My parents sold my horse this morning. I honestly didn't think it would hurt this much, since I knew it was going to happen... But I was so wrong.
Canada, Part Four
Friday was the day of the funeral. John and Juliana would attend and leave me in Ottawa to rampage the city, infecting it with Yankee blood. They dropped me off in front of a nature museum, where I became the camera-happiest chick alive.
"Follow this to Elgin Street, go left, and follow it all the way to the end, and that's where you'll find the Parliament buildings. We'll meet you at the flame, okay? At 5 o'clock."
And at that, John and Juliana were off and I was on my own. In a city I did not know. In a place I could get lost. Basically, it was Wonderland.
It was a perfect day to go. The weather was clear and gleaming and there were people everywhere. The city was constantly moving and I tried to keep up with it. John was a doll and had packed my bag with several different snacks, a steel thermos brimming with hot chocolate, and a coffee cup. Besides my giddy expression, my digicam and videocamera were sure signs that I was, in fact, a tourist.
Ottawa felt tall. And kingly. But it was a welcoming city, embracing and courteous. The buildings were old and prominent. The streets were clean and reflected the blue, cloudless sky. The snow was melting under the sun and water ran into the drains. Men wore black peacoats and women wore thick, wool scarves.
I took countless pictures of everything. People would sometimes stop and talk to me, even if they weren't interested in what I was shooting. I'd stand on a corner waiting to cross and someone would feel like chatting. So we would. Then I'd move on and find another magnificent structure worth capturing. There wasn't much that I didn't want to take a picture of. Ottawa is beautiful, as well as the people who live and work there, and I was part of the city's magic for a day. I don't think my eyes have ever shone like they did on that day. Thinking about it now, my heart rises up in my chest.
Obviously, the Parliament buildings were the most magnanimous and stunning. But just as great as the buildings were, so were the people. There was a strip of shops nearby and I walked through some of them. There was a small bench area where I sat and enjoyed a cup of hot chocolate and munched on a few crackers. It was during that time that I observed people and what struck me most was how colourful everyone was. The people in the city are bright and stand out more than I'd seen people in other places. Other places seem so grey and diluted. But it wasn't like that in Ottawa. Not in the least. And for about five hours, I felt like I belonged.
John and Juliana picked me up right on time and we retreated home. We were all exhausted from the day; John and Juliana emotionally drained from the funeral and I was tired from all the walking, jogging, climbing, and watching I had done. While they tried to recover from the sadness of that day, I did my best to recover from the beauty of it. Because I was floored. I'd say I still am.
Photo Album Three.
Friday was the day of the funeral. John and Juliana would attend and leave me in Ottawa to rampage the city, infecting it with Yankee blood. They dropped me off in front of a nature museum, where I became the camera-happiest chick alive.
"Follow this to Elgin Street, go left, and follow it all the way to the end, and that's where you'll find the Parliament buildings. We'll meet you at the flame, okay? At 5 o'clock."
And at that, John and Juliana were off and I was on my own. In a city I did not know. In a place I could get lost. Basically, it was Wonderland.
It was a perfect day to go. The weather was clear and gleaming and there were people everywhere. The city was constantly moving and I tried to keep up with it. John was a doll and had packed my bag with several different snacks, a steel thermos brimming with hot chocolate, and a coffee cup. Besides my giddy expression, my digicam and videocamera were sure signs that I was, in fact, a tourist.
Ottawa felt tall. And kingly. But it was a welcoming city, embracing and courteous. The buildings were old and prominent. The streets were clean and reflected the blue, cloudless sky. The snow was melting under the sun and water ran into the drains. Men wore black peacoats and women wore thick, wool scarves.
I took countless pictures of everything. People would sometimes stop and talk to me, even if they weren't interested in what I was shooting. I'd stand on a corner waiting to cross and someone would feel like chatting. So we would. Then I'd move on and find another magnificent structure worth capturing. There wasn't much that I didn't want to take a picture of. Ottawa is beautiful, as well as the people who live and work there, and I was part of the city's magic for a day. I don't think my eyes have ever shone like they did on that day. Thinking about it now, my heart rises up in my chest.
Obviously, the Parliament buildings were the most magnanimous and stunning. But just as great as the buildings were, so were the people. There was a strip of shops nearby and I walked through some of them. There was a small bench area where I sat and enjoyed a cup of hot chocolate and munched on a few crackers. It was during that time that I observed people and what struck me most was how colourful everyone was. The people in the city are bright and stand out more than I'd seen people in other places. Other places seem so grey and diluted. But it wasn't like that in Ottawa. Not in the least. And for about five hours, I felt like I belonged.
John and Juliana picked me up right on time and we retreated home. We were all exhausted from the day; John and Juliana emotionally drained from the funeral and I was tired from all the walking, jogging, climbing, and watching I had done. While they tried to recover from the sadness of that day, I did my best to recover from the beauty of it. Because I was floored. I'd say I still am.
Photo Album Three.
Canada, Part Three
"I think I need to sleep for a bit," John said as he tugged a bit at the wheel.
John took the next exit, pulled into a Petro station and handed me the key. John moved our belongings from the back seat to the front as the Chariot pumped with fuel. By the time he was finished, I couldn't get into the glove compartment even if I wanted to. John's pack was pinned between the seat and the dash as well as my laptop case and sleeping bag. But he had room to lay down and that was all that mattered.
"Wake me up when we reach Edmonston, okay? Shouldn't take more than two hours."
I shoved the Chariot into first and John was asleep before we even left the parking lot. He'd been awake for the last 20 hours.
Although the car didn't have a working stereo, we'd managed to create one using John's discman and a pair of computer speakers. I popped John Mayer's latest in and sung along everso quietly, careful not to wake the sleeping babe behind me.
The roads had cleared since Luke and I had driven them. No snow to dodge. The snow banks themselves had shrunk a good one or two feet. It was smooth traveling all through New Brunswick. John snored, but hardly moved otherwise. Once again, my mind wandered over conversations and events from the past few days. Like when Sarah and Trish sat across from me at lunch and I suggested we play the "What Do You Want to Know About Ryan?" game. Or when I bought a bobblehead monkey for a loonie to put in John's car. Or the night I couldn't sleep, so I wrote a song with Diana's guitar.
Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted a car sitting in the shadows of the highway shoulder. I figured it was a patrol car and checked the spedometer. The speed limit was 110 klicks and I was doing 100, so I figured I was fine. As I passed the vehicle, I checked the rearview mirror and saw the headlights flip on. I stared as the police car pulled into the lane behind me. He was quickly on my tail.
We were about 20 kilometers from Edmonston. So very close, but it looked like this cop was going to pull me over. I started to panic a bit and decided to wake John.
"John..." I waited. He didn't respond. "John?" Again, he didn't say anything. "John, I need you to wake up. John?"
In the mirror, I saw the silhouette of John's head shake a little. "Huh?"
"John, there's a cop riding me. I think we're going to get pulled over."
John looked behind him, "Are you doing the speed limit?"
"I think so. It's 110 in here."
"Take it down to 95, just in case."
My cheeks started to burn. I grasped the wheel and prayed to God. The cop continued to follow closely for about three klicks and then he flipped his lights.
"It's okay," John assured me. "Just get over to the shoulder."
Having never been pulled over before, I wasn't sure what the right thing to do was. I was a foreigner driving a car that didn't belong to me. I was scared and pulled into the shoulder a little too anxiously.
"Easy! Easy, Car..." John said.
"Sorry," I blurted.
"It's okay. Now turn the emergency blinkers on," John instructed. "Turn the engine off. And the lights. Put the emergency break on. And roll your window down. Keep your hands on the wheel." He was so calm about it.
I looked to my left and found myself staring at a uniform.
"Good evening," the officer said. "How you doin' tonight?'
"Just great."
"You guys are far from home. Where you coming from?"
"Sussex," I replied.
"Where you going?"
"Back home," John answered. "To Ottawa."
The officer looked at me. "This your car?"
"No," I shook my head. "It's his."
"It's mine," John reiterated.
"Alrighty. Can I see your license, registration and proof of insurance?" The officer was really nice and I wondered why he had pulled us over.
However, other than my driver's license, the other documents were located in the glove compartment, which was inaccessible at that moment. I handed my license to the officer.
"Washington? You're American?"
"Yes, sir, I am."
Now he was really curious. "Well, Carly Bishop, what are you doing way out here, so far from home?"
"Well," I thought of a response. I wanted it to be really good. "I was visiting John in Ottawa and we both have friends going to Bible College in Sussex and we thought it'd be fun to road trip over there."
"Wow," the man shrugged. "Well, let me just run this through. Don't worry about the other stuff. I'll just check the plates. I'll be back."
John and I waited. My nerves started to relax and John explained that I probably hadn't done anything wrong. The policeman was probably only curious as to why a 20-year-old blonde chick was driving a car at 1:45 in the morning with plates from Ontario.
"I think I'd pull you over too," John said.
Soon, the officer returned, handed me my license and smiled, "Everything checks out! Have a safe trip home, guys!"
We thanked him and I could feel myself breathe again. I started the car and told John to go back to sleep.
"I can't sleep now," he said. "I'll be fine. I'm just going to have my wake-up cigarette."
"Well, we're almost to Edmonston anyway," I said.
I watched John's face glow in the light of his Zippo. He cracked his window and exhaled. I remember thinking at that moment that this wonderful and occasionally obnoxious Canadian had been one of my best friends for more than a year and I was overwhelmed with gratitude for who he was. And how he'd changed my life. Yes, John, for the better...
Eventually, I was back in the passenger seat. John took charge and drove the remaining ten hours back. We had a lot of time to talk, mostly debating on whether or not I should sleep. It came down to John forcing a pillow under my head and telling me, "Sleep." I drifted off for a short while and apparently, my talking didn't cease even then. John and I carried on a conversation, unbeknownst to me, about how I wanted him to sing the song I wrote. I woke up and we soon realized what had just transpired. John laughed, "I was wondering why your eyes were rolled up in the back of your head."
We discussed other things. Like my time at Bethany and how John would like to be a police officer one day. For nearly two hours, John and I mulled over how I can be alive and eat like I do.
"You eat like a canary!" he shouted.
I laughed hard. "A canary?!"
"A sick one! You don't eat anything!" It obviously frustrated him. John cooks a lot and enjoys eating often. "Like that night at the buffet! One flipping plate? One?!"
"I got full!"
"After one plate?!" I laughed at John's vigor. He sighed, "No... No... Okay. Here's the deal..." And I listened as John explained human function, using every analogy he knew would work and basically driving it home. John is the type of person who knows a little or infinite amount of everything. He always asks "Why?" and refuses to believe something just because "so-and-so said so." He doesn't back down and he doesn't take crap, but every now and then, he will say when he is wrong. He has the kind of passion I don't see in most; it's the kind that's infectious.
It was a great time. The sun rose, revealing a beautiful clear sky over Quebec. John would light a cigarette every other hour and I knew it was because he was tired. I would have driven but he's wierd.
We stopped briefly for a cat nap shortly after dawn. Then we spent another hour in Quebec eating breakfast at a Canadian restaurant called "Harvey's". They wouldn't take my Visa card, so I had to run to find an ATM. I ended up finding a drive-thru ATM machine and had to crouch low to the ground as to enter my pin and remove the cash. By the time I got back to the restaurant, I was fully awake. The run through the morning cold was exactly what I needed.
I'm still not over how much I enjoy being in a place where the main language is not English. John and I sat at a table and I listened to two older ladies chat. I pulled out two distinct words: "francais" and "anglais". I turned to look at them and one of them pointed at me. The other nodded and met my stare. They both laughed, a tad mockingly. Reluctantly, I returned to my pancakes. For some reason, I enjoyed the fact they probably didn't like me because I spoke English. Because I'd never experienced that feeling before.
We made it back to John's house, exhausted from the trip. I'd spent the last 12 to 14 hours one-on-one with my great friend. I watched him go through an entire pack of Canadian Classics and he watched me as I fought to stay awake the whole time. That trek from New Brunswick back to Ontario was impactful. At least on me.
It's the reason I haven't had a Diet Coke since, and those who know me will be in shock. But it's true. I haven't.
Makes you wonder, doesn't it? Who is this John Jetchick who can even make Carly stop drinking poison?! You will never know...
To be continued... (No, I don't know how many "Parts" there are. A lot.)
Photo Album Two.
"I think I need to sleep for a bit," John said as he tugged a bit at the wheel.
John took the next exit, pulled into a Petro station and handed me the key. John moved our belongings from the back seat to the front as the Chariot pumped with fuel. By the time he was finished, I couldn't get into the glove compartment even if I wanted to. John's pack was pinned between the seat and the dash as well as my laptop case and sleeping bag. But he had room to lay down and that was all that mattered.
"Wake me up when we reach Edmonston, okay? Shouldn't take more than two hours."
I shoved the Chariot into first and John was asleep before we even left the parking lot. He'd been awake for the last 20 hours.
Although the car didn't have a working stereo, we'd managed to create one using John's discman and a pair of computer speakers. I popped John Mayer's latest in and sung along everso quietly, careful not to wake the sleeping babe behind me.
The roads had cleared since Luke and I had driven them. No snow to dodge. The snow banks themselves had shrunk a good one or two feet. It was smooth traveling all through New Brunswick. John snored, but hardly moved otherwise. Once again, my mind wandered over conversations and events from the past few days. Like when Sarah and Trish sat across from me at lunch and I suggested we play the "What Do You Want to Know About Ryan?" game. Or when I bought a bobblehead monkey for a loonie to put in John's car. Or the night I couldn't sleep, so I wrote a song with Diana's guitar.
Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted a car sitting in the shadows of the highway shoulder. I figured it was a patrol car and checked the spedometer. The speed limit was 110 klicks and I was doing 100, so I figured I was fine. As I passed the vehicle, I checked the rearview mirror and saw the headlights flip on. I stared as the police car pulled into the lane behind me. He was quickly on my tail.
We were about 20 kilometers from Edmonston. So very close, but it looked like this cop was going to pull me over. I started to panic a bit and decided to wake John.
"John..." I waited. He didn't respond. "John?" Again, he didn't say anything. "John, I need you to wake up. John?"
In the mirror, I saw the silhouette of John's head shake a little. "Huh?"
"John, there's a cop riding me. I think we're going to get pulled over."
John looked behind him, "Are you doing the speed limit?"
"I think so. It's 110 in here."
"Take it down to 95, just in case."
My cheeks started to burn. I grasped the wheel and prayed to God. The cop continued to follow closely for about three klicks and then he flipped his lights.
"It's okay," John assured me. "Just get over to the shoulder."
Having never been pulled over before, I wasn't sure what the right thing to do was. I was a foreigner driving a car that didn't belong to me. I was scared and pulled into the shoulder a little too anxiously.
"Easy! Easy, Car..." John said.
"Sorry," I blurted.
"It's okay. Now turn the emergency blinkers on," John instructed. "Turn the engine off. And the lights. Put the emergency break on. And roll your window down. Keep your hands on the wheel." He was so calm about it.
I looked to my left and found myself staring at a uniform.
"Good evening," the officer said. "How you doin' tonight?'
"Just great."
"You guys are far from home. Where you coming from?"
"Sussex," I replied.
"Where you going?"
"Back home," John answered. "To Ottawa."
The officer looked at me. "This your car?"
"No," I shook my head. "It's his."
"It's mine," John reiterated.
"Alrighty. Can I see your license, registration and proof of insurance?" The officer was really nice and I wondered why he had pulled us over.
However, other than my driver's license, the other documents were located in the glove compartment, which was inaccessible at that moment. I handed my license to the officer.
"Washington? You're American?"
"Yes, sir, I am."
Now he was really curious. "Well, Carly Bishop, what are you doing way out here, so far from home?"
"Well," I thought of a response. I wanted it to be really good. "I was visiting John in Ottawa and we both have friends going to Bible College in Sussex and we thought it'd be fun to road trip over there."
"Wow," the man shrugged. "Well, let me just run this through. Don't worry about the other stuff. I'll just check the plates. I'll be back."
John and I waited. My nerves started to relax and John explained that I probably hadn't done anything wrong. The policeman was probably only curious as to why a 20-year-old blonde chick was driving a car at 1:45 in the morning with plates from Ontario.
"I think I'd pull you over too," John said.
Soon, the officer returned, handed me my license and smiled, "Everything checks out! Have a safe trip home, guys!"
We thanked him and I could feel myself breathe again. I started the car and told John to go back to sleep.
"I can't sleep now," he said. "I'll be fine. I'm just going to have my wake-up cigarette."
"Well, we're almost to Edmonston anyway," I said.
I watched John's face glow in the light of his Zippo. He cracked his window and exhaled. I remember thinking at that moment that this wonderful and occasionally obnoxious Canadian had been one of my best friends for more than a year and I was overwhelmed with gratitude for who he was. And how he'd changed my life. Yes, John, for the better...
Eventually, I was back in the passenger seat. John took charge and drove the remaining ten hours back. We had a lot of time to talk, mostly debating on whether or not I should sleep. It came down to John forcing a pillow under my head and telling me, "Sleep." I drifted off for a short while and apparently, my talking didn't cease even then. John and I carried on a conversation, unbeknownst to me, about how I wanted him to sing the song I wrote. I woke up and we soon realized what had just transpired. John laughed, "I was wondering why your eyes were rolled up in the back of your head."
We discussed other things. Like my time at Bethany and how John would like to be a police officer one day. For nearly two hours, John and I mulled over how I can be alive and eat like I do.
"You eat like a canary!" he shouted.
I laughed hard. "A canary?!"
"A sick one! You don't eat anything!" It obviously frustrated him. John cooks a lot and enjoys eating often. "Like that night at the buffet! One flipping plate? One?!"
"I got full!"
"After one plate?!" I laughed at John's vigor. He sighed, "No... No... Okay. Here's the deal..." And I listened as John explained human function, using every analogy he knew would work and basically driving it home. John is the type of person who knows a little or infinite amount of everything. He always asks "Why?" and refuses to believe something just because "so-and-so said so." He doesn't back down and he doesn't take crap, but every now and then, he will say when he is wrong. He has the kind of passion I don't see in most; it's the kind that's infectious.
It was a great time. The sun rose, revealing a beautiful clear sky over Quebec. John would light a cigarette every other hour and I knew it was because he was tired. I would have driven but he's wierd.
We stopped briefly for a cat nap shortly after dawn. Then we spent another hour in Quebec eating breakfast at a Canadian restaurant called "Harvey's". They wouldn't take my Visa card, so I had to run to find an ATM. I ended up finding a drive-thru ATM machine and had to crouch low to the ground as to enter my pin and remove the cash. By the time I got back to the restaurant, I was fully awake. The run through the morning cold was exactly what I needed.
I'm still not over how much I enjoy being in a place where the main language is not English. John and I sat at a table and I listened to two older ladies chat. I pulled out two distinct words: "francais" and "anglais". I turned to look at them and one of them pointed at me. The other nodded and met my stare. They both laughed, a tad mockingly. Reluctantly, I returned to my pancakes. For some reason, I enjoyed the fact they probably didn't like me because I spoke English. Because I'd never experienced that feeling before.
We made it back to John's house, exhausted from the trip. I'd spent the last 12 to 14 hours one-on-one with my great friend. I watched him go through an entire pack of Canadian Classics and he watched me as I fought to stay awake the whole time. That trek from New Brunswick back to Ontario was impactful. At least on me.
It's the reason I haven't had a Diet Coke since, and those who know me will be in shock. But it's true. I haven't.
Makes you wonder, doesn't it? Who is this John Jetchick who can even make Carly stop drinking poison?! You will never know...
To be continued... (No, I don't know how many "Parts" there are. A lot.)
Photo Album Two.
Intermission
An actual free-write!
So... I have the best news.
There's a Switchfoot show coming up really soon and I have no money. And even if I had money, I wouldn't be able to buy tickets, because they are sold out.
Now, I am not a big radio person. But for some reason, I turned the radio on today and it wasn't a minute later that the DJ came on and announced, "In a few minutes, we're going to ask people to call in because we've got tickets to either go see Kid Rock's concert coming up or tickets to a private showing of Switchfoot, with backstage passes to meet the band."
So I ran and got onto my computer and went to the station's website and found the toll free number and started to dial because I wanted to know what I had to do to win those Switchfoot tickets! But I kept getting the busy signal... I never got through and the DJ took a caller and he asked, "Alright! You're our caller! If you can name the last song we played and the artist, you got your option of Switchfoot or Kid Rock." Well, she named the artist and the song correctly and when she had to choose, I started to whisper, Please say Kid Rock... Please say Kid Rock... Please... And the girl said, "Oh, we totally want the tickets to see Kid Rock!"
I picked my phone up again and dialed and this time, it rung. A lady answered and I said, "Hello, can I talk to Marcus please?" Because Marcus is the DJ. She said, "Sure thing." And I was put on hold for a good 10 minutes...
Marcus finally picked up the line and said, "What's going on??" And I said, "Dude, Marcus! My name is Carly and I want those Switchfoot tickets!" And he said, "Well, you're going to have to win them from me..." And I said, "Not true. Because I am the biggest Switchfoot fan you'll ever meet and I want those tickets." And he said, "No, because I am the biggest Switchfoot fan there was." And I told him, "That's not true because I've been listening to them since they put out Legend of Chin. Ask me anything, I bet I know more than you." And that's when Marcus grew quiet and he said, "Hey... Hey... Tell you what... If you stop talking but only if you stop talking... How about I just give you tickets??" And I said, "........................................" And he said, "Okay, just wait a sec. I'll hook you up."
So. To say the least, I called a radio station and demanded Switchfoot tickets and I got them. And not only got them, but got TWO tickets! AND!!! They are for a private showing! And I get backstage passes to meet with the band later! My name is on the friggin guest list!!!
I tell you this, because my mom told me this yesterday... "Those who do most, dream most..."
I will never stop dreaming.
An actual free-write!
So... I have the best news.
There's a Switchfoot show coming up really soon and I have no money. And even if I had money, I wouldn't be able to buy tickets, because they are sold out.
Now, I am not a big radio person. But for some reason, I turned the radio on today and it wasn't a minute later that the DJ came on and announced, "In a few minutes, we're going to ask people to call in because we've got tickets to either go see Kid Rock's concert coming up or tickets to a private showing of Switchfoot, with backstage passes to meet the band."
So I ran and got onto my computer and went to the station's website and found the toll free number and started to dial because I wanted to know what I had to do to win those Switchfoot tickets! But I kept getting the busy signal... I never got through and the DJ took a caller and he asked, "Alright! You're our caller! If you can name the last song we played and the artist, you got your option of Switchfoot or Kid Rock." Well, she named the artist and the song correctly and when she had to choose, I started to whisper, Please say Kid Rock... Please say Kid Rock... Please... And the girl said, "Oh, we totally want the tickets to see Kid Rock!"
I picked my phone up again and dialed and this time, it rung. A lady answered and I said, "Hello, can I talk to Marcus please?" Because Marcus is the DJ. She said, "Sure thing." And I was put on hold for a good 10 minutes...
Marcus finally picked up the line and said, "What's going on??" And I said, "Dude, Marcus! My name is Carly and I want those Switchfoot tickets!" And he said, "Well, you're going to have to win them from me..." And I said, "Not true. Because I am the biggest Switchfoot fan you'll ever meet and I want those tickets." And he said, "No, because I am the biggest Switchfoot fan there was." And I told him, "That's not true because I've been listening to them since they put out Legend of Chin. Ask me anything, I bet I know more than you." And that's when Marcus grew quiet and he said, "Hey... Hey... Tell you what... If you stop talking but only if you stop talking... How about I just give you tickets??" And I said, "........................................" And he said, "Okay, just wait a sec. I'll hook you up."
So. To say the least, I called a radio station and demanded Switchfoot tickets and I got them. And not only got them, but got TWO tickets! AND!!! They are for a private showing! And I get backstage passes to meet with the band later! My name is on the friggin guest list!!!
I tell you this, because my mom told me this yesterday... "Those who do most, dream most..."
I will never stop dreaming.
Canada, Part Two
Everywhere, the snow glowed an icey blue while the trees appeared mere shadows along the roadside. (Clever way to start, eh? But that's exactly how it was.) The sun was rising slowly and the snow plows were making their way onto the highway. I drove and worked at avoiding massive clumps of snow and keeping the Chariot on the darker, blacker bits of pavement.
We'd made our way around the water and were bending south, into New Brunswick. I spent the next three hours staring at the road and imagining what the reaction would be to Luke's and my arrival. Many knew we were coming, but they didn't know when. By the time my shift was over, I knew students were attending church, singing hymns and praises to God, and ignorant to our ever growing presence.
I crawled into the back seat. With stinging eyes, I pushed myself into the crevasse and made myself "comfortable". The sun was bright and shining, so I covered my face with John's abandoned fleece. It wasn't long before I was sleeping soundly, even with a safety buckle pushing into the sensitive part of my back.
The only time I woke up was when Luke insisted I stay awake while we drove through the Longest Covered Bridge in the World, which is located in the town of Hartland. Feel free to google it up, it's quite an impressive structure. Unfortunately, I was too tired to beg Luke to stop while I took pictures of the bridge. After driving across, I collapsed again, like a heap.
I'm not sure how long it was afterwards that we arrived in Sussex--I was sleeping that whole time, afterall--but our first stop was made at Luke's aunt and uncle's house for a quick nap and cup of tea. Luke introduced me to his relatives and we made small talk about the traffic, the newsworthy snow fall in Nova Scotia, and how we temporarily got lost in Montreal.
By the time we got to Bethany Bible College, it was late afternoon. I followed Luke around the campus while he said things like, "It's all flooding back. You have no idea how familiar this place is to me..." We stepped into the Student Center and Luke chatted with some kids working on an assignment. There was a pool table not being used and worship music playing over the speakers. I was lost in a sea of familiarity to everyone but me... So I smiled stupidly and waited for instruction from Luke.
"We should find Wiedmaier."
"Yes, let's," I replied. When we were driving, getting closer and closer to our destination, I found myself missing Ryan more and more and anticipating his expression when he saw me there.
"I'll check the guys' dorms." Luke dashed to places that were forbidden to me, so I waited by the Student Center doors. People walked in and out and I said "Hi" to everyone, amused by the fact that I stood among a total 250 students and I was the only one there they couldn't have recognized.
Luke came back accompanied by Ben Spear, John Jetchick's former roommate. Ben and I had communicated via Messenger for over a year, but this was the first time we'd seen each other.
"Hey, Ben," I said, opening my arms. We hugged.
"We want to find Wiedmaier," Luke said.
"Absolutely," Ben nodded. "He and Sarah are probably at the Forbes' place. I can drive you there."
"Could you?" I asked.
"Definitely. They'll be so glad to see you both."
There was a rumble under my feet as we stepped onto the porch leading to the Forbes' door. Ryan burst outside and wrapped Luke and me into his arms. A clammer of voices came from within the house and we were rushed quickly inside.
We took off our coats and started telling everyone about when and how we got there. I told Ryan I was hungry and he made me a delicious taco dish. And when Alma Forbes heard I was hungry, she had to feed me too. Meeting Sarah (Wied's fiance) was a lot of fun because she got to tell me the "proposal story" while I munched away, chewing out words like "Cute!" and "Aww!"
Sarah's a doll. She's adorable and sweet and Ryan found the right girl. Not to mention that within five minutes of meeting, she paid me the nicest compliment of my life. If you want to know what it was, feel free to email me.
The time I spent at Bethany was time well spent. There were several people I had wanted to meet, including one of the administrators, Lynn Erskine, who has been a strong encouragement to me through email, even after I decided not to enroll. However, what I did not anticipate were the friends I would make while I was there. A girl named Trish who is hilarious and understands her calling. Jason ("Mustgrave"), a proud cynic and intelligent person with a passion for truth. And Damian, a west coast American native who follows his heart, even into the depths of Canada. These are amazing people, I would have the world know.
I stayed with Kate, who I'd met a year prior in Seattle. She flew in last minute because her stepfather is a pilot and she'd never been to the States. So Ryan, our friend Kyle, and I met her at her hotel and gave her a night tour of the city. Never neglecting the "gum wall" or taking the time to waltz on street corners.
We saw each other for the first time after evening Chapel, where students gather to worship and hear a message. Ryan pointed her out to me, so I walked over. I tapped her on the shoulder, she turned around, looked at me a good three seconds and finally realized, "Carly?!"
"Kate! Hi!"
"Oh my gosh!" she squealed. "I didn't even recognize you!"
We stayed up until 3:00 that morning, catching up.
Like I said, my time at Bethany was time well spent. Hanging out with Ryan and getting to know the girl he intends to marry. Playing pool with Ryan and taking tons and tons of pictures. Eating way too much cafeteria food and touring the campus through bitter cold. Late night talks at Tim Horton's. Getting inspired. Being moved.
John flew into Halifax on Tuesday afternoon. Luke took the Chariot and met him at the airport. Halifax, Nova Scotia is Luke's home and he used that chance to show John, his best friend, around town. That night, they parted ways. John took the car and Luke stayed in Halifax, where he would fly out the next day. Luke currently resides in Bannf, Alberta, pursuing the life of a starving artist and loving every minute of it.
John showed up around 1:00 PM on Wednesday. Kate and I were in her room when she saw him from her window.
"Jetchick is here! It's Jetchick! I know that walk anywhere!" And she bolted out the door.
I reached for my scarf and followed her out. By this time, my desire to understand the reason for John's sudden departure was eating away at me and I wanted to know if everything was alright. But I never had a chance to ask.
John spent the rest of the day running into friends and acquaintances and reminiscing over fond moments shared. The plan was to stay the night and Thursday, John would have a better chance to thoroughly "see" everyone. However, our plan was shattered when John's mobile rang once again, asking him to attend a wake on Thursday afternoon and a funeral on Friday. We had to leave immediately.
We had a 12 hour trip ahead of us and didn't have enough time to say "goodbye" to anyone. Ryan and Sarah were seeing The Passion and were oblivious to my sudden departure. I packed my things and stuffed them into the trunk of John's car. Ben was there to see us off and pray with us, asking for safety and protection on our long trip back. John gave his former roommate a hardy hug and I said, "It was nice to finally hang out, Ben. Tell Ryan and Sarah that I'll call them."
"I will."
John and I sank into the Chariot and we both heaved heavy sighs. John stared at the ignition, holding his hand over the key, and finally turned it. I turned my head, looking at him.
"Hi," I said, a bit exasperated.
John smiled, "Hi..."
"I feel like that's the first time I've ever said 'hi' to you."
"I know... Well. There isn't anyone I'd rather spend the next 12 hours with."
"Yeah, me neither."
And we drove west...
Photo Album One.
Everywhere, the snow glowed an icey blue while the trees appeared mere shadows along the roadside. (Clever way to start, eh? But that's exactly how it was.) The sun was rising slowly and the snow plows were making their way onto the highway. I drove and worked at avoiding massive clumps of snow and keeping the Chariot on the darker, blacker bits of pavement.
We'd made our way around the water and were bending south, into New Brunswick. I spent the next three hours staring at the road and imagining what the reaction would be to Luke's and my arrival. Many knew we were coming, but they didn't know when. By the time my shift was over, I knew students were attending church, singing hymns and praises to God, and ignorant to our ever growing presence.
I crawled into the back seat. With stinging eyes, I pushed myself into the crevasse and made myself "comfortable". The sun was bright and shining, so I covered my face with John's abandoned fleece. It wasn't long before I was sleeping soundly, even with a safety buckle pushing into the sensitive part of my back.
The only time I woke up was when Luke insisted I stay awake while we drove through the Longest Covered Bridge in the World, which is located in the town of Hartland. Feel free to google it up, it's quite an impressive structure. Unfortunately, I was too tired to beg Luke to stop while I took pictures of the bridge. After driving across, I collapsed again, like a heap.
I'm not sure how long it was afterwards that we arrived in Sussex--I was sleeping that whole time, afterall--but our first stop was made at Luke's aunt and uncle's house for a quick nap and cup of tea. Luke introduced me to his relatives and we made small talk about the traffic, the newsworthy snow fall in Nova Scotia, and how we temporarily got lost in Montreal.
By the time we got to Bethany Bible College, it was late afternoon. I followed Luke around the campus while he said things like, "It's all flooding back. You have no idea how familiar this place is to me..." We stepped into the Student Center and Luke chatted with some kids working on an assignment. There was a pool table not being used and worship music playing over the speakers. I was lost in a sea of familiarity to everyone but me... So I smiled stupidly and waited for instruction from Luke.
"We should find Wiedmaier."
"Yes, let's," I replied. When we were driving, getting closer and closer to our destination, I found myself missing Ryan more and more and anticipating his expression when he saw me there.
"I'll check the guys' dorms." Luke dashed to places that were forbidden to me, so I waited by the Student Center doors. People walked in and out and I said "Hi" to everyone, amused by the fact that I stood among a total 250 students and I was the only one there they couldn't have recognized.
Luke came back accompanied by Ben Spear, John Jetchick's former roommate. Ben and I had communicated via Messenger for over a year, but this was the first time we'd seen each other.
"Hey, Ben," I said, opening my arms. We hugged.
"We want to find Wiedmaier," Luke said.
"Absolutely," Ben nodded. "He and Sarah are probably at the Forbes' place. I can drive you there."
"Could you?" I asked.
"Definitely. They'll be so glad to see you both."
There was a rumble under my feet as we stepped onto the porch leading to the Forbes' door. Ryan burst outside and wrapped Luke and me into his arms. A clammer of voices came from within the house and we were rushed quickly inside.
We took off our coats and started telling everyone about when and how we got there. I told Ryan I was hungry and he made me a delicious taco dish. And when Alma Forbes heard I was hungry, she had to feed me too. Meeting Sarah (Wied's fiance) was a lot of fun because she got to tell me the "proposal story" while I munched away, chewing out words like "Cute!" and "Aww!"
Sarah's a doll. She's adorable and sweet and Ryan found the right girl. Not to mention that within five minutes of meeting, she paid me the nicest compliment of my life. If you want to know what it was, feel free to email me.
The time I spent at Bethany was time well spent. There were several people I had wanted to meet, including one of the administrators, Lynn Erskine, who has been a strong encouragement to me through email, even after I decided not to enroll. However, what I did not anticipate were the friends I would make while I was there. A girl named Trish who is hilarious and understands her calling. Jason ("Mustgrave"), a proud cynic and intelligent person with a passion for truth. And Damian, a west coast American native who follows his heart, even into the depths of Canada. These are amazing people, I would have the world know.
I stayed with Kate, who I'd met a year prior in Seattle. She flew in last minute because her stepfather is a pilot and she'd never been to the States. So Ryan, our friend Kyle, and I met her at her hotel and gave her a night tour of the city. Never neglecting the "gum wall" or taking the time to waltz on street corners.
We saw each other for the first time after evening Chapel, where students gather to worship and hear a message. Ryan pointed her out to me, so I walked over. I tapped her on the shoulder, she turned around, looked at me a good three seconds and finally realized, "Carly?!"
"Kate! Hi!"
"Oh my gosh!" she squealed. "I didn't even recognize you!"
We stayed up until 3:00 that morning, catching up.
Like I said, my time at Bethany was time well spent. Hanging out with Ryan and getting to know the girl he intends to marry. Playing pool with Ryan and taking tons and tons of pictures. Eating way too much cafeteria food and touring the campus through bitter cold. Late night talks at Tim Horton's. Getting inspired. Being moved.
John flew into Halifax on Tuesday afternoon. Luke took the Chariot and met him at the airport. Halifax, Nova Scotia is Luke's home and he used that chance to show John, his best friend, around town. That night, they parted ways. John took the car and Luke stayed in Halifax, where he would fly out the next day. Luke currently resides in Bannf, Alberta, pursuing the life of a starving artist and loving every minute of it.
John showed up around 1:00 PM on Wednesday. Kate and I were in her room when she saw him from her window.
"Jetchick is here! It's Jetchick! I know that walk anywhere!" And she bolted out the door.
I reached for my scarf and followed her out. By this time, my desire to understand the reason for John's sudden departure was eating away at me and I wanted to know if everything was alright. But I never had a chance to ask.
John spent the rest of the day running into friends and acquaintances and reminiscing over fond moments shared. The plan was to stay the night and Thursday, John would have a better chance to thoroughly "see" everyone. However, our plan was shattered when John's mobile rang once again, asking him to attend a wake on Thursday afternoon and a funeral on Friday. We had to leave immediately.
We had a 12 hour trip ahead of us and didn't have enough time to say "goodbye" to anyone. Ryan and Sarah were seeing The Passion and were oblivious to my sudden departure. I packed my things and stuffed them into the trunk of John's car. Ben was there to see us off and pray with us, asking for safety and protection on our long trip back. John gave his former roommate a hardy hug and I said, "It was nice to finally hang out, Ben. Tell Ryan and Sarah that I'll call them."
"I will."
John and I sank into the Chariot and we both heaved heavy sighs. John stared at the ignition, holding his hand over the key, and finally turned it. I turned my head, looking at him.
"Hi," I said, a bit exasperated.
John smiled, "Hi..."
"I feel like that's the first time I've ever said 'hi' to you."
"I know... Well. There isn't anyone I'd rather spend the next 12 hours with."
"Yeah, me neither."
And we drove west...
Photo Album One.
Canada, Part One
"I've never known anyone I've never met before," Luke said to me while we waited for John at the laundromat. It's just one of the many unforgettable moments I had in Canada.
We stayed in John's house, located on a large stretch of land. Even now, I'm not sure where his property started or where it ended. But it didn't help that everything was covered in white untouched snow. It was a sea of white, so property lines were hard to make out.
The house itself is considered a "kit house" and John's father, Stanley, originally built it for his mother. It was cozey, it was comfortable, it didn't have television. Hallelujah.
We were cooking all the time. John is an excellent cook. I, on the other hand, am not. When I asked who taught him how to cook, he shrugged, "No one." He cut slabs of chicken into smaller pieces, "Good cooking comes from an appreciation of good food. And from trial and error." So we ate and it was good.
And so was the tea. We drank lots of tea. My favourite being camomille just before going to bed. Mixed with a bit of honey and half-and-half. So subtle, so smooth, and so relaxing. I also enjoy green tea and peppermint tea. There is something strange about it; there's a love for tea in Canada that I haven't seen much in the States.
No one puts chains on the wheels of their cars. Everyone buys snow tires and many vehicles are four-wheel drive. The snow banks averaged three to five feet high. On the fourth day since I'd arrived, it snowed nearly two inches. That was the day we hiked through John's "backyard" of sorts. Trudging through snow is tiresome after a time. Especially when the snow is knee-deep or deeper.
We were not without our adventures or strange occurances. There was a morning a policeman showed up on John's doorstep looking for a "John Shetcheek and Charlie... or... Carly??" Sometime after I arrived in Ottawa, there was a miscommunication between myself and my family, thereby leading to Officer Sandy of the O.P.P. and a phone call home letting everyone know that I was fine and safe.
That same evening, we "broke into" the local dump and stole sheet metal to repair John's "Chariot", which also needed to be "stolen". John's car was sitting at a local garage, awaiting repairs and being refused because Hugh, the garage owner, is unjust.
It was ironic because we made it away with the sheet metal and we successfully removed John's car from Hugh's, but it wasn't until Juliana (John's best friend) and I landed in a snowy ditch that police finally showed up. Somehow our devious plot became everso slightly chaotic and our adventurous desires morphed into simply getting home. Which we did and had a good tumble about later.
Saturday night (the 21st), John, Luke, and I packed our things and we started to drive. Our goal destination was Sussex, New Brunswick, which is the location of Bethany Bible College. We all had people we wished to see and catch up with. Bethany is the reason we are all connected. John and Luke are both former students there, Ryan and Luke were roommates, and I'm friends with Ryan.
However, just as we were about to leave, John's mobile rang and the message was tragedy. He couldn't come because of a family emergency and he had to leave immediately. He handed me the key to the Chariot and gave Luke the map and said, "I'll call you as soon as I can and try to meet you there on Monday or Tuesday." We understood and we all hugged and Luke and I set out on the road and without our friend.
Montreal is interesting. And beautiful. But the drivers there are aggressive and possessive of the road and I did my best to avoid them. I drove the first shift while Luke dozed, saving up energy for when we would switch places. We listened to St. Germain and I fanticized over French words, finding great joy in phrases like "Je ma souvies" and "Ou est le toilette?"
There is a town in Quebec just before the Riviere du Loup (River of the Wolf). I was mesmorized by this town. We stopped there because Luke needed to refill the gas tank and empty something else. It was just before dawn, so most of the town was still sleeping. With my hands shoved in my pockets, I leaned up against the Chariot and waited for Luke to come back from the washroom. A man stepped out of the station and looked at me. I smiled and shook a little from the cold. He smiled and said, "Avez-vous besoin de l'aide?"
At that point, I was still practicing French in my head and not out loud, so I said, slightly embarrassed, "I'm sorry, I don't speak French."
He nodded and continued, "Why?"
At first, it seems like a ridiculous question... I don't speak French... Why?... Well, I... Because I don't?
I answered to the best of my ability. "We're just passing through. We're going to New Brunswick."
"Oh, alright," the man said and gave me a wave.
Luke came back and handed me the key. As we left the town, I took as many mental pictures as I could. Because it was stunning, and I knew it was stunning because no one else would agree with me. I plan to go back there some day. And no one will have to ask me why I don't speak French.
Le voyage continuera..
"I've never known anyone I've never met before," Luke said to me while we waited for John at the laundromat. It's just one of the many unforgettable moments I had in Canada.
We stayed in John's house, located on a large stretch of land. Even now, I'm not sure where his property started or where it ended. But it didn't help that everything was covered in white untouched snow. It was a sea of white, so property lines were hard to make out.
The house itself is considered a "kit house" and John's father, Stanley, originally built it for his mother. It was cozey, it was comfortable, it didn't have television. Hallelujah.
We were cooking all the time. John is an excellent cook. I, on the other hand, am not. When I asked who taught him how to cook, he shrugged, "No one." He cut slabs of chicken into smaller pieces, "Good cooking comes from an appreciation of good food. And from trial and error." So we ate and it was good.
And so was the tea. We drank lots of tea. My favourite being camomille just before going to bed. Mixed with a bit of honey and half-and-half. So subtle, so smooth, and so relaxing. I also enjoy green tea and peppermint tea. There is something strange about it; there's a love for tea in Canada that I haven't seen much in the States.
No one puts chains on the wheels of their cars. Everyone buys snow tires and many vehicles are four-wheel drive. The snow banks averaged three to five feet high. On the fourth day since I'd arrived, it snowed nearly two inches. That was the day we hiked through John's "backyard" of sorts. Trudging through snow is tiresome after a time. Especially when the snow is knee-deep or deeper.
We were not without our adventures or strange occurances. There was a morning a policeman showed up on John's doorstep looking for a "John Shetcheek and Charlie... or... Carly??" Sometime after I arrived in Ottawa, there was a miscommunication between myself and my family, thereby leading to Officer Sandy of the O.P.P. and a phone call home letting everyone know that I was fine and safe.
That same evening, we "broke into" the local dump and stole sheet metal to repair John's "Chariot", which also needed to be "stolen". John's car was sitting at a local garage, awaiting repairs and being refused because Hugh, the garage owner, is unjust.
It was ironic because we made it away with the sheet metal and we successfully removed John's car from Hugh's, but it wasn't until Juliana (John's best friend) and I landed in a snowy ditch that police finally showed up. Somehow our devious plot became everso slightly chaotic and our adventurous desires morphed into simply getting home. Which we did and had a good tumble about later.
Saturday night (the 21st), John, Luke, and I packed our things and we started to drive. Our goal destination was Sussex, New Brunswick, which is the location of Bethany Bible College. We all had people we wished to see and catch up with. Bethany is the reason we are all connected. John and Luke are both former students there, Ryan and Luke were roommates, and I'm friends with Ryan.
However, just as we were about to leave, John's mobile rang and the message was tragedy. He couldn't come because of a family emergency and he had to leave immediately. He handed me the key to the Chariot and gave Luke the map and said, "I'll call you as soon as I can and try to meet you there on Monday or Tuesday." We understood and we all hugged and Luke and I set out on the road and without our friend.
Montreal is interesting. And beautiful. But the drivers there are aggressive and possessive of the road and I did my best to avoid them. I drove the first shift while Luke dozed, saving up energy for when we would switch places. We listened to St. Germain and I fanticized over French words, finding great joy in phrases like "Je ma souvies" and "Ou est le toilette?"
There is a town in Quebec just before the Riviere du Loup (River of the Wolf). I was mesmorized by this town. We stopped there because Luke needed to refill the gas tank and empty something else. It was just before dawn, so most of the town was still sleeping. With my hands shoved in my pockets, I leaned up against the Chariot and waited for Luke to come back from the washroom. A man stepped out of the station and looked at me. I smiled and shook a little from the cold. He smiled and said, "Avez-vous besoin de l'aide?"
At that point, I was still practicing French in my head and not out loud, so I said, slightly embarrassed, "I'm sorry, I don't speak French."
He nodded and continued, "Why?"
At first, it seems like a ridiculous question... I don't speak French... Why?... Well, I... Because I don't?
I answered to the best of my ability. "We're just passing through. We're going to New Brunswick."
"Oh, alright," the man said and gave me a wave.
Luke came back and handed me the key. As we left the town, I took as many mental pictures as I could. Because it was stunning, and I knew it was stunning because no one else would agree with me. I plan to go back there some day. And no one will have to ask me why I don't speak French.
Le voyage continuera..
Consider a man who has no arms, but manages just as well as a man with arms because he's practiced using his toes to do all the things his fingers would normally do. He can flip the pages of a John Grisham novel, drink water from a cup, eat a cookie, and even scratch an itch on his nose. I know he can because I watched him do it. He sat in the aisle seat across from me on my flight home from Ottawa. He was also a very kind and patient man and I found myself wishing I could give him my own arms.
My life is forever changed, and it's not just because of the man without his arms. My entire trip, Canada as a whole, and the people I was with will stay with me until I go back and do it all again. I am amazed, stunned really, at how much passion and inspiration I have come home with. I have more desire, more enthusiasm, and determination for life and living, it's hard to express exactly how I feel.
What can I say about these last two weeks? What would you like to know? I really haven't the faintest idea about where to begin writing about my time in Canada, so I'm leaving it up to you. Ask me any and all the questions you might have. I will address each and every one of them. And in great detail.
Good morning to all. I am both sad and glad to be back home. Ask away...
My life is forever changed, and it's not just because of the man without his arms. My entire trip, Canada as a whole, and the people I was with will stay with me until I go back and do it all again. I am amazed, stunned really, at how much passion and inspiration I have come home with. I have more desire, more enthusiasm, and determination for life and living, it's hard to express exactly how I feel.
What can I say about these last two weeks? What would you like to know? I really haven't the faintest idea about where to begin writing about my time in Canada, so I'm leaving it up to you. Ask me any and all the questions you might have. I will address each and every one of them. And in great detail.
Good morning to all. I am both sad and glad to be back home. Ask away...