Learning the Major Scale

I now understand the major scale, and intervals, tempo, and I'm ready to pick up that fretless bass. I'm surrounded by musicians here, and taking refuge in these words. What are you doing, Christine asks, and Bernardo answers for me: blogging her trip.

There's a mandolin, guitar and banjo here, and they're tuning to G, C, whatever and Theresa tells us that in her busking days she used to tune her guitar to the dialtone of the payphone on the corner, E or E flat...

Holding the mandolin she's like a premature child she asks me to breathe life into her. I'm so attracted to her; she is gentle, frail, sweet. I think I've fallen in love with her, but can't make her sing.

More Travel

I like traveling with Theresa. In Vulcan Sue and Mike fed us good food and good wine: brie, mushroom pate, BBQ chicken, baby potatoes. I got to hold a 3 month old baby and we visited the Star Trek souvenir store where T bought some Spock ears (what else?). I listened to a butcher talk about cows' spinal cords and all the nasty things that live there, and we counted feedlots on our way up to the Trans Canada.

Buena Vista, just outside Regina, greeted us at three am after a stinky drive through fertilizer country and crunching over rat bones on the highway past Swift Current. We drove on gas fumes in the red zone of T's gas gauge, and for some reason we both wanted to eat Hawkins cheesies. Greeted by two freshly made beds and a barking toy poodle in BV, T and I fell asleep within minutes and I awoke tothe sound of T playing the guitar and singing, and then tea, coffee, a variety of cheeses, red wine, crackers, fresh fruit, nuts; Bernardo sprinkles orange water on our hands, makes Tunisian tea and describes how his grandmother made baklava.

I'm a bit tipsy now after all the wine, and I just want to crawl back into my bed on the floor.

Okay, now I know why I am doing this. It's for the new.

Meritage

Five minutes out of Keremeos we stop at the Seven Stones winery because we like the name. Seven Stones. Handcrafted wine.

Danny the Golden Retriever meets us on the stone path to the winery but disappears after wagging his tail and smiling at us. We try four different wines and each buy a bottle of Meritage for more money than we should have spent. It's noon, and there is no way we will get to Vulcan by 5 pm.

Theresa jumps into Christina Lake and we pay 1.69 per litre for gas. I make up for it by getting a bag of kettle corn and we drive late into the night, landing in Lethbridge and the Days Inn, our fingers sticky.

Theresa plays a Nancy Griffith song on her guitar and we both check email.

Keremeos

Theresa snoring lightly in the next bed, and the wind blowing outside. I've had enough online scrabble for tonight and although I really want to sit up and read, I should go to sleep and get ready for the drive tomorrow.

Is it to Vulcan?

Feels like the front end of a tornado out there. I'm glad I insisted on a motel room and not the tent beside the Similkameen.

Highlight of the day: when I went to the Esso station convenience store to buy my evening "vitamin water", I saw a lighter shaped like a guitar, and when you strike it, it plays a bit of music. Badly.

Canada Line

I sat in the front car with the little kids who were leaning on the dashboard to peer out at the track rushing under them.

Theresa found me at the airport and I'm here drinking coffee and propping her up. She's exhausted.

We'll leave soon. Going to Hope to stay at the Thunderbird Motel.

Vancouver

I'm sitting on Brendan's couch in Vancouver. A cool breeze through the windows and I'm tired because I sat up all night playing scrabble online.

The good news is that I picked up some good reading material: Anna Politkovskaya's A Russian Diary and a magazine about the arts and culture of the Middle East called Bidoun. Should I call those my two passions? Russia and the Middle East. I think somewhere they will converge.

My throat is still sore so I will swallow another handful of Cold FX.

A quiet start to a long drive.