The annual Hills Garlic Festival

Originally posted on Multiply, September 14 2009

 A selection of my best garlic. The bed in newly dug soil resulted in perfect bulbs without a sign of fungus, hurray!

Yesterday was the second Sunday of September and around here that means one thing: time for the 17th annual Hills Garlic Fest. It outgrew its original location: the lawn around the community hall in Hills, an incredibly beautiful rural residential area between Nakusp and New Denver.

It started out as a community potluck to celebrate the harvest, featuring GARLIC! The very first one was just a bunch of neighbors coming together, but later ones opened up to the larger community. I was at the second one and have not missed many. There was always music and delicious things to eat, crazy contests for the fiercest garlic breath and the best garlic poem, and eventually some vendors. The vendors did great, word spread, and the party grew and grew.....

The person who really put it on the map was my friend Magda Bajer. She organized the fest for several years in the late nineties and never received a penny for all her hard work.
The big breakthrough came when Magda boldly invited popular CBC radio personality Arthur Black to come, and he did! This got the Hills Garlic Fest national attention. 

In 2003 the combination of sheer size and a bad fire season necessitated the move to the municipal park in New Denver. This view of the Lucerne glacier dominates the park.

This booth was on the beach side. Glorious Slocan Lake behind.

The count for this year isn't in yet, but last year close to 7000 people attended.

Alas, I forgot my camera this year. These pictures are from 2008. The day was just as gorgeous and not much has changed.

Real Jamaican ginger beer is a total treat.

Above: Old hippies never die. The HAIR just changes colour.

Below: who says face painting is just for the kids?

There are line-ups everywhere! If memory serves this one was for the booth with Russian food. If memory is wrong, the Russian booth did have a line-up so if this one goes to the porta-potties I stand corrected.

We were lucky. Rosie, my friend with PD, was part of our group so we could zoom ahead to handicapped parking. Getting rid of the car is getting to be a major nightmare.
It is still a fun happening, but those of us who were there at the beginning are nostalgic for the original intimate celebration. So it goes.

Of sandy towels and memories

Originally posted on Multiply July 30 2009

The grandson is here for the whole summer, which is a perfect excuse for spending afternoons at one of the Arrow Lakes beaches.

The picture above was taken in early June before tourist season. It shows a place about 15 km South of here that we still call Legion Beach, because it started as a project by the local Legion in 1976. Legion Beach is now a major provincial park with a huge campground. To think that we used to go skinny dipping there...


This is where we go for serious days out with company, like the day with nephew Tim and his family, when we gathered there with a fleet of three vessels.

The rental canoe holds Tim, Marjel and the little sisters. This is the kids I nannied for in the fall. It was so much fun to have them camping on the lawn here. They loved everything, though at one point Shanna asked: "This is just your little summer home, right, auntie Ien?" She expected a Bearspaw -style mansion as a normal main residence. Sorry kiddo, this is it!

Anyway, back to the Hout fleet. Chris had heroically loaded our heavy Coleman canoe on the Subaru, and we enjoyed a paddle across the lake. We were barely back when it got seriously windy. All of a sudden the lake was covered in whitecaps.

Alex had a great time testing out Wessel, his gorgeous sleek kayak.

For more daily outings there is 'Town Beach', a mere block from the heart of the village. This is where grandson K. and I spend the hot afternoons after a sweaty morning in the garden. This picture was taken in June before tourist season.

K. is not much of an outdoor kid, but he sure loves the water. He now swims well enough to hang out on and near the Dock. This is great! It means no more pressure on me to come in when the water is cold. I can just relax without worrying that he is drowning somewhere. 

You know you are getting old when the zero gravity recliner on the shady lawn is just as appealing as a hot sunny beach. K. will be at his other grandparents tomorrow, and I shall opt for enjoying a book in the shade. But today and the previous 2 days we have done the beach thing.

Beach and summer vacation are almost synonymous in my mind.


The only part I don't like is coming home loaded with sandy towels, wet suits, the remainder of the picnic hamper and other assorted paraphernalia, and having to sort that all out while making dinner.


In retrospect I totally marvel at the competence with which my mother managed to do this without appearing flustered or cranky, in cramped surroundings, with 4 kids. Alas, the organization talent skips a generation. Or rather, it skipped me. My siblings are well endowed.

During my childhood the month of August was the reprieve from the third floor flat in Amsterdam. We spent the month in the seaside town of Noordwijk, where one of my aunts lived. I 'borrowed' these photos from Google and am truly sorry to have lost the credit.

Locals used to rent out a part of their home, or retreat to a tiny laneway building in the backyard and rent out the whole thing. We did the partial house thing the first 3 years. It was wonderful for us kids. A backyard to play in, and kids from the resident household to play with. I was blissfully unaware of the stress it must have caused my mother to have to share a small kitchen. Tasty meals appeared magically, as always.

Later my parents opted for the privacy of renting a laneway "summer house" instead. The summer houses were tiny. A kitchen along one wall, separated by a counter from the living space with a dining table, small couch and one semi-comfy chair. A ladder and trapdoor led to the sleeping loft. We stayed there with 4 kids, and all of us have the fondest memories of those vacations, rainy days and all.
I wish I had more pictures, but here are 2.

Above the whole family, probably 1956 or 1957. I remember those silly elasticized bathing suits. As Margaret Atwood once said, "I resurrect myself through my clothes." Or rather the memory of them. In those tight times getting a new piece of clothing was a major event. So I remember that the bathing suit was a weird dark yellow and the shorts in the later picture were blue. I was 15 in the second one.

In 1988 we took the kids to visit the Netherlands and spent one nice day on the beach. We played in the surf. I told them about my childhood vacations. Sighed my paradise-born daughter: "It must have been wonderful". It was.

Summertime, and back online!

originally posted on Multiply July 7 2009

This photo: View North from the Silverton look-out on Slocan Lake, one of the most beautiful places on this blessed Earth.

Hallo all. Long time no see.

I finally got my new computer going. Welcome to the wonderful world of laptops, and the not-so great world of Vista. We'll try to make the blog rounds later.


Summer arrived at the end of May after another late icy spring, and has been quite wonderful so far.
I am always amazed that humdrum working life goes on during these precious months. Part of me remains forever a schoolchild expecting the Big Vacation. All of it should be devoted to just BEING and soaking up that rare warmth and light before the Big Grey sets in again.

When we visited Norway in 1964 we noticed that Oslo basically closed down on Friday afternoon. You couldn't even buy a loaf of bread after 4. Life was devoted to Doing Summer. Sounds like the right attitude to me!

What a crazy summer this has been. OK, I get overwhelmed easily. But seriously, in May and June I can always use every hour in the day twice over to do land stuff, and there have been many other claims on my time.


I will admit that I am not the most efficient gardener. It must be Mars in Taurus in the twelfth house. Well-meaning advisers with Mars in Gemini tell me that laziness is the mother of efficiency, and things could possibly be done with less effort. Alas, when I try to think practical things through I get totally stuck and nothing happens at all. So we just go out there, start muddling, and enjoy the process.

We have had a steady stream of visitors, since June 20th a resident grandchild 4 days a week, the farmers' market and extra Reflexology clients as a result of that. All of it is welcome, but some days life seems to be one big conspiracy to keep me out of the garden.

One of the visitors was Chris' sister, the grandmother of those adorable little girls for who I played nanny last fall. We took her to a few of the local sights. One of the best spots is the Silverton viewpoint over Slocan lake. When we were there we spotted a few huge birds, probably Turkey Vultures. We never used to see those until the last few years. It must be a global warming thing.

When one flew below us, this picture just happened. I love the M.C. Escher-like effect of the mountains and sky mirrored in the still waters.                  

 

Reflections on being an immigrant

Originally posted on Multiply May 21 2009


This was inspired by a Multiply friend's post on Norway's National Day. Congrats Norway, you are a wonderful country! We would have moved there in 1968 if they had let us.
She wrote:
"Home is where they speak my language, where the food is well-known, where we sing the same songs, where people know me......."


When one leaves the place of one's formative years to go somewhere else, some things are lost no matter how much is gained.

On the morning of March 26th, 1969, a few hours before Chris' Dad was due to take us to the airport for the big trip, we realized we needed one more suitcase. This incident could be used as proof that we both have ADD, but that is another topic. I made a quick dash to the Haarlemmer straat to buy one, crossing a bridge over the Brouwers Gracht on the way. A particularly nice spot, here it is.

And the thought came to me that I would never again live in a place where I had such a clear claim. I had belonged to it, it belonged to me.

The move to Canada has been great. I have never, for a single second, regretted it. We became Canadians as soon as we could.


We now have this, which would have been totally impossible in Holland. Ten glorious acres, about 4 hectares, of land. Our own space in natural surroundings whose beauty feeds my soul daily.

And yet. Sometimes going back to "the old country" is like stepping into a comfortable pair of old shoes. On this last trip my mouth relaxed instantly and comfortably into its mother tongue. I find this a bit scary. If I am to speak only one language without accent, I'd prefer it to be the one I have adopted for the last 40 years.

Being an immigrant means a fault line runs through your life. You often don't know if certain changes are due to the factor of Here, or the factor of Now.

Places where we used to live

First posted to Multiply May 9 2009

I should be packing, the trip home starts tomorrow morning. But I have my brother's house to myself tonight and can't stop messing with the pictures, deleting the poor and excess ones, naming the others. The Hoorn fotoos need to be organized, right now they are just being dumped.

Anyway, while that is happening, here are some that I took in Amsterdam, which also needs to be blogged about, :).

When Chris and I first lived (in delicious sin) together, which was quite a daring thing to do in 1963, we had a furnished room in a sort-of-hotel, on the corner of the Raadhuis straat and the Keizersgracht. This is it.

Our room had the window above the balcony, and the bay window on the canal side to the right. The trees on the canal side were huge. They must have been removed and replaced since then. When one sat in the window seat it was like sitting in a tree. The view from the bay window was this, though better. This was taken from the bridge at ground level.

From the other window we saw this:

The WesterKerk, the tower is the tallest in Amsterdam and an icon for the city. I was very happy there. Talk about Location! To be continued, it is time to pack. Next:

The entrance to what used to be Hotel Torna Sorrento, and is now Hotel something else. Posting this as a private joke for Chris: below our old dwelling is a lamp store. We had one on the ground floor of Westerstraat 191 as well. That is the house below. The lamp store had a fire, and we had the pleasure of watching pretentious fake chandeliers gently float down from the ceiling and bounce.

This building used to be married student housing. We were so lucky to be assigned a flat here! Later it was a feminist book store at one point, and now it is something boring and private. First we had the first floor above the store, later the one above that. I liked that one best. It was a bit smaller, but it had a roof terrace outside where one could sit in the sunshine with a view of the Westertoren.

Around the corner was this: I believe it is the 2nd Anjeliers dwarsstraat. Note the Westertoren at the end of it.

We showed this as a slide once to the Canadian-raised little girls of Korean geologist parents. Their reaction: "How do you get out of there?"

Answer: Follow the street all the way to the Prinsengracht, the outermost of the 4 concentric semi-circles that are the main canals, all built in the 17th century. The city inside the inner one, het Singel, is older. You end up near the Wester Kerk again.

Surprise: the Dutch mania for gardening has now reached the inner city! We always had parks and trees along the canals, but the last few years everytime I go I see more greenery in the narrowest, used-to-be-slum streets. The brighter aspect of gentrification.

Finally, a last word on Jordaan chauvinism. This is the area of the second house, the one in the Westerstraat. Back in the days when it was still a working class neighborhood with an identity all its own, the Jordaners used to say that you were not truly Dutch unless you lived in Amsterdam. You were not truly an Amsterdammer unless you lived in the Jordaan. And you were not truly a Jordaner unless you could see the Wester Toren from your bed. We could!

I am very happy in  my Kootenay mountain paradise. But a part of me will always be at home in this city.

 

The work is done, a day in Maastricht, and Mercury retrograde.

Originally posted on Multiply  May 6 2009

Our mother has been laid to rest in style. Nine years ago I did my father's eulogy, and at the time I promised Mom I'd do the same for her.

Mom will be cremated and  her ashes will later be taken to my land, where she spent so many happy vacations.

We had a few intense days, with wonderful gatherings of the 4 siblings. Friday May first we gathered in Maastricht, where my youngest brother has been living ever since he met his gorgeous girlfriend at a carnival. It has been years now. I got a glimpse of Dutch travel nightmare.

I had to get a quick picture of the sign to the town that my husband's ancestors came from! My last name is van Houten.
The maiden name is van der Hout. It is like being called Smith-Smythe.  



We got stuck in crawling stop-and-go traffic near Eindhoven, and once in Maastricht it was quite a challenge to find a parking spot. May first is a day off in Belgium and Germany, so the city was full of tourists.

My sister-in-law swore they'd take the train next time if it was just the two of them. This country is just too crowded for cars.

Crossing the rivers is always a treat. This is the tower of Zaltbommel.

Once in Maastricht we had a fantastic day. The weather was more like early summer than like spring. We wandered the gorgeous city, hanging out on sidewalk cafes, eating and drinking till late in the night. It was good to be together.

This is not us, but I wanted a picture of the herring stall. "Hollandse Nieuwe" refers to fresh herring, a national treat.

So little time, so much to see and taste!

We are not Roman Catholic, but Mom used to love lighting a candle in the chapel of Maria Stella Maris. So we stopped and lit some for her.

The entire city was busy and festive in the warm spring sunshine. We had to wait for a table at this square.

View from the old city wall in one direction.

And on the other side is a view of glorious chestnut trees in full bloom.

Some more miscellaneous Maastricht scenery.....

And finally, an old-fashioned sibling line-up, like the way our parents used to pose us.

It was an absolutely wonderful day. Amazingly I did not suffer from jet lag. Credit goes to the Camu Camu that I had guzzled in concentrated form.

As for the Mercury Retrograde.... During the approximately 3 weeks that it appears to be going backwards, communications tend to be tricky.

I had a brief but serious panic when my debit card was refused twice. Once in a store, which is not unusual, since it belongs to a small credit union. But then it said "insufficient funds" when I tried to cash some Euros, at the same bank machine that usually forks them over without fuss.


I had NIGHTMARES about having accidentally booked 3 trips, the morning I was struggling with KLM's online booking system. It kept kicking me off and refusing perfectly good credit cards after taking me through the whole system, card numbers and all. I ended up calling a travel agent after all. But what IF something had gone through after all, and my regular email address, that I can't get at right now, contained 3 e-tickets? Scary thought! My poor sister had to put up with the frazzled vibes.
After being a nervous wreck for the afternoon it was finally late enough to call Nakusp. Turns out I had tried to take too much at once, a smaller amount per day worked just fine. PHEW!
It keeps amazing me how easy it all is. Once upon a time we had to take travelers cheques, remember those? The first time I stuck a card in a machine on a street in Hilversum and guilders rolled out I got all excited.


 I remain firmly rooted in the twentieth century.