A sample text widgetEtiam pulvinar consectetur dolor sed malesuada. Ut convallis euismod dolor nec pretium. Nunc ut tristique massa. Nam sodales mi vitae dolor ullamcorper et vulputate enim accumsan. Morbi orci magna,tincidunt vitae molestie nec,molestie at mi. Nulla nulla lorem,suscipit in posuere in,interdum non magna. | It was a good trumpet case. Narrow and compact,it still managed to fit both trumpet and flugelhorn and a pile of mutes. On occasion,the thing hauled books,clothes,and whatever I could throw in it. On an overcast day in Paris,I found it. On a street lined with double bass specialists,custom made pianos,and violin makers,there was a brass and woodwind specialty shop. There I was allowed to play a mellophone,a tuba,a gorgeous brushed brass trumpet,and a flugelhorn made over a hundred years ago by Adolph Sax. I felt that I couldn’t leave there empty-handed,so I replaced my clothes-wrapped hobo trumpet transport technique with something a bit more portable. The case lasted me five years. It saw action on three continents. This case lay on the floor in smokey jazz bars in Dalian,and it biked to school with me in Luton. It sat unattended at the Globe and loitered in the kitchen of the Alibi in Charlottetown. It toured with the Sidewalks,the UPEI Wind Symphony,and Fresh. All it takes is a wash a bit too warm,and your fabrics shrink. That’s what they say,anyway. It turned out to be true. So now I have a new Protec case,fresh from Brass Studio Prague. It’s a hard case –better for the horns,but less forgiving. Boys and girls,read the tag. Save your fabrics. Well,my dear readers,I’m afraid my life isn’t that interesting these days. Mostly,I get up,go to school,study Czech and mind my business. Mostly. Until today. Today is the day the war began. Depending on who you ask,however,the first shots were fired months ago or yesterday. Today things got interesting. I suppose I should update you with a bit of what has happened. So Karri and I are living in Prague now,in the Czech Republic. I work near a village called Jesenice south of the city. Basically I just thought I’d take a few pictures to illustrate my life here. We got a sweet apartment. This is the view leaning out the window to the west: 
We can see most of old town from our sixth floor (seventh floor in Canada): 
I work between Zdiměřice and Kocanda near the town of Jesenice,just south of the Prague city limits. My school is a joint Canadian/Czech venture,so in each class there is an English teacher and a Czech teacher. I teach the Green Frogs with my Czech co-teacher Lucie: 
I bike to school and back every day, 
a distance of about fifteen kilometres. 
Rain or shine,I get up before seven and am at school by eight thirty.
I bike through the towns and districts of Zdiměřice,Hrnčiře, 
Kunratice, 
Libuš,Krč, 
Pankrác,across Nuselsky Most and into Nové Město,where I live between I.P. Pavlova and Karlovo Náměstí. 
It’s been a busy one. I’m a couple of destinations ahead now,but I’ll get you caught up in order. The flight from Glasgow was sadly a boring one for most of the way. Once we crossed over the Minch (the body of water separating the Outer Hebrides from the rest of Scotland),the clouds opened up on a beautiful sight:to the north loomed the mountains of South Uist,and beneath us were rocky shoals bathed in startlingly blue water. 
The airport at Barra is somewhat unique,at least in the West,and possibly the world. The runway is the beach of Tráigh Mór,and the flights are scheduled around the tides. Granny was pretty excited to be landing on the beach. Very cool.   
  
We made our way from Barra over to Eriskay and then South Uist,had dinner in the tiny hamlet of Lochboisdale to finally drive the 30km north to settle at our little thatched cottage in Ard Mór,at the north end of the island with a view towards Benbecula. 
We spent the next couple of days driving the island’s single-track roads 
and exploring mountains 
and machair, 
castles 
and chapels, 
lochs 
and moor, 
ancient ’roundhouse’ruins 
and beaches, 
and trying to connect some dots researching our heritage. The people were noting but kind and friendly. While exploring the remains of Castail Ormaclete,the former HQ of Clan Ranald centuries ago,a young fellow hopped in our car to show us a trail to the base of Beinn Mór (the tallest peak on the island,620m). Our hosts,the MacPhees,were polite and friendly,taking time to talk with us about all kinds of stuff. The lady who helped us track our roots,and her friend with the cemetery records,were patient and diligent. Everyone we met,from the mechanic from the Laing Motors who picked us up in the rental car to the taxi driver who took us from the airport to the ferry on Barra were nothing but friendly. 
I’m not sure if it was the mountains or the machair,the people or the history,but coming to South Uist felt like coming home. 
Scotland! It honestly didn’t take that much persuading to talk Granny Magdalene into going. The spring and summer flew by,especially with my trip to New York and Florida with Karri. So here we are. On our plane journey over from Halifax,we stopped in Iceland for breakfast. The volcanic landscape was barren,windswept,and treeless,yet I’d go back in a heartbeat to explore that place up close. We got in to Glasgow yesterday afternoon. One observation that both Granny and I have noticed is that people seem very friendly and laid-back. The driver of the empty bus took 10 minutes to sit with us and chat. He dropped us off right in front of our hotel AND helped us with our bags. 
This morning,by which I mean this afternoon,Granny and I ate at a Spanish tapas restaurant called Café Andaluz. Very yummy. I had the tortilla,which brought me back to my host mom in Salamanca,and the oven-roasted goat cheese,which reminded me of Tapas in Dalian,another good Spanish restaurant. Yesterday we tried a vegan place called Stereo where I tried haggis for the first time! Considering the sheer number of animal parts in the original,I never thought I’d be trying haggis anytime soon. The vegan version was frighteningly convincing,though.
Today we ventured out to explore the city,but we had different mission mandates –so on our first full day in Scotland,with a dismissive wave of her arm to any skeptic reading this,Granny was on her own. I went to grab some vegan shampoo and conditioner,get my phone fixed,and walk back along the River Clyde;Granny wandered around the pedestrian Buchanan and Sichy streets. She was on Facebook when I got back to the hotel. 
The jet lag has almost completely worn off after our spectacular fourteen hour sleeps last night. Tomorrow we catch our plane to South Uist. We land on the beach at the airport of the Isle of Barra,taxi to the ferry terminal,take the ferry to the Isle of Eriskay,meet up there with our car hire,and finally drive the causeway to the Isle of South Uist. The cottage we’ve rented is at the other end of the island,so we’ll have a half-hour drive from there. More info soon! Hi all,and sorry the site was down for a while! Yes,I have safely and happily arrived on PEI,but I did not intend to delete the blog upon arrival. I got tinkering around with the hosting files and scripts needed to run the page,and I screwed something up. I couldn’t figure out what I had done,so I eventually asked for help from the tech support. Here’s why those guys and girls who do tech support (for hosting or otherwise) are awesome: When I visited the joshfinder.com,it displayed the default Hostmonster page. The means no index file. That was confirmed. I copied an index.php from another WordPress script and created a new index.php file. The site properly loads now. It appears you inadvertently deleted this important home file.  Please let us know how else we may assist you. Thank you,
Marc
Level II Tech Support Engineer
Hostmonster.com So if you were wondering what happened to the site for about two months,that’s what happened,and as you can see,that’s who fixed it. Thanks to Marc and the Hostmonster tech team. Ta-da! Back online! It doesn’t seem like today is my last day. It feels like any other morning where I have to get up and bike yet again. Tonight I move in with Karri again,see all my PEI family again,and resume a ‘normal life’. I don’t know what that is anymore. I anticipate a period of adjustment to such a concept. Foe the past three months,everything I have seen,the people I’ve met,and the places I’ve been –have all been transitory. Temporary. I looked down at my shadow on the ground,and I saw the only constant in my life:me,on my bike,hauling my trailer,and my flag flapping behind. The people and places change,but the bike and I have remained the same. My home is my yellow bag,my house on my back. So tonight,that will change,and I’m not sure how it will affect me. New Brunswick has been great,up to the point where I decided to rush home. The day before yesterday,I felt the need to rush to Sackville,so I biked 230km. Yup. That breaks my previous record of 200. My knees were pretty much done,and I was pretty low on blood sugar,high on lactic acid,but I made it. At this point,I was done of the winding,hilly country roads,so I just took the highway (as much as possible –there is a bridge or two where it is technically illegal to cycle,but I bypassed them (almost) with an annoying and inconvenient detour. After bypassing the one bridge,I discovered that a second illegal bridge lay in my path. When I crossed it,I noticed the side-road bridge right beside it. D’oh. I had a great time in Sackville,got to see Mitch who hitchhiked from Halifax just for the day. I got to meet Jess finally,plus some quality time with my cousin Judi (again,I had already seen her in Athabasca). In Fredericton,I got to see Lee and Annie Bartley for the second time this trip,having previously seen them in Dyer’s Bay,Ontario. Previous to my day on the highway,New Brunswick has been quite pretty. The Saint John river valley is nice,as is the countryside quite a ways on either side of it. Lots of hills,though. One hill just before Fredericton,around the Keswick Ridge,was extremely steep,though I don’t know the grade. I had to take *breaks* on the way up. For most steep sections,I usually just power through them –I never take breaks on short steep climbs like that! The front wheel kept lifting off the pavement,that’s how steep it was. My heart must have been pushing the 150-200 bpm range. Wow. So yeah,here we are. I’m about to set out for the Confederation Bridge,and Charlottetown beyond. Due to arrive around 6pm,hopefully I can aim for that and hit it well. Then everything changes. 
Well,I guess I have to do some backwards blogging. Hmm,you think,backwards blogging could only mean one of the following: - reading a blog on the Internet and then DOING what it tells you to
- typing everything backwards,be it typing behind your back,or reversing the words,or both
- blogging FROM THE FUTURE
- any number of terrifyingly boring etymological studies of the meanings and origins of the word ‘back’,the word ‘ward’,how it developed to have the modern meaning,and so on. My thoughts exactly,dear reader,you could not have put it better. However,in this sense,I shall reverse the order of my posts and talk about something BEFORE the PREVIOUS POST OCCURED!!!!!!!!! ZOMG!!!!! It is with your brains blown backwards,poor reader,that I must bring you to a time before yesterday. To the day before yesterday,and the days leading up to that. I bring you to Québec,and to it’s beautiful October countryside. The leaves are falling,as is the temperature. The route I took as I left Montreal took me east through Longueuil. After looking at the distances on my handy GPS,I decided it would be more expedient to NOT follow the Saint Lawrence up from Montreal. My route would take me up through Saint-Hyacinthe,Drummondville,just west of Victoriaville,Lyster,and finally to Lévis along the Saint Lawrence,directly across from Québec city. Justin had told me that the rive nord –the north shore –was quite hilly. After Québec city,as I biked along the south shore looking north across the river at the Laurentides and the Charlevoix,this certainly seemed to be true. Between Drummondville and Ste-Hyacinthe,where isolated mountains rise from a plain of fields and farms,I stopped at an apple orchard. I had never seen so many kinds of apples in one place. They also had apple butter,apple jams and jellies,but no biscuits! (there was an apple festival not long ago in Ontario where about six vendors were selling jam,but not a one was selling biscuits! There’s cash to be has there,if they ever figured it out…) My GPS took me on a tangent on the way to Drummondville in order to avoid the highway,so I got to see some more farms and rural houses than even on my previous route. There was this one beautiful house which looked to be quite old,and had th architecture of Old France. The owner and a contractor were working on the basement as I snapped a photo. The owner then came over to explain,and showed me around the property! He was super nice,and as it turned out,a Montreal conservatory trained musician. The place used to be a convent,and though they were now putting in a concrete basement,he had kept all the original furniture in the old style. Wha I thought to be a barn beside the main house was actually a house that they had built in the old style. The property was very impressive. I did notice,here and there,houses which did indeed look different from English Canadian houses. The roof often has a curved slope to it;in other cases,the roof is tall and exaggerated. Churches here,almost all being Catholic,have a particular style of stone facade with a shiny silver roof. Many houses have this same silver roof,and I even saw a house or two with silver siding as well. Riding along the Sain Lawrence was lovely,the mountains on the other side spectacular. I stayed in Saint-Vallier the first night. After La Pocatière,I indended to make my way to Saint-Pascal via Saint-Pacôme,when something interesting happened. As I biked down the hill with my music playing,a girl cycling up the hill said something to me. Since the really isolated parts of Northern Ontario,most cyclists just wave,one that same day in Montmagny honked his horn. Many,especially around the big cities,don’t even respond when waved to. So I quickly ripped off my earphones and stopped to chat. It wasn’t long into the conversation when Mélissa invited me to stay for free at her place and to a supper with a group of friends. I was so floored by this hospitality that I actually had to think about it before I accepted! It was awesome. The party she invited me to was a nice gathering of open-minded couch surfers,organic veggie farmers,and all sorts;many of whom were young-ish,and all of whom were kind and friendly. There was fondue and grilles for veggies (and meat,for everyone else). There was a jam session with piano,guitar,and flute. Super génial. The next day Mélissa insisted on taking me to Kamouraska,a lovely little town beside the Saint Lawrence. We had baked goods from a delicious bakery (where I also bought a loaf of quinoa bread for biking) and a snack at a nearby café. What a great time. Instant friend. As much as I had enjoyed Québec so far,the kindness and friendliness of a complete stranger blew me away. It was a perfect way to end my trip through la belle province. I do hear English Canadians talk about their negative impressions of Québec,how people are snobby about language,etc. It’s hard perhaps to imagine,as English speakers we dominate the world and most people in most places can,in fact,communicate with us in our native tongue. Imagine if a Mandarin Chinese speaker walked in to a restaurant in most places in English Canada,proceeding to order in Chinese,insist on being served in Chinese,and accusing you of being a poor host for being unable or unwilling to accomodate his or her linguistic needs. You might do your best,but it’s not easy. Sure,lots of Québecois do speak English,but with even some fluency in French,they will make you feel right at home. 
And me voilà again in a dumb situation. Google lied to me. Their GPS map told me the shortest way to Pohénégamook was a dirt road that disappeared farther and farther into a swamp,becoming less and less a road at all –as the sun set. I managed to turn around and get back to the ‘main’dirt road before encountering any bears,but hey. So night set in,and I did manage to get myself to a road,the 289 which is the alternate way into New Brunswick’s back door. Now this road leads farther and farther into the woods towards Pohénégamook,and the traffic wasn’t terribly friendly. A car beeped at me,and I’m not sure what the message was –perhaps ‘don’t go on this road through bear and moose territory in the middle of the night’,or something along those lines. I kept going,but I didn’t seem to be covering much ground according to my GPS. At the top of a very large hill,the signs began warning of an increased danger of moose –this is already IN the woods,recall. So I bas beginning to realise that more civilization did NOT lie ahead. Remember,it’s pitch black,overcast,no moon,not even stars. So I did something that I haven’t done yet this whole trip:I knocked on a door. An old man let me camp in his front yard,which was very nice of him –except for the cold and the possibility of bears. “Plus loin dans les bois,y-en a,mais pa-icite.” “Further in the woods”,he tells me,“not here”. “Well,”I thought,“‘Here’is right beside the woods,as this is a tiny group of about four houses in the middle of nowhere.”I desperately wanted to believe him,so I proceeded to have the crappiest sleep ever:shivering in the cold and waking up at every rustling leaf or shifting tree. The next night,at a motel in New Brunswick,the lady told me,after hearing that I’d camped where I did:“Y faut faire attention,y’a beaucoup d’ours ce temps d’l'annee.”–“you should be careful,there are lots of bears this time of year.”. She pointed out back of the motel. “Y’a un qui se promène ici en arrière,y’a l’air féroce”. “There’s one wandering around out back,and he looks fierce.” Upon hearing this,I did not feel better about camping the previous night. 
It’s odd. I find that this trip is pushing me to the extremes of what I am capable of. When I’m on the road,I’m pushing hard,facing danger and discomfort,and generally working really hard. But when I get somewhere,and put up my feet,I am instantly overcome with the desire to do nothing. Ah,nothing. I had an excellent time in Montreal,a very good part of which involved hanging out at my friend Bryan’s house and doing as little as possible. One day,I sat down in front of the computer and was so immobile that my legs were slightly swollen! Sad,I know. I also met up with my friend Mike,who showed me around the Village part of Montreal,commonly known as the ‘gay village’. I asked quite a few questions,as it became apparent that as worldly as I like to think I am,I know very little about modern gay culture and lifestyle. I didn’t realise that it was accepted and cool for us two guys to have a beer at a lesbian bar;the Hollywood image projected of such places made me think such a thing wouldn’t go over so well. All in all,it was very similar to other parts of the city,perhaps with the exception of the bathhouses,the types of video stores they have,and the clientele of the bars and clubs. It reminded me that most people do feel comfortable grouping themselves into communities of like-minded people,as evidenced by such neighborhoods as Chinatown,little Italy,the gay village,different religious communities,or numerous ‘French’/'English’neighborhoods. I must say that it was a rare treat to be hanging out with other vegetarians,as I am frequently a minority in most circles,being surrounded by meat eaters and their culture most of the time. Those of us who like to cross boundaries and feel comfortable travelling still appreciate meccas such as backpacker hostels,where one can find many other people with similar experiences and outlooks. So I’m guilty too,and I would be very surprised to find out that you,the reader,do not feel a sense of comfort among those who agree with and are similar to you. So I finally got ready to go,packed my stuff,said goodbye;and went shopping! I bought tons of books:books on feminist philosophy,anarchist philosophy vegetarianism and animal substances used in consumer products,Canada’s foreign policy (perhaps being more in line with the States’than the peaceful benevolent image of ‘peacekeepers’that we would like to project),education and teaching kids critical thinking,home school and non-school type learning. At the two Spanish bookstores,I found a book by a censored Cuban blogger,a book about Palestine,and a couple of novels including a ‘black book’genre of contemporary mystery,and a Gabriel García Marquez original Spanish version of 100 nights of Solitude. Then I went to the post office and sent them all (plus some clothes and my pocket trumpet) home,and discovered the sun had set,so I knocked once again on Bryan’s door. This was my last night 4 realz,so I baked first vegan cheesecake,and hung out some more. I didn’t realise until after that despite having substututed butter for vegan margerine,cream cheese for soft tofu,and eggs for egg replacer (corn starch),I had sweetened the recipe with brown sugar…and HONEY! Vegan fail! Oh well. None of us were vegan anyway,and it was just an experiment. And so it was that after only two hours of sleep,at 7am,I got up and set off to escape Montreal. As comfortable as I did feel staying with my accomodating and easy-going hosts,I did feel PEI calling and the road beckoning ever eastwards. I’m on the final stretch,and should be home within two weeks. 
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