Tag: canada

Exploring Corsica’s Abandoned Homes and Ghost Towns

October 24, 2023

The Alfa Romeo climbed the winding road effortlessly. Kathy drove and I admired the landscape, occasionally grabbing the door handle when rounding a 180-degree turn with a drop into a valley on my side. But I kept my mouth shut. I spoke up only when Kathy stopped at a viewpoint, the front of the car facing a huge drop into a valley in front of us, pressing only the brake instead of putting the gearshift into park.

The GPS in the car showed the curves in the road ahead. Driving was slow because of the turns every few hundred feet, the narrowness of the road, and the traffic punctuated by numerous cyclists going almost at our speed. Turnouts helped us to stop and let faster drivers go by us. Overall, the drivers showed restraint; we could not go faster than fifty kilometers per hour.

We rented the Alfa at Figari Airport and drove to Porto Vecchio to shop for supplies to last us four days in the mountains where our daughter and son-in-law rented a house. The mountains began just when we left Porto Vecchio. Although we drove only just over sixty kilometers, it took us two hours to reach our destination. The scenery along the trip got my iPhone camera busy; the jagged mountains were stunning, reminding me of the Rockies. We drove through small towns like Levie, Zonza, and Quenza to reach Sorbonella, a town of 68 people, where our house was; the speed limit through the towns was thirty kilometers.

It surprised me to see all the boarded-up houses in the towns; shutters covered windows and doors. Where were the inhabitants? People sitting in street cafes were tourists, many had bikes leaning against their chairs. I decided to walk around Quenza the next day to check out the boarded-up houses. And what I saw confirmed what I had seen, most of the homes, even along the main street were tightly shut; the gardens were unkempt, and gates shut tight with a chain and lock on them. So, what gives?

I searched the internet and found one answer: there were 613 houses in Quenza (population of 235), of which 110 were occupied; 494 were secondary units (this is the expression used by the local statistical agency) and 9 vacant units, in 2007 (I discovered the French government keeps detailed statistics). The secondary units were mostly owned by native Corsicans who left for career or other reasons and kept their family home, according to some people I talked with in Quenza.

The next day we drove to Aulene (population 179), where we found houses boarded up similar to those in Quenza. According to French statistics, there were 421 houses in 2007, of which 81 were occupied; 333 were secondary units, and 7 were vacant. After a short walk around town, we settled into a small café for the traditional café allonge, next to tourists.

Holiday homes owned by people living in France and foreigners represent forty percent of all real estate in Corsica, according to local authorities. And, according to INSEE, the French statistics collection agency, there were 7000 holiday homes in Corsica in 1968, ratcheting up to over 71,000 holiday homes in 2007. Looking at holiday homes for sales ads in Corsica indicated that the desirable units are along the ocean, where, I assume, the foreigners bought. In the mountains, where we were, I assume that most of the boarded-up homes were owned by Corsicans.

The Mediterranean climate has attracted people to buy real estate in Corsica thereby elevating real estate prices. That made purchasing property by local people difficult. In response, the local government brought in legislation in 2014 to require five years of residency in Corsica for outside purchasers except for native Corsicans living abroad.

Talking with some French people from outside Corsica, we understood that the French people are not welcome to buy Corsican real estate, except when they are tourists and spend money locally. Corsicans are proud people and consider themselves different from the French people; their feelings towards the French have been demonstrated by setting fire to French-owned holiday homes. But the island remains a popular destination for vacationers.

Seasonal homes are shut down most of the time and there was an overabundance of them in the small towns driving through the mountains. With their shutters, they gave me a feeling of abandoned places, like ghost towns (similar to abandoned mining towns in British Columbia, Canada). It was a bit eery. Not only were there the shuttered homes but also the abandoned gardens and very few people on the streets except for cycling tourists. But we enjoyed the serenity of the quiet streets, punctuated by the occasional cafe along the sidewalk. The one grocery store in Quenza, one room, shut down between the hours of 12:30 to 4 p.m. There was no other commercial establishment here, we had to look up where the nearest gas station was seven kilometers away.

A Taste of Canada: Getting Tick-ed

August 29, 2023

I contracted Lyme disease and take anti-biotics to get rid of it, doxycycline tablets for twenty-eight day. Not sure when a tick, those nasty tiny little bugs, gorged on my blood but suspect that when I cycled on a rail-to-trail over a month ago and stopped in the tall grass to relieve myself, a tick may have found me. That night my foot began to hurt, swelled up and was hot to touch, and the next day I could not put any weight on it.

The pain went away in a few days when I decided to see a nurse practitioner to find out what it could have been. She examined the foot but came up with no conclusions, so I ignored it. In retrospect, that was a mistake.

A month later, I had the worst shakes of my life, my teeth were chattering. The following days I had become extremely tired, moved like molasses, and lost my appetite to such an extent that I lost six pounds in a few days, symptoms of Lyme disease. On the positive side, if you can call it positive, I had no headache and fever. And then a rash appeared on my belly, another symptom of Lyme disease, that I was not aware of that time.

The symptoms convinced me to go back to my clinic and this time I saw another nurse practitioner who gave me a thorough examination and sent me for blood tests, including Lyme disease. But impatient to wait for the test results which would take numerous days in the labs, I admitted myself to emergency at the local hospital knowing that it could be a long wait, hours, to see an emergency doctor. But I would have the results immediately at the hospital emergency department.

Enterng the emergency room, a large sign welcomed me announcing that the waiting time to see a doctor is five hours, measuring at least four feet by four feet,. OK. Then I looked around and absorbed the cacophony generated by dozens of people in the room when a middle-aged and heavy person in a tennis outfit rolled around a wheelchair with, I think, his wife in it, who moaned loudly about the pain that she could not bear any more and wished to be dead. The scene reminded me of a lunatic asylum. Across from where I sat was a youngish fellow with a neck brace. Some people stood and shifted their feet back and forth; there were not enough chairs. The loudspeaker called my name and nurses triaged me asking about the reason for my presence here. I explained that I thought I had Lyme desease. The nurses took copious notes while measuring my blood pressure and pulse rate. And then I returned to the waiting room.

I observed the people around me and was struck by the diversity, i.e., including all shades of brown to black. Is this the composition of Ottawa today? Or are these the people who have no family doctors and forced to attend the hospital emergency room for health care? But then the loudspeaker called my name again for registration; I had to provide my address and other information, information that the hospital already possessed. During this time a little girl, perhaps three years old, held by her father, was crying constantly, adding to the loud buzz in the emergency room. This whole experience was emotionally taxing on me and imagined that there were people here who have had much more serious problems than I had. But Lyme disease can be very serious in the long run if not treated.

But after five hours, as announced on the large bulletin board entering the emergency room, my name was called again, and I entered a large room with a dozen or so examining rooms around a central area where the emergency doctors and nurses worked and consulted with each other. A nurse directed me to a small waiting room that I shared with a young teenager. He moaned about how hungry he was, having been here for eight hours with no food. I asked him if he would be picked up by his parents, when finished. Or were his parents waiting in the outer room and could get him some food at the food outlet next door? No, he said, his parents were not there, he will take the bus home after his stay at the emergency room experience. That surprised me and felt sorry for him.

It was close to midnight when an examining room had become available, and I was invited to enter it. I did not have to wait long, an emergency doctor came to see me and in ten minutes, prescribed an antibiotic for the blood test that showed a high count of white blood cells and another drug for the rash. And that was it; he said he did not know about Lyme disease.

Leaving after midnight after a seven hour stay tired me out. And I found it emotionally taxing observing all the people in the emergency room suffering from some ailment. But the simple recommendations of the emergency doc soothed me somewhat even though he did not confirm I had Lyme disease or even identify my illness. 

The bombshell came the next week when the the blood test the nurse practitioner ordered showed I had Lyme disease. I had been tick-ed. And I received the typical treatment: twenty-eight days of taking doxycycline.

I learned a few lessons from this experience. A conscientious nurse practitioner may provide excellent service. An emergency doctor treats obvious symptoms and may not search for root causes. And although I find emergency rooms interesting, I prefer to avoid them in the future.  When I go for a walk in the country now, I wear long pants and long-sleeve shirts and tuck my pant legs into my socks to make sure no nasty ticks can access my body for a blood-sucking treat.

Monetizing Past Grievances

August 8, 2023

I attended a concert, with fifty people in the audience, in Collingwood, ON, as part of the porch festival on July 26, in 2023. The concert triggered my thoughts on monetizing past grievances.

The porch festival evolved in response to Covid when artists could not perform in closed venues. Instead, people with a porch on their houses and a backyard welcomed artists to play on their porch to an audience in their yard, sitting on camp chairs.

Quammie Williams gave the concert, with Tiki Mercury-Clarke and a local bass player. Quammie, an accomplished drummer, singer, actor and consultant on culture – he was Director of Culture in Barrie, ON – sang and drummed African “resistance songs” with Tiki, who played the piano and ssng in an impressive tonal range.

As usual today at these venues, the MC started out by thanking the Ashininaabi (indigenous) people for letting use of their land for this concert. I am not sure what the homeowner thought about that.

Quammie and Tiki included history talks about slavery in between songs during the concert. Although I heard many of these stories before, I came to listen to jazz and began to get restless as the performance went on with lengthy stories. Quammie’s stories about the emotional toll of slavery on Black people were draining and should have been told with more anger and shouting. But no. Quammie quietly explained the stories behind the “resistance songs”, making his message of slavery even more powerful.

I looked around and beyond the three black artists on the porch, there was not one black person in the audience. But the audience lapped up the talk and the music and gave the performers a standing ovation. Whether the performers meant it or not, the underlying message was unmistakable: white folks were the slave owners creating hardship for Blacks. In my offbeat way of thinking, I thought the enthusiastic clapping was almost an exorcism for the well-heeled senior crowd, consciously or unconsciously, cleansing their souls of having embraced slavery in the past.  

I really enjoyed the music and my negative reaction towards being told to be grateful to the Anishinaabi and being responsible for slavery were fading, when I read that the Black Class Action Secretariat (BCAS in Toronto) sued the Government of Canada for past discrimination of black civil servants for C$2.5 billion in the court system.  I do not question that discrimination has occurred against Blacks in the Canadian federal civil service and wish it had not happened. The government should have solved this issue in the past. What concerned me was that past grievances have become issues for restitution, always resulting in monetary awards.

The mother of all these restitutions is the “reconciliation” process with Indigenous people in Canada. It started out with “reparations” for the Indian Residential School Settlement Agreement, that ended up with a C$5 billion settlement. Other claims followed. To date, over C$60 billion have been awarded to indigenous people by the government (there were circa 1.2 million Indigenous people in Canada in 2021). And other claims are in the pipeline. Compare this number to the Canadian defense budget that was C$26 billion in 2021.

I am afraid this trend to sue the government for past grievances will continue and the grievances will become weirder and weirder. Any minority group, ethnic, religious, or other, could organize a class action claim and sue the government for damages. Many may be legitimate, but I wonder if we should consider whether grievances to historical events should be compensated. How far back in history should we go to fix past wrongs made by previous generations?

Monetization of past grievances is a dangerous and costly trend and should be stopped. Why should the current taxpayers pay for injustices committed by previous generations?

To My Blook, Where the Writing Hobby Took Me

June 11, 2023

You may ask what is a blook? Well, the word is a combination of the words blog and book. And a blook is a book consisting of blogs. It is a new word, first coined in 2003 by Jeff Jarvis, a well-known journalist from New York. Since then, several blooks have been published and the “Blooker” prize was established in 2006, fashioned from the “Booker” prize. Julia and Julie, by Julie Powell, was awarded the first Blooker prize in 2006; it is a cookbook based on blogs preparing the recipes of Julia Childs (a film by the same name was made in 2009).

I was intrigued by the concept of a blook and was inspired to compile my own do one since I have been blogging for a few years. The pandemic was the trigger for the start of my blogging. When avoiding people, and staying home had become not only desirable but periodically mandatory, when my gym and community center where I played bridge closed, what was I to do at home? I was retired with plenty of time on my hands. Expressing personal opinions and describing my activities in writing seemed like a good idea to keep me busy.

But my blogging begs another question: “What experience did I have in writing”? This is a relevant question since I had never worked as a professional writer; my writing was limited to technical and policy papers. After I retired, I did publish two books, a memoir, and a travel book.

I can anticipate your next question: “What made me write these books”? And the trigger to start writing my memoir was a friend who challenged me to write it because she said that my children do not know who I am. And she was right: I was a Hungarian refugee/immigrant to Canada in 1956, married a Welsh girl, spoke English at home, and never discussed much of my history with the family.

All of our children attended university, married, and settled in the US, limiting opportunities to discuss my early background. When my friend challenged me to write my memoir, I had to agree that she was right, and I got motivated and even excited, to write my memoir, primarily for my children and grandchildren.

To prepare myself for writing my first book, the memoir, I enrolled in the online university Coursera. I took several of their writing courses. The Coursera Zoom classes include lectures led by Wesleyan University professors and writing assignments reviewed by fellow students. I found it interesting reviewing others’ work, some people I found to be excellent writers, while others were novices. I thought I was somewhere between the two camps.

And I enjoyed receiving comments on my work, I learned much from these comments: one reviewer rebuked me for sloppy writing when I said I was at Kennedy Airport in New York City in 1957. The reviewer criticized me for my poor memory or for not having done the research. The correct name at that time was “Idlewild” airport. It is important to check your facts, especially when you write about events sixty years ago. Overall, I found the courses very helpful in practicing my writing skills.

To further my writing knowledge, I also signed up for writing blogs such as The Write Practice and took free Zoom lectures on how to do a memoir by Marion Roach Smith. In addition to reading “How to do memoir” books, I also read many memoirs. My favorite was “Born a Crime” by Trevor Noah, written with humor, and sensitivity about growing up in South Africa having a white father and a black mother. 

After a year’s work, I published my memoirs on Kindle Publishing and sent copies to all family members, awaiting their response. Some thought it was interesting and commented, “I never knew this” while one granddaughter found parts of it boring. At any rate, the family got to know me a little bit better.

Buoyed by having a book published, I was motivated to embark on another one, this time on our travels in Southeast Asia. As before, I read travel books such as the annual Best American Travel Writing series and took some Zoom courses as well on how to write about travel. My favorite travel authors were Paul Theroux and Bill Bryson.

I learned a few key lessons from the courses I have taken and the experience I have accumulated writing my two books: write about subjects that you know, express your personal opinions and feelings, and “show and not tell”.

The first one seems obvious, but it is interesting how easily one can get involved in matters unfamiliar to you, only to start looking up the internet for information. Although that avenue is useful and available to everyone, it is mostly informational. I found people are much more interested in your personal experiences and opinions. For example, a hotel in Barbados might tout its beauty on the oceanfront while someone who has been there may point out that the furniture is old and decrepit.

Before I started studying the fine art of writing my writing had reflected my positive, non-critical attitude.  But I soon realized that, in the writing of others, my interest was drawn more to their personal reflections and observations rather than my descriptive, non-critical approach.

And “show and not tell’ advises you not to use general statements like “it was a beautiful sky’ which is a “tell”, but rather “show” it in terms of its color, shading, cloud formation, and your reaction to it and let the reader interpret your description.

Having improved my writing skills and enjoying writing, I wondered, “What is next?” Another book was not of interest to me, and the pandemic had shut us down from travel and socializing. But I was still interested in writing, and I had the time to carry on with writing short pieces on select subjects where I express my thoughts and opinions.  

And so, I started writing; I wrote blogs about the pandemic, about the Ukrainian war, and about Canadian and Ottawa issues and controversies. The number of blogs I have written has grown and I thought that I should try to weave them together into a book format, the idea behind a blook. Look for my Kindle blook by the end of the year!

Where to Ukrainian Refugees?

April 30, 2023

Ukraine is preparing for a major attempt to recover some of the territory lost to the Russians. It is over a year ago that Russia initiated an unprovoked war on Ukraine, calling it a “special operation”, a euphemism by any stretch of the imagination for what it is, a war. This “special operation” displaced over fifteen million people in Ukraine, and over eight million people left the country.

Under the Canada Ukraine Authorization for Emergency Travel (CUAET) program, Canada offered to take in an unlimited number of Ukrainians seeking shelter from the war. To date, close to a million applications have been received under this program, of which two-thirds have been approved, and 150,000 have already arrived in Canada.

This new immigration program  (CUAET) was developed for, and with, Ukrainians, and it provides temporary residence status for three years for successful applicants, with $3,000 for each adult and $1,500 for each child. After three years, those Ukrainians who want to stay in Canada can apply for permanent residence.

A major benefit of CUAET is that the newcomers can work immediately in Canada. A major disadvantage of the program is that people arriving under the CUAET do not receive many of the social adjustment programs that refugees receive, such as housing assistance.

The Ukrainians prefer this new program to the refugee program because it allows them to work immediately while the latter takes much longer to gain resident status that permits work. And many Ukrainians want to go home, hoping for an end to the war in less than three years. Many left families at home, including husbands, who could not leave because of their obligation to serve in the military.

Thinking about the Russian invasion, which started during the Covid pandemic, I wondered how the virus affected Ukrainians. Only thirty-five percent of Ukrainians were vaccinated against Covid in 2022 (compared to the eighty percent vaccination rate in Canada). War is tough during a pandemic; people escape to refugee camps where the crowding provides the perfect environment for the spread of the airborne virus.

The numbers bear out the damage Covid wrought on Ukraine; five million people got infected and 100,000 people died out of their population of thirty-two million (compared to Canada where also five million people got infected, and fifty-one thousand people died out of a population of forty-eight million people).  

The adversities faced by Ukrainians forced many to leave their country, and it reminded me of my experience escaping from Hungary during the 1956 Hungarian uprising.

Hungary was under Russian occupation from 1944 when the Russians defeated Germany. The spontaneous uprising of 1956 provided a window to escape the prison-like existence in Hungary. Many people left their families behind but those who left had no intention of returning home, in contrast to the recent Ukrainian exodus.  

We came to Canada as refugees, which was a new program developed for the Hungarians by then Prime Minister John Diefenbaker. Over 35,000 Hungarians arrived in Canada following the uprising in 1956.

I remember what we had to do to adjust to Canadian life: learn  English, acquire usable skills, go back to school, and secure a job to make a living. It took a few years to start a modest life in an apartment and a few more years to buy our first car. Father had to redo his university coursework in medicine and certification for a medical license, including residency with twenty-four-hour shifts at St. Paul’s Hospital in Vancouver. My older brother and I attended university and worked part-time as well as full-time during the summers to cover university costs. Mother worked at a store. Immigrants go through multi-year adjustments to settle in a country new to them.   The first few years were not easy, but my parents were determined they would not return to Hungary.

Many of the recently arrived Ukrainians have a different goal; they hope to return home after the war. A worthwhile wish but is it reasonable? Negotiations between the two warring parties have not been initiated and are unlikely to be successful since both sides have firm and non-negotiable positions. Militarily, the two sides are at a standstill, Ukraine assisted by NATO and Russia assisted by North Korea, and other countries with weaponry. A resolution seems elusive. It may take years. 

And in time, immigrants embrace the new country they settle in and get to like it. I remember a handful of Hungarian refugees who decided to go home after a few years.  They could not acquire a workable knowledge of the English language mostly because of sticking with family members and speaking Hungarian all the time. They could not get used to Canadian culture, especially gender equality in Canada. They also missed their family back home. And they were all older. But the great majority of the Hungarian refugees stayed and prospered in Canada.

I do not believe you ever go home and feel at home in the old country you left. You have changed and your old country has changed and going home is a disappointing experience. And this will be especially true of Ukraine with the devastation of its cities by the Russian bombing. Reconstruction will take years.

I think most Ukrainians who have come to Canada over the past year will stay and prosper here.