Shifting Focus

I have decided after seven years and hundreds of posts to wrap up my Two Star Retirement blog. Not because I am no longer retired, but because I have decided that after visiting 47 countries and proving that one can retire and live an amazing life of travel and luxury on much less money than you would think, and after searching for the perfect place to retire, I am ready to declare, there is no place like home!  I feel it is time to embrace Canada, my home and native land, and my own precious backyard.

I can't help but reminisce though about the unforgettable moments I've experienced along the way. From my 48 days in paradise on a remote white sandy beach on the southern coast of Utila, to the extraordinary three-month journey driving through South Africa. Breathtaking landscapes to historic cities, cozy evenings spent beneath the stars to exciting adventures that stretched me to the limit, every experience has been a testament to the freedom and perspective I gained through early retirement and embracing the idea of storing up experiences instead of things and of concentrating on improving my mental health instead of my material wealth.

After 10 years of extensive travel, I have learned to better cherish the simple pleasures of savoring home-cooked meals sourced from my own backyard to engaging socially with my community of friends. But as I look forward, I feel a pressing need to address the realities of our current world. 

As geopolitical dynamics shift, my ability to cultivate my own food and medicine and the practice of permaculture becomes not just a personal endeavor but a vital strategy for resilience so I can thrive no matter the challenges that lie ahead. It is a journey I hope you will join me on. 

So friends, stay tuned for an exciting exploration of Sustainable Living in Turbulent Times!

Tariffs, Canadian Sovereignty, and Time to Get Real

Between 2001 and 2005 I was president of Canadians for Militarty Preparedness. I spent years travelling across the country giving speeches and lobbying members of Parliament to increase defence spending. At the time, Canada was spending just over 1% of GDP on the military – half of what their NATO commitment required.

Repeatedly in my speeches I proclaimed that a well-funded military is not about fighting wars. A well-funded military is about sovereignty: sovereignty not just over our borders, but over our water and incredible resources, and more importantly, sovereignty from U.S. foreign policy.

20 years later and Canada is still spending half of their NATO obligation of 2% of GDP on defence, and we find ourselves in deep doodoo, being held hostage by an increasingly imperialistic United States, who at will, could decimate our economy, and if they wanted, force us into becoming the 51st state. Canadians laugh at that - saying hell will freeze over before....but I am telling you, the current situation Canada finds itself in with our neighbour to the south is no laughing matter. 

Donald Trump has made serious threats to our sovereignty, and if you are thinking that Canada, as a part of NATO, is safe because of Article 5 of the North Atlantic Treaty (which states that if one member state is attacked, all other members must assist), well, think again.

Here is a little perspective...the United States military has 13,209 combat aircraft. Without the U.S. aircraft, all of NATO combined (including Canada’s 375) has 7654 combat aircraft. If you look at Navy assets, the situation is even worse. The truth is, NATO would not stand a chance against the United States. The United States military dominates and as a result, the U.S. can do whatever the hell they want!

Canada has allowed itself to become nothing more than a vassal state, politically subordinate to the United States. As a result, we have limited independence in reality. So, Canadians can be all patriotic and say we will stand up against the United States, we can shop local, and fight back with tariffs of our own, but at the end of the day, we have neither the economic sovereignty, the military strength, nor the population base to withstand any kind of attack, economic, military, or otherwise from the United States. 

Trump may be crazy, but he is the most powerful man in the world in charge of the most powerful military force in the world, and the threat he poses to Canada will not be remedied by shopping local and boycotting U.S. products.

Time for Change

 Change is afoot, in more ways than one.

I have been in Devon for just under 3 weeks. Tomorrow I am leaving for a short trip to Cornwall. I am going to the town of Penzance – for no reason other than Gilbert and Sullivan's comic operetta, The Pirates of Penzance. Not to see it – but because of the show I knew the name. (I had to go somewhere!) I will only have a day and a half there, so I asked GPT to make me up an itinerary that focuses on art galleries I can walk to.

I am looking forward to a change of scenery. Devon has been certainly scenic with its moss covered trees and windswept rocky beaches, redrock cliffs and windy roads – though it is not a place I would recommend you visit in the winter.

Driving has been stressful, and the mud and water is everywhere. This morning, one of the cats came into my room at 5 a.m. and walked across my chest with muddy paws! This entire house is covered in dried mud. I have attempted to keep it clean, but it is impossible with a cat door. The three cats come and go as they please, dragging in the mud, and they are allowed on all surfaces – so everything is covered in dirt.

I have found it difficult to get used to cats being allowed on countertops. It grosses me out. However, one of the challenges of pet sitting is adhering to the owner's rules and routines. 

Another challenge for me has been being in one place for a long time. Three weeks in a small hamlet is just too long. Within the first week I had visited all the highlights, and after that, it has been a whole lot of either driving on dangerous roads to see more of the same (quaint villages, cliffs and waves, and rolling hills with sheep) or sitting at home brainlessly scrolling through Facebook reels under an electric blanket.

I decided to travel with just one carry on piece of luggage as I knew I would be travelling from place to place on trains, but as a result, I was not able to bring my book writing materials…and without a writing project, I have been bored.

Boredom is an issue for me. Last year I was bored because it was so hot in Bali, I could not seem to do anything, and this year, it is the opposite. I am freezing cold all the time. I wake up in the morning and the first thing I do is put on my Peruvian wool hat. My hair has not seen the light of day in over a month! I was chatting with the village handyman the other day, and he said, “heating these old houses is like trying to heat the outside.”

Before I left Canada, I bought a Canadian National Trust membership with which I could enter most of the historic National Trust sites here for free. I thought that would keep me busy. Unbeknownst to me however was the fact that all the sites are closed in January and most of February! So, the main thing I had planned on doing while here, I have been unable to do, contributing to my discontent. All I can think about is all the things I have to do at home! Start my seeds, spread my mulch, paint my garage…

Isn’t that life? We always want what we do not have. In the summer when I am soooo busy, all I want is a day to do nothing. And now I have nothing to do and all I want is to do some chores. I have tried to practice being in the moment and allow my body to just rest. Being lazy is hard for me - but this winter I have perfected the art. I know I could have kept myself busier…trying new recipes, reading some good books, taking some Spanish lessons or online courses. I am not sure why I cannot seem to motivate myself to do these things. Motivation is not usually a problem for me. 

I would analyze this, except I cannot find the motivation to think that hard.

All of this to say, I have decided to stay home next winter. I will go away for a week or two to mushroom forage near Mount Baker, WA, in the fall, and then I will start planning a big Christmas party, and put up a beautiful Christmas twig. I will take a short trip or two to the Caribbean to warm up in January or February, and then I will start my veggy plants early, paint the garage, install a heater, and spend my time making herbal concoctions. I will cook good food and host dinner parties, go snow shoeing and hiking, and read books by the fire.

Is it possible that my travelling days are over? 

Maybe it is time to shift the focus of my Two Star Retirement Blog from travelling to that which seems to fulfill me more these days: growing food and making medicine, hospitality and home, friends and family.

Sounds like a nice change, doesn't it?

 

Driving in Devon

I have driven in a lot of countries. Right hand, left hand, no hands…I have driven on roads in Africa that had potholes the size of a small car, and on roads in India that are built for two lanes but have five lanes of cars and one lane of cows. I am a brave driver and thought I had seen it all.

But Devon?

Oh my – nothing really prepared me for driving on roads barely bigger than the width of one car – despite traffic going in both directions!  That in and of itself is not so bad. The problem is that you cannot see beyond each curve in the road (and there are a lot of curves) because both sides of the skinny country road have hedges, hundreds of years old and about eight feet high. So, it is kind of like driving in a tunnel. A one-way skinny tunnel – except that around every corner you practically run head on into another car coming in the opposite direction.

Now you would think with roads such as these that people would drive slowly. Not so much…

So, for me, a typical drive into town goes something like this: I am driving slowly, very slowly down the centre of the road. One of my side mirrors is folded in because it keeps scraping on the hedge even though I am in the centre of the road. I start down a long, steep hill with a corner at the bottom when suddenly a large garbage truck appears. Screech. He comes to a stop. Screech. I come to a stop.

Pause.

Said truck driver hand motions me to pull over into the “pull out,” that is about 20 feet in front of me, so he can get by. I shake my head no. He wonders why, and I yell, as though he can hear me, “Can you not see that that pull out is not pavement, but rather 8 inches deep of mud? I am not driving into that! I am not a freaking tractor - I will never get out! The mud in this county pulls the boots right off my feet! You drive into the mud!!!”

We are staring each other down. He is much bigger than me, so finally I put the car in reverse and back up. Up, up, up the very steep mud slicken skinny freaking road. Not a few feet. Not a few meters. A bloody kilometer!! And as I back up around one of many corners, another car comes to a screeching halt behind me. So now two of us are backing up, and all I can do is sigh and say, “How do you people live like this?” 

The truck passes and waves, and I head back down the hill.

This goes on all day! So, what should be a 10-minute drive into town becomes a hair-raising half an hour of hell.

Once I got to town today I decided I deserved a scone - with devonshire cream and strawberry jam - you know, for being such a brave driver, but first I needed to park. Parking in Devon is almost as bad as driving. Cars are parked pointing both directions on both sides of the road. It is the most bizarre thing, and it just feels wrong – so - just because I can, I park on the wrong side of the road, in the right direction. (As if driving on the left-hand side of the street isn’t confusing enough!)

As I walked down the main street of Honiton – the closest town to Buckerell, I noticed not one, not two, not three, not four, but five barber shops in less than three blocks, yet, for the life of me, I could not find any freaking scones! (That’s not actually true, I did find and buy some scones because the ones I made were, in comparison, quite terrible, and having navigated the roads and the parking...I definately deserved scones).

Besides the weird roads and parking, one must add the traffic circles and the signage to the Devon driving delights. There are A LOT of traffic circles – and while some of them look like the kind of traffic circles most North Americans would be familiar with, you know, a large circle with some sort of centre area you drive around, some of the "circles" here are just downright confusing, and when you add to that driving on the opposite side of the road than what I am used to, it can be a bit quite hairy. Also scone worthy...

And what the hell is a “weak bridge?” This does not inspire confidence to cross said bridge.

And then there are the passing lane signals painted on the pavement. At least I think that is what they are. It is a curved arrow painted over the centre line of the larger highways (and by highway I mean the roads that actually fit two cars). The arrow is coming over the line, so it looks like it is directing cars coming towards you to drive into you, and I found myself asking, does this mean I should swerve over when a car is coming straight at me, or does it mean beware of cars swerving into your lane???

All of this is to say that while I usually enjoy a nice drive in the countryside to see all the scenery, driving in Devon has made me just want to stay home, and you guessed it, eat scones, because while Devon may fail at roads, they definately win at thick, gooey, cream that is nothing short of heavenly.

So why the obsession with scones, you ask?

It is possible it has something to do with dry January. I am giving my liver a break and so when my nerves are frayed from driving, I have substituted something equally good at calming the nerves...

And without long daily drives in the country, there is absolutely nothing to do in Buckerell. I have visited all the surrounding towns in the first five days here, and in Buckerell, it takes me exactly 3 minutes to walk from one end of town to the other, and I absolutely cannot walk on the roads out of town because then the fast driving cars on the skinny road tunnels would just run over me.

Needless to say, I am a little bored at times, so today while buying scones, I also bought some water colour paint and paper. I have never done it before, but thought it might be a productive way to keep my hands out of the coddled cream. 

I decided to try to paint this photo I took this morning on my walk. (O.K., so his legs are a bit too long and at the wrong angle - give me a break, it was my very first time!)

Maybe I should stick to photography.

A Pet Sitter’s Worst Nightmare

Yesterday was one of those days. At the time, it was very traumatizing for me but it will likely become one of those funny stories to tell at a party. Believe me though, yesterday I was not laughing.

The dog I am looking after is a rescue dog from Romania and is, to say the least, a bit neurotic, or OCD. Maintaining her routine is incredibly important, otherwise she gets quite anxious (much like my x-husband)!

Katie dog’s day begins at 8am when I make up her food and take her and the food outside where she eats. I assume this is because that is all she has ever known. Anyway, she will only eat outside, and only if I stand there and watch her. If I try to walk away, she stops eating and follows me.

No problem, except yesterday there was a wicked storm with torrential rain coming down sideways. When I opened the front door to head out – we both hesitated. It was nasty out! Oh well. We both ran out the door, which I left open because I had not yet put on my coat, and after putting down Katie’s food I intended on running back in to put it on. Just as I turned a huge gust of wind blew the door shut with a loud thud!

Now this door is a big solid door with a lock that is automatic, so when the door closes it is locked. So, there I stood, mouth agape, half dressed in the pelting rain, saying, “Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God.”  My phone and my keys were in my coat, and my coat was in the house, and Katie and I were already soaked to the bone!

I tried not to panic and decided there must be a key hidden somewhere, so I began lifting every plant pot in the yard hoping to find a key beneath it. I checked the shed, the windowsills, under the mats. No key. The wind was howling, and Katie was looking concerned.

As the cold rain ran down my face, so did the warm tears.

What was I going to do? Without my phone I had no way to call the homeowners, hell, I didn’t even know their last name so even if I borrowed a phone I really did not know how to get hold of them.

I left Katie in the yard – much to her chagrin, and I went to the neighbour’s house – their gate was locked. I went to the other neighbour’s house – not home. House by house I knocked on doors, but it was 8am on a Sunday morning and no one was opening the door to a half crazed soaking wet, partially dressed crying woman!

I saw a lady walking down the street and I ran towards her, but she crossed the road and swiftly ran away. More tears.

 I decided I would have to walk to the store and try to borrow a phone to call a locksmith…but would he believe me that it was a house I was supposed to be in? I had no identification. I did look suspicious…

As I was running towards the store, I saw down a side street a young couple bundled up walking their three dogs. Ah, dogs…surely dog people would be nice and have pity on me. I ran towards them and said, “Hi. My name is Corrie. I am from Canada.” And then I burst into tears.

(Now normally I am not a crybaby, but I had just received bad news about my own pet back home, and so emotions were a little raw). I did managed to get my story out, and by good fortune this young couple were familiar with Katie and they said, don’t worry, we will help you.

They took me home and we called several locksmiths – no answer at any, but we left messages and then they loaned me a leash to go get poor Katie, who by now looked like she had jumped in a lake. So did I actually. I asked Maria, the young lady whose kitchen floor I was dripping copious amounts of water onto, if I could squeeze out my wool touque in her sink, and I swear at least a cup of water came out of it. I didn’t ask if I could squeeze out my pants, though I sure wanted too!

When the locksmith finally arrived, he took one look at the lock and said, “That lock is the most expensive lock in the world. You cannot pick that lock.”

More tears.

The guy took pity on me and said, I have one thing I can try – and thus began a half hour of fighting with a special tool and a mirror and some wires with a rubber thing on the end. It took me to hold the mirror inside the teeny tiny mailslot, him to work the big tool inside the teeny tiny mailslot, and his partner to pull the cables taught, but after a while I heard a loud click, and the door popped open.

And that's when the floodgates opened. I grabbed the locksmith around the neck and literally sobbed into his ear. I couldn’t let go. I just cried and cried and mumbled “thank you, thank you, God bless you, thank you.” The woman he was with smiled the warmest smile and threw her arms around me and the three of us stood there on the doorstep in the pouring rain just hugging!! Then he said to me, “It’s Sunday, I am going to have to charge you double.”

“Sir, you can have my first born – I am just so very grateful!”

Meanwhile, back in Oliver where I live, the real pet sitter’s nightmare is unfolding as the young lady looking after my cats is traumatized because my young cat Ember - who has now spent more time of his young life with her than with me - is dying – and she knows depending on how his bloodwork looks on Thursday I may decide to pull the plug on the little guy.

Ember was diagnosed with stage 4 Acute Renal Failure – and it does not look good for him. I can only imagine how terrible my house sitter feels. She does not know what the cat got into – but it got into something on her watch, and I am sure she feels more terrible than I do. And now, she has been given the exhausting task of his care, giving him IV fluids, and medication, and watching the little guy suffer. She has been a trooper, and is trying to stay hopeful – telling me she is sure he will pull through, but I have read all I can about this, and I am not so sure. Even if Ember survives, he will likely face a rough life of chronic kidney disease, recurring UTIs and possible blindness. I am not sure I want that for him, so I am shoring up my emotional strength.

Pet and house sitting has been a great experience, and I have come to realize what a great responsibility it is - one that should not be taken lightly, and after today I will be much more careful. I have vowed to not take a single step out of a house without being fully dressed, coat on, with a phone and keys in my pocket. And I will not take lightly my responsibility to keep an eye on the lovely animals I care for.

And next winter, I think I will stay home and care for my own animals.

Portsmouth and cold toes

One might think coming from Canada to a country like England would not be much of a culture difference, but things are certainly different here. Compared to Canada, most of the homes here are old – dating back hundreds of years – and heating them is a challenge. The house I am staying in, for instance, was built in the mid 1800’s. It is in original condition: tall ceilings with ornate crown moldings, large brass and crystal chandeliers, and five, yes, 5 flights of stairs! My bedroom is at the top, and the kitchen is at the bottom, in the basement.

Basement kitchens are not unusual – built so that the heat from the kitchen rises. There is no central forced air heat – just radiators that are programmed to be 17C for a couple of hours in the morning, and a couple of hours in the early evening. Other than that, the water is kept at 9C. That means it is pretty damn cold here!

The beds have electric blankets, as do the couches. My feet are freezing. My fingers are cold. And my nose has not thawed out since I arrived.

Ah, my arrival. Now there is a funny story….

I arrived at Heathrow airport on January 1. My plan was to buy a local SIM card, rent a car, and drive to my housesit just over an hour away. It turned out that the SIM card shops were all closed because it was January 1. (I had hand written down the instructions on how to get to where I was going because if I have learned anything from my many travels, it is that things never go as planned and you should always be prepared for a worst-case scenario).

There was a storm going on, and the cold wind was pelting sideways so I was super glad that I had decided to rent a car instead of taking public transport. I got my car rented, looked at my instructions, and headed out – driving on the left side of the road (turned out to be the easiest part of this day) and immediately into a traffic jam of epic proportions. So there I sat, less than a half kilometer from the airport, for what seemed like hours, though was probably closer to 30 minutes.

Then, just down the road where I was to turn south, the road was closed due to construction, so I was forced to continue driving east. The “detour” took me more than an hour out of my way, through windy roads that would have been pretty had they not been completely covered in inches of water from the storm!

As I approached Porstmouth it became obviously clear that my handwritten instructions were inaccurate, so before I knew it I was miles past Porstmouth on a road that seemed to have no exits! I eventually turned around and only by miracle did I find my way to the address I had.

The roads here are skinny, two way, but only big enough for one small car, and the street was lined with parked cars. There was nowhere to park. I drove around, starting to panic, as I had to pee like a racehorse and could barely think straight as a result. Eventually I ended up stopping in the middle of the road in front of the house and ran through the rain to the large gate that surrounded the house. In the process, my glasses fell off and broke.

The gate was locked and there was no bell or intercom. I had no phone to call the people to tell them I had arrived and was standing in the pelting rain, blind, peeing my pants.

I digress…

Another thing I found different here is the AGA – an expensive piece of kitchen equipment. It is a huge stove type thing that uses conduction and convection to move heat around the cast iron parts of the cooker. Temperatures will differ depending on where you place your food in the oven. It looks much like the old-fashioned cast-iron stoves that were heated by wood.

The AGA never shuts down. It runs 24/7 and its cast iron body emits heat to help heat the house. 

The two big chrome circles on top are lids. One covers a hot burner, able to bring a pot to boil very quickly, and a warm burner for well, keeping things warm. (I was tempted to sit on it!) I was told this was a good place to dry my jeans.

Another weird thing…. most people do not have clothes dryers. Electricity is so expensive, not only do people live in a refrigerator, they have to somehow dry clothes in it! 

It is entirely possible I will spend the next 8 weeks in damp clothes wrapped in an electric blanket. Sigh.

On a positive note, the city of Portsmouth is beautiful, and I have enjoyed walking about (I think it is warmer outside than in the house), taking in its charm. There are many green spaces, a wonderful waterfront, historic sites, and lots of pedestrian streets with quaint shops.

Today I am meeting up with a local woman who is taking me on a driving tour and then we will go for lunch (fish and chips I suppose), and tomorrow I am headed to the New Forest, established in 1079 by William the Conqueror, as a royal hunting ground, where I will not hunt boars or deer, but rather mushrooms.

I figure if I am going to be cold, I might as well be outdoors looking for mushrooms!

Eat More! The Best 2025 Resolution

What is it about the first day of January that makes us want to do better? New beginnings offer hope and an opportunity to redeem ourselves. And redemption we need because we abuse our bodies all year. 

Moderation and balance is not easy. We find it difficult to nuture and care for ourselves. Eating properly has become a chore instead of a joy and privilege.

I think for far too long we have been convinced that convenience is more important than health. Marketing inculcates us to the message that more is better. Plus, extra and bonus portions make us feel like we are getting something for nothing. And then the food itself is pumped full of all kinds of salt and sugar disguised to create addictions so we buy and eat more.

We are influenced to want fast and easy food. We have forgotten the joy of cooking. Restaurants serve us gigantic plates and the landfills fill up with methane producing food waste. We go to Costco and buy bulk to save time and money, but what we are really doing is wasting time in lineups and so much of what we buy just goes bad and gets thrown out.

And don't get me started on packaging...!!!

The U.S. Government subsidizes corn producers which creates a glut of corn, which sadly finds its way into practically everything as corn syrup, adding more calories and sugar to everything we eat, and obesity is the result.

People have forgotten what real food tastes like.

This New Year don’t resolve to eat less. Resolve to eat more. MORE REAL FOOD. Natural, whole foods that are not in a box or can or bag. And if you can, grow a garden and resolve to rediscover the joy of a tomato picked ripe, or a warm peach off the tree. 

Lastly, resolve to find your way back into the kitchen.

We are what we eat. 

I feel blessed to live in an area where I can grow all my own food and I benefit from the fruits (pun intended) of my garden labours in so many ways: from healthy, organic and tasty FREE food, to a body kept in shape by all the bending and stretching. I sometimes curse hard work in the garden, but I know deep down my garden is saving me. I am being grounded daily – and my mood is enhanced by the sound of the birds and the feel of a warm egg taken out of the coop.

I encourage you this year to resolve to discover real food. I promise, you will save yourself, and together we could save the planet.

 

Drones, Orbs, and Things that Matter

What the heck is going on in the sky?

I am sure you are aware of the increasing numbers of large drones, the size of cars, in the skies over New Jerey. And even more prolific than the drone sightings are the theories as to what they are and why they are there. Well, figuring this out is right up my ally, as I love research, and even more, I love a little excitement, but I must tell you, this drone situation is not all that is going on...

The drones are flying in a grid pattern over military installations and other high value targets, and according to many analysts, and I agree, would suggest they are either friendly drones looking for something or unfriendly drones looking for something. Trust me when I say, if they were unfriendly they would have been shot out of the sky a long time ago! So yes, the government is telling the truth - they are not a risk to the public.

The military has large drones with the capability of looking for things in the dark (through infrared technology) as well as detecting “smells” like gas leaks, and of course drones that can kill. There are also drones that look for radiation. If you filter through all the millions of commercial drones delivering groceries, the utility company drones just doing their jobs, and the personal drones doing nothing but getting in the way, I believe these are government drones, either sniffing for something or investigating something.

So the government is not lying to the people when they say that the drones are not a threat. However, what the government is likely not telling the people is that there IS a threat: the thing they are looking for! Rumour has it there is a missing nuclear bomb that has been smuggled out of Europe and into an eastern seaboard port. Missing bombs is not a rumour, it is a fact, easily verified. The rumour is that one of them has made it stateside.

As a senior strategic communications specialist, I worked for the Canadian military and have been involved in the training of senior military officers by “war gaming” how to handle a dirty bomb in the port of Montreal. We war gamed this because the possibility is very real, and it is a nightmare scenario the US and Canadian (and other) governments have been planning to manage for a very long time. They have planned for it, and practiced it because they know how insecure the ports are and that is is just a mstter of time before a dirty bomb gets through.

If (and this is a big IF) there were a nuclear bomb hidden somewhere in the most populous state in America, and IF I were the communications advisor, I would certainly advise the powers to be to NOT tell the public. Why? Because a) it would create such panic that  the entire NE would shut down. This would not only create chaos, but it would also crash markets word wide and open the door to American enemies to take further advantage. The logistical nightmare of people trying to flee the area in panic would be a disaster, and b) the government needs time to find and disarm this thing if it exists, and to inform all levels of government and first responders as to what the plan is if the bomb detonates.

Having said that, do I think there is a bomb hidden there? Not sure, but I don't think so. But if there was even the slightest possibility, the government must act by bringing out the drones, so they can either find it and neutralize it or rule out that it exists. 

In the meantime, there are the orbs….WTF are the orbs that have been seen on BOTH coasts initially, and now, around the world?

Some say the orbs are cloaked drones, others are mystifying them into ancient symbols. One video shows a lady talking to the orb about Jesus. Most of that is crap. But I am telling you, there ARE orbs out there! Orange/red orbs that are being seen, not just by people on the ground, but by many commercial and military pilots. Recently in Oregon, just west of Eugene, 4 pilots and the control tower spent 13 minutes discussing the orbs, describing them (there was more than one), and trying to get video of it (the audio recording is now available online and has been verified as legit). The orb is described as red and corkscrew like, travelling at supersonic speeds between 1000 and 50,000 feet – moving up and down, back and forth between the ocen and inland, unlike any known aircraft can. 

On the east coast there are two scientists with some amazing equipment that have been recording orbs there – and I gotta tell you, I find this all freakier and scarier than the drones looking for a bomb. Perhaps the government drones are investigsting the orbs becsuse they have been literally thousands of sightingd in the last month - and not just in the U.S. These orbs are being seen around the world. Is it time that we must aadmit we are not alone in this universe? 

When I watched some of the videos that are circulating online (after weeding through the fake ones), I had the same feeling as when I watched the hazmat suited guys in China spraying the streets at the beginning of Covid. You know, that feeling of, Oh my God, is this really happening?

The legitimate orb sightings have been discussed in Congress and in Senate hearings, which are now public. This is way beyond conspiracy theories now. Unfortunately, all of the legitimate sightings have given way to thousands of misleading and false sightings, mostly stars being distorted by bad cameras, and Starlink satelites. (This probably makes the government happy, as it allows them to brush off all of this as mass hysteria and again, it buys them time to figure out what the heck these things are).

One particularily eery video, which has not been verified yet, is a young American military man, with tears running down his cheek, telling the world tht they are UFOs, that they are not friendly, and that we will all be told what is going on in the New Year. Most chilling were his ords, when "we will need to evacuate." Not sure how we evcuate the earth??

At the end of the day, I believe it is quite possible we are at the beginning of a new era. Something good? Something bad? I don’t know. But my instinct is to take stock of what really matters.

For me, that is living an authentic life in pursuit of fulfillment – something that is different for everyone. Fulfillment for me it is about living my dharma – that is, to spend quality time with those I love, limit my footprint on this planet, inspire people to grow their own food and medicine (something that suddenly seems more apropos than it did two years ago when I started Global Village Permaculture), and to spend my resources on experiences rather than on things.

Might I encourage you all in this coming New Year, and possibly New Era, to simplify your lives, value your relationships, and be kind to the earth. 

Who knows, maybe the orbs are here to help us do that - cause God knows, the drones are proof we need all the help we can get!

AirBnB: Then, Now, and the Hidden Gems

My Bnb, Global Village, was the second property in the South Okanagan to be listed on Airbnb. Back then, 2014, the concept was simple: you have a spare bedroom, nothing fancy, you listed it for cheap on Airbnb. People stayed with you and got to experience local hospitality and save money, and you got to make a little money off a room you only used to store old clothes and your mother's hand-me-down Hummels. Easy peasy. It was a great concept.

Over time, the concept morphed from simple cheap accommodations to fancy, expensive, self-contained spaces that were decorated in the latest styles and provided all kinds of luxuries. I admit, I adapted, and my space morphed too…from a $80 a night basement bedroom with an old (positively ugly) bathroom across the hall, to a $238/night premium room with it’s own entrance and gourmet two course breakfast.

There is nothing wrong with that, but long gone are the days of affordable accommodation. Airbnb has raised its fees tremendously – the guest now pays my fee, plus a huge Airbnb fee, plus taxes! For the most part, it is now cheaper to stay in a hotel/motel than most Airbnbs. People have gotten so used to that type of accommodation, they have forgotten the benefits of sharing in good old fashioned hospitality in someone else's home.

Affordable places still exist, and if you take your time looking, you can find hidden gems – like where I have been staying in Napa. Accommodations, for the most part, are incredibly expensive here. But I booked a room in John’s house - in the old historic part of Napa. It was listed at $128 CAD/night. 

John is in his sixties – and the "business" is managed by his son. The home is a lovely, renovated old house in downtown Napa. I am in one of two upstairs guest bedrooms. I have access to the whole house, including a large kitchen fully stocked with everything one might need to cook a meal, and John provides breakfast foods (help yourself) and coffee. My bedroom is small, has a lock and a nice bathroom, is newly renovated, tastefully decorated, and has an amazing electric lift mattress and quality linens. Best sleep I have had in a long time!

John and his son were here to greet me when I arrived, but for the most part I have had the house to myself. The first night I was invited to join John and his wife? sister? neighbour? in Thanksgiving leftovers (I declined), and today while enjoying my supper, I was offered a wonderfully refreshing homemade Agave cooler. John and I chatted for awhile about travel and wine, and then he was off again, and once more I had the house to myself.

As a single traveller, staying in someone’s home gives me an opportunity to visit with people (if I feel like it), and I get the security and safety I don’t necessarily feel when staying in a motel. What I paid for this gem of a place was only $20 more a night than the cheap Motel 6 I parked myself in earlier this week – and that night I barely slept a wink between the highway traffic, the bad mattress, and the feeling that my car full of all my belongings may not be there in the morning.

Some people might think it is weird to stay in someone’s home – but the truth is, that is the best part of the experience. People who open their homes like this are generally my kind of people – open, trusting folks who want to meet people from around the world, share their hospitality, and show off their lovely region. I know that is why I do it – so I have never hesitated to look for the same sort of accommodations. 

Airbnb hosts like John, who do a consistently good job and get nothing but good reviews, are awarded the Super Host and Guest Favorite designations – so when looking for the gems, I limit my searches to those properties. In fact, as a Super Host/Guest Favorite myself, I am actually staying here at John's for free because Airbnb awards super hosts with credits to use while travelling. 

For sure there are times when I want my own space, and I will then book an entire place to myself, but for the most part, the best experiences I have had travelling have been staying in a room in someone’s home. So if you have never done that, and especially if you are a solo traveller, I encourage you to try it. Look for Super Hosts with the Guest Favorite designation and you can’t go wrong. I guarantee you will get a better sleep than in a noisy hotel, you’ll enjoy much better quality beds and linens, and best of all, you might make some new friends.

 

Pumpkin Pie and Russians

Today is American Thanksgiving, and as I pondered what I should write about, I decided to look at my blog statistics for inspiration. To date, I have written 151 blog posts since 2017. A grand sum of 27,162 people around the world have read this blog. Most are from Canada and the U.S., but I was surprised to see that I have a considerable number of readers in Singapore (4,100), Hong Kong (3,240), and Russia (1,230).

Russia? Seriously? That means there are people in Russia who probably know more about me than my kids (who I am pretty sure do not read my blog)!

It made me realize that although I write for myself, as a form of therapy, and to remember stuff for when I write books, I am putting my thoughts, opinions, and personal stories out there for anyone in the world to read. I know that in this day of Instagram influencers with millions of followers, a meager 27,000 views are a pittance, but it still strikes me as a responsibility to ensure I am doing my best to speak the truth. Truth is hard to come by in this age of deep fakes, partisan “news,” and photoshopped pictures.

So here is some truth…I have been having trouble motivating myself to write lately. I would like to think it is because I need less “therapy,” but I am not sure that is the case. It may be because this is the third winter I have come to the Pacific Northwest to mushroom hunt in the forests, and one can only write about trees and mushroom so much.

 All I know is that it feels like a chore to me right now, and I really do try to go easy on myself in the winter. I work so hard in the spring and summer that in the winter I try to allow myself to rest, recreate, and rejuvenate. To do what I want to do, when I want to do it.

To that end, today when my head was saying, “Corrie you really need to go for a hike,” my heart replied, “F--- it. It is too cold outside.” So instead, I cooked a chicken with gravy, sweet potatoes, white corn, brussels sprouts, and stuffing and sat down to a thanksgiving meal at 11 am! I am now on the couch binge watching The Crown and drinking white wine and against the better judgment of my head, my heart is telling me to go get another piece of pecan pie. 

Happy Thanlsgiving to my 4,126 American readers.

Leaf Peeping

Every fall when I am out walking in the woods, enjoying the gorgeous fall colours, I am reminded of my favorite scene from one of my favorite shows. West Wing was a political show featuring Martin Sheen as the President of the United States. In taping for an upcoming broadcast, the president gets hung up on the term “Leaf Peeping.” (Here is a YouTube clip of the scene). Well, it turns out, leaf peeping is a thing. Wikipedia defines it as an activity in which people travel to view and photograph the fall foliage during autumn, when leaves change colors. 

Fall colour is one of the main reasons I choose to travel the Pacific Northwest in the fall. It is beautiful, plain and simple. And in the fall, there are fewer tourists so the trails and roads are not crowded. It is the perfect time to be a tourist. Each day I try to find forests and woodlands in which to walk, and even if I do not find any mushrooms – my main goal – I enjoy seeing and smelling the leaves. I love the sound they make when I walk on them, and I love the way they reflect the morning light. I love the smell they emit as they slowly decompose and feed the forest. I am, by all accounts, a leaf peeper.

Sadly my leaf peeping may have come to an abrupt halt in the past 24 hours as a bomb cyclone off the coast of Vancouver Island sent extremely strong, hurricane force winds to the coast of Washington, Oregon and California – effectively stripping most of the eaves off the trees. And what the wind didn’t get – the snow and rain did.

As I write this many of the major highways – including the ones I need to use next weekend to get to my next sit – are closed due to huge volumes of snow that the atmospheric river dumped in the higher elevations – and no matter which route I take. I always travel prepared: I have winter tires; I have winter boots and coats in my car: I have an emergency pack with candles and flares. BUT, I am a leaf peeper not a snow skier! I HATE SNOW! I grew up in snow. I know how to drive in it. I just don't want to.

So, as of now, I have determined that the biggest disadvantage to house sitting is that I have commitments to be in certain places at certain times, which requires me now to travel when I do not want to travel. 

Something for me to consider for future leaf peeping trips.

Remember the Alternative!

A few years ago, I sat down with a glass of wine, put my feet up on the ottoman, and picked up my book. I flipped open to the dog-eared page and started to read. After a few minutes, I laid down my book and said,“You know, I just cannot get into this book. It seems a lot like the last one I read. They are so similar I keep getting the characters all mixed up.” My husband raised his eyebrows and replied, “Corrie, that IS the last book you read, YOUR book is over there – I am reading that one now.”

If you are aging, you can probably relate. It gets worse…

Another time my husband and I were sitting by the pool playing Anagrams, and he put down the word lacey.  “Hey, that was my last name from my first marriage, I said. "Or maybe that was the street I lived on… I cannot remember." 

But if Lacey was the street I lived on, then what the heck was my last name? Oh well, it doesn’t matter. I try to forget about that marriage anyway.

On yet another occassion while my husband and I were travelling, one night I went to the resort office to sign out some DVDs. I picked out a couple of romantic comedies and when I got home, my hubby looked through them and said, “Corrie, we watched this one three days ago!” I looked at the cover, read the back panel, and said, “Seriously? I have no recollection whatsoever of having viewed this movie.”

Forgetting things is normal as we age, but I wanted to be certain that my memory issues were not the sign of something more sinister, so I signed up for an Alzheimer’s clinical trial. Before being accepted into the drug trial, they do DNA testing on you to see if you have the genetic predisposition, so this was a free way to get the very expensive genetic testing done. I did not have the gene, so I withdrew from the trial, satisfied in the knowledge that I was no more likely to get Altzheimer's than the next guy. 

 I also recently saw a neurologist to follow up on a small brain tumour that was discovered last fall. He said, “Corrie, for a 62-year-old woman, you have a pristine brain.” (The tumour was apparently a non issue - something he said I have likely has since birth.) 

Woohoo! A pristine brain...so what explains my propensity to putting clothes on backwards? One time I put my one-piece bathing suit on backwards and stood there in front of the mirror wondering why my boobs kept falling out!

The truth is aging sucks – but as I am constantly telling myself and those around me – the alternative to getting old is getting dead. We can look at the goofy and annoying things that start happening to us as we age, and giggle, or we can be humiliated and complain. I choose to embrace my aging, and all it's humiliating nuances because aging is a privelege many do not get to experience. 

By the way, I eventually remembered my old last name…it was not Lacey – Lacey was the street I lived on. My last name was Lindsay. Or was it Lindsey? 

I can’t remember.

Genius or too many martinis?

I had a sleep study done many years ago. It showed that I had more than triple the normal amount of sleep awakenings. The average person, depending on age, will wake up 80 to 130 times a night. This is normal, and for the most part, most people do not really notice it. They roll over, scratch their heads, adjust their pillows, and carry on sleeping. Others, like me, hover in a no man’s land of sleep and thought – often unable to tell what is dreaming and what is thinking.

The sleep therapist told me that it is very common for highly intelligent people to have an above average number of awakenings. He asked me, already knowing the answer, “Do you solve problems in your sleep, often waking up to the answer?” Of course, the answer was yes – it happens all the time. I used to design house renovations in my sleep, solve riddles, and invent recipes. (Too bad I couldn't figure out how to save my marriage while getting my beauty sleep!) These days, I do not seem to have too many problems to solve – so my hundreds of awakenings each night just merge into one big AWAKE!

When I had small kids and a career, I used to fight insomnia; unsuccessful at willing myself back to sleep, I would work myself into a bad case of sleep anxiety. The more I worried about not being able to sleep, the harder it was to get back to sleep. 

The beauty of retirement is that now, instead of fighting it, I can embrace it.

There is something empowering about being awake in the middle of the night when the rest of the world sleeps. Right now, for instance, it is 2:36 a.m. I am enjoying a cup of herbal tea while listening to the howling of the wind. An atmospheric river hit the Oregon coast about two hours ago and with the rain there are some very strong wind gusts. The hotel I am in is whistling and howling as the fast-moving air finds cracks and corridors to blow through. It is eerie and ominous. Before getting up, I listened to a very interesting audio book by an American journalist. I then ate a bowl of cereal, figured out where to go hiking tomorrow, and am now writing my blog.

 How many times have I said, “If only there were more hours in the day?” Well….

The normal number of nighttime awakenings naturally increases as we age. Sore joints, having to pee, restless legs, snoring, etc., all play a role in affecting how well and how long we slumber. I no longer have a partner to snort beside me, but man can some scary noise come out of my mouth - I sound like a generator! (It is probably a good thing I now sleep alone… with the eye patches to block out light, the nose strips to help me breath, and splayed position to open up my hips, and the turkey sandwich beside the bed…I am not exactly a thing of desire.)

I recently started growing a medicinal garden and one of the tinctures I make is a wonderful treatment for insomnia. I have given it to a few friends, who then phoned me after using it and said, "OMG, I need more of this stuff!" I started feeling like a drug dealer, and decided I better do a little more reseach on the herb I was using to make sure I was not getting my friends addicted.

Prickly lettuce/Sow thistle secretes a milky white substance which contains lactucarium and hyoscyamine, among other things. It has been used for centuries as a nervine. Much like the drug gabapentin it is a gamma aminobutryic acid (GABA) analogue. GABA reduces the excitability of neurons in the brain. This can have a sedative and analgesic effect. And it is not addictive. (Phew)!

Ideally, getting better sleep without the use of substances (natural or otherwise) is preferred. Doctors will tell you the greatest cause of poor sleep is poor sleep hygiene. That is, too much stimulation before bed, too much screen time before bed, and too much alcohol.

So, if you struggle to stay asleep, try eliminating Netflix and martinis before assuming you are a genius.

Pet Sitting - a Two Star Strategy

This summer as I was interviewing pet sitters for my own home, it occurred to me that maybe I should do the same thing – house and pet sit my way down the west coast – thus saving money on accommodations, with the bonus of having some company on the trails and a warm body to snuggle with at night. So, I applied for some house-sitting opportunities and almost everyone I applied for I got. Lucky me! So, while someone is at my house feeding the chickens and snuggling with my cats, I am doing the same during my travels. I just completed my second pet sitting gig – in Kent, Washington – a suburb of Seattle. 

People often ask me how it is I manage to travel so much – and this is one of the ways. Normally I rent out my house for the winter and the rent coming in basically pays my accommodations while travelling, but house-sitting works too – either way, I limit the money going out.

My first sit was in Bellingham – three dogs – not particularly well trained – so my ability to mushroom forage on walks was nil. It was all I could do to keep my shoulders in their sockets! My second pet sit was awesome. Gurney – a full-sized schnauzer who has been very well trained-was a pleasure to mushroom hunt with. His owner is currently working on scent training with him. He can find hidden vials of clove oil. While that may not seem very useful, next year they start working on Truffles!

Gurney and I covered about 15 kms a day and I found baskets of delicious mushrooms – and so far, no bear encounters 😉I am not too worried about bears – it is the creepy people lurking in the forest I worry about. My first hike in Bellingham was at the popular Whatcom Falls – an urban forest in town. It was beautiful – except for the crazy lady who followed me, shouting and mumbling at me the whole time.

Speaking of urban forest – yesterday I hiked 17 km in Auburn’s University campus forest and never came close to doing all the trails. It was spectacular! Old growth Douglas fir, Maple and Cedar. I love foraging in these types of settings as they are generally ignored by professional pickers, and I always find lots of mushrooms. Additionally, I never have to worry about getting lost.

I have the next two days off before starting my next sit in Bremerton, WA, so today I am meeting up with a girl I grew up with. Her mother and my mother were best friends for many years, and so Sherry and I spent a lot of time together as youngsters, and although they moved away for a time, they returned some years later and Sherry and I went to high school together. The last time I saw here was in our early twenties – so this should be fun.

Tomorrow, I plan on doing some wine tasting on Bainbridge Island and then I will watch the US election coverage from a cozy, overpriced hotel (I am shocked at the price of accommodations in this area). It is unlikely there will be final results tomorrow as it is sure to be a nail biter. I worry about where this country is headed and agonize over how my own country is becoming equally polarized. I know if we would just take a moment to step outside our own spere of opinion where we are daily inculcated in confirmation bias – that is, we seek out information that supports that which we already believe – and step into the shoes of those other we disparage – I know we could find shared values.

Here's to hoping Americans choose unity over division, peace over chaos.

Grounded

I recently watched a documentary on Amazon Prime about Earthing - also commonly called grounding. It is about the old and emerging science on how electrical charges in our body are released when we ground ourselves by touching a tree, swimming in the ocean, or walking barefoot on the grass or beach.

Apparently, when we touch the earth, we transfer free electrons from the planet to our bodies which neutralizes free radicals. Studies have shown grounding has been linked to reduced inflammation, improved sleep, less pain, and many other health benefits in the body. 

Inflammation is a normal response of the body to injury. However, in chronic inflammation, the response begins without injury. It can be caused by stress, obesity, environmental factors, and as in my case, an autoimmune disease. Over time, chroinic inflammation can cause DNA damage and lead to heart attacks and even cancer, so the idea that touching a tree can reduce inflammation is very appealing to me. I love trees. Trees make me happy. Besides, it is way easier on the tummy than antiinflammatories and steroids!

The whole earthing thing makes sense to me. I think it must be why I am always "healthy" when I travel in the winter, and why if I stay home, I struggle with disease flares. At home in the winter, I am not out touching trees or walking barefoot on the beach. So, as I have done the past three years, I am tree-hugging and moss crawling my way down the west coast in search of edible and medicinal mushrooms. 

And what a banner mushroom year it is proving to be so far! I have found Lobster mushrooms, chanterelles, admiral boletes, fat jacks, sweetbread fungi, edible coral, shrimp russula, shaggy manes, parasol mushrooms, wine-coloured agaricus, and several edible jelly fungi.

I have only been at it one week and have found more edible varieties of fungi than I did all of last season! I am eating chanterelles for breakfast, Lobster mushroom bisque for lunch, and bolete wine sauce on chicken for supper. and all the while when I am out there crawling around in the moss, I am healing myself!

Today I am leaving the area near Mount Baker where I have been the past week and am headed to the coast for the next couple of weeks. I may pop back into Canada for a few days to visit a friend in Pitt Meadows, and I hope to revisit some of the areas where I foraged last year in the Blaine and Bellingham areas. Following that I will be in the Seattle area for a couple weeks, then on to Seaside Oregon, Portland, Springfield, and Sacramento. All the while, foraging my way through local parks, forests, and backyards. 

I hope you will come along for the journey either by reading my blog or watching my one minute forest walks posted on facebook. And the next time you are feeling crappy, suffering from pain, or not sleeping well, might I recommend you head out and hug some trees?

Hanging On

Since arriving in Uluwatu I have had the privilege of meeting a couple of very nice ladies: Taryn from California, and Mette from Denmark. It is funny how fate brings people together. Although the three of us are from different countries, are different ages, and have very different backgrounds, in many ways, the three of us find ourselves in a similar place in life as we each seek to be our best selves and strive to live a life with purpose.

Last night we walked to the end of the street where people go to the edge of the cliff to watch the sun set. We arrived there early, beer in hand, and enjoyed the view while chatting.

It was very windy, and it would still be a while before the sun sunk behind the horizon, so we squatted on the ground and chatted.

The wind blew and blew and before long we were being sandblasted as the dirt was whipped up by the wind and tossed in our faces. We could barely open our eyes. But still we sat, waiting for the sun to set. Miserable, skin stinging, hair in knots.

All afternoon the three of us had been chatting and so we were not at all surprised to find out we had many things in common. As we sat chatting, dirt in our mouths, we talked about our shared desire to walk the Camino. I told a story about a post I had recently read, posted by a woman walking the Camino. She mentioned how she had insisted on carrying her pack, despite ongoing pain, because somehow, she felt she wasn’t a good pilgrim if she sent it ahead by taxi. She was unrelenting in holding on to her vision of what walking the Camino meant. Eventually, she gave up, sent the bag ahead, and realized that the lesson she needed to learn was how to let go of things. Like her vision of the perfect pilgrim, she realized she was hanging on to so much in her life.

At that point in the story Taryn piped up and said, “You mean she hung on like we are hanging on to watch the perfect sunset?” At that point the three of us burst into peals of laughter because here we had sat for over an hour on the hard ground, bugs biting our butts, the hurricane force winds sandblasting our faces – all because we needed to see the sunset in this most perfect of places! Except it wasn’t perfect at all – it was miserable!

So, we got up, still laughing, and headed home with only minutes to sunset, leaving behind our expectations and a pinkening sky, relishing in new friendship and the healing power of a good chuckle.

Nusa Dua

Today the skies opened, and the rain came – finally! I spoke with a woman online yesterday who told me she has been coming to Bali for 40 years, and the past two weeks were the most humid and unbearable she has ever experienced. I am glad I am not the only person who found it intolerable. With the rain the temperature has dropped significantly and so for the first time in 2.5 weeks I am feeling comfortable.

In my last blog I commented on how I might not have chosen to stay in Nusa Dua this week had I known it was gated and nothing but big resorts. It turns out however, that my hotel is not located inside the gates, so I could continue to wander the streets and experience everyday life in Bali…the thing is, every where I have been has basically been the same (notwithstanding certain geographic location differences): every street has bad sidewalks that are lined with massage shops, tattoo shops, restaurants, clothing shops selling sarongs, and booths selling activities and tours. Oh, and lots and lots of temples (but trust me when I say they all start looking alike after a while) and lots and lots of taxis.

Some might say that what I describe is not the “authentic” Bali – but what exactly does that mean? Servicing the tourism industry IS what most Balinese do. This IS their reality; therefore, it IS authentic. To want to slow or stop tourism, is to want to slow and stop jobs for locals. Before tourism Bali was incredibly poor. 

So, who are we to say tourism is bad for a place? And if we do, we do so selfishly, because we want sleepy, unspoiled, cheap places to go in the winter. (I myself have caught myself complaining about the good old days when one could travel to the tropics and buy a beer for a dollar.) The truth is, it is quite disingenuous of us to come as tourists to a place like Bali only to complain about how tourists have ruined the place – and yet, I have heard this constantly since my arrival here. 

I spoke with one of my drivers and asked him if the Balinese people are happy about all the tourism that has taken over the island, and he said emphatically, “Yes! Before tourism we were all very poor. Now we have jobs.”

So, saying Nusa Dua is not authentic is just as wrong, and I stand corrected. 

Nusa Dua is lovely - the perfect place to stay if you have some money and enjoy some luxury, clean beaches, and sidewalks that don't have holes in them large enough to swallow a man whole. There is a paved pathway beside the water that runs all along the length of Nusa Dua, and on the back side of the resorts are wide pathways full of greenery, flowers, crosswalks, and gorgeous traffic circles. It is great for walking and the beach is soft sand and gently entry to shallow, calm water.

As I have written in my book Around the World: A Journey Inward travel to the developing world has challenged me, built character, and has been a catalyst for change. It has taught me lessons I could not have learned in any other way – but one of the things I have learned is that I don't have to stay in crap places with no airconditioning to somehow gain the "authentic" experience. 

Experiencing the authentic Bali is about experiencing its people. And that means taking the time to speak with people outside your resort. It is about being open to learning and respecting their culture. For people who maybe have not travelled very much, Bali would be a great place to come.

For me however, it was a long, long, long way to come for a tropical island that looks pretty much like every other tropical island I have been on. Nothing I see surprises me anymore. 

For me, the world has shrunk. 

Is it possible there are no more lessons for me to learn? I doubt that. But maybe the lesson I need to learn most is how to stay home and be content. 

I have worked hard to build for myself a wonderful home and business in Oliver, and the truth is, I cannot wait to get back there.