Travelogue: Cuba (Varadero and Havana)

Last year’s winter, by the time around late February, was so brutal; it was like having three winters’ worth of misery packed into one. With both of us at the time coming to our wits’ end after six weeks of temperatures not rising above -20 Celsius, my girlfriend did something that was both a prudent and lovely gesture. On our designated 1st anniversary date, she gifted me (us) a piggybank for which to start scraping up savings together, to fly away to someplace for a reprieve from another potentially freezing, blizzardy hell for this year of 2020, to some warmer holiday destination. By the end of November, our savings, spare change, loonies, toonies, and bills amounted to a fair enough sum to start the next step of booking something. We were still both clueless though as where to go at this time, but we eventually then settled on Cuba, as we both have never been there before, it would then prove be a mutually novel experience for both of us that we could both share together as a getaway. We just opted for a safer trip for just staying warm on a beach with a drink and relaxing to satisfy our introverted selves. The adventure and intrigue part of it for me is that Cuba wouldn’t be just yet another Latin American country. Given of course its communist system in place, it would certainly be culturally different and unique in ways compared to all the other neighbouring countries in the region. It was something worth exploring anthropologically, given that I have some more special privilege and freedom to do so as a Canadian traveler than some other foreign nationals. It’s now five days since I’ve returned from there. I posted a few of our pictures already on social media. I’m now taking the time to verbally capture and express my impressions of those experiences during that trip.


I must admit that I had some expectations of Cuba, which thankfully have been erased from my

One revolutionary monumental art piece, a notable one

dedicated to Ernesto "Che" Guevara, on the side of a
building facing the Revolutionary Square in Havana.

mental blackboard as groundless imaginings. When I think of communist cultures, my brain automatically leads me to imagine an imposing military regime that’s omnipresent, all Stalin-esque, with uniformed soldiers parading everywhere, with everything around reflective a super-inflated totalitarian esprit de corps, and nothing around indicative of any sort of art/culture scene, or joie de vivre. This would be reflective of a place like North Korea today as an example. If all that same said stuff was indeed there in Cuba, it was all very well hidden. Cuba had little around that depicted anything so overpoweringly Orwellian, in fact the spectrum slid on both scales of esprit de corps and joie de vivre towards the opposite directions. Sure, there were political billboards and monuments with the images, proclamations, and quotes from Fidel Castro, Che Guevara, and others who were their so-called revolutionary heroes all around, but not to the degree at which I initially anticipated. Cuba is honestly quite peaceful compared to some other places around that same latitude. I only saw one person during our Havana excursion, and nowhere else, who was recognizable as a uniformed soldier; he was completely unarmed. Quite unlike the way the super-militant and heavily armed municipal and state police are in Mexico, ever ready for a clash with the drug cartels. I saw less civil police presence in a four-block radius in Havana than I would see in my own city. The only military hardware I saw were purely commemorative museum pieces and were non-functional: like one Russian T-34 tank I saw used this way in Havana. I remind myself that I’ve also seen an old Sherman Tank set up and displayed the same way in downtown Vancouver near their City Hall. Does that mean Canada is a super-militant society? So then, we are neither better, nor worse, nor any different than the Cubans in this respect. The need for them to mark and commemorate various historical conflicts is kind of significant for them. They would have more right to so than most other nations, because ever since this place was discovered more than five centuries ago it has always been marked as a token island to be seized, colonized, and controlled by several competing imperial powers with colonial expeditions with motives for expansion. It was a massive base for which to control the rest of the West Indies and other territories within and ashore of the Caribbean Sea. It was a Mecca for piracy. The British Empire was even in control of it briefly for 11 months during the age of colonialism. It just about became territory/state of The United States were it not the fact that after the Spanish- American War, the prize of Cuba was swapped for Florida with Spain in some diplomatic chess game in ceasing hostilities.


I honestly didn’t get a chance to engage with the Cubans on a deeper social level. I sure shocked a few: me being a person who is the same shade as any of the whitest Northern Europeans, and yet one who readily made some effort to converse with them in Castilian Spanish. As a general observation though, the Cuban people almost looked too relaxed and comfortably socially gregarious to give me any outward hint that they were somehow, or in some way, being oppressed. I would guess, at least for those who have no beef with communism, that they have resigned themselves to the attitude of taking life as it comes, or else they have it engrained in themselves to keeping what is good about their communities and relationships good, even with being taxed and challenged with some limited means to do so. The Latin American predilection of greeting each other with hugs and cheek kisses still holds strong there. Their culture is so lively with music, and there is a great art scene there; at least they have a great respect for the arts given by the large number of museums, parks, and monuments there dedicated to different artists, writers, and musicians from all corners of the world, not just strictly in Cuba. Certainly, there were signs of what we would term as poverty, and sure, many of them have some side hustles going on to help make ends meet. However, at the same time, along with that there seemed to be less people seated in the trappings and stresses of propagating and maintaining materialism, elitism, and classism. I really found myself wondering about what the consensus is in Cuba about thoughts, ideas or perceptions related to meritocracy, given that their doctors make close to the same salary as their bus drivers. Yes, there were people pitching and hocking wares in the street, magnetically attracting themselves to groups of tourists, but at least they were offering goods and services in some form. I only met one person who was actively begging/panhandling for money. In that instant, it was a young man who was afflicted with cerebral palsy, to a degree at which he was just barely ambulatory; not there struggling to nurse some sort of continual addiction. If this system was failing him somehow, or if there is some less enlightened treatment or acceptance of the disabled there, he certainly could have used the spare change.

If these people are poor in material wealth, they more than make up for it in being rich in personal character. I witnessed them being genuinely kind and helpful to each other, as well as to us as visiting foreigners. As I said, I took some initiative to speak Spanish with them (often to their surprise) as often as I could, despite risking some embarrassing errors, in trying to break the ice. I was hoping the effort would at the very least stave off any undue or unhelpful animosity, if there was any was directed at us, although that never seemed to be the case. This may have helped in a small way to smooth things over and open doors in creating some positive first impressions. However, I would like to think that they are just naturally hospitable to begin with, no matter what the state of our fluency was with their language. We never had any unpleasant interactions with any of them, except maybe with one shady-looking character trying to hustle us to buy some counterfeit cigars. After a three-minute engagement, and us repeatedly refusing, he wised up enough to know to stop persisting, and he moved on his way. It was rather benign compared to some other cases I’ve seen elsewhere. The Cubans we met, for the most part, were very down to earth people who did their best to resolve things. Being offered and given hugs by staff who have served you, as like what happened with us, is not a norm in any other country I’m aware of. The common people, the politics aside, are the ones who give this place it’s heart and the better vibe to it, which sadly is being ignored, unrecognized, and under-represented to most of the rest of the globe. It’s kind of the same thing that’s happening to those of the less ignorant, and more thoughtful and socially conscientious ilk of the American population now, who are unfortunately dealing with Trump being at the helm there.


The questions of feelings of personal safety will be put before me. Let me put it this way . . . I felt a lot safer in Cuba than I did in Venezuela, especially in western Venezuela, where the threat of me becoming kidnapped and made a hostage for ransom was an ever-present and very real danger. I would probably feel safer in Cuba than I would ever feel in the streets outside of the resorts in Mexico or other places in Central America, or in any town in the increasingly trigger-happy U.S.A. where the lines seem to be becoming blurred about where the bad-side-of-town actually is. Statistically, even walking by one of their high schools increases your odds sharply in becoming collateral damage from a mass shooting nowadays down there.* Hell, I would probably feel safer in Cuba than in some of the neighbourhoods in my own city at night.

The rest of what made the holiday notable is condensed to the list topics below:


Best Feature about Our Hotel (Varadero): I would say that it was its location relative to the rest of the rooms in the resort. We were assigned a room that was conveniently close to the beach, and far away from the noisier grandstand pavilion where the evening entertainment could have been too loud for us introverted sorts. I do have to recommend though that when searching for a hotel in Cuba, research the power outlet set up in the rooms of the place. You may need to bring an adapter to convert to 110V power if you are a Canadian traveler. We were initially assured that it we would have 110 voltage for our electronics but since the hotel we booked was part of a company from Spain, their power outlet format was actually 220V.  I neglected to be prudent enough to bring a voltage converter, but fortunately, we were accommodated and allowed to charge power supplies and cellphone batteries at the front desk, which luckily was equipped with a 110 V outlet.


Best Thing about Havana: The colonial Baroque architecture in the places surrounding the Capitol building was amazing to me, it all definitely exuded lots of charm and reflected the rich history of the city. The old part of the city of Havana is most definitely a UNESCO site; it probably was the first of the cities of the Americas to be designated as one. The more panoramic view of the city from the fortress of Tres Reyes was a bit occluded by grey skies on the day we toured, but still quite spectacular. If you dig the classic cars before the year 1959, you’ll love checking out the machines putting or roaring around Havana. Our only disappointment was not really getting enough time to stray away from the tour group and to explore the city a little more independently.

A stately looking capitol building . . .

Some old beaters that are chock full of vibrant colours.

Best Cuban Food: I’m a big fan of sausages, and I’m one of those freaky people who finds something like morcilla delightful. That’s the Spanish version of black pudding, or blood sausage. I also enjoyed the grilled chorizo they served as well. The fresh grilled fish they had available was also great. Some basic stuff was also very good, like the local cheese, and if you are lucky enough to get fresh Cuban bread before it rapidly goes stale in the humidity, that was a real treat as well. I will admit and warn others though that Cuban food doesn’t typically have that zesty piquancy and punch that Mexican food has. Cuba isn’t what I would call a culinary paradise if your tastes veer towards the spicy and exotic. It in fact leans a lot toward the bland side. We can say that it was at least safe to eat at the hotel we stayed at. I’ll be forgiving, and reason and speculate that years of shortages for staples and other basics, never mind spices, haven’t done any favours in letting the food scene grow, evolve, and flourish in this nation.


Best Cuban Drinks: The Cristal beer never disappointed. My sweetheart delighted herself with the piña coladas. We were taken on a horse-drawn carriage trip around the streets of Varadero, which pulled along side an outside bar in a park. The gentleman proprietor, obviously in cahoots with the tourist-drawing carriage guy, offered me the “best Mojito in Cuba”. He brought the drink, and I pulled out my money to pay him. “No, no”, he abruptly told me, “You don’t pay me unless you do really think that is the best Mojito in Cuba!” A sampled it, and breathed in its fresh minty aroma . . . I even could not lie for a free drink. It was indeed not just the best mojito in Cuba; it was the best mojito I ever had in my life, and I humbly forked over my money in gratitude.

Similar to the carriage we used; thankfully not an actual

car rental like the sign in the background denotes.

There were also “worst of” moments too about our trip that can’t be ignored; thankfully those were few, circumstantial, not really stemming from Cuba or its people, and can be summarized in singular topics. They go as such:

The Cold Front: Halfway through our stay there was a downturn in weather conditions. Do realize that the resort hotels of Varadero are situated on a peninsula that is jutting out directly into the Atlantic, where the sea water is a few degrees colder than that along the Southern Caribbean shore of Cuba. When the cold front arrived, it became rather cloudy at times, and the wind picked up in speed something nasty, and the surf was far too strong and choppy to swim in. We would have otherwise considered a snorkeling expedition or catamaran tour had that not happened.
  
Some Fellow Canadian Tourists: We are introverted people; we came for a peaceful reprieve from life. When we witness scenes of others of our own nationality becoming way too drunkenly boisterous and rudely loud, and too disinhibited with being disrespectful and obnoxious, always seemingly in a place where the sound carries too well, we absolutely hate it, as the mission for the peace we’ve been seeking vanishes. Not too many examples of this fortunately, but the instances of this happening that did occur were so pathetically outlandish on a singular level that it became something that made us feel ashamed to be from the same country as them. When I travel someplace, I want to tune into what life is like for the typical locals who dwell there: that is at least novel and potentially educational and interesting. I don’t want to know how much of a drunken, gluttonous asshole one of my fellow countrymen can devolve into in an all-inclusive resort.

The nice things that I can say about this lizard we found there: 

it was quiet and considerate enough to stay out of our happy

 place and has nice skin. Some qualities it had over the drunk
 old beeyatch from Toronto who sang loudly in the 
buffet hall on the first night we arrived.

The Russians: These guys are a special topic all on their own. I have met, and do know some Russians, but from only encountering ones who have moved here to Canada though to escape that place. Those ones have kind of settled and adapted to the vibe of our land, and after having had a long spell of living here, some of them have indeed learned to accommodate for a sense of humour and some cheerfulness. However, I have never met any Russians who have come straight fresh from the old motherland, after more than 14 hours of flying. Two or three lingering around together may have been intense enough, judging by the group ahead of us, but we sure as hell weren’t prepared for an onslaught of an entire jet liner full of them arriving at the same time as we did: all crowded and crammed up with us in the arrival terminal at Varadero Airport, waiting to get through passport inspection, which was already very chaotic and disorderly as it was. I don’t like to stereotype, but I couldn’t help but to think that I truly discovered just who the rudest people in the world are regarding queuing etiquette and behaviour. If their butting in line, not quieting down and paying attention to PA announcements (even ones in their own language), and not keeping pace with the flow of the line wasn’t bothersome and irritating enough, just for extra entertainment, a couple of Russian men, one being super-drunk, started actually brawling each other with fisticuffs in that very tightly packed space, totally oblivious to the crowded surroundings. Cuba is probably one of the few places left on the planet where Russians have some freedom to travel as vacationers**, and I got the sense that they don’t even seem to know how to do this very well.  The Russians around our hotel, despite having the wonderful weather to enjoy and the amazing ocean vista, seemed to all have their faces still frozen in some default stony expression of joyless stoic harshness. It was so prevalent that I could instantly identify them as Russians by their look on their faces before they even spoke. I don’t know whether it’s strangely comical, or pathetically sad: to see someone dressed up in a loud Hawaiian shirt and shorts on a tour bus with a look on his face with all the thrill and exuberance of someone next in line waiting for a colonoscopy exam. I gathered no real positive vibe coming from any of them at all; few, if any, made any effort at all to smile. To see a Russian smile. . .  I was convinced that the only way I was going to see a Russian’s smile was totally by accident: and in that case it would be like some instant when his back was turned to me, and his water-logged swimming trunks fell off as he was wading out of the surf. Not exactly jovial people those Russians. We met Germans there, who greeted us genially enough when I spoke to them. I could hear a group of Swedes on the beach, discussing in an almost organized, business-like manner their plans for the rest of the day, being somewhat anal about arranging times and scheduled events for some group consensus as I listened to them discuss all that stuff in Swedish, but at least they still looked relatively content, relaxed and joyful. No one could mistake or accuse the Quebecois folks there that they weren’t having a great time. The Russians though didn’t give me any hint that they were actually there to enjoy the place at all. In fact, they looked like they were quite unwilling to exchange greetings or engage with even their own countrymen/countrywomen. The families and couples there just seemed to stay isolated to themselves. I tried even to use some polite Russian words/phrases I know for greeting and passing around them (good morning, excuse me, please, thank you). All of them just seemed to react with either being taken aback and then becoming as instantly dismissive, or else they trudged right by me with no similar attempt at politeness, like I wasn’t to be acknowledged at all.  We luckily had a great mixture of other company, speaking as two people who weren’t really geared to engage with a lot of people to begin with. However, if we ended up being the only two Canadians planted amidst a resort totally full of nobody but Russians***, it would have been the most depressing tropical vacation I think anyone could possibly ever have.    

I veer back into dwelling on the positives again . . . 


Best Moment of Self-Discovery: One shouldn’t bother traveling unless one is willing to let it change oneself in some way for the better. I was grateful that I was still able to navigate around using Spanish with some competence, and relieved that I did not completely let it rust away in my head. I suppose also that knowing the inconveniences the average Cuban goes through daily, and yet still find it in themselves to have the fortitude be helpful to others gives them an admirable resilience. In knowing that, I’ll have this example to reflect on before I ever go on some tirade of complaints about social injustice and political things in this country, or else be more thankful that I have the freedom to do so if I ever do. It would be embarrassing, after that experience, to complain about any other minor inconvenience I have here and now in this land of freedom and abundance, that are really rather trivial in comparison to some of the things I’m sure which an average Cuban has to cope with frequently. Despite seeing all the snow from a recent blizzard that occurred and passed just before we arrived home, I came back feeling refreshed and thankful to call this place home. I’m very happy I got to spend our 2^nd anniversary together there during this time. 

I had to add this point latently. We should feel especially lucky that we managed to get away and return from this trip before any more inconveniences had arisen due to the Corvid-19 threat, which may hinder and restrict international travel from this point onward.


*None of the cities of Cuba appear on one list I found of the 50 Most Dangerous Cities in the World, most of which are situated in Latin America, in so-called democratic countries. The U.S.A. and its territories have 5 cities with this infamous distinction ranked on this list.


** ”Freedom to travel” doesn’t necessarily mean “being welcomed with open arms”. I was chatting with a guy who originally came from Poland, who was raised there during the Warsaw Pact Years, but now lives in Canada, who frequently holidays in Cuba and keeps his ear to the ground since he understands some Russian and has a good rapport with the Cubans. He has a good idea about how the Cubans and Russians interact. “The Cubans kind of hate and resent the Russians!”, he told me. “They [Russians] come to Cuba with some attitude of superiority and constantly treat the Cubans like some sort of underlings”. I didn’t see any of the Cuban staff actively hugging the Russians; that’s the only truthful input I have about my experience of watching these two peoples interact.

*** Maybe the Russians appeared so strangely dour to me in demeanor because we seem to be a world apart in actually feeling happy. According to the 2019 World Happiness Report, Canada ranks on this index as the 9th happiest nation on Earth, whereas Russia ranks in the much gloomier number 68 spot. The nations with lower rankings than that were usually extremely impoverished, or conflict zones, or both. This same report had neither any ranking, nor any data, for Cuba.   

5Q5A: Summer Vacation 2019

I’ve been fortunate to have booked time off for holidays for this part of summer that coincide with those of my girlfriend. We spent this past Fathers’ Day Sunday at my parents’ place; having a good visit with them. On the way back home, we talked about this and that in terms of how we were going to use the rest of the days during the time off: for things and events both together as a couple, and for each others’ personal time separately. She asked me if I did any blogging lately, and it struck me that I didn’t write or post anything for the longest while. I have no answer as to why such a lapse happened, except for the fact that sharing the delightful company with such a lovely, intelligent, and talented person occupies more of my thoughts and time now; I’ve been finding more solace in that now than I do in any writing. To keep myself focused, I resume the rest of this entry in 5Q5A format.


Q1. What whammies am I having to deal with this time around for this summer holiday?


A1. It never fails. I always seem to get some curve ball pitched at me that serves to be some obstacle to contend with, impeding me from having a completely blissful summer holiday; mostly in the form of unwelcome and unexpected expenses needed to rectify something requiring immediate attention. It has been becoming a repeated and inevitable cycle annually: a regular expectation that some freakish issue or series of unfortunate events will manifest themselves to make this happen. Last year, it was emergency surgery for my dog. This year, the (sometimes excruciating) state of my own knees and hips demanded that I replace some orthotics immediately (it greatly also affects how active I can be). Add to that, there is a malfunctioning dishwasher (drainage issues) to fix now. Instead of freely frolicking around elsewhere, I’m now relegated to take a crash course in how to be an appliance technician, or someone who may need to call a certified one if I can’t fix the problem myself. No functioning dishwasher means no way to properly sanitize bottles and equipment for beermaking: the other project I wanted to do this week. Added to that are repercussions of work-related issues that I choose not to explain here. It’s most definitely an unsatisfactory use of part of my holiday time. However, I do keep myself grounded by reminding myself that whatever problems I have during this time, they are pretty darn minimal compared to most those of the people I work for.


Q2. What cerebral things are becoming entertaining this time around (things in the mind that one can do that don’t need a specific or physical time and place)?


A2. Lately, I’ve been becoming intrigued with learning more of the nuances of poker: Texas Hold’em poker specifically. Aside from playing the actual game itself, it’s also a playful challenge in mastering being able to mentally wrangle things like the hole card rankings, pot odds, and putting other charts, tables, and other statistics into some mnemonic order. The technical side of playing the game (playing a tighter game) has improved a lot for me; the psychological (mastering effective bluffing) part of the game will always be a work in progress. I’m giving it a break for now; not allowing it to become an unhealthy, addictive, obsession.


Q3. If expense and travel time weren’t factors, what would have the plans otherwise been?

A3. Probably going on a road trip to Waterton Lakes National Park – getting away from this drought zone and enjoying the Rocky Mountain air may do us both some good.


Q4. If instead then resorting to cheap(er) thrills, what are they?


A4. Checking out and exploring the yet unvisited and unknown local shops in and out of town that cater to our eclectic and esoteric interests; and fashioning the odd little feast for us to indulge in throughout the week is also in the works. Using my moments of solitude, like this one, in my mornings and afternoons just be content to sit outside and chill out, playing my favourite music, with either coffee/beer/strong badass cocktails, with my laptop or notebooks, plotting my own little schemes of world domination for new world order (at least for my own little singular point of this world anyway).


Q5. What is the happiness being enjoyed in the here and now?
  

A5. At this moment, making a pleasant discovery about my dishwasher and being able to announce and exclaim, “Yay! The <bleep>ing thing drained completely!!!”, to my girlfriend in a text message. It’s like I successfully passed some sort of adulting test through appliance repair. Now I’m relieved and freer to enjoy the rest of this week in peace.


Addendum: I found and started reading a book later in the day about happiness; which itself seems like a fitting thing to do on a holiday. The Happiness Equation by Neil Pasricha was my chosen non-fiction read of the week. One of the better lessons in it is that you should never make yourself too busy for the dear people who matter to you.

The Very Non-Christmasy Christmas of 2018

The past weekend delighted me very much, in that I got to see my entire immediate family. However, this year I did not book off Christmas from work, so technically, unless I somehow get the Julian Christmas off, I have this season without an official Christmas Day holiday. When Christmas falls on Tuesday or Wednesday, I’m not so thrilled about its arrival either, and it’s the case where that is happening for this year. It doesn’t feel like it should be Christmas day. It just makes for a split-up workweek with really no recovery time for sobering up and digesting properly after a gluttonous binge, so I thought that I should just work it, whereas I would prefer some continuity of having a good long go of it where it phases into a weekend. The years with Christmas on a Thursday, flowing into a Boxing Day on Friday, with the weekend to recover are the best of the cycle. Second best is Saturday, Sunday, Christmas Day Monday, then Boxing Day Tuesday.

For today, I’m not getting bitter, nor lonely, nor depressed really, but I am also actively doing stuff during the day to avoid going into a darker place. I’m making concerted efforts to avoid all forms of news media. I don’t need to know what disasters occurred, nor hear what new stupid thing the Chinese government is pulling off to harass and persecute our diplomats and citizens in that country out of spiteful retaliation.  I have no cares as to what Justin Trudeau* is going to announce in his address to the nation (also his birthday today), nor do I need to hear the holiday greeting from her majesty the Queen, and I sure as hell am not wasting any time listening to whatever is sprouting from the actions, or spouting from the big mouth of the orange-tinted crook downstairs*, or the status, impact, and repercussions of his shutting down of the U.S. government. But, it’s a day of doing one’s best of wishing others well, and to keep it a peaceful occasion. So, I shan’t dwell, or digress anymore, on political stuff.

I don’t want to watch any TV either: with the over-abundance of Christmas programming to distract and rob one of any genuine spiritual or soulful moments of the day. So, I choose to lose myself in writing again, and I began entertaining myself with my own curiosity of factual demographics, statistics, and other trivia, about the rest of this world that isn’t really partaking in the holiday today either, with some surprises about who does observe it. I like such moments to gain perspective.

Countries that don’t officially have Christmas (December 25^th or Jan 7^th) as a public or statutory holiday*:

Afghanistan, Algeria, Azerbaijan, Bahrain, Brunei, Cambodia, China, Comoros, Iran, Israel, Japan, Kuwait, Laos, Libya, Maldives, Mauritania, Mongolia, Morocco, North Korea, Oman, Pakistan, Qatar, Sahrawi Arab Republic, Saudi Arabia, Somalia, Taiwan, Tajikistan, Thailand, Tunisia, Turkmenistan, Turkey, Uzbekistan, United Arab Emirates, Vietnam, and Yemen.

Largest Country in the World (by population) with Christmas as a public holiday:

India – There are 28 million Christians in India, according to their 2011 census. Surprisingly, Christianity is listed as the third most practiced religion there (after Hinduism and Islam). That is even larger, by about 4 million people, than the number of cultural/religious Christians living here in Canada.

Number of Christians in the largest country (by population) that doesn’t have Christmas as a national holiday:

China, despite being a communist nation that endorses atheism, has 67 million people who identify as being Christian. That's 4.75% of their population. That’s like a full quarter of the Christian population of the United States, and more than double of that of Canada’s. I can't help but to think that this would be a huge number of dissidents to process for them if the government there decided to get even more repressive to religious groups.

Largest Primarily Muslim country (by population) with Christmas as a public holiday:

Indonesia – The largest Muslim country in the world also has Christmas as a public holiday. Given that this region was once a colonial possession of the Netherlands, Christmas became an institution there, and it surprisingly remained as a public holiday. Ten percent of Indonesia is Christian, so of that nation’s population, that still makes for 20 million people possibly celebrating Christmas there.

Country with Christmas as a national holiday; with also the greatest percentage of irreligious people:

Sweden – 73% of people there describe themselves as atheist, agnostic, spiritual-but-not-religious, anti-theist, and all other flavours of non-religious philosophical moral-ethical thinking amidst all that. A close second is Czechia (Czech Republic) at 72%.

Country with the most Public Holidays (but not one of them being Christmas):

Cambodia (28 days) – If you’d like to surround yourself with citizens with lots of time-off, while at the same time watching them living in abject poverty, maybe Cambodia is the vacation spot for you.

I’ll be more forthright next year with booking time off, now that I have a greater sphere to visit with. So, as the final hours of Gregorian Christmas Day fade, and as first hour of Boxing Day approaches, I wish everyone the best from me to you for the season, whether you opt to celebrate or not, even if you are stuck someplace where you are forbidden*** to do so. Take care, everyone.  

*- Spoken with neither any liking nor any hating for our current Prime Minister, as I see a balance of both virtues and deficits in him. Trump, however, is a different matter. I pity the Americans living under his bigot-empowering, demented, hateful, wrathful rule.

**- Surprisingly less than I thought, i.e. I expected to see more African countries counted to be in this list of nations. Christmas is celebrated from here to Timbuktu, literally: e.g. despite the nation of Mali being a majorly Muslim country and only 1% Christian, Christmas still a national holiday for them there.

***- Like in the Sultanate of Brunei, where any public display of celebrating Christmas can get you up to five years in jail.  

Winter Solstice/Yuletide 2018: The Inaugural Yule Bookfest

I’ve been writing this in a piecemeal fashion, starting around the winter solstice, Dec 21^st.

It has been a long while since I’ve posted an entry; for all good reasons. For the last while, with being in a new relationship, I’ve been more attuned into living intentionally and sharing my life privately with someone instead of being a passive commentator about life and sharing random observations about it with a general audience in written form. With the approach of our first yuletide season together, there also comes this excited eagerness and willingness in both of us to adopt some special thing to make as our own unique holiday tradition as a couple. So, we agreed to include a new observance for ourselves during this season. I feel like it is one worth sharing. Personally, I would hope it catches on with others as well if anyone so chooses to copy it.

The new custom we decided to observe isn’t really a specific local one, or even a Canadian one, but it serves our introverted selves very well. It’s one that we kind of appropriated from Icelandic tradition. By virtue of having relatives in Wynyard SK, a community that was largely founded by Icelandic settlers, I’ve already had some exposure to some traditional Icelandic Christmas (Jól) feast fare (like Rullapylse and Vinarterta) from my past holiday visits there. And now, strangely enough, we’re setting out to sample another custom similar to the one from that island, as a Canadianized form of it to suit us.

Temperature-wise, winters for that island nation seem relatively mild and less miserably frigid when compared to those here in Saskatoon, but given their proximity to the Arctic Circle, their winter nights are a lot longer during the approach to solstice*. The long cold darker nights around either side of winter solstice naturally stage an environment for which to retreat into coziness and stimulating one’s brain with a good story. Despite inhabiting one of the most expensive places to live on Earth, and being quite good at exercising frugality, folks in Iceland seem to spare no expense when it comes to buying and reading books. The result is that they have become one of the most culturally literate societies on Earth. Thus, books of all kinds are the most frequently gifted items around the Christmas season there: so much so that there is a word in their language defining this tradition of exchanging reading material as presents during the winter holidays. This annual tradition of buying and gifting books is called Jólabókaflóð, or “Christmas time book flood” roughly translated into English. It sparked some appeal in both of us when we heard about this custom because we do both like to read and would find this exchange quite endearing. We thought it best to anglicize the name to Yule Bookfest*, (see further below as to why). She suggested having this exchange on the last Advent Sunday before Christmas Day, and I thought that plan was perfect: a day of rest, dedicated to fully relishing the blessing of being able to read in peace with a fresh new story. As much as we love our families and friends; and having a chance to gather with them for feasting, gaming, and drinking, for introverted people this extra onslaught of social activity during the holidays, even with it being awesomely joyful and fun, can be a bit overwhelming and draining at times for our mental lives. Yule Bookfest is thus a way to have a day to simmer down the nerves; to take a breather from excessive social overload from the holidays, and to gain a sort of calmer private celebration; balancing the yuletide joy with some peace.

Most people around here refer to the “Christmas season” as the general period covering the latter half of December; I think this term is too vague, and a little thoughtless and sloppy for my liking. I’m a little more demanding of accuracy. I grew up in a family that, at least for a while during my childhood, observed both the Gregorian and Julian Christmases (December 25^th and January 7^th, respectively), as some other kids did in mixed Anglo-Ukrainian families in the community where I was raised, where these holiday traditions mixed and merged. In my formative childhood years, I remember that I was sometimes insistent in having others specify which Christmas they were referring to when they were trying to talk to me about the holidays. When I refer to Christmas, I mean specifically Christmas day (Dec 25^th) or I get even more specific in defining it in mentioning Julian/Ukrainian/Orthodox Christmas on Jan 7^th, and don’t usually use it so vaguely to refer to any other time within the period of December and early January. For that, I‘ve been reverting to the word “yuletide”, for referring to the greater span of days of celebrating between and during Advent and mid-January. Yuletide may sound a little more pretentious and a bit archaic, but it is a word I’m noticing that I’m becoming fond of and favoring (at least in my writing) of its use instead of using “Christmas” all the time ubiquitously over the whole season. Partially because it is a better term that can extend to generally include all days from the first Advent Sunday to Orthodox New Year’s Day (Jan 14^th) and all days in between, and covering all holidays during that time from many other cultures, including newer bizarrely contrived ones (as perhaps ours is), with the celestial event of winter solstice roughly being the tethering post in the middle of it all. As for our new celebration, I’d like to start off doing this special day right, at the very least linguistically*. I see calling it “Yule Bookfest” instead of the original “Jólabókaflóð”, or “Christmas Bookflood”, as necessarily suitable because:

·         As I said, it leaves the word Yule to indicate an extended period of winter days; not just the singular day, of Christmas. After all, one usually needs more than just one day to completely finish and enjoy a book

·         Yule is a shorter word to type than Christmas. I get lazy at typing sometimes, and brevity is sweet and efficient for modernistic purposes. Plus, there are no accented characters, or funny letters (like eth -“Đ,ð”) to mess around with while typing, unlike the original Icelandic word.  This form does respect at least some part of the cognate** from which it was translated.

·         It better denotes that it’s not a serious religious observance; it’s open for anyone to enjoy, no matter what creed/faith, or lack thereof. One has only to appreciate the gift of a book, so we can just leave the term Christmas alone.

·         Rather than a flood, it’s just a single book to gift each other, for indulging in deeply. So, the word fest is best.

·         From the Wikipedia definition below,*** yule is a word originally derived from something rooted in a concept of playing, feasting, merrymaking, and joking around; not being seriously contemplative or solemnly meditative. There’s plenty of time left to do that latter stuff for the goddamned miserable other part, from January onward, of a Saskatchewan winter.

What else does this special day perhaps entail besides exchanging books? I think being costumed in ultra-comfortable loungewear (e.g. housecoat, sweatpants, and/or pyjamas), finger snacks (preferably drier ones to avoid smudging your pages: perhaps cheese, crackers and various other chacuterie), a warm(ing) beverage, perhaps by a crackling fireplace, and not moving too far beyond one’s armchair, or chesterfield. Snuggling and napping between chapters is permissible and encouraged.

My girlfriend picked out a perfect book for me: both in terms as theme material for this day, and the reflection of the kind of person I am, and the strange characters I’m interested in relating to. The book I was gifted for this inaugural celebration of pages was a piece of fiction written by Robin Sloan titled Mr. Penumbra’s 24-Hour Bookstore. A cool story that involves a bright, but somewhat hapless young fellow who falls into unfolding some strange secrets centered around this bookstore and its gentleman proprietor, Mr. Penumbra. It's kind of book that will inspire you to recommit to being a more avid reader, and to perhaps try to write in more than just some unidimensional prose. It has re-affirmed ambitions that I should follow up on in the coming new year.

This is a bit of a digression . . . but the nerdy part of me usually likes to reflect on the anthropological stuff as to how and why certain traditions have originated over the holidays. This year, it’s kind of nice to be an active force in it all. Speaking of new and modern Canadian yuletide traditions, it leads me to wonder what will be unveiled in this special inaugural year of the legalization of cannabis in this country. I’m going to guess (perhaps correctly) that several folks around the country are probably going to embellish the theme having a “green Christmas” to the max. Perhaps this is the year where there will be started some grand tradition of some kind of Yuletide Bongfest which will become adopted by the potheads of this country: exchanging weed and the means for which to smoke and consume it. I presume it could be on December 20^th (to correspond with the “20” in 4/20). Who knows.

If there was one thing I wish people would tune into more of as an addiction, I wish it was the substance of reading and literature. Long winters here in Canada would set us up for making a few more scholars if Yule Bookfest was taken seriously as a celebration.

*- Sunrise on Dec 21^st in Reykjavik, 11:21 am; sunset, 3:29 pm. In Saskatoon, Sunrise, 9:12 am; sunset 4:56 pm.

**- Given that this is a bilingual nation, I would suppose that we could possibly call this “Fête d’Hiver des Livres” for the Francophones, but I’ll leave that to be properly translated by someone with a better command of French than I have.

***- Yule (from Middle English yole, from Old English ġeōl, ġeōla (“Christmastide, midwinter”), either cognate from Old Norse jól (“midwinter season, yule”),^[2] from Proto-Germanic *jehwlą (“celebration, festivity; yule”), perhaps from Proto-Indo-European *yekə- (“joke, play”)) +‎ -tide (“period around a holiday”) (from Old English tīd (“period, season, time; feast-day, festal-tide”), ultimately from Proto-Indo-European *dī-(“time”)).

August Civic Holiday/Vacation 2018 (Lagom, Hygge, and Kalsarikännit)

As usual, as glorious as it can be, this summer in Saskatoon is passing too quickly. This one seems to be flickering past me even more rapidly than others. It may be because I have been overall happier. The inclusion of endearing forces in my life are doing me good. The absence of some other tyrannical, narcissistic forces, and whiney nagging people has allowed me to climb still further out of a hole of negativity. I’m enjoying the reprieve from that thus far. I feel strong enough to be a supportive friend again, and to be there for those who matter. 

It’s the beginning of another stretch of holidays for me, and yet I honestly haven’t been that eager to formulate some grandiose, concrete plan for a getaway for it; perhaps because it’s the first time after the longest time that I finally feel like there is nothing I really need to escape from. The most off-kilter thing I done throughout this time around was daring to play a clandestine poker game in a meat locker with a bunch of Russian gangsters*. My brain has been switched on to entertaining myself with puzzles and games again, on top of digesting some literature. It’s a personal barometer that indicates good things for me. It’s a peaceful retreat for this time, even when the annual ruckus of the Ex appears once again in the neighbourhood. My internal clock is already shifting itself now, by default, to waking up even earlier, and trying to nap a few hours during the heat of the day to compensate for the rest I won’t be getting at night. Yet, despite all that, I can retreat into my own head now more easily with a greater sense of clarity and contentment, without any great interference; and to seek such a thing from someplace else right now seems like a needless and futile squandering of energies. With temperatures rising as high as 40 degrees near week’s end, I’m even more disinclined to be too active. By then, the thought of playing games in an actual meat locker might really be appealing. Even more desirable would be an upgrade to a walk-in beer cooler.

I did give myself a few moments to wonder about and reassess my own personal reasons as to why I would travel. I did so because I was probed with such questions by my sweetheart about what I’d like to do for my upcoming birthday. The thrill of travel isn’t planting my ass on the sand of some beach, nor is it even visiting museums or festivals, though they’d be interesting enough I’m sure. Neither does much for me in exploring or understanding the vibe of the place, which I think is the whole jest of traveling to begin with. With this gaming mentality going on for me now, I realize that the thrill of travel for me is just to get a whole new perspective on other lifestyles and challenging myself to interact with them successfully. That’s like a game in and of itself. It includes the challenge of using and interacting with another language and finding avenues to do so for sake of just getting around and taking care of your basal needs of eating, lodging, and moving from spot to spot. It’s strange for me to see people who have traveled far more than I have, and yet who are totally scared shitless at the thought of daring to depart from their all-English-speaking tour group from their isolated resort. They say that they like to tour around; and at the same time are totally xenophobic. As introverted as I am I still like taking the more immersive and anthropological approach to traveling and touring by vagabonding.

This gaming/puzzling phase I’m in has made me both reflect and fantasize about the scenes I liked and would like to retreat to. I got nostalgic thinking about watching the citizens playing spirited games of dominoes in the outdoors taverns when I was doing life in Valencia many years ago. In past summers at some lake with family, when we were not cooling off in the water, or fishing, or eating, or listening to stories and gossip around a campfire at night, we were spending time playing Kaiser**, Meadow Lake Rummy**, or other card games in the campsite or cabin. I thought about how content I’d be and how cool it would be just chill out in a café nearby a souk in Istanbul playing backgammon with some locals, or perhaps learning mah-jong in a park in Shanghai or Hong Kong. I think about this because apart from the need to buy and consume, use math and logic, and listening to music; entertaining oneself with gaming is another thing that can transcend language, or at least be another avenue to learn about language and culture by this other amusing and informal vehicle.

Speaking of language and culture, that has been the subject of my non-fiction reading during this time off. It once again is a study into the Nordic/Scandinavian lifestyle, and being a nerd for linguistics. I should diversify into studying other cultural viewpoints, but once again, I can’t help but to be attracted to the subject of Scandinavia, as it always intrigues, interests, and impresses me. It is partly because despite with me not being immersed in such a culture, I yet somehow already live by, learned through my upbringing, or have adopted similar such equivalent ideas and ethics***; I just now have discovered new words for some of these memes by some strange synchronicity, which aren’t conveniently packaged into the English vocabulary for me to describe my own personal modus operandi. It’s the whole Law of Jante (Wikipedia source) thing they got going on over there - that I can deeply appreciate, which is sort of a Scandinavian societal modality that serves to curb things like vanity, greed, undo pride, pretentiousness, and a false sense of entitlement. The book I’ve been reading is called Lagom: the Swedish Art of Balanced Living, by Linnea Dunne. A guide for balanced living seems to be an appropriate thing to read while spending some holiday time alone. I touched on the subject of Lagom in a past entry, but I didn’t do it any justice in trying to elaborate on it.

The best new concept words I learned from this book that I can appreciate are:

·         Köpstopp – (pronounced sort of like “short stop”, switching the “rt” with "p") It’s the discipline of applying a spending cap for a given amount of time: a voluntary moratorium on shopping for anything beyond essentials for living. I experimented with this at the beginning of the year, I just didn’t have this concise name for this behaviour. A way to tame mindless consumption.

·         Panta – a recycling fee for your cans and bottles. The Swedish form of what would be the equivalent of a Sarcan refund here. A monetary incentive is always a good thing to encourage a cleaner environment.

·         Plastbanta – The banning of toxin plastic products in your household, and opting for wood/bamboo, stainless steel. I was already shifting towards this trend; again, I just didn’t have a concise name for it before.

·         Lördagsgodis- Not everything falls under the self-regulatory restrictiveness of the Laws of Jante, or the discipline of Lagom in Sweden. There are memes for unfettered indulgence, like this one meaning “Saturday goodies/candies” basically meaning going whole hog on sweets and snacks, but just for once a week. It coincides and accords with my cheat days whenever I have the hair-brain schemes of dieting, and whenever I entreat myself to something weird and exotic to experiment with in my kitchen, as the rhythm for that typically falls on Saturday.

·         Fredagsmys – Another once a week institution. This time meaning roughly “Friday coziness”, relaxing and retreating in your own home with nothing but your snacks at the ready and other creature comforts, and no other obligations to do anything else but veg out. Being that they neighbour as countries, I imagine there may be some correlation with the Finnish meme of kalsarikännit at this time of the week (read on further).   

·         Pyttipanna- A general cooking method of creatively making the most out of the leftovers in your fridge and pantry. Something I do all the time as a personal principle, because being wasteful disgusts me.

·         Loppis – A word meaning to tour flea markets, yard sales, and other places for gently used goods. Loppisrunda means making an entire day’s event of it. Another movement towards frugality, and waste-reduction, repurposing, and giving second hand items a new home and life.

The other Nordic memes I’d like to look into more, study, and explore are the concepts of hygge (Danish) – something akin to “coziness” but I’m led to believe and understand that it is something more divine and intricate than that, and the Finnish institution of kalsarikännit – I apologize that the translation is not too succinct: it roughly means “underwear drunk” but it actually essentially means succumbing to the urge to get intoxicated at home alone in your underwear after a bad day, with no intention of going out and socializing. That’s perhaps the perfect one to test out on a smoky, smouldering, 40 degree August afternoon, like what’s coming ahead.

*- Not for reals; in the Xbox game Prominence Poker. It’s the fact that I’m playing video games to begin with, instead of immersing myself in some other strange little project: that’s what is off-kilter for me, but it beats frying in the merciless heat for now.

** - Two very regional games unique to the area where I was raised here in Saskatchewan. 

*** - Perhaps it’s all mysteriously inherited and instinctual, seeing now that 25% of genome is Scandinavian after a DNA test. Nature versus nurture arguments will be for some other time.

Christmas 2017 Lists

The 5 things I’m grateful for:

·      The safe return of my brother and sister-in-law from the zone in Asia getting stricken with typhoons currently

·       Another birthday for my Dad

·       That the last Monday of the year is Christmas, making the year end at least with one less dreadful form of Monday. An added bonus is that New Year's Day is on Monday, and I'll start the year off with one less bad one.

·       Taking time to visit with an old friend from my past

·       Finding sleep, and shaking off a long, bad, stretch of insomnia, even though I’m still waking up at ridiculously early hours.

The 5 gifts I gave myself:

·      To the kid/history geek in me, a game console with two games: Wolfenstein II, The New Colossus, and Call of Duty, WWII. Deck the Halls with shooting Nazis, Fa La La La La  . . . La La La . . . Blam! I’m trying not to let this become some addiction. This was bought back during a Black Friday sale. I’m still a fumbling newbie. I promised myself to make more moments for fun this coming year, so I’m loosening up a little and granting myself this little indulgence. For the anthropologically curious side of me, I have Civilization VI lined up (whenever it becomes reasonably discounted) in PC format. If I indeed have a limit as to how smart I’ll really be, then I at least must find some way to apply my current intellect for some sort of interactive entertainment. I’ve had too many bitter lessons lately as to how short and fragile life really is. Too much reading is boring me (and probably making me boring). Television, as it is now, is doing nothing but rotting my mind, given all the horrid news to watch and the banality of the influx of “reality TV”. As much as I’d like to divert myself and be more engaged with getting into playing some good old-fashioned traditional board/analogue/parlour games (cards, backgammon, darts, billiards, Scrabble®, etc.) the reality is that I have no readily available company for them in my free time. This is the next best thing.

·      To the history/science geek in me, a discounted offer for a DNA test (Ancestry.com). Why? Because genetics are cool, that's why. If I’m not going to have some sort of spawn or clone of me being left on this earth after I’m gone, I’d like to at least know how far back, and from which regions my particular genome came from, and what it is comprised of whilst I’m alive. I reason and conclude that collecting my DNA and doing a simple test like this for the sake of uncovering my heritage is far less costly than perpetuating those genes by siring a child. Maybe I'll find out through the results that I wasn't fit enough to beget one to begin with. However, it might spark stupid ideas of how I can use these kits to replicate those significant other people who I totally want to have cloned (a possible next sequel of Bladerunner happening, or something).

·      To the travel geek in me, my passport application.

·      To the booze connoisseur geek in me, my traditional bottle of Scotch for year’s end.

·      The couple hours taken to reunite with someone from my past after long lapse amounting to decades, and seeing that she’s doing OK. That satisfied all the geeks in me.

The 5 Favourite foods of this Christmas (presently having and anticipating):

·         Butter tarts

·         Oysters

·         The Swedish meatballs and rice pudding I had on Christmas eve*

·         Rullepolse* (from the largely Icelandic community of Wynyard)

·         Stuffing and gravy

Concerns and condolences (thankfully, a shorter list):

·       As I come here to celebrate the birthday of my own Dad along with Christmas, I learned of the passing of the father of one of my Union siblings just before the holidays. This person has brought me nothing but fun and cheerfulness since the time we’ve been acquainted, and it’s not fair that someone like her gets to endure this now. Thinking of you HJ.

·       The passing of the wife of my sister-in-law’s brother, again, something that doesn’t make the season better for them. Thoughts and prayers for them.

·       My dog seems to be stricken with a new health problem, hopefully it can be rectified without too much stress to her or myself.

*-This stuff is traditionally fare served at a Scandinavian table around Christmas, and seems to be stuff we as a family are adopting and enjoying. Perhaps another reason for me to question our true heritage and to do the DNA test.

5Q5A: A Sort of Homecoming

And you hunger for the time

Time to heal, desire, time
And your earth moves beneath
Your own dream landscape …

Lyrics from the song A Sort of Homecoming, from the album The Unforgettable Fire, by U2.

The holiday time that I’m . . . enduring, so far, could be a lot better. It feels like a time where I really need to do some soul-searching. Anger and other anxieties have eating me alive lately, and I’ve noticeably been struggling to keep my composure. Peace has been hard to come by. 

The holiday started well enough, with a return to my old hometown, being amidst the territory I was raised and grew up around. I have not returned to where I spent my boyhood and teen years for a long time, and it was a sobering realization of how long a lapse it has been after a visit there to reunite for a birthday party with my extended family who remain there. I don’t visit there as often as my other brothers, or parents do.

The home where I grew up in is gone, only stuff of dreams and memories remain, and the landscape has morphed in subtly different ways, but still so familiar. It was a shock, and yet a comfort, to know that I’m not completely estranged and alienated from the place, and that in some ways I am still quite bonded to it. Just because I’m from Saskatchewan doesn’t automatically make me a Prairieboy (I’d be rather insulted if you called me one), nor am I a bush dweller. I’m a Parkland boy. The geography of the place is the beltline in between the prairie and the boreal forest. It’s interspersed with sloughs, deciduous groves, pastures, fields, and lakes which are no more than 10 kilometers away from any homestead situated in that region. The place where I grew up was even more unique in that we lived near the coulees. Traveling through them around the south and west of the old farmstead was always soothing to my senses. Trekking through the pasturelands in the coulees, before more bears repopulated the places, was enjoyable too. The rest of this I’ll shorten with 5Q5A . . .

Q1. How tolerable is the Ex this year?

A1. Someone broke into my building and tore open the mailboxes. Mine was untouched, thankfully. That’s the most drastic thing that has happened so far crime-wise. I hope that’s the worse it ever gets. Monday and Tuesday were sleepless, and by Wednesday I was so drained that I fell asleep early, and couldn’t even be stirred awake by the fireworks. The Strumbellas play tonight at the grandstand, and I should at least enjoy that concert from afar here on my balcony.

Q2. Fiction Book?

A2. An old sci-fi classic, Brave New World, by Aldous Huxley. Knowing that Huxley was a respected colleague of his philosophical contemporary, Alan Watts, plus his experimentation with psychedelics and the curiosity as to how it impacted his prose composition was an angle that intrigued me to pick up this book. Feeling like I’ve been stuck in what seems like a dystopic atmosphere is probably another reason I’m giving it a perusal. It’s also to help draw out answers to that question of what my own personal form of ‘soma’ is: that mechanism or pattern I retreat to for coping with the insanity of this world. It's also significant because we've reached this point in history where it is technically possible to custom design people genetically. It’s next best novel to read after 1984 if dystopian philosophical classic science fiction turns one’s crank.

Q3. Non-Fiction Book?

A3. I haven’t gotten there yet. I’m just making it a point to regain some focus, so I’m just doing one thing at a time with intensified concentration. Writing like this is a good exercise for that too. I’m making it a point to avoid all forms of negativity, including watching the news . . . however . . .

Q4. Brad Wall announced his retirement today . . . thoughts on that?

A4. Mixed emotions, one being “Yeah! At long last!” with the reserve and caution of wondering how really buggered up things are going to be coming down the road, which he is tucking tail and running from, in order to distance himself further from whatever that is. It’s pessimistically suspicious, but that is what happens after working in healthcare and care facilities and living under the ridiculous dictates of this government for this long. It might be such that whoever takes over leadership in the Sask party may be even more incompetent, corrupt, and callous than he was. He claims that he has no immediate plans after he steps down. I don’t believe this for a second. It wouldn’t surprise me at all if he automatically took an executive position with any one of the crony corporations he invited into this province through his anti-union privatization schemes shortly and soon after he steps down as premier.

Q5.  Next holiday at this time next year?

A5. As nice as homecomings are, I’m definitely getting out of this province. I don’t even care anymore if I have to go into debt to do it. One can’t expect stuff to change or be enlightening by doing the same thing over and over again; staycations apply to this as well. The political madness that might ensue after today might make it worth doing.