Home Thoughts From Abroad

Taylor’s College sends their staff away for a morale boosting/team building weekend once a year. Pam doesn’t get to go, so last year, in a funk, neither did I. Regretfully I found out it was an exceptional resort as turtle-watching was high on the aganda. This year I agonized again. Yes, it is a free weekend, but it is pretty selfish of me. In the end, Pam, who was wise long before she got married, prevailed and I went.

And I got to see bioluminescent plankton! This was not what I was expecting. I was expecting a boring morale boosting team building weekennd filled with dumb games and long, squirmingly embarrassing performances. Instead what I got was a half-decent resort with very nice food, good entertainment from an excellent guitarist and singer, great company from my colleagues and an awesome light show in the water.

I must confess I balked a little the first night when someone suggested a midnight swim. It was well past midnight and I am an inveterate early riser. With the best of intentions I ended up doing a bunk and going to bed when I got back to my room. But the reports the following morning left me with no choice the next evening. I wasn’t going to miss what they were describing. So last night we headed down to the beach at a very respectable 11:30. There was no moon (although Mars was enormous!) so we had to pick our way pretty carefully down to the water, a hundred feet further out with the tide than in the morning.

Once in the water, I began to see sign that this was going to be something else. With every wave that came in, there was light activity (nothing like in the picture, I don’t have that kind of camera). As we waded further out and the light from the shore decreased, the light from the water increased. Now with every step little light sparkles would dance up from where we walked. They were not milky and cloudy, but rather individual points of light, like little underwater fireflies.

When you made waves with your hand the sparkles would increase, when you sent a spray of water into the air, sparkles would appear where they landed. When you raised your knees sparkles would rise from under the water to the surface, when you splashed water onto yourself, little sparkles would cling to your chest hair. When you swam, your arms would glow with a bright blue-white irridescence. It was utterly charming and almost magical. My friends and I were reluctant to leave even after 45 minutes of this. I only regret that I did not get to share this wondrous moment with Pam. But I am going to take her there the first chance we get.

A biology teacher can explain to you that “Bioluminescence is the production and emission of light by a living organism. Its name is a hybrid word, originating from the Greek bios for living and the Latin lumen meaning light. Bioluminescence is a naturally occuring form of chemiluminescence where energy is released by a chemical reaction in the form of light emission.” What he or she won’t be able to tell you is why. Neither are they likely to accept your explanation that God simply delights in making the world beautiful and a constant source of awe and joy for those He has blessed with the capacity to see and appreciate His creation. Knowing this makes it all the more delightful.

Is that Dave? Lessee: GameBoy in hand, check! Digital watch on wrist, check! Happy little smile on face, check! Must be Dave. Middle kids are like that. They don’t get to be whining and demanding, because their parents got over the mistake of tending to every little bump and scrape with the first kid. They don’t get to be precious and protected, because they’re not the last kid the parents are ever going to have. Instead they have a decent chance of growing up pretty close to normal because they are in the middle, and they get to do pretty much what they want, so long as they keep their head down.

They also get to be the conciliator between the other two and learn how to be diplomatic and accommodating. That can wear on anyone after a while, and middle kids are still human and everyone can get tired of a steady diet of accommodating others and need some private time. That is not a perfect match with our Dave, but it comes pretty close. A nice kid, a decent kid, who cares about others and gives everyone who comes his way fair value.

It is amazing how different each of your kids can be. As you age it is especially rewarding to see them mature and become who they are. We are proud of all of our kids, but today is Dave’s birthday, so he gets a digital hug from us today. It was fun having you around while you were growing up, son. Have a Happy Birthday!

Last night we had some of the newbies over for dinner. Pam made some yummy curry, and after a delightful meal we eased back and told each other some stories about our families and our travels. Amy told us about a friend who had a unique experience that demonstrated the power of prayer, and in response I shared this one.

When our kids were small we used to rent a cottage up on the Bruce Peninsula on Barrow Bay. The scenery was lovely, but if you know Georgian Bay you know that the water is always cold. But no matter, as ten miles across the peninsula was Stokes Bay, a lovely little cove on Lake Huron where the water is shallow and warm and there is a sandy beach and shade near the shore.

That day was particularly nice. Our favourite spot under a tree was free, the air and the water were pleasant and warm, and the kids were just a delight. We spent the entire day just running and splashing through the water, building sandcastles and having a picnic lunch in the shade. It was so nice we hated to leave, and dragged out our departure until everyone else had gone and the beach was deserted.

As I gathered up my clothes I realized that my car keys were not in my blue jeans or the backpack and I recalled that when we had arrived I had put them in the pocket of my bathing suit! A cold dread came over me, and the most pleasant sunny spot you can imagine became suddenly dark and threatening. The sun was going down. Shortly now it would be dark and there was ten miles of back road through forest to safety. In growing alarm I waded out into the water and looked at the nearly five acres we had frolicked in and I could feel both terror and despair creep into my soul. How would I ever find my keys in all of this?

I didn’t even know where to begin, so I bowed and prayed. I said, “Lord, I have been an absolute idiot. I am responsible for three tiny children and my failure to be careful has put them at risk. Please help me find my keys, and don’t allow my children to suffer for my foolishness.” Then with my head still bowed I opened my eyes, and there at my feet, between my toes, lay my keys! They were not even obscured by sand, but looked as if someone had just placed them there a moment ago. I didn’t have to take a single step; I just reached down and picked them up. That is the power of prayer.

People with no experience of God often ask how Christians can believe in a God that is so obviously uninterested in mankind; who is so distant and aloof. The answer is simple: we don’t. We believe in a God who is as real as you are, whose Spirit is a constant comfort, who listens to our every prayer and treats us each day like His family. I’m sure that some of you will rationalize this little story with words like ‘luck’ or ‘circumstance’, and if you want to go on kidding yourself and being deliberately blind to the greater reality all around you, that is your choice. But please don’t prattle on to Christians with your silly nonsense about a distant and uninterested God. That’s not who He is, and for you to think so is as foolish as a man who forgets his responsibilities to his children and goes swimming with keys!

Always ready to eat one more meal, especially if it means a chance to visit with family, we packed in brunch at an outdoor cafe on College Street on our last day in Toronto. Steve’s brother, a writer, editor and film critic of national recognition, showed up looking much younger than his sixty plus years.

Also on hand was Steve’s neice Sarah-Jane and her boyfriend, Michael, who has just finished his undergraduate degree and is considering his options for post-graduate studies. Sarah-Jane looked as relaxed and content as we have seen. Michael seems like a very decent young man with a bright future ahead of him, and they looked pretty happy in each other’s company.

Talk was as light as the occasion, and with the sun shining warmly on the patio where we ate, it felt good to be in Toronto in the summertime with family doing normal things. Our lives are so packed, and while we recognize the importance of staying focused on the challenges we face in Asia, it is a real relief to just relax and enjoy the simple things once in a while. They seem to pass so quickly.

When you only have three weeks of summer holiday, including flying time to and from Asia, you have to try and pack everything in. Steve flying out at the end of the week meant driving down to Toronto to see friends and family there. First on the list was Jane, the mother of two of Steve’s neices, and a dear personal friend. As always she was most gracious and hospitable.

We intended just to get lunch together, but it ended up much more than that. There was a very nice lunch, for which Jane paid, and then a tour of the newly renovated Art Gallery of Ontario. Jane was the perfect guide, as in her capacity as art coordinator for the city of Toronto, she had first-hand knowledge of not only the art on display, but the artists and circumstances behind each acquisition.

The building itself is a work of art, effortlessly encorporating old and new (unlike the ridiculous new entrance to the ROM, which looks like it has been attached with a sledgehammer) and we particularly liked the front gallery and the new winding staircases. We found the information on the Grange House and garden, which started the AGO, most interesting.

Ken Thompson’s personal collection was a little on the side of obsessive. His enormous collection of diptychs and other iconography of Christ’s crucifixion seemed more carnally ritualistic than reverential, and Rubens’ Massacre of the Innocents did not strike us as being worth either the hype or the money. More impressive was Bernini’s Corpus, a scuplture as beautiful and evocative as Michaelangelo’s Pieta with a luminosity that was both compelling and haunting. That and the numerous galleries we did not have time to explore will draw us back.

Nic had to take Abi for her shots, and Jon was working, so we got to take Ben for a walk in the park. They live in quite a pretty little town, with its own school, built in the 1880s, a playground with all the latest equipment, including a toy backhoe (Pam’s favourite) and a brand new library. Between the school and the library is a pond and a park, just perfect for taking a stroll with our grandson.

The ducks were not interested in the buns we bought, but no matter, as there was much more to explore. Jon and Nicole’s neighbourhood has some lovely old houses, and Pam and I fantasized about buying one and moving in around the corner from Ben and Abi so we could see them everyday. Probably not smart to torture ourselves with such thoughts.

On our way home we ran in to Nic and Abi coming out to find us. Pam entertained the kids by playing ‘Kick’ in the backyard, before settling in to lunch on the deck. Abi at just fifteen months has amazing coordination and could carry and throw the ball while she was running, although the effort would invariably knock her over. We captured some darling video which we may upload to youtube when we get a minute. Gosh it was nice to do what others may sometimes take for granted. Lunch on the deck with our family in the warm summer air was all that we have waited all year to enjoy.

Before we went overseas Pam’s family all got together at the Four Seasons in London for a farewell breakfast. We called it that, anyway. By the time we broke up it was closer to lunch than breakfast. No one wanted to leave and everyone had a good natter. We continued the tradition last year when we were home with similar results. Everyone came, no one wanted to leave.

This year was no different, although we are all a little older and most of us us are either retired on working on our post retirement careers. Conversation comes easy when you haven’t seen each other for a year and there was a lot to catch up on. The recession has hit us all hard, some harder than others, and the subject of work was predominent, at least among the menfolk.

The ladies chatted about kids and grandkids, and the problems of sick and aging in-laws. We showed around the book that we had printed of our first year’s weblog, much to the interest of all. We probably could have sold a few copies, if we had them, and then we took a few more pictures for the archives. Missing was Pam’s youngest brother Joe, who was in Abu Dhabi selling irrigation systems.

Breakfast was great, and again lasted well into lunch. It is a great way to get caught up on everyone’s lives. If you wanted to get further caught up by buying our book, go to Blurb.com and click on Buy a Book. When the search box comes up just type in the title of our book, Home Thoughts From Abroad. Make a comment on this post, and you get to appear in print next year!

We can hardly believe it, but this was the third prom we have attended in Malaysia. We got to the first one shortly after we arrived and before I even started teaching. That one was held at the Palace of a Thousand Horses, and still ranks as the best we have seen. This year’s affair, like last year’s, was held at the Sheraton just up the street from where we live (a handy reference point for lost and confused cab drivers we have had).

This might well be the last one, as it was not well attended. Muslims generally avoid these things – although there are some exceptions – and since they make up the bulk of the student body, it is hard to draw a crowd. But Chinese and Indian students love an opportunity to dress up, and they were determined to have as much fun and make as much noise as possible. The food was good and in typical Asian fashion the teachers had first crack at the buffet, so the selection was excellent.

One of our teachers, Craig Woodcock, organized the music. He has worked all year on putting together a jazz band of teachers and students, and they played and did a decent job. The student bands were a little less successful, but by then it was time to take a little stroll to to the hotel lobby and let the kids make some noise. Not the final chance to see the kids before the end of the term, but just about, so I did get my picture taken a few times! My favourite pic appears first.

I have lost track of the number of cell phones we are accountable for, but yesterday we picked up another one. It will be our London based home number until Pam goes back to Malaysia at the end of July, so if you want to get ahold of us, make a note of the number. It is 519.639.2262. We will be moving around a lot so a land line number is not going to help you much.

I not sure what I found more irritating in the whole purchasing business. Was it the sweet innocence of someone behind the counter – Mandi, I think her name was – explaining to me that this was where the SIM card goes, or was it the total misunderstanding of what the rest of the world outside Canada considers essential and non-negotiable service. We have as many SIM cards as I have glasses. We can cross the border into Thailand and pick up a SIM card for our Malaysian phone that will give us service and about two weeks worth of calling for 50 Thai Batt, or around about two bucks Canadian.

For that I can call anywhere in a country of 63 million people without incurring “long distance” changes. When I leave Thailand I pop back in my Malaysian SIM and I’m back on local calls ANYWHERE in Malaysia. I use my cell phone constantly. I have to clean out my message and call caches every couple of days because they are full. For this I pay 10 bucks a month. When Pam is in Singapore or Cambodia or Nepal we text each other four or five times a day and I have never been able to use up my ten bucks worth of airtime in a month.

But it is not just the silly nonsense of the phone system in Canada or its exhorbitant costs or the draconian restictions on its use that irritates me. It is the unwarranted assurance that ‘this is the best system in the world and you are lucky to have it.’  The reality is that we are so far behind the rest of the world in our telecommunications networks that it is unlikely now that we will ever be able to catch up. I think Cambodia’s cell phone network is now ahead of Canada’s.

Now that I have that off my chest I feel much better, thank you. I’m sure many of you – all of you who have travelled outside of North America, in fact – know exactly what I am talking about and share my dismay at what Canadians put up with. We are a patient lot, by and large, and this is a great national characteristic for it makes us very accepting. It also, unfortunately, leaves us with a phone network that no Asian nation would tolerate for a minute.

I am not a fan of buying new cars. Better to wait a year and let the first year huge depreciation drop kick in and pick up a good gently used vehicle that is one or two years old. You get more value for your money. That’s what Liz, Pam and I did today. We ended up with a Hyundai Accent, which is a very popular little vehicle for good reason: it is well built and relatively inexpensive.

Of course in my usual thorough-to-the-point-of-redundancy manner we had to look at everything in its class before we settled on the obvious. There are some interesting choices out there. For just a little more money the Honda Fit is a nice car. Nissan also makes a car in the same class, the Versa, which is both roomy and peppy. Toyota has the Yaris, which has a nicely styled exterior. But the interior doesn’t work. The legroom is cramped and the dash is positioned much too high with an annoying center console for the speedometer that obscures your vision even more.

Chevy’s entry in this category, the Aveo, is disappointing. You’d like to like it: the price is good and it comes with a good warrantee, but it has odd features. The driver’s seat for example is perched ridiculously high so that even a short driver is scrapping their head on the roof. And it is built in Korea by Daewoo, which has an even worse record of manufacturing errors than GM itself. Not a good choice at any price. We didn’t even bother to look at Ford or Chrysler, which says something about the confidence of the driving public in these products.

I read recently that a good stock investment right now is either Samsung or Hyundai. Both make good products with an expanding worldwide market. As I say, I’d like to have bought a North American car. But I’m not sure that any of them can compete in a global economy. So who is going to honour that outstanding warrantee when your company goes out of business?