A journey from the end of summer in Buenos Aires to the beginning of spring in Cowichan Valley, namely Cobble Hill, my home base. My world seems literally to be turned upside down: instead of almost daily milongas with practically non stop dancing for hours, quick commutes to all manner of cultural events, daily life lived on foot instead of in the seat of a car, I am now more or less in a contemplative state, taking in the beauty that surrounds me, and organizing daily life ' by car'.
There is no dust here, no eternal cracks in the pavement of streets and sidewalks, no trees growing from the roofs of historic buildings, no dog poop, no garbage nor litter, no choked up traffic, no innumerable side walk cafes.
Serene silence fills the nights, hummingbirds hum during the days.
'Down Under' the city wakes up around ten at night, and by midnight life is in full swing.
And....the days are getting longer and warmer here....
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| First morning back in my house...waking up to a calm Satellite Channel, and a misty sky. |
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| My friends are back....their antlers gone, but still clad in their winter pelts, they chew the cud in peace under the backyard birch tree. |
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| Two, maybe three times a week, small milongas of a somewhat private nature allow the tango spirit to survive. Instead of old milonguero friends and new milonguero foreigners (and sometimes tourists on a day tour) gathering in the public milonga venues of Buenos Aires, more or less the same group of dancers meet in converted garages (like this one), church basements, and rooms in various pubs of the area. No cabeceos here. Whereas in Buenos Aires, polite codigo demands that one's private life is left at the door, here everyone knows everyone else and conversation freely flows between tandas, men and women mix quite informally. Dancers are usually well versed in tango steps, a 'abrazo cerrado' (closed embrace) during a dance, is less common. |
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| Slowly the surrounding waters fill with pleasure boats again, which makes me miss vaguely my own sailing vessel. Truth be told, I do not miss the perpetual spring commissioning with the hard work, diligent inspections, and ever rising cost it entailed....but on the other hand, it would be so pleasant to go back and again explore all the bays, inlets, straits and anchorages of the Gulf Islands and beyond. |
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| The trail of the sun from dawn to dusk is 'the wrong way around' as compared to the southern hemisphere. Here the sun seems to wonder from left to right looking south, down in Argentina it travels from right to left looking north. A fact, that confuses the internal compass for a while, until the old navigator mind has internalized the different celestial journey. |
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| The eye may roam for miles and miles.... |
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| First time in years - I actually am here in time to see my ruby red (the 'ruby' hue is impossible to capture on digital photography) rhododendron bush in bloom. |
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| Investigating opportunities to ride again. A small horse establishment is situated a few minutes away. I may lease a horse and join the owner on her rides on the beach (as seen here), which at low tide makes for a perfect sand arena... |
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| All of the little town of Duncan, as well as the shoulders of highways, parks and gardens are embellished with crab apple trees in bloom - pink and white. |
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| Sunrise over Mount Baker, which is hiding in low clouds... |
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| We are rural...even a short drive to the grocery store leads past cattle, dairy and sheep farms, past small vineyards and vegetable growers. Fresh from the farm (like asparagus right now) will be the gourmet's mantra in a couple of weeks. And let's not forget - fresh from the sea as well. |
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| Duncan's old railway station - still in mothballs and functioning as a museum. The Island commuter/tourist train question seems to be lingering in endless negotiations between numerous parties, who do not appear to reach a workable train activation solution soon. But - in the meantime, it adds to the charm of quirky, funky, quaint Duncan's townscape. |
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| City of Totems - and for a totem aficionado Duncan certainly offers an impressive line up of these carved and painted tree trunks, each with a mythological history and symbolic meaning originating with the Salish First Nations tribes - all duly explained by plaques at the base of each totem. |
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| Sailing up Samsun Narrows... |
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| A rivulet empties into Cowichan Bay at Cherry Point. At low tide a perfect playground for dogs - and with luck - yours truly on horseback... |
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| Faintly, ever so faintly, Mount Baker shows it's snow covered volcanic peak in the distance... |
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I thought that my front garden apple tree had already shed it's blossoms - but NO!!! It is just bursting into bloom. Judging by the buds, which cluster at the end of every branch and twig like fragile pink grapes, I will have a bumper crop in the fall - provided there are enough bees to do their sacred duty. Neighbours, 'domesticated' deer and yours truly will have buckets of delicious apples to enjoy.
In the meantime.....one plans the next journey south...... |
