Tuesday, July 26, 2016

I love Costco. I love the prices, the food court and how everything is in bulk. My pug is even named Kirkland.

Last Monday I had an opportunity to go to a Canadian Costco. Naturally I was thrilled.

Ben, Mirabelle, Kristen’s mother Irene, and I all piled into the car for the hour or so drive to Barrie, where the nearest Costco was located. We started off the morning with Tim Horton’s, where I got a maple-flavored iced cap (what’s more Canadian than ordering a maple-flavored drink?) and shared an order of Timbits with the car. Timbits are donut holes, basically. Our flavor options were chocolate, blueberry and apple fritter. They tasted exactly how you would expect: donuty, fluffy, sugary. Not bad for fast-food donuts, definitely.

Our first stop was Georgian Mall, the largest mall in Barrie. It had stores with which I was familiar (American Eagle, the Disney Store, Gap, Sears) along with some new faces (Hudson’s Bay, Roots, Jacob Connexion). In the food court I tried poutine for the first time. I ordered the fries, gravy, cheese curd concoction from New York Fries. It was delicious. At many restaurants and shops you can order a side of gravy with your fries. This is one of my favorite things about Canada and food joints.

Then came Costco. I took a picture with Vicki, the worker who checked our member card as we walked through the door. She was happy for me and my Canadian Costco experience.

We walked down the aisles, the kids hanging off the cart or walking backwards in front of the cart and drastically slowing down our shopping experience. The Canadian Costco felt relatively the same to my own Portland or Eugene Costcos. The food was arranged different, but the clothes were in the middle of the store and a large play structure rose from the center clump of aisles up to the ceiling, just like my own Costcos. There was a section of hockey sticks, which was one of the most Canadian things Costco could sell so props to them for target marketing. Also I found some butter tarts, something I’ve never seen an Oregon Costco sell, but something I really wish the Oregon Costcos would sell because butter tarts are heavenly.

Next stop was the fish store. We stayed there for a much longer time one would expect considering we picked out four two-inch long guppies. Eventually Mirabelle and Ben were happy with their guppy choices and trotted out of the store each holding two bags filled with water and a fish.

The children fell asleep on the way home. I felt like I could join them. Instead I drowsily watched the farms pass by.

Friday, July 15, 2016

Being without power on an island is a difficult way of life, especially when it’s overcast. We made breakfast of toast and bacon on the barbecue, and heated some water for tea. The dishes were washed with lake water, and Ben followed me around the house using his flashlight to find the dust while I swept. We left four days early, leaving the pounding rain and thudding wind behind.

“I missed this house.” I turn from the kitchen sink to see Benny slowly walking down the stairs, kissing the banister as he goes. “I missed you, house.” He rests his cheek against the dark wood and closes his eyes, content.

Today Benny and I went to Blue Mountain Village, a little outdoor shopping area with coffee shops, retail stores, restaurants and –to Ben’s delight –ice cream.

              He painted a new fighter jet at Crock a Doodle, the pottery shop. Then we got poutine without the poutine (he just wanted French fries), and looked for frogs in a small stream under a bridge. We spotted some but didn’t catch any. We got Ben a Moose Tracks ice cream cone and walked around the spouting fountain while he at it.

              I’ve never seen a messier eater. It’s a talent, truly. The chocolate-vanilla ice cream covered his mouth, cheeks, nose. It dripped down onto his t-shirt, shorts, and even shoes. A woman walking by saw him and stopped, handing me a napkin. “You’re going to need this,” she said with a smile. Honestly what I needed to do was throw Ben into the spouting fountains and let him air dry. He was a happy, sticky mess.

              Eventually we changed him out of his t-shirt and into a sweatshirt, and wiped down his face and hands in the bathroom (although it’s called a washroom here). He was considerably less sticky when he got into the car at the end of the day, and sometimes, from a four-year-old, that’s all you can ask.

Wednesday, July 13, 2016

Haliburton, Ontario. It’s a county of lakes, islands and cottages.

I’ve found that everyone I’ve encountered here in Ontario refers to their seasonal house in the woods/mountains/valleys as a “cottage,” even if it doesn’t fit the description of what I would picture as a cottage. The V’s cottage is a log cabin only accessed by using boat. On Sunday, Kristen and I loaded the kids and all our belongings into her dad’s motorboat and glided across the lake. A square dock greeted us, stone steps leading up to a beautiful cabin Kristen said her dad built. The cottage’s three bedrooms are full of enough beds to sleep nine comfortably and even more people uncomfortably.

Another family is here. The K’s have three girls: a ten-year-old girl and eight-year-old twins. The five of the children play together for hours. As soon as we arrived on the island the children set about making amour out of tree bark and pipe cleaners. On Monday we roasted hot dogs for lunch. We had the kids try to find good roasting sticks but they began carving spears instead. They even decorated the spears with string and pipe cleaners. Then they set about roaming through the forest, seeking animals to kill. Unsurprisingly, they found none.

Yesterday we tried water skiing. Using the motor boat we towed the kids one-by-one, cheering for them from the dock as they tried to crouch on the water in the bright green skis. All the kids succeeded, as did Val, the K’s mom. I tried to get upright in the skis but kept ending up face down in the water, skis floating away and me blowing water out of my nose. My arms became sore in places I didn’t even know was possible.  I never succeeded in water skiing, but maybe with some practice I will do it.

Today we took the motor boat to Blueberry Island, a small island of rock and blueberry bushes. We all swam around it and picked berries to eat, laying on hot rock under the morning sun to dry our wet swimsuits.

Days here are hot. In the 30 degree Celsius range. A crisp breeze blows across the water as we sit on the dock, bringing a brief reprieve to the heat. We swim after breakfast, lunch, and sometimes dinner. It’s practically a way of life here.

Wednesday, July 6, 2016

I’m supposed to be here.

That confidence –that faith –is the factor that allowed me to travel across the continent. Across and out of the country. I wouldn’t be here without that assurance.

This was a tough year. But it’s the hard years that make the good years truly shine. And it’s in the hard years that we learn what it means to rely on Christ and give Him everything.

The Lord is my refuge.

That was my mantra for the second half of this year. God is there, you just need to reach out to Him. When you walk to class and stand under a tree to escape the hot sun, you are standing in the shadow of His wings. When your relationships crumble and all you want is something stable, He is the rock to which you can hold.

God can handle everything you’ve got. He made you. He knows you. He knew I needed Canada. Gosh, did I need Canada. And now I’m here and a plane ticket bought months ago became a reality and I watch the sunset and I color with a six-year-old and I play dinosaurs with a four-year-old and there is peace. There is joy.

Last week’s highlights:

Tuesday, June 28^th: attended young adult group for the church I went to on Sunday. There were moments when I forgot I was a thousand miles away from Portland. Forgot this wasn’t just a normal night in Oregon, and I was gathered with some friends to discuss the Bible. It felt natural, and I loved everyone trying to pronounce Oregon correctly (hint: it doesn’t rhyme with octagon). Also we ate pie.

Wednesday, June 29^th: Mirabelle and I tried to make bird feeders using bird seed and peanut butter. We were mixing the two ingredients in a bowl when Ben joined us to shove the mixture in the cookie cutters to freeze.

“No Ben don’t! It’s bird seed!” Mirabelle shouted.

I looked up from the bowl just in time to see a big glob disappear into his mouth. His eyes widened in surprise before he opened his mouth and let the clump of bird seed, peanut butter and saliva splat onto the porch.

Thursday, June 30^th: Mirabelle and Ben were at day camp for a majority of the day, so I got to walk around the library, check out some books and spend several hours at the coffee shop across the street. It could not have been a better morning.

Friday, July 1^st: It was Canada Day, my first Canadian national holiday. Mirabelle decided she wanted to start writing a book about sea turtles. I welcomed the idea. My four years of education had been preparing me for this very moment.

We spent the morning googling steps to drawing sea turtles and attempting to imitate the somehow perfect pictures. We taped our drawings to the book amid Mirabelle’s neatly written sea turtle facts. She titled the book Sea Turtles and the Ocean.

Saturday, July 2^nd: Mirabelle and I went to the weekly Farmer’s Market in town. We wandered the booths and oohed and aahed appropriately. She held my hand the whole time. I tried my first butter tart. It had pecans and it was delicious. Mirabelle bought a small succulent plant she later named Tiny.

Afterward she took me to the rock store, her favorite shop in town. She showed me all her favorite rocks and explained things about the shop to me in detail, such as the incense or the cat or that green rock over there.

Now it’s Wednesday. Yesterday Ben and I spent the entire morning in the lake hunting for golf balls and playing dinosaurs in the sand. Last night I went to small group and spent a few wonderful hours talking about God and busyness and priorities. Today the weather is even more beautiful, and the water glistens in the afternoon sun. It’s going to be a good day. 

Monday, June 27, 2016

Days here are a strange mixture of paradise and boredom. I want a social life –my best friends are a four-year-old and a six-year-old –but there is also so much peace found here with nothing to do. Today I grocery shopped, and I took my time. There was no rush. I am so accustomed to feeling the need to rush and get on with my day, but I need to remind myself to relax. What is so pressing that I must hurry? Nothing.

Yesterday I attended a new church. Since I arrived in Ontario, Canada, exactly a week ago yesterday I have been praying to make friends. I specifically prayed for a girl to take me under her wing and introduce me to everyone, make me feel welcome.

And God provided. He provided everything so specifically it is amazing. I met a large portion of the congregation yesterday. I was shown around. I had people to sit with.

During service it was announced that the annual barbeque and pig roast was to take place later that day. However, I knew I had no way to get there and prepared myself to return to a house that would soon be quiet, and spend the rest of my evening alone as my Canadian family traveled to a wedding several hours away. They were to return late that night and had offered me to come, but I had passed.

But as I made myself lunch after church I received a text from the girl who was an answer to my prayers. She offered me a ride to the barbeque.

God knows what we need. What I needed was to meet several dozen strangers, eat good food, play water balloon toss and not return home until almost sunset. And He provided. 

Saturday, June 25, 2016

They live on the Georgian Bay, and the sunsets are unreal. My first night here I witnessed the most beautiful sunset I’ve ever seen. It was breathtaking. Since then sunset has become my favorite time of day. I sit at the end of the dock and wait for the sky to turn to shades of pink, the endless water a line of blue.

The kids love to play in the water. Ben, the four-year-old, and I spent several hours the other day filling his Tonka trucks with mud and then emptying them into the cool water, a contrast to the humid air. The Bay is also oddly filled with golf balls and we searched endlessly for them, Ben immediately throwing them back into the water once I handed them to him.

Mirabelle, who is six, likes to hunt for frogs and bugs and insects. We went frog hunting and found one the size of my fingernail. She was on cloud nine.

The days pass leisurely, filled with keeping the kids occupied and trying not to be too excited about bagged milk. I’m working on my Canadian accent. Maybe someday I’ll perfect it.

Sunday, June 19, 2016

Portland, Dallas, Toronto, Collingwood. The night can feel the longest when you’re traveling across the country.

“I’m going to Canada,” I whispered to myself as I sat with my fellow blurry-eyed flyers who were also taking this red-eye flight. I checked my watch: midnight. My flight out of PDX should board any minute.

It takes three hours and some change to fly from Portland to the Dallas Fort Worth Airport. I could feel the humidity between exiting the plane and entering DFW. I had lost two hours already, and the late night was taking its toll. On the plane I had watched a movie and jealously eyed the guy next to me who slept soundly through the entire flight.

I was off the plane at 6:18 a.m. My connecting flight boarded at 6:30, and I was in the biggest airport in the United States, sleep-deprived, and drowsily carting my backpack, duffel bag, and an Oregon Duck pillow pet. I approached the first help desk I saw and handed the man my boarding pass. “Please, I’m just trying to get to Toronto,” I said.

“Are you up for a bit of a hike?” He asked me.

I eyed him warily. “Maybe.”

I hiked. The airport became a blur as I hightailed it past fellow flyers, Puddles my pillow pet bobbing in my backpack, only his head visible. I made it to my flight on time, sweaty and out of breath, I slept through the two hour flight, and I had arrived.

“I’m in Canada,” I said softly as I waited in line at customs. I was going to spend the next two-and-a-half months as an au pair for a family in Ontario. What an adventure.