The Fox and the Hound(?)*

*The "Hound" has a question mark because I don't actually know if Koda is part hound or not. Signs (and sounds) point to yes.

Immediately after writing the previous post, I decided to take Koda to the beach to work off some of the energy and boredom (hers and mine). We went down to Radio Island, the closest beach to us (albeit the smallest). Since it was only her second time visiting the ocean, Koda was far more interested in walking and sniffing than actually playing, even though I made sure to bring a tennis ball for fetch. So we walked and sniffed and collected shells for about an hour, then decided to head back home and get some dinner. But, on our way back up the beach, a very unexpected visitor was blocking our path:



Not the usual fox you'd see at the beach... for one thing, this one wasn't in a tiny bikini. But it was there all the same! Koda and I kept our distance and just watched as it played in the sand, ate some pieces of fish that some beach-goers threw to it, and lounged in the shade. I was a little worried at first, because it seemed rather interested in Koda (I think it was confused by the ears... they had the same ones), but Koda was good and just sat and watched, not once trying to chase it.

Apparently this particular fox is a regular visitor to this beach, so next time I go I'll be sure to bring my camera and try to get some good pics. Until then, you can look at the lovely pic that I found on the internet.

Ten Signs That I’m Back in the South

1. Even if there is a relatively strong breeze, the weather is so hot and humid that after two minutes outside my house I’m covered in a sheen of sweat.

2. After 5 minutes playing outside in the early afternoon, Koda comes inside, chugs half a bowl of water, flops on the kitchen floor, and refuses to move for at least half an hour.

3. At the grocery store, it is common to hear people employ the word “y’all” and speak with strong accents resembling those on the movie Sweet Home Alabama.

4. When I visit any of the local beaches, people are actually swimming or just lying in the water. It’s actually warm enough to do that here (since the water is more like bathwater than refreshing ocean water). Unlike in the North Atlantic or North Pacific, where I’m most used to “swimming”.

5. The weather reports include sections on surf conditions and hurricane warnings.

6. The food items left in our house from the previous tenants included instant stovetop cornbread and “fruit ice” (aka Popsicles).

7. There are rocking chairs on most of the front porches (although not ours… we have a couple plastic Muskoka chairs and my basket chair).

8. Walking Koda down my street, I both get catcalled by unruly (and somewhat rude) young men, and have true southern gentlemen wish me a good day and comment on what a pretty little dog I have.

9. My jean collection, which is usually my fashion staple, has been pushed to the back of my closet in favour of shorts, skirts and capris.

And Finally…

10. The three local grocery stores are the Harris Teeter, the Food Lion, and … no joke… the Piggly Wiggly.

Orientation and classes start on Monday, so I’ll update when I have more to tell! In the meantime I’ll be finishing setting up my house (I HAVE A HOUSE!) and getting Koda settled. Will post pics when things are prettier.

Better Late Than Never...

A post written August 10th, saved and forgotten on my computer...

En Route

It’s over.

My month on Canada’s west coast has officially come to an end, and I honestly have mixed feelings about it. I’m writing this from a small coffee shop in Port McNiell, BC, where I’m waiting for a Greyhound bus to take me to Comox where I’ll catch a flight home (via Calgary and Toronto). I finally have time to reflect on the last month of my life, and I thought that since I have a couple of hours with nothing to do, I’d share some of my ponderings. (Although with lack of free Internet access, this will actually be posted after I’m home.)

I went into this internship with admittedly negative feelings, after months of confusion and changing plans and fluid details. I know that’s not the best way to start a new adventure. The negative feelings at the beginning coloured the rest of the trip. But I won’t lie to you, dear readers, when the time came to actually leave for this trip, I didn’t even want to go anymore. (I think it had something to do with the whole “you’re hired!” “no wait, you’re un-hired…” “you’re re-hired!” “nope, changed our minds, you’re re-un-hired…” “well maybe we can work something out…” “nope, you can come if you pay us rent, and a $20 volunteer fee” “oh, by the way, you’re camping for a month” thing. But there’s really no telling for sure.) Because of this, my entire trip was one giant countdown to the time when I could go home again.

Don’t get me wrong, the trip had its good parts. In fact, it even had its brilliant and Downright Amazing parts. Yet another life-changing experience. This was the first time I’d ever really studied killer whales, having spent the majority of my Whale-Woman career focused on humpbacks and Right whales. (“Whale Woman” being the nickname I was given by one of my amazing volunteers. And no, he wasn’t calling me fat.) They truly are beautiful, fascinating creatures, with complex social systems rivaling our own. I’d love to come back to the west some day to study more about Orca behaviour, but who knows where life’s paths will lead me?

But, as is the point of this post, things out here weren’t all rainbows and sunshine (although we did have amazing weather when I was out here, which made camping a whole lot more enjoyable). I won’t get into things here because, although I’ll never lie to my readers, there are things that I just shouldn’t say online. Plus I’m not that petty. But those who have endured my rants over the last month know what I’m talking about. Lets just say that after one encounter, a very intuitive volunteer turned to me and noted “you must either be extremely laid-back, or just really, really flexible. They’re throwing a lot at you… it’s a good thing you can roll with the punches.”

But, as with all life-changing experiences, this trip taught me a lot about myself and what I can do. It pushed my limits in more ways than one, and for that I’m grateful. I learned that no matter how many times I declared over my lifetime that I would never pee in the woods, sometimes it’s necessary. I also learned that a little creativity and some conveniently-shaped driftwood can make a pit-toilet a whole lot more comfortable.

I learned that I can be patient, but there’s only so much “patience” one can employ before they just end up becoming somebody’s doormat. And after learning that, I learned to stand up for myself and express my point of view without it turning into a big thing, and I learned that sometimes compromise is necessary (even if the compromise really makes no sense in the long run… sometimes you just have to appease people).

I learned never to write convoluted blog entries that I think are funny and witty, but that may make others think that an acquaintance/friend/boyfriend passed away during my journey. (Don’t worry, everyone is alive and well! It was only my expensive sunglasses that made the fateful journey to their final resting place – a.k.a. the bottom of Johnstone Strait.)

I learned that I actually enjoy wilderness camping (as long as there’s access to a shower every few days), that I can “be in charge” of a group of adults and actually feel like they’re willing to listen to me rather than just humour me (since I look so young, sometimes it’s easy to believe that people twice my age are more likely to gaze at me and go “oh isn’t that sweet, she’s trying to teach us stuff!” rather than actually listen to my instructions). I learned to live with a boy (since, growing up with only sisters and female roommates, I’d never learned how previously), and how to curl up in exactly the right position to make sleeping on a couch for a month slightly comfortable. I learned that climbing a mountain daily is great exercise, but scaling rock faces is probably not something I’d do for fun. I re-learned that I bruise easily, and that black-and-blue legs are even less attractive than pasty legs. I learned plenty more too, but I should probably wind it up here.

Most importantly, I realized that no matter where in the world I may be, and no matter how long I’ve been away, there really is no place like home. And home is not necessarily a particular place or a particular house, it’s wherever you find those you love. And as of now, with 20-odd hours of traveling still left in front of me, there’s nowhere else I’d rather be.

The countdown is on. Again.