Thursday, 4 April 2013

Learning the lingo in Paris

I was curious to see how I would make out when we were in France a few years ago. I had attended French Immersion all through public school and high school, but 15 years later I had never worked in a bilingual position and had only been to Quebec and other French-speaking areas in Canada a handful of times... where they spoke to you in English the moment they realized you didn't have the right French-Canadian accent. It was going to be interesting to see how I fared when I couldn't so easily fall back on my mother tongue.

Our first challenge happened just minutes after stepping off the plane at Charles de Gaulle, when our daughter's car seat went AWOL from the baggage carousel. I had to a) find someone who could help and b) figure out how to express our problem. Somehow, though my school vocabulary had never revolved around around children's furniture, I managed to ask for a siège d'auto and have the airport worker understand what I was looking for. Success #1!

After having to ask for help purchasing a train ticket to get into Paris and attempting to read directions, I felt my groove was already coming back. A half hour in France, and was a rock star again!

Well, kind of. Although I seemed to manage communication enough to get my point across, and understand enough to get the gist of instructions or directions (as the case may be), I quickly discovered that my terminology left lots of room for embarrassment.


Hole-in-the-ground toilet, Polidor Restaurant, Paris
In school, when one had to use the washroom we would ask for the salle de bain. At least, that's what I remember. Salle de bain quite literally translates to Bathroom. Not wrong. In English, I use the bathroom all the time. But in the literal sense, a Parisian will look at you strangely - especially if you are in a restaurant or other public place when you ask for it. After all, why would you want to take a bath in a restaurant? What I should have asked for was une toilette - just a toilet.

Another expression I caught on to was "pardon." Growing up, to be polite you would say, "Excusez moi!

"Excuse me, sir - which direction is the Louvre?"
"Excuse me, could you step aside so that I may pass?"

Apparently there, you only use "Excusez moi" if you've just broken wind. Otherwise, you get a look of disgust for no good reason. In nearly all other cases, a true Parisian will just say "Pardon." We caught on to this quickly: "Pardon, pardon... pardon - pardon," as we weaved through the crowds. Oh, well.

Otherwise, we made out okay aside from a few little mix-up of words that weren't big enough to make us incomprehensible. Like, when renting a car, I got a look of surprise from the clerk when I asked for a camion - a truck, when what I really wanted was a simple voiture (car). No problem. I got what I wanted.

The French have a reputation for being rude, but our experience, despite our slips, was just the opposite. Everywhere we went, people went out of their way to be helpful and friendly. This lead us to the conclusion that the French value their culture. You are visiting their country and therefore you should not expect them to adapt to you. As long as you try to speak their language - even if you fail miserably - they will make an effort for you. If you don't try at all, they won't either.

Thursday, 7 March 2013

Chasing the dream

Why is it so hard to live out your dreams?

Everybody has a thing they'd like to be doing instead of what they are doing; a place they'd like to be rather than where they are... so why aren't we? It should be easy. Just do it. After all, you only live once.

Lately, I've been seeing a video pop up on social networks that addresses this. I agree with the theory wholeheartedly, but the execution leaves me stumped. Check it out:


Really, money shouldn't be a big deal if you're doing what you love, because if you love doing it, you'll have all you need, right? Maybe.

If I was younger... if I knew then what I know now... famous last words of every man through time as he gets older.

Part of me says that's no excuse. Part of me believes it's never to late to start over, or to start - period. But another part of me says it would have been easier to be carefree and give a whim my all when I was younger and unattached. My mother encouraged me to travel when I was young and said it would be harder when I got older. At the time, I was more interested in hanging out with my friends locally and I didn't see the big deal in travel. Now I do, and it's much harder to get away.

So many obstacles present themselves and I know certain personalities can just say "screw it" and go for it anyway. I've never been a risk-taker.

Now, I have a mortgage and kid and I find myself carefully calculating risks so as not to jeopardize my home and my family life. I know what I'd like to do if money were no object, but the fact is that the mortgage has to get paid and I need a reliable way to pay for it. It just makes it harder to go outside the box.

Aside from that, the mind plays tricks on you. Last year, I lost my job. I thought for a while that it would be the perfect opportunity to make a go of a career in writing. When ever would I have another opportunity to be at home alone during the day with just me and my laptop? But you know what happened? I was so worried about finding a "job" that I got writer's block. In the seven months I was off, I managed to pen less than 20,000 words. That might sound like a lot, but consider that during NaNoWriMo's annual November writing competition I managed to slug out 50,000 or more while working full time, 20,000 is a pretty poor showing.

Then recently, I discovered a contest - a dream of a lifetime - and I find myself talking myself out of it, too.

The website www.mydestination.com is holding a contest for an all expenses paid, six month long around-the-world trip. The winner will blog and vlog about what they see and do. Pretty much my dream job.

I spent the first 24 hours after I heard about it daydreaming about what I would see and do during my adventure. I was really excited. I could do this. It would be AMAZING. Perhaps even afterwards I could parlay it into something sustainable.

Then reality set in. That downer of a word that poo-poos all your great ideas. Could I really leave my family for six months? Would I be able to get a leave from work to do it? If not, was my job worth giving up for the opportunity? There is a cash prize at the end that would help, but we'd still have to carry the mortgage on one income in the meantime.

My husband would be a single parent, responsible for groceries and cleaning and pick-ups from daycare and extra-curriculars, paying the bills and running the house, all on his own. I'm sure he could do it, but would that be fair while I was off gallivanting around the world?

It was still tempting, though. Such an opportunity. Surely it was worthy of a six-month sacrifice?
But then I watched some of the early entries and was further discouraged. Could a suburban housewife compete with a gregarious 22 year old? A six-pack of beach body was a lot easier on the eyes than postpartum stretch marks, for sure.

I also felt technologically behind. Kids today have an inherent understanding of technology and seem to naturally know how to use PhotoShop and edit videos, whereas I have to take courses and keep a manual at the ready just to pull off something passable. I have no idea how to create engaging video like some of those posted by people even a decade younger.


The contest states that you don't have to be fancy, but let's face it: camera and editing skills make for a more engaging piece of work, don't they?

So now comes the inner dialogue and battle. Part of me says to give it my all and see what I can come up with anyway. One in a million is better than none in a million. The other part says it would be a waste of time for something that already has a ton of logistical obstacles. Perhaps now is just not the right time and if I hon my skills a bit more, maybe I'll be better prepared next time there is a contest like this... if there is another contest like this. Still, if you don't try, you can't possibly succeed. And, there is never a better time than now. There will always be a reason why now is not right. Sometimes you just have to take the plunge.

The contest runs for a few more weeks yet, so perhaps time will tell what my future holds...

Monday, 18 February 2013

A day in Istanbul

Ideally if you were going to Istanbul, Turkey, you would spend a lot more than a day in the city - it has so much to offer.

But let's say you were flying in or stopping over on business. Or perhaps you are starting or ending a cruise there. Is it worth arriving/departing a day later? Absolutely.

Thankfully, despite the vast size of this city, which is located on two continents (yes, this city is located in both Europe AND Asia), many attractions are within a stone throw of each other. If you plan well, you can see a whole lot in a day.

We had just one day to explore the city as part of a trip that also took us to the Princess Islands and to Cappadocia in central Turkey. Our day didn't start until around 11 a.m., partly because our taxi got lost (apparently there is a neighbourhood called "Topkapi" in addition to Topkapi Palace, so make sure your instructions to the driver are clear, because they are nowhere near each other). Luckily, he didn't charge us for the extra time even though the mistake was hardly his fault. We had been warned that cab drivers often take advantage of tourists who don't know their way around the city, but though the ride, which should have been 20 minutes, turned into an hour and a half, he offered the ride for free because of the mistake. We experienced this sort of hospitality throughout Turkey. The Turkish people seemed to go out of their way to be accommodating.

Our plan had been to begin the day a Topkapi Palace, with a route mapped out to maximize our time.

Upon exiting the taxi, we were approached by a man in suit and tie who spoke English and very eagerly started giving us a history lesson on Istanbul while guiding us instead toward the Blue Mosque. These men are common in the touristy areas and have an ultimate goal of selling you a Turkish rug. While I love the rugs, we had no intention on this trip of making arrangements to purchase and ship one back to Canada. However, during the history lesson he did provide us with some very valuable information - the Blue Mosque closes early on Fridays and we only had about a half an hour before we would miss our chance to see it. Grateful, I gave him a 10TL tip and politely thanked him for his time and for not coming to his store. Had he not stopped us when we exited the taxi, we would have missed the chance to see it at all, unaware of the adjusted hours on Fridays.

So, we changed our route and hustled down to the Mosque. My heart sank when I saw the line, thinking there was no way we would get in, but the line moved quickly and within a few minutes, we were inside. Shoes are not allowed, so be prepared for the smell of feet when you enter - and ladies must cover their arms while inside. A scarf is fine if you have one, and they do supply extras if you need one.



Next, we scurried across to the Hagia Sofia. This was probably my favourite stop of the day. The sheer size of this mosque (now a museum) was just breath-taking.

If you look at the picture to the left, you can see how small the people are in relation to the size of the mosque. Those cloud-shaped objects down there are the light fixtures hanging high above their heads! Amazing, considering the current building has stood there for the last 1500 years!


Because of our delayed start with the taxi mix-up, we no longer felt we had time to explore Topkapi Palace, though we did take about a half hour to wander around the gardens surrounding the palace.

There is a stretch of road near the mosques where a number of monuments stand, including the Byzantine triumphal arch, which at one time was the point from which all distances within the empire were measured. It dates back to the 4th century. There is also the Obelisk of Theodosius, erected in 390 A.D. and the Serpent Column, also erected in the 4th century.

Another very interesting spot in this area is the Basilica Cistern, which was constructed by the Romans during the 6th century. It is a huge, underground water tank made of marbled columns and 4 meter-thick brick and mortar walls. What I found interesting is the amount of carving and detail that went into an area that was never meant to be seen publicly.





Next, we headed up to the Grand Bazaar. They tell you to take note of what entrance you go in so that you can find your way back out again. But never mind that. The place is so huge, you'll never find the same exit you went in by.

Here is where you can do your souvenir shopping or get your (well made) knock-off items. They sell everything from silk scarves to beautiful Turkish lamps to watches and bags. You can barter for everything and explore multiple shops for the same items in order to get the best price. Plan to spend a few hours here at least.

As I said, we never did find our original exit again, so when we finally came out, we had no idea where we were. We knew we wanted to go to the Galata Tower and started walking in the general direction we thought it was in while I waited for our GPS to find a signal.




After several blocks, I still couldn't get a signal, so we thought we'd better ask for directions. We stopped off at local vendor in one of those hole-in-the wall food establishments where you order curbside. All that's inside is the kitchen. If you're lucky, they may have a table or two out on the sidewalk. We saw lots of these. What ensued was the perfect example of our overall experience in Turkey.

The owner asked where we were from and the proceeded to tell us how his daughter was going to McGill University (and how much it was costing him). He invited us to stay for some apple tea and asked his wife to make an artichoke dish for us. We chatted for about a half an hour and at the end of it we offered some money for the food and drinks, but he wouldn't accept. He said, "Consider this my gift to you on your trip. May you come back and visit again soon." Wow. This is his livelihood and yet he was willing to feed a couple of tourists for free.

He told us which directions to head, but noted it would take us over an hour to walk it. He pointed to a tram stop across the street and told us that for 3TL we could ride it 5 stops and be at the Galata Tower in about 10 minutes. Perfect. If he hadn't made that recommendation, the tower probably would have been closed by the time we got there.

Thankfully we arrived with a half hour to spare and were able to make it to the top, where there are views of all of Istanbul - both the European side and the Asian.


I wish now that we had planned to spend more time here and I would go back in a heartbeat. Our experience was nothing but positive. The people were fantastic and we never once had a bad meal anywhere in Turkey.

If we'd had even one extra day to explore the city, I'm sure we could have gone into a number of places we were only able to see as a drive-by:

Rumeli Fortress
Topkapi Palace




Taksim Square

Dolmabahce Palace
Dolmabahce Palace

This city and country has such rich history, it would be hard to run out of things to do and see. Take a cruise up the Bosphorus, watch some whirling dervishes or belly dancers perform and enjoy the fabulous foods. Wander the streets, meet the people and enjoy the culture. Just don't be brave and get behind the wheel. Driving in this city is not for the faint of heart!

Monday, 28 January 2013

Super Simple, Super Quick, Super Delish Blackberry Pie

Okay, I can't take credit for this one. I just have to give a shout out to Allrecipes.com for my latest find - a super simple and quick blackberry pie! No slaving in the kitchen for this one. It literally takes five minutes to prep and just over half an hour in the oven. You could even prep it just before dinner and have a nice, hot, fresh pie ready for dessert (psst - don't let your friends know it was virtually no work at all!). Best of all - it tastes FANTASTIC! One of the best pies I can remember having in years. I now make this every time blackberries go on sale, because the pie freezes well.

So here's all you need:


2     pie crusts (frozen works fine if you want to save on time)
1/2  cup of flour
1/2  cup of sugar
4     cups of blackberries

2     tbs milk
1/4  cup sugar

Preheat the oven to 425 degrees F

Sift together the flour and sugar, pour over 3.5 cups of the berries and mix well (but gently!). Top with remaining berries and cover with the second pie shell.


Crimp together the edges and remember to  poke vent holes in the top (I often make a smiley face because my daughter thinks it's funny).

Brush milk over the pie crust, then sprinkle liberally with remaining sugar.

You're done! No, seriously. Now put it in the oven.

Bake it at 425 for 15 minutes, then turn the oven down to 375 for another 20 minutes or until the crust is golden brown. Allow it to cool a few minutes before digging in. I know, it's hard. Life's rough sometimes.

The crust doesn't always crack like this - of course the one time I want to take a picture... but you get the idea.

For those of you who want to see the original recipe on Allrecipes, find it here. Enjoy!

Sunday, 27 January 2013

A weekend in Vienna

Recently a friend was going to Austria on business, but would have the weekend free to explore Vienna. With so little time, she asked me to help her pack in as much as she could. The only criteria she had was that it must include some shopping time and also that she wanted the opportunity to drink some Austrian beer and wine.

Eventually, her itinerary changed and the plans I made for her became obsolete. I thought I would share them here in case any of my readers could make use of them. Perhaps on business, or perhaps as you are passing through for other reasons. Here is how I planned 2 days in Vienna.

DAY 1

In this scenario, she was arriving by overnight train from Germany and we wanted to find her a central hotel to make it easy to navigate the city. We chose the Mercure, which is about a kilometre from the Naschmarkt - considered to be one of the best markets/flea markets in Europe. It spans 1.5 kilometres along the Wien River and is open six days a week (Mon-Fri 6:00 a.m. to 6:30 p.m. and Saturday 6:00 a.m. to 5:00 p.m.).

From the Naschmarkt, take the tram to Schonbrunn Palace, one of the most visited sites in Vienna. There is something for everyone at the palace - beautiful architecture and art, a garden labyrinth, and even a children's museum for families.

As late afternoon approaches, take the no. 38 Tram to Grinzing on the outskirts of Vienna. There, you will find a beautiful winery where you can have a nice schnitzel dinner and taste the fine wines grown in the vineyards. The village is charming on its own and worth a stroll around, including the 19th century cemetery where a few notable people (such as writer Thomas Bernhard) are buried. When you're ready, take the tram back to your hotel and rest up for another busy day tomorrow.


DAY 2

Leave the hotel and head to Kärntnerstrasse, which is the main shopping district in Vienna – kind of like the Fifth Avenue of NYC. You may only want to window shop here, but you’ll also pass some stunning architecture, such as the French-Renaissance style Opera House.


Turn left onto Walfischgasse , which crosses Tegetthoffstrasse and turns into Augustinerstrasse. Follow to the roundabout 500m up the road. There is a foot path (in der burg) about halfway through the roundabout (to the left). This leads to Hofburg Palace. The main attractions are Albertina, Augustinerkirche, Kaiserappartments (Imperial Apartments), and the magnificent Schatzkammer (Imperial Treasury). If you’re lucky, you may also catch the Spanish Riding School practicing, or the Vienna Boys’ Choir.

When you have seen enough in this area, return down the same path and head out to the roundabout; follow round and come out directionally on the opposite site (Kohlmarkt). Follow to the next major pedestrian footpath, about 100m up the road. Turn right at the Erst Bank, then turn left at the Onyx Bar and follow to St. Stephen’s Cathedral. You may or may not be able to go in, depending on the time (open 7am-noon and 5-7pm), but the architecture on the exterior is worth the stop. Although it has undergone many renovations over the years, the church has been there for nearly 1000 years.

Depending on your schedule, you may need to head back to the hotel for your belongings. Always leave plenty of time to get to the airport, since in some cities, the airport can be quite some distance from the heart of the city. Asking at the hotel is a good idea, as they will know how long you should need to plan and what the transportation options are available (taxi, shuttle, bus, train, etc.).

If you don't need to leave until late in the evening or even early morning the next day, then a streetcar ride around Ringstrasse  (the road surrounding the old city of Vienna) is advisable and can be quite stunning at dusk.



Thursday, 17 January 2013

Dying, Death and the Afterlife


I know I said in my very last post that I was going to post more frequently this year. But I have a good excuse - honest. My grandmother passed away recently, so it's been a very busy and very exhausting time.  It has also caused me to do a lot of thinking. What happens when we die?

Of course, no one really knows what happens when we die. We can feel fairly certain we know, hold belief deeply in our faith. But do we ever really know? Isn't that why so many of us are afraid to die? If we believe in heaven and hell and are fairly certain our soul is bound for heaven, then why are we afraid of death? Because we don't know for sure.

My mother used to say the truth could be found by taking pieces from all over and putting them together until the puzzle fit for you. It was not blindly believing what you were told without questioning why.

So, after sitting bedside for a couple of deaths, I can only tell you what I have observed and what it says to me.

What is waiting on the other side?
I don't know. But near death many people believe they can see others on 'the other side' waiting for them. My mother said, many days before she passed, that she could see her father at the end of her bed. And he was not alone. Many other relatives and loved ones who had passed before her were also standing nearby, waiting. She claimed she could see her favorite horse, Alabama, who had died a few years before. I found this part strange until, hours later, both my Godmother and I, sitting in the garage, heard hooves clopping around outside the door, when there were no animals nearby.
Likewise, my grandmother, on her deathbed, would often seem to be watching people around her that no one else could see.
Perhaps the mind manifests these images, our minds playing tricks on us in our last hours in order to comfort us as we ease out of life into whatever comes next. But perhaps those people are real. We have all heard of angels and reapers coming for the dead, but does heaven let out your dead relatives to come and greet you into the afterlife?
Do ghosts exist? So many people throughout all of human existence have seen and heard - even touched - unexplained phenomena. If there is no heaven or hell, where does your soul go? Are you reincarnated? Do you become one with the elements, your energy existing in all that is around you? Is that why people can feel their loved ones in certain objects and locations?

Where does your soul go?
Okay, so I make no secret that I am not a religious person, but neither do I consider myself truly atheist. I just have too many questions to be able to say "I know what I say is true."
I admit that I have a hard time believing in things such as heaven and hell and that when you die you end up in one or the other. How bad do you have to be to go to hell? Isn't that what happens if we sin too much? If that's the case, I would think heaven would be a pretty lonely place and that most of us will spend eternity burning it up down under.
But I also don't necessarily subscribe to the atheist belief that when you die, that's it. There is no more. You're just gone.
We are made up of energy. We consume energy, we burn energy. Energy never disappears, it is only converted into something else. So, our energy has to go somewhere when we die, which leads me back to what I was saying above. Does our energy, our soul, manifest as spirits? Does it disburse into everything around us? Or does it travel to some invisible place held for those who have gone? But if that is the case, wouldn't there be less humans as souls travel to heaven? Instead, there are more of us now than ever before. Perhaps the energy has been reincarnated?
We knew my grandmother's time was near by the change in her breathing. It was the same when my mother had passed a dozen years before. Gradually the breathing got shallower and shallower, and as the breaths weakened, they quickened. Eventually they stop for periods, before a longer gasp takes hold. This can go on for minutes or hours. But eventually that last breath is taken, the pupils dilate, and the body stills. It is a tangible feeling when the life drains from a body. You can sense when they are no longer "there." In my mother's case, she was surrounded by loved ones; my sister and Godmother sat at her head. When she took her last breath, they felt a whoosh of air move past them, out the top of her skull. What was this whoosh if it wasn't that energy leaving her body? And, where did the energy go?

Moments of clarity
People who have been lost for days, or even years, seem to have moments of clarity towards the end. Why? Where did they go during their lost time and how is it that they could find their way back for those last important talks?
My grandmother had Alzheimer's. She hadn't been my grandmother in many years. For at least the last 4 years she didn't know who anyone was and she couldn't communicate. She'd say words that didn't make sense, but she seemed to think she was having a conversation. Sometimes you'd sense that she recognised a name, but didn't know why she should, and you wondered if she was in there somewhere, fighting for a way out.
On the last day of my grandmother's life, she seemed to come back a little bit. She was very weak, but in some ways more responsive than I had seen her in a long time. We told her of some family members who were still on their way, flying in from far away. She heard us speak their names and she would turn to look, waiting for them to arrive. I was able to ask her questions and she would squeeze my hand to answer things that she hadn't in a long time. I talked to her about my daughter - her great-granddaughter - and her eyes lit up. She focused her fading eyes on the picture I held up. She watched the picture and really saw the face in it. I could see the pride in her eyes as she looked at her great-grandchild - a far cry from the glossy-blank look of someone whose mind was gone. I am convinced that in those moments, she remembered the little baby she held in her arms and showed off to anyone who would listen, before she became ill. Later on, she looked at me and said my name without prompt, meaning she recognised and remembered me - something she has been unable to do with anyone for years. She reacted similarly when my uncle arrived from the airport, just two hours before she passed.
My mom was the same. That saying I wrote about at the beginning of this post was something she told me just a day or so before she died. She seemed to be able to analyse life on the whole and see it from the outside. Perhaps this is what you do when the end is near, but for those left behind - listen to those loved ones in those final moments. They will likely, whether inadvertently or on purpose, give you some of the best advice you will ever hear.

Dreams and visions
Are they real? Everyone knows someone who claims to have seen a ghost or in some way have spoken with a loved on in the afterlife. Can this happen? Or is it all hogwash? I can tell you that shortly after my mother died I had a dream of her and we talked. To this day it was probably the most vividly real dream I've ever had. I can still feel the emotions of that conversation deep inside. Was that my own mind creating the dream, perhaps something I needed at that point in my healing? Or did my mother visit me from the afterlife?
Years ago my mother was woken during the night because she felt as though someone was in the house. She went downstairs and looked around and although she found nothing, she couldn't shake the feeling that someone was there. The next morning she received a call from her sister, who lived in another city, saying she'd sat up for hours the night before having a cup of tea and chatting with their dad. My grandfather had died nearly 20 years earlier.

For as long as there have been humans, there have been beliefs about the afterlife. Every culture around the world has traditions based on what they believe happens after we die. Most people fear death, yet, as it becomes imminent, often that fear fades. Why? Do they become aware of something that we aren't? My grandmother refused to sleep the day before she died. I think she was afraid that she wouldn't wake up again. Both she and my mother wanted someone near at all time, afraid to be alone. But as the time grew nearer, they both became peaceful and acceptant of what was to come.

For a week the weather had been rainy and miserable. I can remember sitting at the picnic table with my godmother, watching as the hearse pulled out of the driveway after collecting my mother. Literally as the hearse turned out of the driveway and onto the road, the clouds parted like a flock of birds separating in two and soaring away in opposite directions. The sun came out, and within moments there were virtually no clouds in the sky. The day of her funeral was the warmest in a month - well over 20 degrees on a late October day. The sun was shining and rusty orange leaves littered our path, reminding us that just like the seasons, life changes. We celebrated her life that day, rather than mourned it.

Do these signs mean anything? Was my mother able to somehow influence the weather, sending us a sign that everything would be okay? Or was it just coincidence, and we found meaning in it that suited our needs at the time? Does it really matter? I think whatever helps you cope with the loss is right to believe, because it is what keeps you strong and moving forward, knowing that all will be fine in the end.

Saturday, 29 December 2012

Out with the old, in with the new

You may have noticed that I've been a bit dormant on here lately. My goal for next year is to be more dedicated and get these posts up more regularly.

To say I'm happy to see the back end of 2012 would be a massive understatement. It's been a challenging year, but I've persevered! I look forward to challenges next year, but more of the sort that help get you ahead in life, not like this year, where each step forward was followed by two steps back.

Late last winter we moved from the town we'd called home for more than a decade to another more than 100 kms away. We'd hired a large, national moving company, but during the two-day event, one of the movers robbed me of all my family heirloom jewellery - more than $12,000 worth by my estimate. My mother's wedding ring and engagement band, my grandmothers custom-made anniversary ring, the first piece of jewellery my husband ever gave me, and more - gone forever. I filed a police report, but I was told they couldn't assign a jurisdiction to the case since we couldn't prove whether the robbery had taken place at our old address, or while they were delivering to out new address. The moving company barely even acknowledged a verbal apology over the phone. The insurance company wouldn't cough up without receipts for items purchased long before I was born. But the worst part wasn't even the thought of my jewellery ending up on someone else's finger, bought illegally at some pawn shop or on the street. No, it was realising that the jewellery was likely destroyed completely - melted down into unrecognizable chunks of gold along with other people's stolen goods. To me, it was a heartbreaking thought.

Just a few short weeks after the move, I was "restructured" and lost my job. I'd been employed constantly since I was 12 years old, so this was very unfamiliar territory for me. I was also guilt-stricken that I'd packed up my family and moved them to another town for a job I no longer had. My husband was still commuting 100 kms in each direction to go to work. My daughter was admitted to her new school only on a trial basis, since the curriculum differed from our old area. If she couldn't cut it, in six weeks she would be forced to change schools for the second time in a year. And on top of it all, we had just bough a new house and in the process, doubled our mortgage. If we hadn't moved, losing my job wouldn't have been such a concern, since our little pokey townhouse had a nothing mortgage. This new one was going to be difficult to pay for on the meagre wages Employment Insurance provides.

I quickly discovered that I had not moved to a booming area. There were lots of home and retail outlets, but no factories or corporation to provide the career level I was looking for. The few that there were paid salaries less than half what I was used to getting. I tried to pick up a few cleaning jobs on the side to make up some of the gap, but the work was unreliable. The outlook wasn't good, and with each passing month I watched out bank accounts dwindle and saw no prospects on the horizon. We debated whether to sell our house, but having just paid thousands in lawyer and real estate fees a few months earlier, we knew we'd not only have to spend that again, we'd also have to pay a penalty to break our mortgage. Rental homes weren't going for much less than a mortgage, which scared me. If we couldn't afford to keep our house, we couldn't afford to rent, either. I really don't know how people do it.

Of course, when it rains, it pours. The first month I was unemployed our car broke down and cost over $800 to fix. Around the same time our water heater went and we discovered that since it had been installed, regulations had changed and the venting was no longer to code. We would have to tear down walls and replace all the pipes before they would allow us to turn the gas back on in our house. I will spare you all the details, but let's just say this pretty much set the stage for the next several months.

My daughter was home all summer with me, since we could no longer afford daycare. People told me I should enjoy this time with her, as it was an opportunity I might never get again. Though this is true and I really wanted to feel that way, I don't think I ever got to really feel it was. I felt pressure to find a job and found it difficult to do so with a child in tow. On the other side I felt I should spend more time doing things with her, then felt guilty because I wasn't actively looking for work. Electric bills went up with two people at home 24 hours a day, and I didn't feel like we could afford to go anywhere - not just to places that charged an admission, but at all - because even the gas for the car was something I couldn't afford. I planted a garden in the hopes of saving money on food, but in the long run I think all it saved me was exposure to pesticides. The supplies and electricity required to can those goods can really add up. While a can of tomato sauce at the store can be bought on sale for $1, I estimate that the cost of a jar I made, including labour, was around $20.

Shortly after my daughter returned to school in September, my grandfather's health began to decline. He'd been diagnosed with cancer in the spring and had gone through radiation treatment, and until then had been pretty independent. He called me one evening and asked if I could take him to the hospital in the morning for a "procedure." I spent the day there with him and kept an eye on him through the evening. But the next few months went by in a blur as his health declined rapidly and he became more and more dependent. I found my days filled with taking him to appointments, doing his grocery shopping and cooking his meals. Don't get me wrong, I'm glad I was home and able to do these things for him, but I found little time during these days to look for a job, all-the-while growing increasingly aware of the E.I. cut-off date. Though I still had months to go, I had tipped past the halfway mark with nothing lined up, when I had thought at first I'd be off no more than a few weeks. I also knew the holidays were coming and wasn't sure how I would provide a Christmas for my daughter.

I remembered thinking at one time that if I ever found myself unemployed or won the lottery (or for any reason wasn't working at an office), that I would like to give a serious go at making writing a career. Then as soon as it happened, all my creative juices seeped away. In 7 months, I managed to pen less than 30,000 words. That might sound like a lot, but considering I can get 50,000 done in a month during November's NaNoWriMo, it's a pretty poor showing. I blame a combination of guilt - that spending time writing was an irresponsible way to spend time I should be spending on looking for a job - and a level of stress that gave me writer's block. The best opportunity of my life in that respect, when I had entire days alone to work... and I couldn't. I also lost my passion for reading. While in 2011 I read nearly 40 books, in 2012 I read less than 4. When I should have had ample time, I didn't. When I'm working, I often head to bed early and read for an hour. Yet this past year, I couldn't seem to let myself escape into a good book even under the tempting conditions of the sunny poolside in summer.

Anyway, then one day, it happened. I got a call about a job. An employer in receipt of my resume, who had no position posted, was intrigued by what she saw. Over the next month I met with her, sometimes racing from there to the hospital in the same day, to develop a position.

I am happy to say I am now gainfully employed again. We were able to keep our house. Granddad is doing much better. They say everything happens for a reason and I can't help but think that if I hadn't taken a new job and decided to move, I wouldn't be living close to my Granddad. If I hadn't lost that job, who would have been around to care for him when he needed it? Then, just as he began to recover and my responsibilities to him lessen, a new job pops up out of nowhere. It all falls into place nicely.

That said, I would not want to repeat the year I've just had. I am looking forward to rebuilding my financial cushion and perhaps even take a vacation in 2013, because I don't care what you say - being unemployed is not like being on vacation. Although you don't have to get up and go to the office each day, it is a very stressful way to live. No sir, I won't be missing 2012 when it's gone.