C.S. Starr's Blog, page 5

Cinque Terre, My Dose Of East Coast For The Summer.

Sorry, I’ve been meaning to write this for a while, but I’ve been busy editing my book (eep), and having a very active (more active than usual) social life.

After leaving Rome, Matt and I, after realizing that the local trains were both slow and scary after a trip from Pompeii/Naples, boarded a very nice second-class train to La Spezia, a northern city in Italy that’s famous for a few things: the Italian Navy (who knew!), a golf course, and access to Cinque Terre.

Cinque Terre is (very literally) five villages. Each village has existed since the medieval period, was tied to a feudal lord with a castle. Until the railway came through in 1870, the villages were largely isolated from one another and the outside world, and because of this, each developed their own languages and cultures. Each village has somewhere around 2500 people in it, and modern industries include tourism, fishing, and wine. The hills are carved with vineyards on these amazing little trails:

Manarola grape terraces built into the hill

The majority of money in the area comes from tourism. The five villages are UNESCO World Heritage sites (with very good reason), and the amazing beaches, great wine, and incredible scenery attract people from all over the world.

Cinque Terre has these amazing trails that link the five villages. There are three routes that you can hike them of varying difficulty, but they’re quite often washed out, which they were after rains this spring. We hiked up to the top of Manarola (see picture above), and along the coast trail that was intact (see pic below).

I’m very lucky to share my life with someone that I’ve known for a great many years. He turned 30 in Cinque Terre. After a lovely dinner of a variety of seafood that we’d never eaten before washed down by wine and limoncello in what our air BNB host informed us was the second-best restaurant in Manarola (you needed to climb the hill and make a reservation for the first-best restaurant in Manarola), we staggered down to the rocky ‘swimming pool’, as the locals call it, and made out for a while, with the Mediterranean sea at our backs.

I kid. It was the German tourists a few meters away that made out with the sea at their backs. Canadians would never do such a thing. We did wander down though and sit for a while. It was a really hot day, and both of us, while passionately in love with Rome, found the change in scenery refreshing, especially in the evening when the sweltering heat was replaced by a cool, salty breeze.

See bottom right corner for musing location.

Anyway, as Matt and I do sometimes, especially after consuming some alcohol, we began to reminisce. We’ve shared almost our entire adult history. It’s nuts to think about. We know a lot of the same people, have shared a lot of the same adventures, and have a common heritage. It’s a part of our relationship that I covet. There’s something lovely about knowing that there’s someone that shares your life that you have so many common reference points with. I can ask him if he remembers ordering street meat across from our apartment in Japan so salty that it was almost unbearable, and he will. We can bemoan our eight month tenure in Waterloo together, and remember the exact moment we decided that we desperately needed to get a dog to enrich our lives. I can talk to him about my Granny Sue and he’ll know exactly the way she used to say ‘dear’. I can talk about feeling like an outsider for a lot of my formative years, and he’ll get it, no lip service. In ten years, he’ll be able to tease me about the time I spent an hour puking up orangechella in the bathroom of our Air BNB rental in Florence, and I’ll be able to remind him that he shouldn’t have let me drink so much, so quickly, because he knows, after 13 years together, that I can’t handle hard liquor in any quantity.

When we travel and in our day-to-day lives, we’re both extremely proud to tell people we’re from the east coast. It’s something that shapes our perspectives in a lot of ways, something we see as a personal strength. To us, being from the east coast means a lot of things. It means we’re adaptable, it means we’re hard-working, it means we’re a little more laid back than some people. People assume we’re nice because we’re from the east coast. It’s not such a bad assumption, most of the time.

I get asked where my accent is quite often. I don’t have one. Matt doesn’t either. I also get asked if my parents are fisherman/women. They’re not. I get asked if I’m moving back/want to move back. I’m not, and most of the time, I don’t.

There’s nothing better than salt air though. The blanket of stars overhead from my parent’s front yard is mind-blowing and humbling. The icy feel of that dip in Mistake Lake, as my grandmother insisted on calling it wakes me up in a way that nothing else does. The feel of the ancient black volcanic rocks under my feet when I make my annual pilgrimage to the rocks by the Culloden wharf makes me feel more alive than anything. The cherries from Bear River, picked fresh from the tree are one of the most amazing things I’ve ever put in my mouth. Fresh seafood, my father-in-law’s bbq, it’s all part of a common experience that I feel lucky to share with my partner.

When we sat out on the rocks below Manarola, we talked about home, and the similarities between the tiny village we were looking up at and the tiny villages we are proud to call home. The key industries are the same. The people were warm and inviting. The vast body of water laid out in front of us was a different shade of blue, but it made our hearts ache just the same as the depths of the Atlantic do.

I tell people that they need to visit the east coast at every opportunity. Those that do are usually glad they did. Many never will. The reasons for this are many. Airfare in Canada is obscenely expensive; from Toronto it costs almost as much to fly to Nova Scotia, a two-hour flight, as it does to fly to Italy, which is almost a ten hour flight, depending on the season. I just looked at flights to LA for this fall, and they’re the same price as a flight to Halifax.

People also don’t know how lovely it is; how breathtaking and diverse the landscapes are. This is because the east coast is terrible at marketing itself. The odd time, here and there, I’ll see something from Nova Scotia or New Brunswick around the city, trying to entice urbanites down to take in the beauty. The best one I ever saw was a picture of the Hopewell Rocks, which are pretty striking. The worst was a billboard in my old neighbourhood that simply said “Donairs”, and had an arrow pointing east. I got it, Matt got it, but they don’t have east coast donairs up here, and we’re not the ones they need to market the region to. A donair up here is a Turkish thing. Most people who you explain what a donair is to are squicked out by it (it’s a spicy meat thing wrapped in a pita with tomatoes, onions, and some sweet sauce), and are likely to focus on seafood when they’re by the sea.

Focus on the seafood, east coast. I know it’s in short supply, but it’s what people come for.

I won’t be making it home this summer, for the first time in a few years. I’m going to hit up Newfoundland for a few days for a conference in August, so I’ll see the Atlantic close up, which will sate my thirst for a while. That, and glorious Lake Ontario, full of sewage after our recent flooding.

Luckily for me, my father-in-law will be bringing his BBQ skills to my back deck in August.

 

 

To My Dear Niece On the Occasion of Her Junior High Graduation.

My dear Tayler,

I can’t quite believe you’re fourteen and starting high school this fall. I’m not sure where the time has gone, and when you changed from a crazy little girl singing ‘Who Let The Dogs Out’, into a beautiful young woman that’s inching closer and closer to being an adult. I know your Aunt Sessa just wrote you and your sister a very lovely post about how awesome you are, but great minds think alike, and I’d already started mine when she posted hers, because she’s right. You and Karlee are both very awesome, and your awesomeness inspired us both, independently.

Your uncle and I wish we could have been at your graduation, but unfortunately we were in Italy, eating amazing pizza and seeing mindboggling things. I’m sure you won’t hold it against us. We both are immensely proud of you and chat about you and Karlee often! I know we’re not around as much as we’d like to be, but know that we’re very proud, and we’ll celebrate when you come and visit us in August! Start thinking about what kind of crazy food you want to try, and we’ll take you and your sis out for a celebratory dinner. The sky’s the limit; sushi, Thai, Greek, Italian, Chinese, Ethiopian. You name it. It’s on us.

I’m sure you won’t remember the first time we met, but I do. Under different circumstances, I might not have, but because of the way my life has unfolded, and the importance that you and your family have in it, it’s stuck with me in the thirteen (!!) years since.

It was Cherry Carnival. I wasn’t really dating your uncle yet; we’d been on one sort of double date to the arcade in Greenwood with his friend Mike, and my friend Jill, and I’d been invited, along with a bunch of other people to your grandparents’ place for the fireworks and such. I’d just turned seventeen (just a few years older than you are now).

Somehow, I think we managed to break away from the small group we were with (which didn’t happen so often in those first few months), and we bumped into you and your parents, somewhere around the Digby side of the bridge. Your dad was holding you, and I got an awkward introduction to you and your parents. Your uncle didn’t really date much, so I’m sure everyone was fairly curious about who I was. It was a quick meeting, but I remember you were very serious, even as a one year old, and very observant. Kids usually like me, but I knew you were the kind of kid that didn’t give your affections easily, even from that first meeting.

Matt greeted you with a ‘hey, Buddy’, as he still does, thirteen years later, and I remember thinking, at that moment, that it was really nice that he had a big family. Everyone has a family, mind you, but not everyone has a family like yours, full of people who genuinely like and enjoy each other’s company (most of the time).

Dating your uncle in those early days was exhausting, because he, much like baby you, didn’t give up his affections easily. It was another month after I met you before he’d hold my hand with any sort of regularity. It was a fairly stark contrast to other boys I knew, and he made me work for his interest, although today he’d probably just say he was shy or something.

The best things are always worth the effort.

It took a long time for you to come around to outwardly liking me too. I remember being thrilled when I was dubbed ‘Ine’ by you when you were about two. Believe you me, kid, no one else would ever have gotten away with giving me a nickname. At five, I remember putting my foot down when a friend’s mother decided that it was easier to call me Carrie, and that was the last nickname I ever had.

You’re about to embark on a new time in your life, and to be very frank, there will be good moments, and moments that will suck. Moments that feel like the end of the world is coming, and that there’s no recovery. I’m here to tell you that there’s always recovery from even the worst teenage blunder. People forget quickly, and move on to the next thing, which likely won’t involve you at all.

I wanted to take this occasion to give you a few pieces of advice that I wish someone had bestowed on me when I was fourteen, although I probably wouldn’t have taken them to heart to any great degree, so you probably shouldn’t either.

Make Mistakes.

I won’t tell you the story of my first kiss here because the internet is forever (mini tip: the internet is forever), but if you ever want it, ask. Needless to say, it wasn’t my finest moment, but when I think back on it, fifteen years later, I don’t regret it. It defined me in some interesting ways, and unexpectedly made me realize my self-worth.

Make mistakes. Have fun. Just don’t let them let them be the kind that define you.

Don’t Ever Be Embarrassed About Being Smart.

It was my experience in high school that people ragged on people for everything, even things as ridiculous as being smart, or getting good grades. Own your smarts, kid. They’ll take you far. The sky’s the limits. You’ll also find when you’re my age, the kids that were ragging on you aren’t so far from where you left them.

Don’t Ever Let Anyone Else’s Insecurities Become Your Own.

People can be jerks, and they’ll say and do things that’ll make you feel bad. It usually has nothing to do with you, and everything to do with them and their stuff. I’m not just talking about kids your age either. The same rule applies to adults. It’s a tough thing to remember when people are being jerks, but the sooner you do it, the easier it will be to understand those around you.

Don’t Feel Like You Need All the Answers.

You don’t need to figure out what the rest of your life will look like in the next four years. In fact, you don’t need to figure it out in the next ten years. Learn. Grow. Take this time to weigh your options and consider everything. Like I said above, make mistakes. The answers will turn up when you least expect them.

Surround Yourself With People That Make You Feel Good.

Over the next four years, people will come and go from your life, sometimes easily, and sometimes with more difficulty. Hold onto the people that make you feel good; the ones that make you laugh until your stomach hurts, the ones that put in the effort to be great friends. They’ll be the ones you laugh with fifteen years later in the wee hours of the morning over the internet during difficult times, because time and space don’t have much to do with your friendship.

You’ll Never Regret Being Kind.

When I think back on the moments I regret in high school, they mostly involve me being rude to people because I felt like it would make me cool. I didn’t give a lot of awesome people a real chance because of it.

You’re a nice kid. A really nice kid. Your uncle and I say so all the time. You’ve never been one of those kids that adults dread spending time with. When we have kids, we can only hope they’re as awesome as you and your sister. Remember that when it seems cooler to be a jerk, it never is in the long run. Show compassion, be kind. It’s good for your karma, and even though high school isn’t real life in a lot of ways, karma is.

Ask For Help.

We’re all here for you! If you have questions, or need to talk, all you have to do is pick up the phone, or the computer, or send us a smoke signal. In your adult inner circle, you’ve got a group of people with HUGE range of life experience that’s ripe for the picking. We’re all super proud of you and on your side too, so when you feel like no one else is, reach out. We want to help you, whatever that may mean.

Again, we’re both really, really excited to have you come and visit, and we hope it’s the first of many!

XOXO Caroline