians.  It is clear that they have not made the association that they are exactly the "type" of people that President Trump would deny asylum to.  The whole thing is too much for our addled brains and we just smile pleasantly and order a cognac.

Due to my disability I was not able to take many pictures. I did manage to hobble over and take these pictures of Montmorency Falls outside of Quebec City. The falls are taller than Niagra Falls at 272 feet (83 meters)

It is clear that Michael is not getting better.  Our Air BNB is up very steep, creepy stairs further compounding his difficulty.  I discover that I am in much better shape than I thought (see "condition not conducive to life" in last blog) as I haul luggage up flights of stairs and walk 25 blocks (long story) to find a pharmacy.  We leave Quebec and head to Baie St. Paul on the Saint Lawrence River which is a very sweet, artsy town about an hour and a half North of Quebec.  Having practiced a level of denial and transcendence that a Buddhist priest would envy concerning his pain, Michael finally cracks in Baie St. Paul and agrees to go to the new, shiny hospital ER a few blocks away.  So... here we go again.  Yet another medical system we can evaluate. Yippee!

Things have changed in the 44 years since I have been in a Canadian doctor's office.  At that time, the Doctor examined me, said I had strep throat, gave me a shot, also some antibiotics and no bill.  Just a cheery wave goodbye to his new American friends.  Not so much now.  The doctor was very nice and poked and prodded Michael in a knowledgeable way.  She thought he probably HAD pulled a groin muscle.  Then, to our surprise, she wrote out a RX for FORTY Oxycodone pills and some muscle relaxants. She said a MRI might be useful but that it would take them a month or a month and a half to get him an appointment. By then he'd be an addict for sure.  So, really little wiser but more doped up and over $600 USD poorer we left the hospital.

From there we headed to St. Simeon where we would catch the ferry to Riviere du Loop.  While waiting for the ferry I observed a totally Canadian scene.  On the dock stood a woman clad in parka, scarf, hat and gloves.  On the beach below a young girl exited the water wearing a bikini and -- well, that was it.  The ferry was pleasant although we saw no beluga whales or dolphins (damn!) and then it was just a quick drive to Notre Dame du Portage -- the summer home of our pals Andre and Roland and their really cute basset hound.  They were both most solicitous of Michael and Roland (a former professional ballet and modern dancer) was well versed and sympathetic in terms of Michael's injury. For a TINY town we had an absolutely outstanding dinner with Andre and Roland at Auberge Sur Mer (our inn). The scallops were REAL scallops -- not those weird things they are serving to the masses lately.  The next day we set off for Magog (which still sounds sinister to me) to meet up with my brother and sister-in-law.

The fall colors were not at their peak yet (surprisingly). However I did snag a few of shots of the fall colors.

I managed to capture photos of these geese while sitting in the car waiting for the ferry. Kudos to any bird aficionados who can identify them. I could find no geese that look like this in my Ultimate Bird Guide.

A rare two headed goose

Yes, Michael was still a mess but luckily driving was the only comfortable position for his thigh so we drove as much as possible.  Magog is in the Eastern Townships (I think).  While Quebec is tres, tres french, that area of the province of Quebec was originally settled by the English and the soon to be Americans who went the Loyalist route.  But they all still speak French.  You just see more Anglo Saxon names.  But I digress.

In Magog we visited the Abbaye Saint-Benoit-du-Lac founded in 1912 by French Benedictine monks.

The colorful tiles and bricks in the monastery lend a very modern flare to the design of the monastery.  Europe has nothing to worry about monastery-wise.

The chapel is also of a very modern but spare design.

Even the grout at this entrance shows the two different colors used in the construction.

While endlessly driving we listened to a lot of radio and picked up interesting information on the Canadian way of thinking.  This one is from Nova Scotia.  Apparently, the jail population has increased to a point where they have run out of prison space.  BUT, they have a surplus of condos.  So, the government is now renting the condos to  house some of the prisoners.  When the interviewer asked:  "What about security?  I mean no fences, wires, guards, dogs etc?"  the official replied: "When inmates go in, a fob is used by an official  to open the door.  Should the prisoner leave the premises, he will not be able to get in again without the fob."  Michael and I spun our heads around to stare at each other.  "Did we hear that right?" Why would they WANT to get back in ?"  We will never know the answer.  End of interview.  The Trailer Park Boys will be thrilled by the new lodgings. You have to have seen the show to get that joke.

Also a little quirky is Canadian Highway Signage.  While cruising along I looked up and saw a sign displaying quite clearly the graphic of three naked butts (mom, dad, kid size) over the words Naturalist Camp this exit.  It was NOT the only one we saw.  Think about it.  Naked in Quebec-- when?  The third and fourth weeks in August?  Well, there was that girl in the bikini.  Hardy folks, they are, eh?  Our extensive driving also allowed us to appreciate the fact that clearly there are 3.7 RVs for every living Canadian.  You couldn't go five miles without seeing an RV dealership spanning acres and acres.  Not to mention the ones blowing you off the road as they hauled their cars, boats, ATVs and horse trailers behind the behemoths.  It was like weed shops in Colorado... but less fun,

Having had a really nice, if VERY quiet, time with my brother and sister in law, they decamped for their home in Bethel Maine while we headed to Montreal to meet up with our friends Ginny and Gary and Fred and Betsy.  On the way, we stopped and had lunch with our old friend from Georgetown-- Phillip who has lived in Montreal basically since college.  It's great when you see your friends and they're pretty much the same -- well, we're all real  OLD but otherwise pretty much the same.

We had rented an Air BNB within a block or two of the Old Town of Montreal in a high rise. Coincidentally Bets and Fred ended up in the same building while Gary and Ginny were a few blocks away.  It had been a long haul, it was raining, Michael was crippled and all we wanted was to get into the apartment and relax.  And we did. The Air BNB host had a rather peculiar check-in routine where you dialed an access code to the high rise but then the door to the apartment was open and you found the key in a kitchen draw.  I was horrified but then realized we were in Canada. Waltzed right into apartment 1315 and with my last ounce of strength I unpacked every item we had since we would be there for a week.  Proud of myself, I went to the kitchen, poured myself a nice glass of red and sat at the breakfast bar catching up on news on the iPad. After 30 seconds the door opens and two people peer in.  "What are you doing in our apartment?" they ask.  "Well, it's our apartment I say smugly. See here's the key.  The landlord left the door open." They don't believe me.  I go get the rental agreement and guess WHAT?  We have apartment 1513, not 1315.  I guess it wasn't my last ounce of strength because we packed everything and hauled it up two flights. Now we are in the REAL apartment and Bets, Fred, Gary and Ginny join us for snacks and wine (since Michael is going nowhere).  There is a knock on the door.  I open it and there are two very thuggish guys wanting to know why we were in their apartment (1315). People have complained.  I said, "Well, maybe if you people didn't leave all your apartments open you wouldn't have these kinds of problems."  It fell on deaf ears.  I was glad they didn't rough us up.  No more renting Air BNBs in high rises.  Now I understand why people are upset about the guys running large scale Air BNB operations.

I had a nice time walking around the city with the pals while Michael sat in the apartment reading and being annoyed at his leg/hip/whatever.  After three days, our New England cohorts were off and we were ready to meet up with Michael's brother and sister and their spouses.  We had good meals, nice walks, good talks.  But if misery loves company there was plenty of company to be had.  First, the Intercontinental Hotel where the sib foursome was staying had a small fire in the middle of the night forcing them to descend something like 17 floors and stand in the rain.  We opined that it was a good thing it didn't happen to Michael and me since he would never make it down fifteen floors.  Then it did two nights later.  Luckily a false alarm.

A piece of the Berlin Wall on display in Montreal. (Photos below courtesy of Ginny Fox)

A street scene in Old Montreal

The ferris wheel in Old Montreal.

 After our visit, Brian and Dian were to meet Dian's sisters to cruise up the St.Lawrence and down past New England ending in NYC.  Well, they couldn't depart Montreal because of maintenance problems with the ship. Then they finally made it to Quebec but they lost so much time they had to scrap a number of ports of call (all the ones Brian and Dian cared about).  Finally fed up they bailed off the boat, rented a car and toured around. They stayed at the Frontenac and visited more with Michael and Patricia.  Then, on the advice of the concierge they booked a B&B he said was nice.  Six bedrooms shared one bathroom.  It was not swell.  They ended up flying to NYC to meet the rest of the family.  Meanwhile Patricia and Michael had their own problems. While at the Frontenac there was a tremendous storm -- so fierce they couldn't leave the hotel.  So fierce that it blew in through their windows and saturated the room.  It was not swell. They had driven Michael's new Audi to Montreal even though there was a recall that warned that the thing could burst into flames.  The dealer said not to worry. Actually the car didn't burn-- so that was good.  But in negotiating a parking lot they had a bumper incident which led to a flat tire incident in the middle of a gravel road in nowhere.  Only Audi would give you a donut that is not inflated.  You figure out how to inflate it while you are stuck in the middle of nowhere with seemingly no tool to use.  Anyway they survived. But this was a really snake bit trip.

Miraculously, we are home.  So is everybody else.  Nothing else has befallen us.  Michael's hip (it's his hip it turns out) is slowly coming up to speed.  I am indulging in a spate of physical activity unknown to me for at least 20 years.  It hurts but I must.  Once our parts are replaced and refined we should be off again.

Only a week until Day of the Dead which is always wonderful here.  And then (I am not counting this as a trip) we are off to the beach (Pacific near Manzanillo) for Thanksgiving. And then, "no mas" at least for a while.  Take care.

It Was the Best of Times...It was -- Well, You'll See

A Brief Respite

No, we are not asking for sympathy (yet).  There are worse things than a month and a half in Europe followed by a couple weeks in the Rockies.  But, we WERE getting a little tired with only less than a month between trips.  However, no way Jose were we missing Josh and Lizzie's marriage in Winter Park.  So, off we went.

The Six, no Seventh, Circle of Hell

What is WRONG with the climate in the U.S.?  Oh, I think we know.  At least some of us know. When we arrived in San Antonio for a two day reacquaintance tour of our former home town of five years we entered a blast furnace.  Charming...but a furnace.  It was 110 degrees with no wind and more humidity than one would like.  The River Walk was practically steaming and the tourists actually were.  All outdoor plans went out the window as we sidled up to air conditioners and sipped iced beverages.  That was where the hydrating (you'll see) all took off.  We DID do stuff but it was a challenge.

Since one could walk no further than about 200 feet before heat exhaustion ensued, we relied on Lyfts quite a bit.  Being outgoing, we chatted up the drivers and were totally horrified by many of the "conversations".  For instance, while predictably bemoaning the excruciating temperature we said, "Well, guess global warming has hit."  Reply:  "Oh no.  I had a science teacher (SCIENCE TEACHER) who explained that it is just that the Sun keeps getting closer to the earth."  He then opined on how "they" had perfected the climate as a weapon of the Deep State.  I would like to say that he was an outlier but, really, almost every driver we had was whacked in one manner or another. What has been going on since we left the country?  Maybe it's just San Antonio...  In any case we managed to get some shots that are a lot cheerier looking than we felt.  And then we headed for the Rockies....thank God.  Well, maybe.

The house (or a portion of the house) we stayed at in the King William area of San Antonio.

The historic Victorian houses in this area of San Antonio are a big draw.

While not a Victorian, this house is a classic Texan house built by a German immigrant in 1880.

These are the interior shots of another house built by a German immigrant, who started the Pioneer flour mill. The Guenther house is now open to the public and is a restaurant that serves an amazing breakfast.

The Old San Antonio Brewing Assoc. building, aka Pearl Brewery.

Not all of the River Walk is crowded with tourists and shops...

as these paddle boarders have found a quieter section of the river.

The Pack Convenes

Son  Alex was already with us but in Denver we found our other son Justin just in from LA.  This was after an extremely vexing rental car pickup.  They had no cars.  How can a rental car company whose entire business is cars have no cars.  Here are their excuses:  1)  There has been SO much hail; 2) The summer is SO busy (surprise!) 3) Our system was overwhelmed.  Fine.  We cooled our jets at Mr. Egg for 2 splendid hours before our chariot arrived.  Mr. Egg was a study in gluttony and excess. A simple breakfast there would be capable of feeding a Pakistani family for several weeks.  After indulging, Michael was incapable of moving food into his mouth for another 24 hours.  We waddled to our rental car, grabbed the other kid and headed to the mountains.  Oh, and it was still hot.  Not 110 degrees, but hot. Time to hydrate more -- (you'll see).

Meanwhile, I have been feeling punky since San Antonio but particularly so when we ascend an additional 3,000 feet above Denver (which IS the mile-high city) to Empire.  So, I figure once I get into the cool mountain air I will feel mucho better.  No, nope, not better.  So then I look up altitude sickness and, don't you know, I have every symptom -- light headed, short of breath, faint nausea, fatigue.  I'm batting a thousand.  So, what do you do?  You HYDRATE.  My loving extended family is handing me bottled water at every turn.  Sometimes twice a turn.  I comply and down vast amounts of water and -- feel worse.

The International Church of Cannabis and Other Marvels

The next morning I was feeling a tad better (and quite restless) so we set off on an adventure.  Adventure #1 was driving to the top of Mt. Evans (14,000+ feet) which, in retrospect, was a really, really big mistake but I thought:  "Hey, we're just driving up real quickly and then down.  And there are mountain goats and marmots and I haven't seen them before and I'm almost 70 so what the hell". After all, I'm hydrating.

Several female bighorn sheep were hanging around the parking lot by Summit Lake.

The bighorn sheep were still in the process of shedding their winter coats, creating a very scruffy appearance.

The views from the top of Mount Evans were spectacular since the weather was so clear.

These mountain goats at the top of Mt. Evans are an introduced species to Colorado.

However this marmot is a native.  And super cute...

I survived that and we moved on to downtown Denver to visit the International Church of Cannabis because, how could you visit Denver and NOT visit it.  By the way, the entire state must be perpetually high based on the number of smoke shops on every block.  We were greeted at the church by an incredibly friendly young man who did not SEEM stoned and his noble dog pet Munchie.  We were not prepared for the artistic treatment of the church.  It was really splendid.  I almost bought a T-shirt but felt it unseemly for a woman of my age.

The exterior of The International Church of Cannabis.

The interior of the Church, as can be seen from these photos, was quite spectacular.

The downstairs of the Church had some amusing objects as well.

Why Won't This Illness Abate?

I'm being good.  I'm drinking the equivalent of a swimming pool of water a day.  I'm barely drinking wine.  And yet..... I feel worse.  So much worse that I miss:  1) welcoming dinner; 2) wedding; 3) reception.  This is a reasonable thing to do since Winter Park, where the wedding takes place, is several thousands of feet even higher and with my (what we think is) altitude sickness I would only worsen.  But Michael has some great pictures of everything I missed so here goes....

Some pictures of the wedding ceremony. Fortunately the weather cooperated so that the ceremony could be held outdoors, even if the wind was a bit gusty at times.

My cousin Dan and his wife Sandy escort Lizzy down the aisle.

My brother-in-law Mike Couture officiated at the ceremony as first Josh...

then Lizzy read their vows.

All Good Things Must....

Come Monday many of the young and gainfully employed had to retreat to civilization and labor. I still felt crummy, even worse, but steadfastly continued to ply myself with water, water and more water.  Silly moi! That evening I had a glass of wine (yes, ONE) and walked upstairs to visit with the family and promptly passed out (I was assured gracefully) at the head of the stairs.  That got their attention!  So, off Michael and I went to St. Anthony's Hospital in Denver.  I walked right in, sat right down (no waiting at St.Anthony's!) and had a SAT (oxygen saturation rate) of 74.  "So, that's not great, huh?" I asked.  The woman stared at me.  "Let's just say it's not compatible with life".  She let me chew on that one for a while as they strapped oxygen on me and wheeled me away.  Long story short I was incarcerated for several days.  It turns out that I was doing absolutely the WRONG thing by hydrating like a loon.  They are still not sure exactly what was/is wrong with me but I'm OK.  It's something about the right ventricle ("but your heart is VERY strong" -- I guess 75% of it is) and the lung and why it's hard for it to force blood into the lung to oxygenate it but I am on my way to numerous cardiologists and pulmonologists so I'm sure they will figure it out. Or not.  Hospitalization did have it's moments.  Some things have changed in the 30+ years since I have stayed in one but they still woke me up at 11 PM, 2AM, 4 AM and 6 AM and whenever they were feeling particularly evil.  On day one, a doctor who looks exactly like William H.Macy on Shameless (this is not a good thing) leans in the doorway and says "Hey, I think I have the wrong room".  I'm thinking "God I hope so".  "Are you from Mexico?," he asks.  I guess he thought we didn't look like REAL Mexicans.  He only came once.  I also had a nurse from the Philippines.  I mentioned that it was a shame that her country was in the grips of Duterte -- that despot and murderer.  Her response: "Oh, we all love him.  He is cleaning up the country.  We say kill them all."  Hmmm.  I decided against a rousing defense of democracy. She was scary and had needles and I didn't want to annoy her.  Other than those two everyone was a combination of mid-west nice and Colorado Rocky Mountain High Hip so I had a pretty pleasant time.

The Recovery

Once I was sprung from the hospital we retreated to Michael's brothers lovely home in Englewood. Brian and Dian had headed for the Eastern Shore of Maryland so we were lord and lady of the manor. More extended family spoiled me with home cooked dinners and dinners out and being an invalid was not as bad as it is cracked up to be-- although it could get old real fast I think. We'd planned on visiting my niece Shannon and family in Carbondale but it was, of course, too high so fortuitously she was able to sneak in a visit while on a business trip to Denver. Once I was feeling better we decided to head out once more to adventure -- but not too high.  We went to Colorado Springs to see Garden of the Gods which was spectacular.  We had planned on Pikes Peak but clearly that was not in the cards for cripple girl.  I saw it though (sigh).  We also did the Denver Botanical Gardens which are better covered in photos than prose.

Just a few of the spectacular flowers at the Denver Botanic Garden.

This rabbit seemed totally non-plussed as we walked by...

admiring the beautiful gardens...

as did its friend on the other side.

The reflecting pond in the Japanese garden...

and the lily pond were two of our favorites as we strolled the gardens.

The unusual way these rocks were arranged caught out eye.

The next day we were on to the Garden of the Gods, where the photos say it all.

One More Outing

I was feeling more like the old Deirdre (i.e. defiant and self-destructive) so we went on another short jaunt on our last day in Denver.  We saw the #1 tourist site in Denver which is Union Station.  I'm glad they saved it and it is a beautiful building but when we return to America it is just amazing how many stores and restaurants there are.  Everywhere.  So, you go, you look and unless you eat or buy you are done.  I guess that's just cranky.  The Molly Brown House was MUCH more interesting.  You may (if you are of a certain age) remember the show "The Unsinkable Molly Brown".  Well, it was complete hogwash.  She was not a naif, country bumpkin girl who amazingly survived the Titanic. She was a millionairess, spoke 5 languages, ran for public office 5 times, advocated women's and animal's rights and was forced off the Titanic after taking over the organization of the life boats that had been bungled by the crew.  As we waited for our tour to start on the porch they came out and distributed fans.  Then they said: "Look, it is REALLY hot in there.  Use the fans.  We have stools to sit on if you feel like you are overcome by heat.  Definitely DON'T go to the third floor."  Well, by now I was hooked on Miss Molly (here's a tad of the self-destructive part) so I just ambled on into the inferno and took the tour.  No problems.  A breeze after San Antonio.

As we visited another Union Station, I wondered why so many stations were named Union Station. It seems a union station was where two or more separate railway companies shared tracks and facilities to allow passengers to connect conveniently between them.

The exterior of Molly Brown's house in Denver.

The carriage house.

A sphinx with Molly's face at the entrance to the house.

The interior of the house, while not overly large, was certainly opulent.

The wallpaper in the son's bedroom.  I want that wallpaper says Deirdre.

The Fantastic World of Insurance

Who the hell knows?  We have Medicare Part A but not Part B.  We have private insurance ($3.5K deductible) for about $1350/pp/per year (yeah Mexico!)  I had a private room (mountain view), CT scan, Nuclear Stress Test, Echo Cardiogram, Regular Cardiograms (many) and they drew almost every once of blood to run every known test on me.  So, I figure the bill is about a zillion dollars -- or a little more.  Now, in Mexico here is how it works.  Before they let you out of the hospital, you pay the bill.  The WHOLE bill.  Or you don't get out.  I don't know what they do with you if you don't pay up but we never wanted to find out.  In the U.S. it is a very different attitude.  Michael said to our nurse:  "So where do I find the billing department so I can get our bill."  Her response:  "Oh, don't worry.  They'll send it to you in 30-60 days."  And we live in MEXICO!  We're effectively fleeing the country!  I'm sure it will all work out.  We'll keep you updated.

So, this has been a rather grisly blog except for the joy of Lizzie and Josh's wedding.  We've got a trip planned for Canada in September/October and after that we are dedicating ourselves to refashioning our bodies on earlier models.  New knees for Michael and new "to be determined" for Deirdre.  In the interim, enjoy what is left of summer and look forward to those lovely crisp days of Autumn.  And let us know what you are up to OK?