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.
Saturday, August 22, 2009
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.
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.
Monday, July 20, 2009
Goodbye, Dear Friend
Today I bid a final farewell to my dear friend, Maui Jim.
MJ, I have to admit it wasn’t love at first sight. That early January day when we met at the Hut in the mall, your subtle grace and understated style did not immediately attract my attention. I was swayed by the overt beauty of Burberry and the solid construction and reliability of Oakley. But when I took the time to get to know you and give you a shot, your strong arms gently cradled my face in a way no others could; snug and stable, but not tight enough to pinch. Your beautiful amber colouring allowed me to see the world in a completely new light, everything in sharper contrast than before. I knew from that moment on that we were meant to be.
In the short time we knew each other, you protected me against the glare of snow on a frozen lake, the bright summer rays filtering through the windshield on long car trips, and the glinting, blinding light dancing off the waves as we dashed through the ocean in a small zodiac. On our final journey, we bobbed gently in the waves of Johnstone Strait in our bright yellow kayak, sharing views of spruce-covered mountains and kelp-lined shores. Just before parting, we witnessed a pod of porpoises flitting by, leaping happily through the waves without a care in the world.
Then, as if thinking you could never top this shared moment, you slipped gently from your preferred perch on my head and dove into the water below. My deafening wail of despair and my desperate reach toward you were of no avail, since you slipped gently through the fingers of my jacketed arm that was plunged elbow-deep in the frigid ocean. As I worked to keep the kayak upright while I reached for you, you winked a gentle goodbye and slipped farther into the darkness.
I’ll never let go, Jim. I’ll never let go.
For the rest of the day, my wet arm reminded me of the times we shared together, and the future that was now beyond our reach. While our friends toss out words of condolence and promises of newer, cheaper pairs at the local grocery store, my sadness still flows strongly. Yes, Maui Jim, you will be replaced. But you will never be forgotten.
So goodbye, dear sunglasses. You will be sorely missed.
MJ, I have to admit it wasn’t love at first sight. That early January day when we met at the Hut in the mall, your subtle grace and understated style did not immediately attract my attention. I was swayed by the overt beauty of Burberry and the solid construction and reliability of Oakley. But when I took the time to get to know you and give you a shot, your strong arms gently cradled my face in a way no others could; snug and stable, but not tight enough to pinch. Your beautiful amber colouring allowed me to see the world in a completely new light, everything in sharper contrast than before. I knew from that moment on that we were meant to be.
In the short time we knew each other, you protected me against the glare of snow on a frozen lake, the bright summer rays filtering through the windshield on long car trips, and the glinting, blinding light dancing off the waves as we dashed through the ocean in a small zodiac. On our final journey, we bobbed gently in the waves of Johnstone Strait in our bright yellow kayak, sharing views of spruce-covered mountains and kelp-lined shores. Just before parting, we witnessed a pod of porpoises flitting by, leaping happily through the waves without a care in the world.
Then, as if thinking you could never top this shared moment, you slipped gently from your preferred perch on my head and dove into the water below. My deafening wail of despair and my desperate reach toward you were of no avail, since you slipped gently through the fingers of my jacketed arm that was plunged elbow-deep in the frigid ocean. As I worked to keep the kayak upright while I reached for you, you winked a gentle goodbye and slipped farther into the darkness.
I’ll never let go, Jim. I’ll never let go.
For the rest of the day, my wet arm reminded me of the times we shared together, and the future that was now beyond our reach. While our friends toss out words of condolence and promises of newer, cheaper pairs at the local grocery store, my sadness still flows strongly. Yes, Maui Jim, you will be replaced. But you will never be forgotten.
So goodbye, dear sunglasses. You will be sorely missed.
Wednesday, July 15, 2009
A Desperate Plea to my B.C. Readers
Do you like whales...? And camping...? (*insert patented creepy smile*)
I'm looking for some volunteers to help me out gathering data for my masters project over the next month. So if you live anywhere near Vancouver Island (Alert Bay, to be exact) or can take a few days off and come up here to hang out with me and some killer whales, then I would be eternally grateful! Here's a copy of my desperate plea that I'm flinging out far and wide... (although it's not actually written by me. My copy was immediately discarded because it wasn't persuasive enough.)
VOLUNTEERS NEEDED FOR WHALE RESEARCH
I’m a Masters student and Straitwatch volunteer looking for help with land-based whale/boat traffic observations in the Johnstone Strait area. Tasks include helping to collect and record data on whale activities and vessel traffic from a cliff-top observation point. While out there we will be camping at Kaikash for 3 to 4 days at a time. I’m looking for someone who enjoys spending time outdoors, has camping experience and is interested in learning more about whales.
This is a great opportunity to gain field experience. This position is based out of Alert Bay so you will need to arrive the day prior to the volunteer dates listed below. From Alert Bay a small boat will take us to Kaikash where we will camp and the boat will pick us up on the last day. There is minimal cost involved with this opportunity as you only need to be a member of Cetus Research & Conservation Society ($20 membership fee) to participate. However, you will need to provide your own camping gear and food while we are out there.
Volunteers are needed for the following dates:
July 21-23
July 27-29
July 31- August 3
August 5-8
If interested in any or all of these dates, please contact Robyn Walker at robynpwalker@yahoo.ca, or Straitwatch at 250-974-7056
Help me out, if you can!!
I'm looking for some volunteers to help me out gathering data for my masters project over the next month. So if you live anywhere near Vancouver Island (Alert Bay, to be exact) or can take a few days off and come up here to hang out with me and some killer whales, then I would be eternally grateful! Here's a copy of my desperate plea that I'm flinging out far and wide... (although it's not actually written by me. My copy was immediately discarded because it wasn't persuasive enough.)
VOLUNTEERS NEEDED FOR WHALE RESEARCH
I’m a Masters student and Straitwatch volunteer looking for help with land-based whale/boat traffic observations in the Johnstone Strait area. Tasks include helping to collect and record data on whale activities and vessel traffic from a cliff-top observation point. While out there we will be camping at Kaikash for 3 to 4 days at a time. I’m looking for someone who enjoys spending time outdoors, has camping experience and is interested in learning more about whales.
This is a great opportunity to gain field experience. This position is based out of Alert Bay so you will need to arrive the day prior to the volunteer dates listed below. From Alert Bay a small boat will take us to Kaikash where we will camp and the boat will pick us up on the last day. There is minimal cost involved with this opportunity as you only need to be a member of Cetus Research & Conservation Society ($20 membership fee) to participate. However, you will need to provide your own camping gear and food while we are out there.
Volunteers are needed for the following dates:
July 21-23
July 27-29
July 31- August 3
August 5-8
If interested in any or all of these dates, please contact Robyn Walker at robynpwalker@yahoo.ca, or Straitwatch at 250-974-7056
Help me out, if you can!!
A School-Blog Reject...
... or just something I've been trying to post for a few days, but for some reason the website doesn't want to load properly for me here. So enjoy!
_____________________________________________________________________________________
Where in the world is…?
This July, while my classmates are sweating it out in the rainforests of Costa Rica, Borneo and Madagascar, I’m sporting a winter hat and mittens. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.
July 11th, I arrived on the northern tip of Vancouver Island in beautiful British Columbia to start my somewhat shortened summer internship. For exactly one month, I’m working for an organization called Straitwatch which studies boat activity near whales (specifically killer whales) in Johnstone Strait and the surrounding areas. For the last two days I’ve gone out on their zodiac, following a few humpback whales, a group of five incredibly acrobatic transient killer whales, a few dozen Dahl’s porpoises and a few hundred Pacific white-sided dolphins (which spent some of their time bow-riding just a short distance below my feet). Suddenly, the hat and mittens I threw in my luggage “just in case” have become daily accessories.
On land, the temperature is only slightly lower than what I’ve gotten used to for this time of the year, averaging about 20-30 degrees Celsius on a warm day. But on the water, it’s a whole other story. In the channels around the islands, the clouds and sometimes dense fog block out the sun and make the temperature drop a few degrees. The dampness on the water adds to the temperature drop, and the spray and wind from the zodiac makes it even colder. So by the end of the day, I’m thanking my lucky stars that I “over-packed” and brought my 2 sweaters, jacket and rain pants with me because I will have already put them all on less than an hour into the trip. But in the late afternoon when the fog lifts briefly to expose the vistas of rich green forests and the towering mountains lining the channels, it’s more than worth it.
Being a winter-child, I have absolutely nothing against the cold. I’d much rather be bundled up and shivering a bit than dressed down and melting. So the job conditions work just fine for me! I love being out on the water for the first time in a couple of years, and I’m remembering some things that have slipped my mind since my last boating gig. For one, it doesn’t take much time to get my sea-legs (even though anybody who knows me can attest that I’m less than graceful on land), but it takes at least three times as long to get my land-legs back. (As I’m writing this, the computer is swaying gently from side to side… as is the couch.) Also, no matter how many times I see the tell-tale arch of a humpback’s back that means it’s going to fluke, or the towering, graceful dorsal fin of a killer whale slicing through the water, or the flashing happy grin of a dolphin surfing the bow wave, it never fails to take my breath away.
Before I left home, one of my sisters gave me a hug and said “you better have fun out there, this is what you’ll be doing for the rest of your life.”
Have no fear, Kate. I could totally get used to this.
_____________________________________________________________________________________
Where in the world is…?
This July, while my classmates are sweating it out in the rainforests of Costa Rica, Borneo and Madagascar, I’m sporting a winter hat and mittens. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.
July 11th, I arrived on the northern tip of Vancouver Island in beautiful British Columbia to start my somewhat shortened summer internship. For exactly one month, I’m working for an organization called Straitwatch which studies boat activity near whales (specifically killer whales) in Johnstone Strait and the surrounding areas. For the last two days I’ve gone out on their zodiac, following a few humpback whales, a group of five incredibly acrobatic transient killer whales, a few dozen Dahl’s porpoises and a few hundred Pacific white-sided dolphins (which spent some of their time bow-riding just a short distance below my feet). Suddenly, the hat and mittens I threw in my luggage “just in case” have become daily accessories.
On land, the temperature is only slightly lower than what I’ve gotten used to for this time of the year, averaging about 20-30 degrees Celsius on a warm day. But on the water, it’s a whole other story. In the channels around the islands, the clouds and sometimes dense fog block out the sun and make the temperature drop a few degrees. The dampness on the water adds to the temperature drop, and the spray and wind from the zodiac makes it even colder. So by the end of the day, I’m thanking my lucky stars that I “over-packed” and brought my 2 sweaters, jacket and rain pants with me because I will have already put them all on less than an hour into the trip. But in the late afternoon when the fog lifts briefly to expose the vistas of rich green forests and the towering mountains lining the channels, it’s more than worth it.
Being a winter-child, I have absolutely nothing against the cold. I’d much rather be bundled up and shivering a bit than dressed down and melting. So the job conditions work just fine for me! I love being out on the water for the first time in a couple of years, and I’m remembering some things that have slipped my mind since my last boating gig. For one, it doesn’t take much time to get my sea-legs (even though anybody who knows me can attest that I’m less than graceful on land), but it takes at least three times as long to get my land-legs back. (As I’m writing this, the computer is swaying gently from side to side… as is the couch.) Also, no matter how many times I see the tell-tale arch of a humpback’s back that means it’s going to fluke, or the towering, graceful dorsal fin of a killer whale slicing through the water, or the flashing happy grin of a dolphin surfing the bow wave, it never fails to take my breath away.
Before I left home, one of my sisters gave me a hug and said “you better have fun out there, this is what you’ll be doing for the rest of your life.”
Have no fear, Kate. I could totally get used to this.
Friday, July 10, 2009
Say Goodnight, Not Goodbye
It’s nights like these that make me remember why I miss Ottawa.
It’s a place so full of life, so comforting in its familiarity, never dull with all its goings-on. This evening, I stood in the summer heat and watched the sun set over the skyline, punctuated by the winking windows of the parliament buildings, while the strong tempo and crooning lyrics of Metric lead the city from daytime to night. Sitting on a blanket of grass under a ceiling of stars, I let the rasping, soulful, heart-wrenching vocals of Ben Harper break me to pieces and reconfigure me in a million different ways. Breathing in the earthy smell of the damp grass, the sweet and heavy aroma of marijuana and the tangy smell of spilled beer, I felt completely at ease. Ottawa is a place that embraces but does not smother, that allows anonymity without invisibility, that accepts differences and encourages originality. It’s a place where you can be surrounded by hundreds of people, and still manage to find your childhood best friend, that guy your roommate had a crush on in first year, and your best friend’s sister’s ex-fiancé that you accidentally dated once.
Tomorrow I fly off again to the newest version of my own Far Far Away. And every time I leave, it feels like yet another terrible break-up. The bittersweet kind where you smile sadly and promise to stay friends, but you know deep down inside that it can never be the same again. Every plane takeoff, every border crossing brings that now familiar ache of loss and nostalgia, the memories of what was and the dreams of what could have been tugging strangely at my insides.
Sure, there have been other cities. And there will be many more. There will be new affairs, new flings with other city streets, and possibly one day even a new love. But Ottawa was my first. The place where I first made my mark, the place where I learned to spread my wings, the place where I got to know the girl I would become. And, because of that, it will always be the one that all others get measured against, for better or for worse.
So goodnight Ottawa, until we meet again.
It’s a place so full of life, so comforting in its familiarity, never dull with all its goings-on. This evening, I stood in the summer heat and watched the sun set over the skyline, punctuated by the winking windows of the parliament buildings, while the strong tempo and crooning lyrics of Metric lead the city from daytime to night. Sitting on a blanket of grass under a ceiling of stars, I let the rasping, soulful, heart-wrenching vocals of Ben Harper break me to pieces and reconfigure me in a million different ways. Breathing in the earthy smell of the damp grass, the sweet and heavy aroma of marijuana and the tangy smell of spilled beer, I felt completely at ease. Ottawa is a place that embraces but does not smother, that allows anonymity without invisibility, that accepts differences and encourages originality. It’s a place where you can be surrounded by hundreds of people, and still manage to find your childhood best friend, that guy your roommate had a crush on in first year, and your best friend’s sister’s ex-fiancé that you accidentally dated once.
Tomorrow I fly off again to the newest version of my own Far Far Away. And every time I leave, it feels like yet another terrible break-up. The bittersweet kind where you smile sadly and promise to stay friends, but you know deep down inside that it can never be the same again. Every plane takeoff, every border crossing brings that now familiar ache of loss and nostalgia, the memories of what was and the dreams of what could have been tugging strangely at my insides.
Sure, there have been other cities. And there will be many more. There will be new affairs, new flings with other city streets, and possibly one day even a new love. But Ottawa was my first. The place where I first made my mark, the place where I learned to spread my wings, the place where I got to know the girl I would become. And, because of that, it will always be the one that all others get measured against, for better or for worse.
So goodnight Ottawa, until we meet again.
Tuesday, April 7, 2009
Am I Simon or Garfunkel?
Ok, so the last few weeks have been ridiculously crazy, and really not that fun. Lots of stuff going on school-wise and work-wise, as well as all the ups and downs of trying to find a summer internship, thinking I had one in B.C., planning a roadtrip to get there, finding out the funding fell through, and scrambling to find another job only to realize my summer plans would inevitably include going back to Almonte. So probably no whales this summer, unless I manage to weasel my way into a tagging trip with one of my profs off the coast of Boston (with the people I worked with at the Whale Center, which could be fun!)
BUT, I have something far cuddlier than whales to look forward to....
Internet, meet Koda!
Her name is short for Kodachrome, which is the very first colour film put out by Kodak. Yes, I'm a huge photo-geek... but I wanted to pick a name that would reflect some of my interests, and "Humpback" just wasn't doing it for me. Get over it. Revel in her cuteness for a bit.
Now, some of you may be thinking that this was a spur-of-the-moment decision, and that I just decided to get a puppy to make myself feel better after everything else was falling through, but you would be wrong. (And if this is what you're thinking, no offense but I don't really want to hear about it... too many people have already told me it's a stupid idea. Don't believe them.) This decision has been 5 years in the making... 5 long years of longing for a pet of my own, and having to settle for goldfish because of various travel commitments and allergies that prevented me from getting anything that could exist outside of a bowl... and then 2 years of having to leave my beloved goldfish with my parents because they couldn't be safely transported across the border. Because my job in B.C. fell through for the summer, I now have the time and space back home to train and bond with a puppy, and if I don't jump at the chance now it will be at least another few years before it comes around again. So now I'm looking forward to heading back to to my Home in Native Land, chasing a few job leads there, and spending the summer playing with my new little ball of love.
Koda (formerly Tabby) is from a local dog rescue organization, and is being fostered in a house about 40 minutes away from where I live. I sign the adoption papers on Saturday, and I've arranged for her to stay on at the foster's house until the end of April (because I can't have a dog where I live now... it's against my lease, and I live with my landlord. Who is also highly allergic to puppies, even though she loves them.) So the plan is, I finish all my school stuff and exams, visit her whenever I want and kidnap her for the occasional daytrip, then pick her up for keeps the day I move out.
I can't wait!!!
But every time I say her name, I get a little tune by Simon and Garfunkel stuck in my head...
Ok, so it's apparently just Paul Simon.... but it's great anyways :)
BUT, I have something far cuddlier than whales to look forward to....
Internet, meet Koda!
Her name is short for Kodachrome, which is the very first colour film put out by Kodak. Yes, I'm a huge photo-geek... but I wanted to pick a name that would reflect some of my interests, and "Humpback" just wasn't doing it for me. Get over it. Revel in her cuteness for a bit.
Now, some of you may be thinking that this was a spur-of-the-moment decision, and that I just decided to get a puppy to make myself feel better after everything else was falling through, but you would be wrong. (And if this is what you're thinking, no offense but I don't really want to hear about it... too many people have already told me it's a stupid idea. Don't believe them.) This decision has been 5 years in the making... 5 long years of longing for a pet of my own, and having to settle for goldfish because of various travel commitments and allergies that prevented me from getting anything that could exist outside of a bowl... and then 2 years of having to leave my beloved goldfish with my parents because they couldn't be safely transported across the border. Because my job in B.C. fell through for the summer, I now have the time and space back home to train and bond with a puppy, and if I don't jump at the chance now it will be at least another few years before it comes around again. So now I'm looking forward to heading back to to my Home in Native Land, chasing a few job leads there, and spending the summer playing with my new little ball of love.
Koda (formerly Tabby) is from a local dog rescue organization, and is being fostered in a house about 40 minutes away from where I live. I sign the adoption papers on Saturday, and I've arranged for her to stay on at the foster's house until the end of April (because I can't have a dog where I live now... it's against my lease, and I live with my landlord. Who is also highly allergic to puppies, even though she loves them.) So the plan is, I finish all my school stuff and exams, visit her whenever I want and kidnap her for the occasional daytrip, then pick her up for keeps the day I move out.
I can't wait!!!
But every time I say her name, I get a little tune by Simon and Garfunkel stuck in my head...
Ok, so it's apparently just Paul Simon.... but it's great anyways :)
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