intermission - provincial elections

Has there ever been a more boring election than this one? Even folks like me who are political junkies seemed to be tired of it all. It is not that there are no issues - there are a 100 things that we could be debating. But no one is talking about what really matters, nor are they presenting any solutions that feel exciting and workable.

The Liberals are convinced that they need to do nothing new to maintain political power (and they may be right). The Conservatives are more interesting in finding fault with the Liberals and in maintaining their right wing power-base than looking at the reality of life in Ontario in 2011to find valid alternatives. The NDP seemed to be far more interested in moving to the centre to attract votes and are thereby leaving their roots behind. It is all so terribly boring and disheartening.

I predict that voter turnout will continue to be poor. The pundits will then say that it just goes to show that the public really don't care. But that is not true, It is just that we can't stomach the half truths, the out right lies and the at best unimaginative solutions to the complexities of our times.

Post modernist theory suggest that we, in this globalized world, have "evolved" past the point of wanting or needing the "grand narratives" of the past. That such large ideologies as Communism, Socialism,or even Fascism are no longer useful. The post modernist might be right - but surely we need someone to paint a vision of what life could be if we felt free to dream.

On a more positive note - Fleming College is have a poling station on campus. Perhaps some students will vote. That would be great!!!

On the Road Again 2011 - Blog 29

Victoria is certainly one of my favourite cities. Which is perhaps unfair to all of the other Canadian cities I have lived in, traveled though or bypassed. It is unfair because I have spent more time walking the streets of Victoria than any other city.  Not only did I live there for two years, but every year I have travelled out west, I have spent at least a week in the city. Perhaps if I spent that much time in Calgary I would grow to love it too. But I don’t think so.

Victoria is a beautiful place, the flower lined streets can be spectacular, the various neighbourhoods are all unique and interesting, the waterfront is fun to visit and perhaps most importantly of all, I have two very good friends there. Both of these folks helped get me through university. They will always be special to me. So we meet, have a meal (or two ) together, catch up on old times and then go our separate ways for another year. They are both very dear to me.

This year I had another reason to go to Victoria when I did. There was a International Buskers Festival. I love Buskers. One of the joys of spending time in Victoria is going down to the inner harbour to watch them. So many of them are so good, the plaster man or the bronze cowgirl who only move when someone puts money in their tray, the musicians, the acrobats and the jugglers - all bring an excitement to the waterfront that in my somewhat limited experience, is unique. I was excited to see some new acts. Especially ones that had been invited to come to Victoria because they were so good.

I was disappointed. I saw a number of acts and while most of them were OK. only a few were exceptional. So many of the acts were variations of juggling with fire,  balancing on round things or performing acrobatic feats that quite frankly didn't look that hard. Perhaps it is because Cirque du Soleil has expanded our vision of what the human body can do, or perhaps I am just too jaded. But is seemed to me that with two exceptions most of the acts only had one special skill. There was the Australian woman who squeezed herself in to a 16X16x16 cleat plastic cube - taking with her into the box a basketball, or the person who managed to spin 15 hula hoops at one time, or the group that twirled and juggled various things that had fire at their ends. And they all did well. They were professional and well rehearsed. They knew how to gather a group and how to keep them watching.

But almost all of them used the same type of jokes and almost all of them had people from the audience (usually men) come up and volunteer. These people almost inevitably were made the butt of the entertainers’ jokes. In a number of acts - the men were almost belittled. Of course it all got a good laugh, but as I had a couple of days to see the 9-10 acts, and some of them more than once, it all got a bit tiresome.  A number of the acts had clearly seen each other perform and they certainly stole/borrowed each other's jokes.

It is a hard way to make a living and I have no doubt that the buskers worked very hard to perfect their craft. Judging from the number of people that went up and dropped money in their hats, I think they probably did OK. But they were not as good as I had hoped.

The hostel was fun, I got to meet some interesting folks, my roommates were quiet, the room was not too hot and the downstairs area seemed to be less rowdy than usual. It was a good time. I have been there so often that it is like going back home. I am comfortable there.

On the Road Again 2011 - Blog 28

As much as I love my grand kids - I find that I am neither use to the noise nor the constant need to pay attention to what they are doing. Consequently after five or six days of visiting ( or sometimes far less) I am tired and I need to find a quieter place to live. So after being a good granddad and looking after the kid etc. I decided I needed to go to Victoria for a break.

Usually, for no particular reason, I have almost always travelled from Duncan to Victoria by bus. It is rather silly way to travel when I hitchhike 1,000s of miles across parts of Canada, but I buy a bus ticket to travel a an hour or so down the road. It was time for a change. So after getting a ride from my son to a reasonable location just outside of Duncan I went to Victoria through the generosity of others.

It wasn't any faster, but it was an interesting trip.  I was quite awhile at the first spot. It was a busy corner with lots of cars turning this way and that. For at least 20 minutes of my 40 minutes there any possibility of getting a ride was demolished by the riders from two motor bikes and a car pulling over and having a friendly chat with each other. They took up most of the shoulder that I needed for cars to pull over. Across the road from where I was standing there had been a minor fender bender and the RCMP were dealing with that. While it is not illegal to pick up hitchhikers along this spot of the highway it is against the law a bit further north. I suspect that the presence of a police car did little to make drivers even think about stopping. As the policeman finally finished his business with the accident, he drove up beside me and asked if I knew if the bikers had wanted to speak to him. I said that I didn't think so and he drove away.

Fairly shortly thereafter a man picked me up who was heading about halfway to Victoria. He was off to have supper with a friend. At some point he got a call from her and promised to pick up some ice creme in Mill Bay. Normally I suggest to my drivers that I would be glad to wait for them, or to go shopping with them but this guy didn't want to do that. He let me out at the highway and then ten minuted later, true his promise he picked me up again. We spent our shout time together talking about the politics of small towns and cities. When I mentioned Nanimo and what a confusing, poorly designed city it was, my driver had some very clear and not very positive opinions of the mayor and the city council.

He let me off at the turn off to Shawnigan Lake. I was not there any more than five minutes when the driver of a van coming from Shawnigan Lake honk there horn and waved me over. When I got in the van I was surprised to see that the driver was a female and that there was a young girl sitting in the back. Mom  had just dropped her son off at a camp and she and her daughter were heading back to the city. When I expressed my surprised at her stopping she admitted that she had not stopped to pick someone up for a number of years. I thing she was surprised that she had stopped too.

We had a lovely chat about the complexity of raising kids, and of how to be frustrated at their behaviour while not showing too much of our anger. It sounded as if her son was at that age where he was or had mastered to art of pushing his mother's buttons quite nicely. Her daughter occasionally interrupted the conversation to ask why her mother had picked up a hitchhiker and did that mean that I was going to their house. Clearly hitchhiking was not a common topic of conversation in their house.

They let me out at the corner of Pandora and Douglas, a few minutes away from the hostel. Perfect.

As they drove away it struck me as being somewhat special that neither I nor the mother had mentioned the fact that she was white and her daughter was black. It is nice to live in a time and place where such facts no longer needed explanation.