Fed up with Air Transat’s/Thomas Cooke’s Toronto-Manchester (UK) service (described in a previous blog entry, Charter Flights, May 26, 08), I’ve been fortunate to be able to try a different Manchester-bound routing.  Happening to be in Chicago last month, I flew BMI from there to Manchester, direct (and back).  The results were positive:  a more comfortable plane, friendlier crew, better baggage allowance and food, a nice variety of free magazines, personal entertainment systems in each seat, and less fuss at booking and check-in, also 20-minute early arrivals (both ways) with speedy baggage delivery.

The only disappointment was Chicago O’Hare’s International Terminal, where there are limited nutrition options once you go through security. (Bring your own food!)  Toronto’s renovated Pearson can definitely set an example here (if you are up for paying the price).  BMI doesn’t have a Toronto service, unfortunately. 

Interesting to note:  BMI crew stay at the Holiday Inn, Chicago Mart Plaza—another favorite of mine!

Whatever you do that involves others requires a shift from "me" to "we" thinking.  Simple in theory, harder in practice.

Keeping everyone happy—and challenges to that—are usually based on three fundamentals, in most instances. Here is a brief  "how to" overview of fundamentals that seem to matter:

Consider:
1. How and why you’ve come together. Are goals similar?
2. What the rules might be—what’s  right and wrong, ethically, morally, circumstantially.
3. Where clarifications are necessary (if rules are bent), so misunderstandings don’t happen, and one party isn’t misled.

Be:
1. Fair and honest
2. Open and respectful
3. Flexible and considerate

…as best you can.  Most people know when they are taking advantage of someone else, and the person being taken advantage of knows too!  Don’t keep (the idea of) a relationship going at any cost in the hope that it’ll get better—because you’re the one who’ll be paying afterwards.

Upsets come from:
1. Being out of synch/selfishness—one person putting their own needs first (saying and doing differently or vice versa).
2. Expectations of both parties not being expressed or agreed upon (in advance or as they shift).  Avoidance isn’t a solution, just a way to upset someone else.  
3. Distractions being allowed to take over (one person changing their priorities, but not telling the other, and not putting in equal effort).

Long distance relationships have higher stakes and extra obstacles:
1. Trust, openness and communication matter even more.
2. Out of site should not be out of mind. (Excuses are easy!)
3. Practical, financial, and emotional realities are all stretched, tested, and differ.

Bottom lines:
1. It’s not all about you!  Never was!
2. Everyone has limited time and energy. Please don’t waste another’s!
3. Consequences happen.  We might not realize at the time how we affect someone else, but a lot of damage can come about from what might be considered "trivial."  As much as you might not be hurting, someone else could be in agony…

Cliché but apt: "Put the shoe on the other foot!"  We all have hopes and dreams, and it takes courage to make oneself vulnerable—even though life is short, and there are only so many opportunities for happiness.  If you know that you are jeopardizing someone else’s well-being by not being upfront and playing things out because it suits you, think again…

Alas!  If things are "too good to be true," they too often can be…  No matter how one conducts oneself in other circumstnaces (or is seen to be to the oustide world), it’s daily enounters, and opporunities for genuine intimacy that reveal who they really are and can be (or not).
 
The most powerful, wealthy, or good-looking among us have the greatest responsibilities and weaknesses, since they may have more possibilites to get away with things. Because of who they are or what they have (regardless of where it comes from) and their bigger-picture "do good" deeds, they can raise the loudest alarm bells!  Entitlement may be an outcome, but not a justification…  

Though news of the the "John Edwards Sex Scandal" is only just breaking, and details and coverage aren’t all clear, this is just another example of what we see not always being what we get.  Or, what we imagine could be possible (and wonder why not) actually being so.  Role models are hard to find, and "everyday people" imitate and get away with much more (than before) just because they can.  Sad, but true, this is something that’s become almost unremarkable socially.

Those who may be seen to have "less going for them" are invariably more reliable—and better at "playing nice!" On-line daters, take heed when making selections!  What impresses and allures on screen, might not in real life!

With my constantly changing routines and busy travel schedule, I usually find it hard to commit to extra-curricula classes.  Also, I am not a "gym person".  But, this past week, a neighborhood offering met my needs and interests admirably.  Roots’ flagship store in Rosedale has free one-class passes for their yoga studio.  Stimulated by the first class, I decided to take advantage of a "summer special"—unlimited classes for a week for $20. Though classes are reduced in number for the season, there were enough to meet my needs, and four out of five were enjoyable—especially the pilates. The studio is low-key, no mirrors or fancy accessories, and appears to have a regular clientele (all female).  Positioned at the back of the building (away from Yonge Street) the view of tree-tops through the window is well-planned and soothing.  And, eventually, you stop noticing the rattles of the subway line down below.  Definitely a positive experience!

 

Little wonder there needs to be public service announcements advising against drinking and driving (while operating water vehicles).  The LCBO (Liquor Control Board of Ontario) occupies prime real estate in popular lakeside locations.  In Killarney and Port Carling, their properties are waterfront.  Look at Port Carling’s pick-up dock (in the photo posted above).  On a recent road trip through Northern Ontario, no matter the basics communities seemed to lack, government liquor stores appeared prominent and dominant.  Maclean’s Canada Day double issue, with a feature offering the "startling facts" about Canadians vs Americans" gave interesting statistcs. Apparently, 27% of Canadians conusme alcholhoic drinks "at least ‘a few times a week’" compared to 19% of Americans.  Also, 1.3% of Canadians’ household expenditure goes on alcohol compared to 1% of Americans’.

Older dogs are like well-worn gloves. They fit perfectly, but shouldn’t be taken forgranted.   We don’t know when they’ll fall apart, or how. But, if we are careful with them, they can enjoy long happy and healthy lives.  

As shown throughout the DocSusan blog and website, Lev and Sage are my best friends, room-mates, editors, studio assistants, exercise coaches, and a whole lot more.  Most days, all is well with them. They know my quirks and I know theirs. But, as they’ve gotten older, I’ve become a little more cautious and concerned at the least sign of illness. Because of their size and age, I realize that things can happen very quickly, and signs and symptoms must be taken seriously and acted on without delay. On April 2nd 08, I posted a blog entry about this, Veterinary Emergencies. Three months later, I’m already reporting fresh developments…

From the end of May through June, Sage had had a strange sneeze. First it was every few days. Then it was a couple of times a day, and only coming from his left nostril. His eating and walking seemed normal, and he was sleeping well at night (not snoring, as others with congestion might). However, I was still anxious. Round one of trips to the vet led us to Children’s Benadryl.  Doctor Rachel Wolfson, a dedicated young vet at Rosedale Animal Hospital was very attentive.  As well as presribing this allergy medication, she also took bloodwork. We stayed in touch as Sage’s condition, despite clear bloodwork (and the Benadryl) didn’t seem to change. Doctor Cindy Kneebone at East York Animal Hospital added homeopathy to the mix, as well as giving Sage a head Xray, where nothing unusual was found. For three weeks after this, we carefully monitored developments. Then, finally, no improvement, and with more obvious discomfort shown by Sage—not being able to walk more than a few steps without sneezing—we sought specialist help.

Doctor Doug Mason at Toronto’s Veterinary Emergency Clinic gave us a same day appointment, and performed investigative surgery. After a Catscan and numerous other tests, an abscess (and related build-up) were removed from behind one of Sage’s teeth (which had to come out). A complete course of antibiotics and pain killers followed. Now, we are looking more closely at Sage’s entire mouth and gums, to determine if other teeth need to be extracted or not. Doctor Sharon French, a veterinary dental specialist who consults with Toronto Zoo (and is also at Toronto’s Veterinary Emergency Clinic) is now involved with Sage’s case, and has prescribed Maxiguard Oral Cleansing Gel.  So far, so good. We like her, and her approach!

Apparently, gum disease is not an uncommon problem with older small dogs, like Sage.  Unfortunately, undetected, it can be life-threatening.  I realize, because of the expediency and caring of a diverse group of of vets, and my constant vigilance and concern, Sage’s life has been saved.  I caution other pet owners not to overlook any of their pets’ symptoms, however fussy they may believe other people think they are. Our pets mean so much to us!

Unfortunately, veterinary interventions come at a price, and we are thankful to have pet insurance.  Pet Care is covering a chunk (but with limitations)!  Future blog articles will look at typical pet healthcare costs.  It is sad to know how many dogs are put to sleep, owners (understandably) unable to keep up with the price of treatment, or prepared to administer (complicated) medications.

p.s.  End of August update: Our claim through PetCare (all parts of it, including those not related to dental/mouth conditions) was denied.  There will be a lot more in future blog entries about this—a closer look at veterinary practice, procedures, and accountablity, as well as insurance company savvy.

I have been touched, today, by all the remarkable tributes to Tim Russert, NBC Bureau Chief and Moderator of Meet the Press.  Most Sunday mornings, his voice has been "background entertainment" while I’ve done household chores.  He was a fixture whom it was hard to imagine wouldn’t grace television news and debate well into old age. 

Tim’s sudden heart attack yesterday was yet another reminder to all of us that life is precious and we can’t have complete control, especially over its endings.  When someone as unique and admired as Tim is gone from our world in moments, without warning or preparation, we are stunned and ache.  From President Bush to regular viewers, everyone seems to have a reflection to offer, a deep fondness for this role model and outstandingly successful professional who remained a very down-to-earth family man and personal friend to so many.  My sincere condolences to all those dear to him.  He will be sorely missed.

At times like this, it’s hard not to think of more private individuals too, and their endings—those who haven’t enjoyed public success or recognition in their lives, those without family and friends who’ve supported and encouraged them. When their time comes, will it be recognized how their lives were meaningful or how much they could be missed?   How might things have played out differently for them, given a chance, voice, or simple luck?

It’s clear that we all leave our mark on the world in different ways, others’ impressions shaped by how we’re remembered or forgotten.  The following poem is dedicated to those who pass in greater silence and anonymity.  Maybe there was more to say about them, but there was no one to say it? Maybe their lives could have been happier and more fulfilled, but there was no one to spur them on? What might they have said if they could have written their own eulogies?  Perhaps this is one possibility?

AFTERWARDS

I was on top of the world
Or so you thought

Had achieved milestones,
Or so you thought

You didn’t know me well
You didn’t want to

You didn’t take me seriously
Though I asked you to…many times

You thought that I had more bounce-back than I did
You thought that I was stronger than I was

You thought that the day would never come
The day when I would succumb

I never did give up
Until now

I never did know how
Until now

I never wanted to
Hung on in the hope that things could change

More active
Less reflective
No, that didn’t work

More reflective
Less active
That didn’t work either

Needed, yes I was
If it was all about you

Admired, yes I was
If I lost myself in what I did

It was all up to me.

Sometimes, a charter is the only way to go, like it or not. Flying during the Christmas rush (unless we have a choice not to) might not be a good idea, as this poem tells…  

The Charter Flight

Screaming, screaming kids
Anxious chatter
Little air
Heavy care

A plane that feels like a cattle truck
Floor full of muck

Toilet worse
The "holiday flying" curse

Crew as kind as can be
Just doing their job

Trying to locate a Dr. on board
Of calamities there’s a hoard

Eventful flight
Calm not in sight

A long eight hours
Bitter morning coffee overpowers

To wake up from a sleep not had
Taste very bad

Knees sore
No space infront

Back bent
Toddler’s kicking behind won’t relent

Is the destination worth the journey?
Or the journey worth the destination?

Hesitation

Drunken woman mouthing off
Good thing we’re landing
Louder and louder she gets

Because she won’t remember
For her, no regrets

And, at Passport Control
Another pushing soul
Sniveling and shifting
Infront of me drifting

Let her go
Manners
Many travelers do not know

Or, under stress
Easier to expect less.

In case you’re wondering which airline this poem was written on, it was Air Transat.

At the end of December (07), I was on a another transatlantic flight.  I’d just visited a family member who was sick and ended up sitting next to someone who was returning from her mother’s funeral. Personal experience with funeral trips, as well as long-distance illness concerns, compelled me to pull out my notebook and record these poetic reflections.

Planes

Planes are for vacations
celebrations

They’re also for illnesses
and deaths

They carry passengers in all kinds of states
At all kinds of rates

No everyone’s planned to be there
Not everyone’s without a care

Life doesn’t just happen on the ground
Feelings gush all around

Tear stained faces
Of heavy sorrow reveal ample traces

Planes for pleasure
And planes for purpose

Planes for good memories
And planes for bad

Planes for happy
And planes for sad

Distance and time
Time and distance

From one reality to another
Time and distance

From one reality to another
Planes transport us

To places we want to know
And to places we’d wish never to go

Some journeys are not ours to decide
But, from them, impossible to hide

Some journeys may seem worse than they are
All that thinking while traveling far

Neither here no there
There nor here

Landscape changing
Mental rearranging

Flight out
Don’t know what to expect

Flight back
Time to reflect

Planes are for all kinds of reasons
Of life, reveal the many seasons.

  

Even after studying beginner Italian for three semesters at the Toronto’s Italian Cultural Institute, and buying a bunch of self-help books and tapes, I wasn’t confident enough to speak the language once in Florence (for the Biennale). However, this didn’t detract from my enjoyment of being there, and sensing what was said and written—taking in the ambiance, mood, and energy. In Italy, la dolce vita (the good life) is energizing, especially when a stark Canadian winter sets in.  At a quick glance, here is some of what seems to matter:  art(s), food, hairdressers, individuality, laughter, playfulness, style, uniqueness

Food tastes different—fruit and vegetables smell like they’re supposed to (haven’t been forced or altered), and time is taken over meals. Friends gather in large groups and share what’s on the table—at home and in restaurants.  There’s a lot there, but servings are adequate, not excessive.  People learn how to dine, course by course, and interact while eating, from an early age.  They also are seen out walking on a daily basis.

There may be chaos surrounding organized events and activities, but everything gets done, just in time, and happens how it’s supposed to.  Along the way, it might be realized that biggest isn’t necessarily be best.  More intimate gatherings and personal/neighborly relationships prevail.  Instead of being home alone, many are out doing their daily grocery shop, or frequenting destinations in easy reach, by foot.  The streets bustle with locals engaged in habitual activities that have existed for generations:  going to mass, errecting and taking down market stands, or standing up for an aperitif and antipasto at a corner bar. Even well-known bursts of rain don’t stop everyday life, or visitors.

 

A few local tried and proven recommendations in Firenze include:  Carlo Bay: haircare; Cellai: hotel accomodation; Grom: gelato;  Madova: gloves; Muniaciello: pizza, cocktails, music, Rivoire: lunch, pastries, home-made chocolate; Zaza: fun, central trattoria; Zechhi: art supplies.

New puppies draw a lot of attention.  Dogs’ aging processes and illnesses don’t get enough. In the last month, I’ve experienced two veterinary emergencies with poopals, Lev (now 11) and Sage (now eight).  These have reminded me how quickly caninekind live their lives.  Anything that happens to them seems to come about almost instantaneously (far more speedily than with humans).  Sage got a blocked anal gland, with absess.  Lev had a third eyelid appear that I didn’t know exists.  Both dogs’ conditions were alarming.  Sage did a lot of licking and could barely walk.  Lev pointed her head in my direction, eye completely white (no eye ball showing). Thankfully, I noticed each dog’s symptoms promptly, and got emergency veterinary appointments and treatments.  I treasure every moment with such wonderful companions, and am thankful to have found appropriate, expedient, and convenient care for them.  Sometimes, there’s a tendency to wait and see what happens if we’re feeling poorly.  Animals don’t seem to have as much time as we do. Not only can they not explain to us how they’re feeling, they also tend to display greater bravery (suffer in silence).  If we have pets in our lives, it’s our responsibility to be alert to changes in their conditions, taking action right away if we are aware that something could be wrong.

Sage thanks East York Animal Clinic staff, and Dr. Kneebone.

Lev thanks Rosedale Animal Hospital staff, and Dr. Davidson.

This morning, I can hear the birds singing, a treat I’ve not been aware of in a long time.  It’s a sunny but crisp Sunday, and I think I can feel spring in the air.  I don’t know if this is true, but can only hope that we could actually be in for some milder weather and related mood changes.  To quote a familiar Beatles’ song, "It’s been a long, cold, lonely winter."  In a climate like Toronto’s, when snow is heavy, situations arise that would be unusual elsewhere, like the one described here…

Adequate and accessible parking for the genuinely disabled is essential, but not when be hazardous.  For too long, vehicles with disabled stickers (not necessarily disabled drivers) have been allowed to park on busy mid-town cross streets, like Balmoral.  These roadways that get even narrower when snowbanks pile up, like this past February. When a Wheel-Trans vehicle tried to squeeze between a parked Mini (with disabled sticker) and an iced over snowbank there was a wedging, and neither vehicle could be moved without tow truck assistance and police intervention.  Consequence, the street was inaccessible to regular traffic for three hours.  What are the chances  that a Wheel-Trans vehicle should squish a car displaying a disabled sticker.  Perhaps there’s a message in the irony?

Police vehicle cutting off the "accident area, parked vertically—shows how narrow the street is

Typical family size SUV arriving at "accident area"—shows the street can only really accommodate one lane of traffic

Typical street traffic congestion:  snow or no snow

 

In North America, we’ve just started to hear about "pink cabs." The Pink Ladies cab company was started in Warrington (Northern England), in 2005, and has been so successful it’s now looking for franchisees. Pink cabs are driven by women for women, saftey and comfort being paramount.  In the days when all British cabs were black, "Pink Ladies" might have stood out.  Now they are part of an already colorful streetscape.

I hadn’t been in London for quite a while till Fall 07. (I still haven’t managed to finish writing about that trip on this blog, with so many other life/travel interruptions.)  When there, I couldn’t help but think how much brighter a place this city has become because of its colorful cabbies. Traditional "stiff upper lip" black vehicles are transformed into mobile advertising machines.  When I noticed the first colourful cab, I thought it was a one-off vehicle.  Then, each way I turned, I saw another and yet another.  Time to pull out the camera and start snapping.  Cab after cab, I collaged their images into a poster (inserted above) on returning home.  Funny what strikes us on our travel adventures.  I’d never have thought that cabs would capture my attention like this.  I suspect their ads are working! You certainly can’t help but notice them.

Other ads, I was aware, were displayed by humans.  I chanced on a bunch of placard supporters close to Covent Garden station.  I didn’t envy their job, sitting there holding arrow signs to local businesses. Fortunately, it was a balmy September morning.  I don’t know how widespread or seasonal this form of (in)human(e) advertising might be…

 

The "January blues" are legendary. Then comes February, and moods sink lower. Is there anything that can be done to help? Some are too familiar with the pain (not just in January or February, but year round) and don’t need to have it explained (like in the poem below). Others are able to escape it— supports, special advantages, or attitude making things easier.  Living in warmer friendlier climates (or taking a sun break) can also be helpful.  But this isn’t always possible.  In cities such as Toronto, known more for aloofness and coldness than ambiance and joie de vivre, extra efforts need to be made.  It’s important to be aware of those around us, and check-in on them—include, invite, encourage, or reciprocate.  At least, try and offer a smile or "hello," even to someone you don’t know.

FEBRUARY FUNK

Looking good on the outside
Doesn’t dull the pain within

Do you know that pain?

Under the nose
In the throat
Around the eyes

An upset that you feel
Even if others don’t see

Do you know that pain?

Maybe you don’t
Likely you won’t

Do you know the sadness of
Loneliness
Hopelessness
Helplessness
Despair?

Seeing that others, clearly, don’t care

A "Please"
"Thank you"
"Sorry"
"Well done"
Might pick up someone else’s day

Few brave enough to show the way

Don’t ask "Why?"
Ask, "Why not?"

CONFIDENCE

Confidence is driven by others
Not just ourselves

We know, ourselves, what we do, feel, think
What’s right, wrong, uncomfortable, or easy

Others affirm, deny, encourage, avoid
Enable and disable

Contribute to who we are and can be

It’s who surrounds us
And who doesn’t

It’s what they say
And what they don’t

How they respond
Or not

No matter our strengths and weaknesses
Failures and successes
Feedback and allegiance matter
 
Others indicate the worthwhile, and the not so
Include and exclude
 
What we’re left with is up to us.

I’m thrilled to be contacted by those who enjoy my poetry. Earlier this month, Susan Kusel, of the Wizards Wireless Blog, wrote to ask permission to include excerpts from my Kilimanjaro series on her "Poetry Friday." Her brother, Russ, was due to climb Kilimanjaro, and she wanted to provide him with inspiration. How wonderful! Last week, after Russ returned from his successful ascent, Susan posted her own poem to honor his journey. Comments back to both blog posts, by readers, and Russ, himself, were, affirming, touching, and thought-provoking. Siblinghood at its best!

Even relationships assumed to be "on" might be "off."  Apparently 20 million American couples are in low- or no-sex relationships.  January 28th’s View featured Bob Berkowitz discussing his (and his wife’s [Susan Yager-Berkowiz]) recent headline-attracting book, He’s Just Not Up for It Anymore. Why Men Stop Having Sex, and What You Can Do About It.

This topical text draws attention to a number of interesting questions about where men’s disinterest comes from, including:
1.  Is it physical, emotional, psychological, or simple partner-boredom?
2.  Is it an anger-response about other aspects of a (failing) relationship, or symptomatic of depression?
3.  Is it due to too-easily accessible porn (some men becoming unable to be turned on without it)?
4.  Is it an outcome of "natural causes"?

How sexless men’s partners might feel is also considered.  Are they dejected, relieved, guilty or suspicious (of infidelity, asexuality or homosexuality)?

Whether there’s sex in a relationship or not, many still prefer being seen to be part of a "two" than "unchosen"/solo.  Long-term solos (by chance or choice) have their own "going-sexless" challenges—and (usually) fewer viable alternatives, as well as less public empathy.

Even if a partnership is sexless, it might still be supportive and status-affirming. This was demonstrated to me recently, at lunch with a colleague.  She announced, "Going to be 50 this summer, and I’ve more self-confidence and daring than ever—must come from being married with kids…"  "How do you think those without marriage and kids might feel, the same "big birthday" coming up," I asked. "What keeps them going?"  Quiet and visibly uncomfortable, she couldn’t imagine or relate, and changed the subject.

Heath Ledger’s unfortunate death has generated much discussion about its nature—whether it was accidental or not. From the LA Times to Time (and beyond), it’s become a major news story!  Close family and friends of the deceased insisted right away on "accidental causes." Noone likes to think about, admit to, or acknowledge the "S"(uicide) possiblity, at anytime.

Media have provided a lot of extra/invasive hype, with many presumptive questions.  Naturally, suggestions of foul play abound, with analyses of the actor’s distresses.  Whatever the truth might actually be, we’ll never really know. Sadly, the one person who could have told us isn’t around anymore.  Apparently, he was found alone, face-down and naked on his bed, by service providers (his housekeeper and his masseuse).  Close family were thousands of miles away, and the face that Ledger gave to the world in his many outstanding film performances was, obviously, not the face he wore privately (of late).

Ledger was famous. That’s why we get to hear, see, and read about him, and his final days and hours.  But, there are many other individuals, just like this movie star, dying every day—and in our own midst. Their burnout, despair, frustration, and loneliness cannot be remedied effectively.  Accidents and non-accidents happen, closer to home and all the time…

No matter the nice things said and done after a "loved one" is gone, nothing can make up for what was not said and done when he or she was alive (manifesting that all wasn’t right). The "take-home message" is to be more mindful of those around us continually—and sensitive to our interactions with them.  We truly never know how we might affect someone else, and what the consequences might be.  What’s not a big deal for you, might be for someone else. Everything adds up.  And, sometimes, just one more disappointing encoounter may be that one more too many…

This following simple poem, "Depression Alert," is an important one to remember. I included it (below) in tribute to Ledger. His untimely death provides an opportunity to share sentiments that might not have gained exposure otherwise.  Think of those with whom your life intersects. Perhaps they need a little more attention, consideration, and follow-up than you’ve been able to give them till now.  We may all be "busy," but…

DEPRESSION ALERT!

The places you don’t go
Clothes you don’t wear
People you don’t see

Others’ imaginings…

A life of ease
Please don’t tease

The pain
Nothing you can explain

Torment deep within
Understanding thin

Not who they think you are
Distance very far

Spoken up and not heard
Silent and more congenial

Another funeral.

 

(Photo:  those who made it to the top of Kilimanjaro, with self and guide) 

Even though my Kilimanjaro climb is less recent, certain lessons from it are memorable.  These include:

1.   Better sustain the cold
2.   Bathe less extravagantly
3.   Economize on clothes and possessions
4.   Stop clock-watching
5.   Take things more slowly
6.   Observe and listen
7.   Not fuss about comfort and convenience
8.   Require less sleep
9.   Sleep in uncomfortable conditions
10. Eat more simply and be less picky
11. Not need news from elsewhere
12. Take time out from electronics (TV, Internet, cell, etc.)
13. Push self further and harder, and not complain or avoid
14. Get less flustered about externals/what can’t be changed
15. Focus, no distraction, whereever and whenever
16. Chat with strangers and hear their stories
17. Open up to seizing the moment
18. Get back to basics (with everything!)
19. Assess what really matters
20. Be more fearless

Just like New Year’s resolutions, lessons learned on the trail can be hard to follow long-term, especially when there’s so many of them (and potential obstacles).  Though everyday hastles aren’t exactly the same as chance-in-a-lifetime climbing challenges, circumstances and reactions mightn’t be too different!

Poems 15 and 16 provide closure to my Tanzanian travels—reveal their legacy and an after-trip evaluation of sorts.  (Please don’t forget to check out the other Tanzania Safari Poetry blog posts before and after this one.)  Next, I’ll share the lessons of Kilimanjaro, which, I believe, helped prepare me for the Florence Biennale experience!

15.  From JRO to YYZ

It wasn’t paradise
But it was very nice

To feel, do, see without a care
In the moment
Just to be there

Coming home, not as fun
Things have changed
Inspiration won

No more half-measures
New ideas as treasures

Different perspective
More reflective

Attitude of mind
No longer to be left behind

Taking chances out of reach before
Fresh possibilities
Wide open door

Wanting more
Needing less

Pushing harder
Evaporating stress

What matters
Finding happiness

Goals simplified
Reality intensified.

16.  Trip Evaluation

Missed what was in front  
When looking behind

Missed what was within
When looking without

Regrouping, regathering
Soaping up and lathering

Coming home’s been a process
Messages mixed
Needing to be fixed

Coming home’s been a rebirth

Opportunities to do not as before
Paving the way for a whole lot more

Magic in the moment
Risk ahead of reason

Adventure needs to live
So much to give

Magic in the moment
Life is short

If we don’t do it soon
Chance is we never will

Staying with the feeling of the climb
Not wanting to run out of time

Need to make it to the top again
No matter when

No more struggle
No more muddle

Some know how
Others know now

Never want to say
I knew then

Power of doing
No more brewing

Living each new day
In a special way

Recognizing what’s good
The important understood.

 

 
Poem 14 was written on the journey home.  (Please don’t forget to check out the other Tanzania Safari Poetry blog posts before and after this one.)

14.  2 Degrees C in Toronto—Light Snow Falling

It’s a long way back from Africa
Dreams fade to realities
Magical moments diluted in airports

Travel companions shift gear
Though you’d like to hold them near

What’s been put on hold has time to unfold

2 degrees Celsius in Toronto, light snow falling
Announcement on landing

Welcome back to a world where simple pleasures easily lose focus
Ready to journey away again

Planning for what, where, when
Already.

 

Poem 13 describes final game sightings, heralding the trip’s conclusion.  (Please don’t forget to check out the other Tanzania Safari Poetry blog posts before and after this one.)

13.  Day 9

Penultimate game drive
Not as alive

Sightings less prolific
Nothing scientific

Simply, the end of the trip is nigh
Almost time to say goodbye

From more to less populous parks
Expectations and excitement, less sparks

Nature full of wonder
At the right place
In the right moment

We’ve felt it
We’ve been there
We long for it
We’ll remember it

Big beast of a jeep
Adrenaline rush
Hush!

Two cheetahs to the right
Lolling under a tree
New feeling of glee

When it’s over it’s over
Or so you think

"Hakuna Matata!"
Staying cool helps

"Caribou!"
A welcome that lasts

A family of giraffes to the left
Mother, father, three calves

Gracefully and elegantly close our trip
Of magic a real sip.

 

Poems 11 and 12 describe personalities we met along the way—highlight less typical cultural exchanges and adaptations.  (Please don’t forget to check out the other Tanzania Safari Poetry blog posts before and after this one.)

11.  Safari—Day 7

Bats by night
Bows by day

Our last tented camp
Another sleep entertained rest
Malarone dreams, the best

Wildlife squawking and screeching
Tent solid
No breaching

Electricity and water rationed
Camp hostess impassioned

Lovely Argentinean married to German
Children speak Swahili

A goddess in beads and white linen
Male travelers’ heads spinen

With the Hadzabe tribe they get to strut their stuff
Shoot arrows—just enough

Another cultural exchange

Bracelets and necklaces at a price
Reciprocity nice

Journey back
Dust hard to swallow.

12.  Safari—Day 8

Masai village resort
A transitional place
Others set the pace

Texan in charge
Enables aspiring talent to live large

Neither country nor city folk
A different life they know

A cultural exchange, quick training
Everyone gaining…or not

Masai musicians and acrobats at dinner
Later they guard our rooms
With spears, not brooms

What are they thinking?
What are we thinking?

Merging the ancient with the modern
The affluent with the down-trodden

Begging inevitable
Who are the culpable?

A future that’s hard to surge
Paths diverge

For me, not a happy feeling
We lie in our cozy beds at night
Their experience, more of a fight.

 
Poem 9 explains how campers’ fatigue had set in.  Poem 10 describes a more active way of taking in the landscape and meeting its people—cycling.  (Please don’t forget to check out the other Tanzania Safari Poetry blog posts before and after this one.)

9.  Safari—Day 6

Chips, spaghetti, canned veg and mince
Usually food that would make me wince

Last tented lunch
Ready to munch

At this point
Anything tastes good
Stomach understood.

10.  Safari—Day 7

African biking
Like its hiking

Dust, gravel, and rocks
Patience and caution
With the posterior so much contortion

The morning wind makes the awkward feel easy
A ride that’s surprisingly breezy

But, then comes the midday sun
For now, nature has won

After lunch under a shady tree
Enough for me

Banana stop
Chapatti stop
Along the way, lost en route, the momentum to stay

Village children draw near
No fear
Our food they’ll hold dear

And so our uneaten lunch we pack into a box
Gently, sweetly, the little ones share
Then comes the fox
Out of his lare

Village bully grabs what he can
That wasn’t our plan

The afternoon sun scorches
Our support vehicle hot as torches

A puncture needs to be fixed
Another adventure
Nothing nixed

Another day in Africa
Luxuriating in the moment
Not thinking about what might be elsewhere
Details swirl, but no heavy care.

 

Poems 6, 7, and 8 describe experiences in the Ngorongoro Crater area, where wildlife was more sparse and a slight safari-fatigue was manifesting.  (Please don’t forget to check out the other Tanzania Safari Poetry blog posts before and after this one.)

6.  Safari—Day 4

Into the crater we go
Flat topped Acacias
Then burnt brush
Followed by a nothingness

Hush, hush

An arid plain
Wind blowing
Few animals showing

A solitary ostrich struts her stuff
Finally a photo op.
No fears

Two old lions peruse
One ready to snooze
The other leaves to wander
Has us gazing yonder

A couple of bull elephants take a drink
"They’re old," our guide tells us
That this is a retirement area, it makes us think

Today, the energy’s not there
Day four, our expectations higher, for more to see
But that’s not reality

The Serengetti had us in another place
A faster pace
Multiple herds
More than just a trace.

7.  Monkey Picnic

Monkey picnic
Very slick

Jeeps move in
Monkeys too

Closed the roof too late
Monkey in
Monkey out
No time to hesitate
Monkey see
Monkey do

Cookies from the front seat gone
Greedy monkey eats every one

Other monkeys surround
No contest
He knows how to play the round

And soon the pack is gone

Working each hand
He makes a stand

A snarl as the camera nears
Really upped my fears

Bold male
Cannot fail

Young mother near
But away they steer

Tiny babies suckle
One of nature’s wonders
We chuckle.

8.  Afternoon Drive

Look and you shall see
If it’s meant to be

Pressure on to find a Rhino
Or, to let it go

An on the way, so much more found
By chance
Hyenas, Flamingos, Wildebeest abound

From a distance,Rhino finally spotted
Photos taken of profile

Though not close
Of excitement provides a dose.

 

Poem 5 describes the most potent people experience—with the Masai. (Please don’t forget to check out the other Tanzania Safari Poetry blog posts before and after this one.)

5.  Masai

Masai Masai everywhere

Truck in ditch
Makes them rich

One jeep pulls over to help another
Then smother smother

Children on backs of other children
The breast fed
The underfed
The snottied nose
The rings on toes

Picture, picture
Bracelet, bracelet

Haraka, haraka
Quickly, quickly

Little girls pushing sales
Make interesting tales.

Three or free
Hard to understand

From our end
Nothing planned
Clearly a routine
Can’t be mean

Dust fills the air
Nearly there

Tow chain breaks
Up go the stakes

3 jeeps hooked together
Now drizzly weather

2 pet dogs play
While in the company of the Masai we stay

Fantasies of passing the night in their huts
Could think of worse ruts

Small change spent
Time for the sinking sand to relent

Spontaneous visit done
A lot of fun
Everyone won.

 

Many Kilimanjaro climbs are followed by a safari, and ours was no exception.  Also, poetic reflections kept on coming, and will be included in the blog posts immediately following.  You might also like to look back at my other poetic safari experiences from 2006:  general observations, as well as those specific to experiences in Botswana and Zambia. 

The 16 poems from the Tanzania trip have slightly different emphases and perspectives. Though there are many aha moments, the magic of first-time marveling isn’t quite as pronounced.  Also, having just climbed Kilimanjaro, any experience, no matter how special, is hard to juxtapose.

All 16 poems will be posted chronologically (over 9 blog pieces, which includes this one).  The first four poems were written in the Serengeti, which, for me, was the most potent wildlife experience. 

Poems 1 and 2 are the first two Serengeti poems.

1.  Safari, Day 2

The chorus starts well before dawn
Songs and signals
The volume rises

And still it’s dark outside
Beyond our tents so many animals hide

It’s their space
Not ours
We’re visitors here

Zipped in for the night
Nothing should we fear

Escort with bow an arrow led the way
And, in our tents, we’re supposed to stay

Window canvas open, mesh protecting
A dark clear sky is all we see
Starry, starry, starry night.

2.  Safari Recap—Day 1 - 2

Antelope, gazelles, jackals
Warthogs, lions with cubs
Hyenas and leopard
Elephants, giraffes, zebra
Wildebeest
Hippos, swallows, vultures…

To name but some that we saw
A thirst for more

And, disappointed we weren’t
Next day, a whole day drive
The feeling of being so alive

Watching in wonder and awe
Just as you thought you’d seen the best
Then came more

Dead zebra and hypo
Natural deaths

Dead jackal
Road kill

Wounded and bloodied zebra
Lion kissed but missed

Another lion charging for prey
Not fast enough
All ran away

At the watering hole they knew what to do
Flap their tails, grunt, and cry
None of them were going to die

Solitary bull giraffes
Gave us interesting views
But, a herd of elephants, our very best news

Monkeys preened
Baboons watched over lionesses and their cubs

Tourist-contained jeeps gathered in hubs

Hippos—a hundred or more
Wallowing in their pooh
The biggest outdoor loo

Crocodiles and birds provided picturesque backdrops
So many stops!
A Hamerkop’s giant nest
Oxpacka birds’ symbiosis with giraffes

So many herds
So many terds.

 
The two poems that follow look at transitioning back to reality—our own world of others and the Tanzanian roadscape that we found ourselves traveling through (Kilimanjaro, behind and above the clouds and the meaning it may imbue, personally and locally).

8.  Explaining to Others

Explaining to others
Is hard to do

The pain, the gain
The fight, the plight

The keeping going
The inner knowing

The turning of day into night
And night into day

Snow, ice, wind
Burned our faces
Wounds as traces

We know we were there
Our bodies too

But, pinch me now
To put into words
That others can understand

Peek experiences
Intended to be shared

Special moments are private
But things done together
No matter the weather
Give other rewards

A chance of a lifetime experience
Something to hold dear
Especially when others with you have been near.

9.  On the Road

Dust and dirt
Fumes and noise

Back to a reality of sorts

The adventure continues

Skinny goats and cows
Bones protruding

Roadside huts and store fronts
Locals milling
Even for a shilling

Coca Cola clearly the drink of choice
Celtel the monopoly for text and voice

The two biggest advertisers influence
But, where’s the opulence?

You decide

Rich dyes and prints
Each unique
Make wonderful clothes

Women with basket trays of bananas on head
Make a colorful scene
As do their children
School uniforms pristine

About the rest
It’s hard to know yet

Smiles on faces
Police checkpoints enforced

An order amid chaos
Slowly, slowly—pole, pole

Donkeys travel the same road as cars
But many locals walking and talking
Active and out there

Not the most progressive place in the world
But, does that matter?

Western eyes quick to judge
Western minds quick to nudge

Leave these people be
If they’re in harmony

The vibrancy of the plants say it all
Potted for purchase on the curbside
Jacarandas high above
A haze of blue and mauve

Bougainvillea
Dashes of pink
Makes you think.

 
The following two poems look at impact:  after-climb thoughts and reflections.

6.  Day 8—After Climb

Up there
Down here

Down here
Up there

Losing the fear

What once seemed difficult
Might not longer be

What once was out of reach
Attainable in reality

2 days on
The climb is but a dream

2 days on
Thoughts of home flow in

The wanting to stay in this space
Not that

The wanting more time away
Just to play

The wanting to shift
From an environment that doesn’t gel
Where the air is stale
And people pale

The wanting to be in the now, not just today
Feel alive in every way

Vital, intense, passionate, active
The Kili climb reminded me…

Who I was and how I can be.

7.  Day 8—Camaraderie

With some you can
And others you can’t

With some you will
And others you won’t

There’s no knowing who, where, what, when
Except by how you feel
And what you’re enabled to do

The right group
At the right time
In the right moment

Being confident of others around
Made everything feel sound

Knowing we were on the same team
Made hurdles a dream

Familiar and not
About each other we learned a lot

But, oh so much more to know

Seeds of friendship to grow
Or, just right for the circumstance

A special connection, no matter what
A great beginning
Kindred spirits as they are
Not fancied up in a jar

Bonds that’ll mature
Or, bonds that’ll slow?

Magic and mystery surround
Coincidence and luck abound

Staying open is what counts

Continuing onward, upward, forward
No markings on the trail ahead
Spontaneity instead.

 
The first of the next two poems describes approaching the final ascent.  The second records having made it to the top.

4.  Day 5

Nearly there
In the world without a care
Except getting there

What an accomplishment to make it
Real and raw
No way to fake it

What a dream to be above the clouds
See the winding paths we have traveled

Step by step
Minute by minute
Ache by ache
We’re closer to our goal

This time tomorrow
Pole by pole
To the top of Kili we’ll stroll

Winded, worn, and wary
There’ll be nothing scary

What a climb
What a rhyme
Just in time

To complete something others don’t dare to try
Cautiously
Carefully
And with a sigh

What an opportunity
A privilege
A gift

From doing nothing else there can be such a lift

In the moment
Or telling what was
No need for any because

And, what comes next
Who knows?

Applying lessons learned along the Machame Way
To a very different N. American every day.

5.  Day 6, Kili Ascent:  Success

Strong in body
Strong in mind

Strong in mind
Strong in body

To do things out of the ordinary
In ways that are extraordinary

To watch others trying them too

Those who can
Those who can’t

Those who could
Those who would

Those who did.

 
The two poems that follow here are mid-climb, on a long Day 4.

2.  Kilimanjaro, Day 4/1

Equal when challenged
Challenged when equal

The day is long
The body becomes strong

And so too the mind

Others’ responses you can’t always gage
Except with Kilimanjaro as stage

Those who like to talk
And those who don’t

Those who give signals in other ways
A posture, a glance, a shrug
Even a little tug

Camaraderie versus competition
Encouragement versus criticism
Affection versus rejection

A group spirit endures
To everyone, a round of applause.

3.  Kilimanjaro, Day 4/2

Candy wrappers show the way
Who would have thought?
Toilet paper marks the spot
Who would have known?
Cell phone signals around most bends
Who would have guessed?

All true—no jest

Then there’s nature…

Volcanic scree
Treacle scented flowers
Cactus palms that look like people
Caves and rocks
Clouds moving in and out
And through the mist, a burst of blue
The bluest blue you’ve ever seen
In reality, or on screen

A movie this climb is not
It’s so much more

Altitude sickness
Drug reactions
Freezing cold
And outdoor toilets
Offer experiences never had before

The challenge
The fear
The relief
The satisfaction

Each has its place and time

Nearly there
Nearly there
Pole, pole
Slowly, slowly

The final ascent is but 24 hours away
Oh what a day—though it’ll be night through early morn’

Each trail we’ve taken to get to this point
Has tested every joint

The long, the short, the in between

And now the even longer
For the even stronger

The will is there
And so is the way

Pole, pole
Slowly, slowly
The best plan
Woman or man

Contrary to the N. American way
Something to remember
A take-home gift with which to play.

 

Climbing Kilimanjaro was truly a life-changing experience—one I’ve been savoring almost daily since returning.  Some of the details are fading and the final hours of the ascent are a little sketchy.  Only talking with those who were there with me helps, and explaining to others properly is difficult sometimes.  However, from Day 3 of the climb, my wordscapes (poetic ramblings) started up, and I’m very glad to have them to look back at now.  These are where I record details and  feelings in the moment (or shortly afterwards). Even those who weren’t with us on the climb, I’ve found, have the opportunity to get a better sense of what transpired by giving this poetic journal a quick look.   

All poems will be entered chronologically.  The first Kilimanjaro poem is included below, and eight more will be divided between the next four blog posts.

1.  Kilimanjaro, Day 3

No I can’t
Yes I can

No I won’t
Yes I will

Climbing the mountain
Or going to the bathroom
Hesitation
Then elation

Every sensation counts
Tension mounts

Nothing to worry about
Except getting there

About the rest of life
Not a care

The body is what matters
All its pitter-patters

From drug reactions
Tingles and jingles
To rumblings and mumblings

Food and drink
Give us a lot to talk about
As do other folk along for the climb

The mood is high
Pain we want to deny

The humor is good
Most jokes understood

Personalities emerge
Memories surge

Our reality is the now we are in

Nights are cold
Sleep interrupted

Dreams in pieces
Time to think or not

Just the packing
Unpacking
Sorting
And rearranging
Gives us enough to do

Onward and up
We hope to go
Nausea, headaches and all
A thought to appall

The mind is willing
Challenged
The body too

Can we, will we?
Yes please!
Thrill me.

I’ve developed an interesting (and practical) habit of being in one place but posting blog entries about another.  When my paintings shipped to Florence at the end of October, in preparation for the December Florence Biennale, I shipped myself to Africa (Tanzania).

It was a long-time special dream to be able to climb Kilimanjaro, and I wasn’t sure how much longer I, or the the mountain, would have to realize it.  What perfect timing to get out of the mind and into the body!  After 10 months of uninterrupted painting and related duties, I was ready for a different type of physical challenge—something I didn’t know would test my mental and emotional strength too.  

If you look back to my blog entries for the end of October, 07, you’ll notice the one from the 24th is entitled Endurance, and the one from the 28th is entitled Stamina.  Ironic!  On reflection, I’m clear that my best training for climbing Kilimanjaro might have been painting for the Florence Biennale! Please check out my Candid Artist Ramblings list, posted on my birthday/rebirth (October 19), the day I set out for Africa.  My sudden and acute awareness of transferable skills and attitudes has been eye-opening and educational since.  

I wasn’t the fittest person in the group, I also hadn’t done enough (almost any) training.  So, how did I make it to the top (be in the 50% who do, and the only woman among peers)?  I think three factors helped:  

1. I had the proper clothing (and wore it)—really took time to organize packing and followed all formal instructions from guidebooks and informal instructions from travellers who’d succeeded previously.

2. I didn’t try to be clever or take chances in any way—used poles, ate and hydrated well, listened to the guides in going "pole, pole" (slowly, slowly), and took the necessary meds.  Thank you Diamox (altitude sickness inhibitor)!  Even though this drug made my hands and feet tingle relentlessly, it was a very good friend and support.  

3.  I didn’t go on the climb with the idea that I had to make it all the way.  I was aware that I might not have the capacity to do so, and could forgive myself weaknesses.  Competition was not what this journey was about for me.  It was more of a spiritual quest about being there and experiencing whatever was meant to be—and accepting it, while still fit and young enough to get myself over there.  

The lead-up days to the final ascent were a honeymoon of sorts.  The final ascent was a whole different story—nothing similar—the most challenging physical endeavor I have ever faced (and no one had informed me about properly).  What kept me going on the final ascent?  Three gifts:

1. The camaraderie of those with whom I was climbing and our attentive guides.  

2. The not knowing what was coming next and not having been prepared for the worst—being in a situation I could do nothing about and just getting on with it.

3.  The not-giving up factor, once I was so close, and because there was no real reason to.  How could I go down (in still bad weather conditions) if I hadn’t made it up?  We’d been climbing for six days and, at the 11th hour, I couldn’t justify turning back. It was the same way down if you made it up or not,  and I couldn’t find a good enough reason to turn around.  Not thinking about what I was actually doing or the discomfort of continuing also helped.  Automatic movements and focusing on other thoughts—and struggles—became a lot more meaningful and empowering. I acknowledged that I never really give up, no matter how awful the task is, making the climb a metaphor for so much more.

For the last hour I wept my way up, partly out of pain, partly out of emotion—maybe more out of emotion. I couldn’t turn off my tears or howls. The tears froze and the howls got absorbed by the wind.  The feelings were intensely private.  But, as discussed later with climbing peers, appropriately universal.  These guys had had their own emotional releases too!  Reaching the top, we all embraced.  It was a magical moment in a glacial wonderland where we were too cold and tired to take photos or stick around.

On October 29, 07, back in Moshi, I was able to check e-mail, and saw that a friend had forwarded a New York Times Sunday Magazine feature article by Tom Bissell about his own Kilimanjaro climb, "Up the Mountain Slowly, Very Slowly." It had been published the day before, on October 28, 07.  What a coincidence!  And, even more interesting, Bissell had been based in Rome, pre-trip—unable to fully-prepare himself, either…

What’s sentimental for one person, might not be for another.  My recent overnight visit to London had me surprising myself by the photos I took—what I might not have given any special attention to, on a daily basis, when living there.  I was a student in London from 1979 - 1981, and my recollections go back to then.

Unfortunately, the shots in this blog entry (taken in less than 24 hours) could only cover a fraction of the city, from Picadilly to Bloomsbury.

Nothing seems to change with Fortnum and Mason, at least externally.  Its neighbor Simpsons was turned into Waterstones a while back (making it the biggest bookstore in Europe), giving Picadilly a slightly different feel.

 

Something that will never move from directly across the street is the Royal Academy.

My timing was lucky!  I got to catch the exhibit, Impressionists by the Sea. I also got to dash through the National Portrait Gallery.  However, a display in the lobby from the book cover of Zerbanoo Gifford’s new book, Confessions to a Serial Womaniser made me slow down for a moment.  Her wall-like display of womens’ faces made me think of my wall-like display of food options (my upcoming Florence Biennale exhibit, Buon Appetito!)

And talking of food, Food for Thought, an old vegetarian haunt of mine (close to Covent Garden)  looked exactly the same (from the outside).  Too early to go in, they were stocking up…

Neal’s Yard, a well-known health food establishment is also still there.  But, it has evolved—looks (and tastes) a little less "natural" (according to my memories).

Covent Garden seems to be changing all over, but not Floral Street, where The Sanctuary (a pioneering spa) looks like it’s still going strong—with Agnes B, Campers, Radley, and more, all at close proximity.

The Covent Garden Market area, itself, has been spruced up.  Arriving before opening hours, I got to see the merchants setting out their wares.  It’s quite a job unpacking and repacking every day!

Wandering from the main area, I felt the cobblestones beneath my feet.  What history they hold!  Who has walked over them before?  Who is walking over them now?  How long can they stay as they are?

In London, history and modernity dance before our eyes, as do traditions, habits, and brand development.  Other coffee shops, chains and one-of-a-kind (Café Nero, The Brew Café, Cafe Life, Espresso Capucino) give Starbucks a lot of competition.

Long "tea breaks" still seem to be popular with workmen, throughout the day.

And, after work, it’s the pub. Beer drinkers spill out onto the street to enjoy a balmy September evening (after a rotten-weather summer):

Then there’s all the theaters, large and small.  What fun to be able to go and see something light! Boeing Boeing was at the Comedy Theater on Panton Street—a charming setting for an evening’s entertainment.    

By the way, though Bloomsbury and its adjacent neighborhoods may be a little off the well-beaten tourist path (except for the landmark British Museum), it’s worth a meander.  Check out all the eating options on and around Charlotte Street…as well as the picturesque side-lanes. Then there’s Dr. Marie Stopes’ first birth control clinic.

You never realize the contrasts you’ll notice when you keep your eyes open—things that have always been there, but might not have attracted attention or mention, previously (like this "lady of the night").

 

On my recent trip to Britain, I heard this in vogue expression, "gobsmacked," used over and again.  The "gob," as I remember it is the mouth.  And, a hit to the mouth can be startling.  Listening to a Today Show interview with Matt Lauer, yesterday, I admit I was learning about something I had no idea was happening to such an exent.  Lauer was chatting with Toby Byrum, who’d had a vasectomy at 28, and remained adamant that he’d done the right thing for himself.  He had absolutely no interest in having children of his own (though child-friendly), or an "escape hatch" (with banked sperm). This appears to be a growing trend among young men—at least from what the Today Show team were revealing.  Natalie Morales, afterwards, discussed viewer e-mail responses, showing surprise that many women endorsed Byrum’s decision.

For me, British newspapers can’t be beaten.  It’s a greater delight to read them when you don’t get the opportunity every day—and can hold the paper variety in your hands (clip and highlight interesting articles).  On my train journey from London to Liverpool (September 21, 07), I had a chance to catch up on a few favorite publications.  By coincidence, articles in them resonated with what I’d just become aware of during my 24 hour visit to London.  

In The Times, there was an article by Ben Hoyle, the Arts Reporter, "Record visitors to Tate as appetite increases for art."  Hoyle noted:  "Attendance at the four galleries in London, St Ives and Liverpool was 20 percent up on the previous financial year."  However, Sir Nicholas Serot, Tate director did advise of financial issues, with a reliance on revenue generated from shop sales, catering, and sponsorship. (Remember, in Britain, museum admission is free!)

The Times also focused on Arabian investments in Britain.  A headline read, "Middle East investors bring oil-enriched wallets to City."  Sub-headers were, "Arab rivals gear up for struggle over London Stock Exchange" and "Sainsbury’s sale enters final stages as Qataris see the books."  In addition, there was a complete section devoted to Saudi Arabia, where I a sub-heading caught my attention, "Mushtak Parker learns that Saudi Arabia is also looking for a bigger role in Canada."  According to the article, right now, bilateral trade is a mere $1.2 billion.  And, Dr. Abdulaziz al -Sowayegh, the Saudi Ambassador to Canada is quoted as saying, "Canada is looking to diversify its trade partners in various regions.  The kingdom is well placed to become one of the main trade and investment partners in Canada, not only in the region but far beyond." Apparently, the Saudis would like to discuss a free trade agreement to boost bilateral ties.

Another Times header, "Ride a bike?  You must be rich," also captured my attention, especially after I’d seen a proliferation of warning signs for bikers posted in the streets (like the one included at the start of this blog entry).

Ben Webster, The Times Transport Correspondent, comments, "Brands have helped to turn the bicycle into a lust worthy object," and there’s a large photo of Zoe Ball to accompany the article—glamming her way along, no helmet evident.  According to Webster, the richest fifth of the population cycle, on average, two and a half times as far in a year as the poorest fifth. Webster states, "The Department for Transport national survey indicates that the poorest fifth, despite being five times less likely to have access to a car, are very unlikely to consider cycling as a solution to their transport needs."  And, referencing the London Cycling Campaign, Webster remarks, &quo