Missing

There are so many wonderful things about living in Toronto. I am quite convinced.

Today, though, tromping with my three children across damp brown California sand, I acknowledge that in fact I have not stopped missing mountains and ocean and desert, missing them desperately and daily. I want to "walk in beauty," as the Navajo say, or at least as Tony Hillerman says the Navajo say.

I don't want to hear about mighty Lake Ontario or the forested Muskokas.  Not today.

The Pacific Ocean. Santa Monica beach.

Paddling Around

I kayaked in the city one evening last week. Really, right downtown. It was great fun. A friend of mine belongs to a yacht club where she keeps her sailboat along with a couple of spider-ridden kayaks. I don't have a particular fear of spiders or other bugs, but my friend does, so we spent a goodly amount of time hosing off, kicking, and scolding (me) or shrieking at (her) the sleepy critters who, disturbed by yet not understanding the plans for our imminent voyage, skittered everywhere but off. Eventually we evicted them, embarked, and propelled ourselves a number of laps round the marina, which is just next to the runway for the little island airport.

Toronto's 'island' airport

Our paddling was accompanied by a slowly setting sun and rapidly rising airplanes. The CN Tower glowed in the east. Surreal and magical.

Later, I mentioned this outing to a friend in England. "Ooh, now you're a proper Canadian!" she responded.

I hope there's a tick-box for 'kayaking in the heart of Toronto at sunset' on the Canadian citizenship application, because there are times in this country when I feel as foreign as I did when I lived in Indonesia. More so, even; a story for another post. At least I'm not afraid of spiders. That has to be worth something.