December 31: I resolve

Here I am at the end of 2010 and 4 months of my sabbatical year. It is time to take inventory of my year and look ahead to 2011.

I listen to radio commentators today who insist that resolution making is not a good thing. I beg to differ. We should consciously strive to make improvements in our lives. January 1st is a good day to aim for this. Setting goals for oneself and aiming to reach these goals is a worthwhile activity.

Apply the SMART principle when developing resolutions: specific, measurable, achievable, realistic and time-bound. Above all, realistic.

This year, my resolutions focus on loving myself. This is harder to do than one would imagine. After all, I was brought up on strong protestant ethics, compounded by cultural values and immigrant struggles.

Among the usual suspects of exercising and eating are the following:

I resolve to hire someone to clean my home this year. This is not only allows me to gain hours doing something else but also ‘income share’.

I resolve to protect my year off more vigorously. The past 4 months have slipped by so quickly. I have only managed to accomplish a small fraction of what I want to do with my year of the right brain.

I resolve to go car-less. This may be unfathomable for many North Americans, but I live a 5 minute walk from the largest transportation hub of Canada. Zipcars (a car sharing program) are available just steps away. Taxi rides are often cheaper options than parking in my area.

I resolve to spend an hour in a cafe at least once weekly. Life can be such a whirlwind that we forget to just stop and catch a breath. I will consciously schedule in downtime--to read, to write, to think.

I resolve to eat the best food that I can afford. This is a resolution that has been on my list the past 3 years. It does not mean that I eat only expensive foods but that I will opt for the healthier option when available.

What are some of your resolutions for 2011?

December 30: Flower Threshold Theory

The day is grey and foggy. I crave flowers like a junkie needing a hit. My amaryllis has yet to bloom. I pick up bright orange gerbera daisies.

This is the “Christine’s flower threshold theory”: a community rises out of abject poverty when one sees flowers in the market.

When I was living in Magdanly, Turkmenistan there were no flowers for sale. (I was living there for a few months working with Médecins Sans Frontières.) People could barely afford food, let alone splurge on flowers. Besides, we were situated in the Karakum Desert, one of the hottest places on Earth.

To get flowers, one would go from home to home, asking if anyone was willing to part with a couple of lovingly cultivated flowers from their garden. An alternative was to head to the mountains and gather some rare wild blooms. On occasions, I have been presented with flowers. These gifts are special, signifying hours spent in acquiring them.

Here we are in a rich society. All I needed to do to get my flower fix is to walk across the street to the store. I am grateful for the flowers that grace my home and the bounty that fills my pantry.

December 29: Desert in the city

I wander through the quiet downtown core to the Princess of Wales Theatre. The skyscrapers must be quite empty as workers take time to spend with family.

I, and about 2000 others, have tickets to see “Priscilla Queen of the Desert”. Bright colours, catchy tunes, brilliant set design, and well choreographed numbers are packaged up perfectly for a spectacular production. I walk out humming “I Will Survive”.

I zip up to North York on the subway to see an old friend, Kevin, whom I met 22 years ago when I moved to Montreal. The last time we had a good chat was 15 years ago! Facebook reconnected us a few weeks ago. This makes sense as Kevin is one of the most socially connected persons I know. Sure enough, we have a mutual friend, Sue, whom I know through the Red Cross. We have a lot of catching up to do.

December 28: A rose by another name is certainly sweet

For an afterglow of my Vancouver visit, I bring home a locally grown gala apple. There is nothing quite like a B.C. apple. I remember returning to Montreal with a couple of apples then buying more, only to be disappointed with a mealy red delicious.

Minus 2 isn’t quite biking temperature, but I dust off my bike and go for a spin in the bright crisp morning. I returned home a couple hours later to take up a more seasonal activity: skating at Harbourfront Centre.

I meet with my personal pizzaiole who has been making pizza for me for 15 years. We check out North. The secret herb blend (the waiter told me he did not know the name of the herbs in English...) made the simple egg and fava bean dish just exquisite. We pop by Red Rose Cafe to continue the Persian theme for some rose water flavoured sweets.

December 27: Life on fast forward

I take the first flight out of Vancouver. I fly east, watching the sky brighten with the winter sun and quickly reaching midday luminescence. I arrive in Toronto by mid-afternoon. I am not a fan of morning flights going east: I leave early in the day and arrive at the end of the day, as if I spent a whole day in the plane. I much prefer the 'red-eyes', waking up with a full day ahead.

I hit the tarmac running--my phone rings as I am walking to the baggage area. Nancy is in the neighbourhood. Will I have an hour to meet and catch up? Both our lives are so busy that when our spheres approach each other, I try to make it work.

I toy with the idea of attending Soulpepper Theatre’s “A Christmas Carol” this evening, but they only had one seat left. Option is to get a standing room ticket or just putter around at home. I opted for the latter. After all, how much can I fit into a day?

December 26: Success is... not spending on Boxing Day

Today is dedicated to family time and Boxing Day shopping. I did not discover any of the huge discounts of recent years. This is a good thing, an indicator of a healthier economy where businesses do not feel a need to offer huge discounts. I managed to shop Boxing Day and not come home with any packages--pretty proud of myself.

December 25: Pretty merry Christmas

Busy day, this Christmas. My brother and nephew are playing a piano/organ duet at church this morning. I run into old friends, some that I have not seen in over a decade. I see Mrs. Hiew, my late grandmother’s friend. She is turning 100 years old next week.

Nish from Toronto is passing through Vancouver on his way to Whistler. I take him to Rainflower Restaurant for some of that tasty dim sum that I keep telling him about. The durian puffs were divine--we splurged calorie-wise and ate 3 each.

Our family finally gets around to the presents just before dinner. I get a really cool gift. My nephew and niece made me a duct tape card holder and purse--perfect for all those business cards I’ve been passing out.

By the way, I did manage to find a gift for my brother that he likes: the whole score to Handel’s Messiah. We hit most notes with sight reading. And I did find someone on the street who appreciated a brief chat and a few dollars.

We don’t even bother cooking our own Christmas dinner anymore. Fifteen of our family and friends meet at Rainflower Restaurant instead. John the manager, kidded me about just walking around the block and returning to the restaurant.

December 24: Silent night

I and the rest of the world are scurrying around running last minute errands. Are we so hooked onto shopping that we cannot live without one day of store closure?

Family Christmas meals have evolved. Instead of elaborate affairs with my mother at kitchen’s helm, I and my sister-in-law, are now in the kitchen. Christmas dinner is a blend of Western and Chinese: we eat Tofurky with gravy, steamed jasmine rice, Chinese greens, and apple strudel.

December 23: The soul of Bach

I listen as the melody, disguised as the bass line, sings out in “Jesu, Joy of Man’s Desiring”. It has been a while since I’ve heard someone interpret this piece the way I think Bach intended. I have heard many famed classical pianists over the years--Evgeny Kissim, Jon Kimura Parker, Louis Lortie, to name a few. After all these, my brother is still one of my favourite classical pianists. I am treated to a rare mini-concert, now limited to once or twice yearly family gatherings.

December 22: Dental hazards

Admittedly, building gingerbread trains is not really art, but there is something fun about working with gooey icing and colourful candies. I don’t think these prepackaged gingerbread kits are made to be edible (and certainly not after my visit to see Dr. Soo, the caretaker of my teeth for the past 3 decades). Michelle and I make quite the mess putting the caboose up. Maybe the leaning caboose might rival other better known leaning structures?

December 21: Not so fast on the fast track

Time to head out for some exercise--good excuse to try out the ice at Richmond Oval. This venue hosted the speed skating events at the recent Vancouver Olympics. I am not limited to circling around. The interconnecting rink is reserved for a few puck shots on goal.

Tonight, we are heading to a vegetarian Chinese banquet feast. My mother, who in some ways is more obsessed than I am about food, had been planning the menu with Wallace at Red Star Restaurant. The result certainly shows the thought that goes into this. Even the traditional rice and noodles gets a new take: perfectly prepared fried wild rice and rosti style rice vermicelli is served up. The crusty topped baked black sesame and tapioca pudding crowned off the meal. I even ask for the recipe.

December 20: Up in the Air

Another day at Pearson airport...another day on a plane. I find out which security lines tend to lead to the full body scans--good to keep in mind.

The bonus is that I am flying Executive class today, a nice little perk for spending such a large part of my life in airplanes. “Up in the Air” is more than Hollywood to me. The downside of taking the past 4 months off is that I will not have Elite status for 2011.

I walk over to the iconic Bill Reid sculpture in Vancouver Airport’s International departure area. “The Jade Canoe” is depicted on the Canadian $20 note.

Today’s agenda: airport, dim sum, airport again, dinner, bed. I really need to get some exercise.

P.S. Happy 11th birthday, Michelle!

December 19: High maintenance diner (that's me!)

Craig and Carolyn are still in town. We head for brunch at Table 17. After a lively discussion, the restaurant did agree to serve me the Eggs Neopolitan with polenta instead of bread. I guess I am being gauche, asking for a northern Italian staple to be served with my southern Italian style eggs, but they were delicious! I cannot imagine bread as an improvement to the melt-in-your-mouth polenta.

I meet up with Rosemary. When I decided to take the year off, I had expected that finally I would be at home long enough to keep a plant alive. I was so wrong. Rosemary has been doing a fantastic job keeping my finicky calla lily alive these past 3 months.

I almost didn’t watch the DVD that I had borrowed, but am glad I did. Denys Arcand’s “Barbarian Invasions” reached a depth in me, emphasizing the importance of living each day well. I resolve that this year off will not be in vain.

I take a detour through Calatrava's signature soaring arches, now accented with Christmas themed lighting. I like it almost as well as viewing his Gare do Oriente (Lisbon) at night.

December 18: High tea a la Chinese

I pulled off the dusty cover to reveal the black and white keys. It has been a while since I’ve touched my piano, averaging about once yearly in the last decade. Instead of listening to music, I decided to make music today. My fingers are stiff, yet they managed to find the right notes to Fur Elise.

I head to a tiny church nearby for their Christmas concert. What is that instrument? Is it a mandolin? The concert was long yet thoroughly enjoyable.

I walk over to the Royal Ontario Museum (ROM). I argue with them once again about my reciprocal membership privileges. I really just had a few minutes to spare anyways. I head to the bat cave--no, not the one in Gotham. I wasn’t sure what to expect, half expecting live bats to be flying around. That would have been great to see.

I meet Christine and Alessandra for high tea at C5, the restaurant in the ROM. C5 serves up one of most memorable afternoon teas in Toronto. Instead of cucumber and watercress sandwiches, we are presented with a modern take of dainties. As a nod to the current Emperor Warrior exhibit, the style drifted from the English to the Chinese, serving up sticky rice and dumplings along with ginger scones, topped off with Devonshire cream. The tablespoon of cream served was not enough even for me! I ask for seconds and thirds as I load up my scone with cream and jam, the way they are consumed in the Cotswolds.

I watch the throngs of shoppers along Yonge Street on this last weekend before Christmas. I and my fellow shoppers pause to admire the lights and glitter on display.

December 17: Creative gift giving

I started the day making some simple chocolate truffles, but the project ballooned. I picked up some new chocolate molds and was keen to try them out. I also wanted to experiment a bit with truffle oil and sea salt, attempting to duplicate the newest trends in chocolate making. The end result: beautiful molds but the oil infusions need a bit more work.

I wander down the aisles of Mountain Equipment Coop, wracking my brains for some inspiration. I am searching for that elusive gift for my brother this Christmas. What item would show the loving thought that goes into each present? Will the gift be tossed aside, unappreciated? I spy a few contenders, but nothing ideal. I walk out, sensing failure. I walk past a street corner. A transaction is happening. A man is handing over an envelope with a big red bow. The recipient lives there--on that street corner. He smiles, delight in his eyes as he opens up the Christmas card. Maybe it’s just a card. Maybe there are a few dollars tucked within. I see the joy in his eyes. Someone just validated his existence. What a lovely thing to do!

A thought: no matter what I get or how much I spend, I suspect my gift to my brother would just get tossed aside. What if I take the money that I would spend on his gift and give it away? That way, I know that at least one person would appreciate the gift.

December 16:Celebrating Christmas/Hannukah/Kwanzaa and more

I return to Toronto just in time for the Immigrant Women’s Health Centre staff meeting. No worries that I haven’t had breakfast yet. I know that I will be well fed at the centre. I’ve never seen the centre without food. My taxi waited for me while I drop off my suitcases, then took me to the centre. Do other people have crazy schedules like mine?

Staff lunch always follows the December staff meeting. We head for Indian buffet once again. This is a multicultural group: we wish each other ‘Happy Holidays’ rather than ‘Merry Christmas’.

December 15:Sublimation (vapourizing snow)

I see a wisp of ‘steam’ rising from the snow. A very non-right brain word from my distant past pops into my head: sublimation.

The week of work is over and it was far from drudgery. What a luxury to be able to say that the work was a welcome diversion from the usual agenda.

It’s 7 degrees (still minus!) with sunny blue skies and great snow conditions--perfect ski days like this don’t come often. I ski a few kilometres before heading back to Thunder Bay. I even attempt a few strokes of skate skiing. I think I’ve mastered the Kemuel loop. Note to myself: time to check out the next level of trails.

I drive back to Thunder Bay. I have travelled along this road so many times in the past 6 years--206 kilometres of trees and lakes with the odd signpost to break the monotony of so much beauty. I listen to an audiobook. I have learned that the hypnotic words detailing a day in the life of Mrs. Dalloway does not mix with driving. Not all classic lit are good sleeping aids though. Alexandre Dumas’ Count of Monte Cristo or Dickens’ A Tale of Two Cities are best appreciated aloud.

I take the shortcut bypassing Kakabeka Falls, the Niagara of the north. Louise has dinner waiting. Louise used to run the McVicar Manor B&B. She makes great breakfasts, all served with a huge dose of hospitality. I opt for a room in her home over the jacuzzi tub at the manor. Today, I am in for a treat. She serves Morrocan chickpea soup and Greek salad as starters. The meal should have stopped there, but she continued with the baked rutabaga fries and vegetarian burger with a ricotta based aioli. I wolfed the lot down, ignoring all signals of satiety.

December 14: Warming up--time to hit the trails

In many parts of the world, there is a culturally based greeting. In Chinese, it is “Have you eaten rice yet?”. In Northern Ontario, it is “Did your car start okay today?” I have been lucky so far, but last night, before my luck runs out, I plugged my car into the electrical outlet. Rows of cars tethered to evenly spaced electrical outlets is quite a unique sight.

I put in a full day of work at the clinic, then run out the door before daylight disappears. I hit the trails. After all, it is a balmy 13 degrees (...minus) in the afternoon.

December 13: On the other side of zero

The thermometer says 33 degrees today. Up here, we don’t even bother saying ‘minus’. I had some foresight last night, heading to bed with three layers on.

I check out the decorated doors in the hospital. Many have chosen Christmas songs this year. I’ve never even heard of “Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer”.

I opt out of skiing in today. It’s just too cold to expose skin. Instead, I watch “Ghosts of Cité Soleil”, a documentary on gangs in one of the most violent areas in Port au Prince. It gives me a bit more insight into the recent political history of Haiti.