Category: Uncategorized

What You Learn on a Bike Ride

September 9 2024

I put the bikes on the Thule rack to drive to one of the parking lots along the Ottawa River Parkway. Although we could have cycled from our house to get there, whenever possible I avoid riding on city streets with all the traffic on them.  But when we arrived at the Parkway, we found the two lanes with access to the parking lots closed to car traffic; they were reserved for cyclists on this Saturday. So, we decided to park on a vacant government parking lot nearby, hoping that there would be no monitoring of these lots on a Saturday (by the way, the remote work policy mandates the civil service to work two days per week in the office, so most parking lots for them are nearly empty).

Riding over to the Parkway, we noticed a giant sign indicating the Saturday cycling only sign on the “Kichi Zibi Mekan,” the new name for the Parkway. Let me provide a little history. We used to call this road the “Western Parkway” or the “Ottawa River Parkway”. Both names were geographically suggestive. But in 2012, the government renamed it “Sir John A. MacDonald Parkway” after the first Prime Minister of Canada, a historical name unrelated to geography. We used to call it the “SJAM,” an easy and short name. In 2023, the government renamed it in the Algonquin language, “Kichi Zibi Mekan,” in English: “Great Old River.”

I preferred the Ottawa River Parkway name; it seemed tied to and congruent with the Ottawa River when driving, walking, or riding. Renaming decisions were and are political, in my view. The Conservative government picked Sir John’s name. Sir John was a Conservative politician. When Sir John acquired a bad reputation for his policies towards First Nations, the Canadian public ostracized him. Remember when his monuments were destroyed? This reflects the changing attitudes towards historical figures in Canada.

Instead of returning to the original name, the government, in the spirit of the current ‘reconciliation’ with Indigenous people in Canada, named it in the Algonquin language that few people speak in Ottawa. This ‘reconciliation’ refers to the ongoing efforts to address the historical injustices and promote a better relationship between the Indigenous and non-Indigenous peoples in Canada. The name seems divorced from the Ottawa River for English-speaking people; it is three words in the Algonquin language. It is unintelligible to me. However, it is a step towards recognizing and honoring Ottawa’s Indigenous history and culture.

Our bicycle ride took us across the old railroad bridge from Ottawa to Gatineau. I thought the bridge’s name was the Prince of Wales Bridge. The Quebec, Ontario, Ottawa, and Occidental Railway was built in 1880 and christened with a name that lasted over 124 years, although its function as a rail bridge had stopped years ago. However, the bridge went through a major rehabilitation the past couple of years, into a multi-use pathway spanning the Ottawa River; the Ottawa City Council reopened it as the Chief William Commanda bridge.

My curiosity led me to find out who Chief William Commanda was. Commanda was an Algonquin elder, spiritual leader, and chief of the Ashininabeg First Nation for 19 years. In 2008, he was made an Officer of the Order of Canada, an award for meritorious service in Canada. The rehabilitation of the bridge and its renaming as the Chief William Commanda Bridge not only honors his legacy but also provides a safe and scenic route for cyclists and pedestrians to cross the Ottawa River.

I cannot comment on how well-known Commanda was among the Algonquin people or on his accomplishments since this was the first I had heard of him before the Ottawa City Council announced the name of the rehabilitated bridge. But I wonder why we needed a new name and why the new geographic names in Ottawa appear to be acquiring Algonquin memes.

To understand the local politicians’ emphasis on the Algonquin Nation, it’s important to note that the Algonquins have occupied the Ottawa area for over a thousand years. Today, most of the 8,000 Algonquin people live on the Quebec side of the Ottawa River. Therefore, using Algonquin history in naming local streets, bridges, and venues is attractive from a historical perspective and a way to pay respect to the Indigenous people who have shaped the region’s history.

I am less impressed by the use of the Algonquin language in naming parts of Ottawa, like Kichi Zibi Mikan for the Ottawa River Parkway; the words in English mean “Great River Road.” Why not call it the latter? It is understandable in English and carries the historical Algonquin connotation. Members of the Algonquin nation may understand the name but form a minuscule percentage of the population of Ottawa, where over 36,000 people speak Arabic, 16,000 speak Spanish, and 14,000 speak Chinese, in contrast to the 1000 people who speak any indigenous language, including Algonquin (Ottawa’s population is one million).   Based on this precedent, should we see Ottawa venues named in Arabic, Spanish, and Chinese words?

The growth and diversity of Ottawa’s population make the city an exciting place for bike rides. Reflecting on our experiences during our bike rides, we often like to end our trips with a relaxing coffee. This time, the bike path returning from Gatineau across the William Commanda Bridge led us to the Art-Is-In Bakery close to downtown, where we had lunch. I was pleasantly surprised by the long lineup for service and the bustling crowd inside and on the outside patio, especially the vibrant presence of young people. It felt like a scene from the cafes in Marseille around the inner harbor, a delightful surprise in the heart of Ottawa.

There is no question that Ottawa is becoming a sophisticated metropolitan city, with elaborate bike paths sporting historical names and crowded cafes with outdoor patios. However, I prefer to keep street names and similar venues in their original toponymy and not subject them to political whims.

Nostalgia

August 18,2024

Taking the Quyon ferry from Ontario to Quebec by car and then driving along Highway 128 to Norway Bay brought up fond memories. We used to visit our friend Zane, who had a cottage there. Zane passed away many years ago, and his wife sold the house after the family moved to Vancouver, so keeping the cottage was impractical. This time, we visited his wife, who rented two cottages to host the family and remind them of their good times there.

The surroundings along the road were familiar; I recognized the area’s city hall and fire station. Norway Bay was still a small village of cottages that seemed to camp in a pine forest. There was a feeling of friendliness and informality about this community. No fences existed, and people walked on the streets and along the beach for exercise. Many children rode bicycles. I almost wished we had a cottage there; there are always people around, which is kind of reassuring socially.

In contrast, our cottage is on an island with boat access only. We see boats and water life, but we rarely see people to talk to casually, as you can in Norway Bay.

Meeting Zane’s family, some of whom I have not seen in decades, brought back memories of when I met him. At a time, we both were undergoing French language training the government provided for all its managers. Government policy was that employees should be able to speak their native language at work, so all managers should speak French and English.

We all spoke some French; this was not a beginner’s class. As an introduction, the teacher asked us to describe what we do in our jobs. When it came to Zane, he talked about “emballage.” Wow! It sounded like “embalming,” and I scratched my head trying to figure out which government department embalms what and why.

But my confusion lasted briefly until I could ask him who or what was embalmed. It turned out that “emballage” is the French word for labeling. You know, the labels on the products for sale in stores, like cereals and chocolate bars. Zane explained that the government develops rules for the type of information that must appear on product boxes for sale (like the size of the letters) and enforces the legislation on labeling.

I found his work fascinating, and we became fast friends in a short time. His patrician demeanor attracted me. When listening to someone, he jutted his head forward to focus on the speaker and responded thoughtfully with a gravelly voice. But he enjoyed jokes and was fast at cracking a smile.

In subsequent conversations, he described how he came from Johannesburg to attend university in Winnipeg with a windbreaker on his back when the typical temperature was way below zero degrees in January. But he had help to adjust quickly to local conditions, and early in his university life, he met a local girl who became his wife.

We soon met Zane’s family of two boys and an adopted Canadian indigenous girl in Ottawa, and our families socialized. We also met his parents when Zane invited them to visit his family. It was interesting to notice cultural differences between South African and Canadian mores.

Zane had become Canadianized to such an extent that when his mother read the newspaper and his father just took it out of her hands because he wanted to read it at the same time, Zane told his dad off, saying that his mother had the paper first and was reading it and do not take it from her. Back home, the father rules the household, and the woman obeys him. In Canada, we have more gender equality.

Another time, the family was going on a car trip to Toronto, and Zane’s mother started fixing sandwiches. Zane asked why she was doing it; in Canada, everyone, regardless of color, can stop at any food facility to eat. That was an exciting episode for Zane’s parents, as traveling back home was challenging for colored people.

Zane’s mother would have liked to stay in Canada, especially when she was cured, freely, of TB, recognized by an X-ray. But his father decided to return to South Africa, not only because he had his friends there but also because he missed his culture.

All these memories returned to me when we drove into Norway Bay and met with Zane’s wife, one of his sons, and the son’s family. For me, it was an emotional moment. Although we talked with his wife over the years, it had been decades since I had seen his son and his family. Eric is a muscle-bound, heavy-set RCMP officer with over twenty years of service. He has had a varied career with the Mounties in British Columbia, serving on a swat team for a while. Although he was the easiest person to talk with, nobody would mess with him, just looking at his build.

It was also satisfying to remember that Eric had wanted to be a Mountie since high school. We wrote a letter of recommendation for him when he applied to join the RCMP, and I was glad to see that he has made a successful career with the force. 

While having coffee, some of Eric’s children decided to visit “Grandpa.” Somewhat confused, I asked Zane’s wife which Grandpa they would see. She explained that they would visit the cemetery where Zane is buried.

Climate Change in Fifty Years

August 2, 2024

While drilling a tooth in my mouth, the dentist asked me if I thought it was warmer in Ottawa now than a decade ago. Once he pulled out the drill from my mouth and my tongue got free to speak, I said yes. I said absolutely; this area is becoming a retirement community with a balmier climate that has superseded the cold winters. We now have longer, warmer summers and shorter, more tolerable winters.

The impact of climate change on winter sports is undeniable. The once long and enjoyable cross-country skiing season has been noticeably shortened. On the other hand, urban walking in winter has improved. With less snow, we can now stroll around town all winter, often with no snow on the ground.

But let me go back to the winter of 1974 when Ottawa’s average January temperature was 12 degrees Fahrenheit. In contrast, Ottawa’s average January temperature in 2024 was 21 degrees Fahrenheit. This is a significant upward move that has been gradual in my memory. The last few years have been mild and quite manageable, wearing light winter jackets.

Another example of the gradual warming is the number of days the Canal has been open for skating over the years. Dubbed the longest skating rink in the world, the Canal opened for skating in 1972 and was open for ninety days; the temperature was so cold that the ice on the Canal was three feet deep, the standard used for safe skating. It was open for twelve days in 2024 and never opened in 2023.

Leaving the dentist’s office, I met my friend, who explained that we have climate change, but he does not believe we have “global warming.” He agreed that climate change is real; this may be the hottest month in Ottawa, with daily temperatures in the nineties. He questions climate science and quotes periods when we have had warming and cooling over the last thousands of years.

He said Wade Davis’s chapter in his just-published book Beneath the Nature of Things provided the best and most balanced description of the climate issue he had ever read. Davis is a Professor of Anthropology at the University of British Columbia. In his essay, he provides a brief history of the climate change movement from its beginning in 1972 at the Copenhagen Conference.

Davis describes the cult-like followers of the climate crisis, including Greta Thunberg. He also mentions Steve Koonin (the science advisor to President Obama) and those who, although agreeing that the planet is in serious trouble embracing the carbon economy, believe technology will help solve the issue. There are also geopolitical issues: the South is asking for reparations; the North has had the time to create the problem while developing its economy and now asks the South to forego development based on the carbon economy. That does not seem fair. 

Davis intersperses his essay with fascinating facts, for example China approving the opening of 180 coal mines yearly and airline companies having 12,000 airplanes on order. These are examples of how these initiatives will increase rather than decrease the carbon economy. Also, 80 % of India has yet to fly, and sooner or later, all these people would want to experience flying, adding to the amount of carbon dioxide in the air.

The answer: Davis believes in setting action plans instead of target reduction plans; to date, the twenty-eight climate conferences have come up with watery plans, sometimes using misleading data, for example when the NATO countries came up with a target of 24% reduction when they had already achieved 12% of it by letting the ex-Soviet satellite countries join NATO.

Reading Davis’s essay made me wonder if I have ever done anything to reduce my carbon footprint. I belong to the group of people who do not feel the urgency of acting on a doomsday scenario that happens in decades. Polls show that although many believe in the danger of global warming, they are unwilling to act on it since it happens in the future.

Our new car is a hybrid EV. Did we get it because it is environmentally better than a carbon-fueled car? No, it was an economic decision: the mileage is much better than in a fully carbon-fueled car. We have not reduceed our travels to visit family and friends by air or automobile. And we have not downsized to save on heating fuel and AC. Should we?

Many factors influence the decisions to reduce our carbon footprint. The first one is to be convinced that the doomsday scenarios are real. But I have not had the experience that would convince me that we are on the threshold of a crisis.

If I travelled in an area with industrial pollution and massive car traffic resulting in hazy weather, I would put higher priority on solving air pollution resulting from the carbon economy. But that is not my recent experience.

Driving from Pittsburgh, PA, to Durham, NC, via West Virginia, we have seen vast expanses of beautiful open space with rolling hills. We have not seen any air pollution. We smelled fresh air. We also flew from Ottawa to Vancouver a few weeks ago and observed the vast lands underneath with no population. There is crowding with car pollution along parts of the East and West coasts, but most of the country in between is empty. So, I am not inclined to believe we have a climate problem based on my experience. I know there has been a gradual warming in the Ottawa area over the last fifty years. Beyond that, I have a minimal understanding of the future.

Career Advice 2024

July 19, 2024

At Reser Stadium, Oregon State University, in Corvallis, OR, ex-OSU football player Steve Jackson delivered a commencement speech that was more than just advice. It was a call to action, a call to travel and discover oneself. The stadium was hushed as the students absorbed Jackson’s powerful message, drawn from his own transformative experiences.

 His speech resonated deeply with the audience and earned the roaring applause of the 7,600 graduating students and forty thousand family and friends in the stadium on June 15, 2024. We were in the audience to watch our grandson graduate in engineering.

Jackson started his speech by asking the students: what is your next step? The NFL drafted Jackson before graduation, and he did not have to think about the future until he became disappointed with his team and concerned about his long-term career. His concern led to travel each year when the team was off-season. This narrative structure, which began with a personal anecdote and then transitioned into the central theme of travel, effectively engaged the audience and set the tone for the rest of the speech.

He traveled alone or in small groups to meet local people in foreign countries who did not know he was a well-known football player in the US. He said his travels made him find his strengths and increased his confidence in resolving challenges when he came home. The challenges did not become any easier; they remained the same. However, he discovered that he became better at solving problems based on what he learned traveling.

He recommended travel, including adventures like he had paragliding over Iguazu Falls in Argentina and cage-diving with great white sharks.

Another adventure was to build water wells in Tanzania as part of a team to help that country with its water problems. The tour also included climbing Mount Kilimanjaro, an extremely demanding physical hike. He described that when the group climbing the mountain was a hundred meters from the top, he looked back and saw his friend struggling to walk further, weakened by the thin air at this high altitude. Although he was steps away from the top, he decided to return to help, and both scaled the summit together. Jackson said teamwork is essential in achieving goals, but helping his friend was a moment of self-discovery in understanding your strengths and empathy for others.

Listening to Jackson reminded me of my travels to the Middle East and Southeast Asia with my wife. We backpacked, taking the less traveled paths and taking advantage of learning about local cultures, being observant, and talking to people. I fully agree with Jackson; when traveling, you leave your daily routine and identity behind as much as possible and instead open your mind and eyes.

For instance, we stumbled upon the rat temple in India, where you enter barefoot and are surrounded by over 25,000 rats (Karni Mata in Rajasthan). The full-time staff’s dedication to feeding and supporting these rats is a testament to the temple’s religious significance. It was a sight we could never have imagined before our travels.

We also saw an exquisitely carved Jain temple, where we had to shed all leather goods (materials that come from living things), like my belt, to enter. Other requirements were no shoes, socks, or food, and women could not enter during their menstrual cycle.

In Moslem Jordan, we learned that all room service staff were men; women are prohibited from working in such spaces. Instead, Egyptian immigrant men are doing this work.

In Bangladesh, we encountered a combination of urban poverty, crowding, and working conditions that do not exist in North America; for example, we saw fifteen people sewing shirts in a closed, windowless space of two hundred square feet with one lamp and no AC, working in temperatures of over ninety degrees in Pune, India. We also experienced a hundred-mile, four-hour car trip.

Returning from our trips, we have become more tolerant and understanding of different cultures. We looked at our issues at home from a larger perspective; for example, we did not think our highway congestion was terrible compared to the roads around Pune.

Mind you, we traveled when we were older, unlike what Jackson recommended in his speech to new graduates. And we were not looking for our future careers. However, travel is educational at any stage in life and can help focus people’s lives, so I thought Jackson’s speech was helpful to new graduates.

But remember that young people want to get on with their careers and look for a job before considering traveling. One also needs some funds to travel. So, although I agree with the premise that travel opens your mind and assists with figuring out your career, most young people fall into the job market after graduation, often marry and establish a family before thinking about travel that needs some funds and free time. Considering these practical challenges when evaluating the relevance of Jackson’s advice is essential.

With his newly minted diploma, my grandson, Cedric, had already secured a job in San Francisco before he heard Steve Jackson. Many of his friends had also obtained jobs before graduation. However, the message may linger with them, and between future job changes, they may travel. For those graduating with no immediate plans, by all means, go on a trip and find yourself. That was Steve Jackson’s message.

Flying from Ottawa to Portland: My Travel Experience

July 3, 2024

Although some people are used to flying and to the hurly-burly of moving through airports, I found it a pain in the butt flying from Ottawa, ON, to Vancouver, BC, and then to Portland, OR, and back. The entire experience, especially clearing security, which I found a bracing experience, only reinforced my dislike for flying.

Preparations for our flight started a few days before departure. I set the alarm clock for four a.m. to get used to an early start. I wanted to make sure the alarm clock worked, and it did. Such an early morning start is not my typical schedule.

I reserved a taxi to take us to the airport the night before but was worried about what would happen if it did not come. In that case, I thought of taking our car to the long-term parking lot and hauling our suitcases a mile to the airport. But the taxi came and messaged me fifteen minutes before the reserved time that it was on the way and again when parked on our driveway. Impressive.

Leaving our house involves shutting off the water main in case of a leak that may flood the basement and installing the alarm system. Since I did not want to carry my heavy keychain on the trip, I left a key hidden in the garage but also put a house key in my wallet in case the electricity would be off coming home, making the garage door inoperable, in which case I would use the key in my wallet to open the front door of the house. I think of all the situations that could go wrong; maybe I am paranoid.

Arriving at the departure lounge, I showed the airline attendant our boarding passes, printed at home, and asked what we needed to do next. She asked if we wanted to use the self-serve kiosks or talk to someone to get our luggage tags. I found her question strange: why would she not just help us? She seemed as if she did not want to be bothered by passengers before six am. However, hearing our conversation, a colleague quickly came forward and offered help with a smile.

After this rude welcome, though, the airline attendants were excellent during the rest of the trip, including subsequent legs with the same airline. For example, when paying for a sandwich on the plane, the stewardess noticed my Aeroplan card in my wallet and recorded the card number for the purchase, adding points to my account.

Next came the security check. I hate putting my wallet and passport on the long conveyor belt, afraid of losing or someone stealing them, which could happen when they pat me down looking for the metal in my body. I usually point to my hips, where I had joint replacements, to help security staff locate the metal. I know there is no need to do that since they use a wand to pat down my entire body, but I feel better by trying to help them. I walked through the x-ray machine, and an agent patted me down with a wand for fifteen minutes. Then, he asked me to lean against the wall and lift my shoes’ soles for visual inspection.

In contrast, the security check was more detailed on the trip’s second leg from Vancouver to Portland. The inspectors opened my carry-on suitcase, and my “Kindle” enjoyed a second trip through the X-ray machine. I always place my laptop in a basket, but they told me at the Ottawa airport that I did not have to take out my Kindle and put it in a basket since it only has a virtual keyboard! Then, they also removed my toiletry case, extracted a Swiss knife and a brand-new shaving foam container, and confiscated both items; I should have known not to carry them in the carry-on. They also asked me to remove my shoes and belt.

Instead of the walk-through X-ray machine at the Vancouver airport, I stepped into a surround X-ray machine that showed all the metal inside me to security so the inspectors did not pat me down. That saved over fifteen minutes. The only uncomfortable feeling I had was my pants were sliding off without the belt; I had to pull them up every few minutes.

The two experiences made me consider whether the security procedure is the same at every airport. I would bet that it is a standard procedure, except that its administration was different: the security was sloppy in Ottawa.

Do not get me wrong; I understand the need for security, but how it is delivered seems to invade your privacy. The inspectors see your meds and toiletries, which I may not want to share with anyone. It also takes time, and I am nervous about having my wallet and passport on the conveyor belt for a considerable amount of time while they x-ray me.

Having gone through security, we walked into the waiting room, the next phase of air travel that often brings unpleasant surprises, such as an announcement of a delay on one of our flights on our return trip. The uncertainty and waiting can be frustrating, adding to my dislike of flying.

On arrival, we had to find the baggage claim area. For some reason, the baggage claim area was the farthest from the landing gates at both the Vancouver and Portland airports.

Reflecting on our recent experience of how long it takes to get to the airport, go through security, experience delayed departures, wait for baggage pickup at the destination, and then grab a cab to where we stay, I would rather drive for shorter trips. The convenience and control of driving often outweigh the hassles of flying unless it is a cross-country trip.