23510 - Monthly October update

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Dag,
   Iris (Boston, 23510 miles)

22766 - Montreal, c'est beau

The Oto isn't so sure:"Do I really have to stand besides a Porsche?"
I am not so sure either:"Is this really the right address?"

A couple days in Montreal, I love that city. A couple days spoiled by my friends R and J, whom I met sitting around their campfire on the ground in COR. The good wine should have given it away back then, but it didn't register, only the lack of chairs did. They however love good food and they can cook!

Oysters and white wine.
Deer (hunted by R) and red wine.
Real cheese, cappuccino and good chocolate.

Thats haute cuisine, we better not regret this later and keep or bud moving too. A scramble up Trap Dike in the Adirondacks, and a wake up call at 6:00 is the solution. Not the best time of the day, without my morning coffee.

We push our car through customs with a death battery and hike in the early morning through the muddy woods. Around the shore of Avalanche lake it goes to the beginning of the climb.

The idea is to scramble up through the Trap dike, which is an intrusion in the rock eroded away over time, and then climb out to continue the slabs to the top.

The scramble inside the dike is amazing, but very very slippery. Water is pouring besides us, on top of us and we hold on for dear life to the slick rock. When we are almost at the top R calls the danger unacceptable and we rope up for the last couple moves.

We climb out of the dike and I see my fear becomes true. With the heaviest rainfall in years the day before, the slab is impossible to scramble up. If I had been the most experienced I would have called it a day, however R leads the way through the bushes on the side and J follows with ease, guess I better follow too. Its scary and we have to concentrate not to make a mistake.

Near the top we enter the world of frozen bushes, luckily the ground stays ice free and after 7 hrs we make it to the top. With 9.8 km back to the car we conclude an awesome trip.

Again I have encounter two amazing people and happy to call them my friend now. And I finally made it to the Adirondacks, a place which was on my list for a while.

Dag,
Iris (Montreal, 22766 miles)

21413 - Mid(west)land

One thing I found out during this trip, is that Americans don't like to discuss the way I am used to. Lots of time, sitting around the campfire, stories are told instead of heated debates the way my Italian friends during our kayak trip in Alaska, are fought. I think its a matter of avoiding conflict or trying to keep respect for each other. For me discussing is a way to understand a different point of view, to understand another person, to understand another culture and I have missed it here. And of course I like to do it simply for the hack of it. But there is one, one person who sat across from me at work, one person who loves to do it, one person who moved with his family to the Mid-West, one person who gives me more discussion that what I bargained for in the next 5 days, my friend S.

We discuss the universe, politics and religion. I even make it to church to boost my anthropology study, but get a talk about the financial situation of the church instead. But it doesn't stop us from discussing it more and more. We have to take a break with a Sunday afternoon of Disk Golf, where we are ashamed of our 3 disks between the two of us, instead of the 30 disks each what the norm seems to be, to get ready for the next round. But then we continue again, its fun and I love being here. And what have we gained with these discussions, to be honest I don't remember, they all seems to have ended pretty blurry.

Dag,
   Iris (Midland, 21413 miles)

21163 - Chicago

I have heard the stories before, don't take the wrong exit into Chicago, you might end up in a neighborhood you shouldn't be in. I don't drive interstates, so wrong exits are not a concern. Instead I just randomly pick a road straight into downtown. It starts like every other city. Walmart, McDonald, HomeDepot, Wendy's and all the other crappy american chains.

After an hour the neighborhoods become more shaggy and run down. This is poor America in its worse. I keep driving and notice another change. Everybody on the street is black and I suddenly feel very white. I lock the doors of my car, something I have never done in my life before. I feel very wrong by doing it, but I just don't feel save. I start driving in the left lane and keep an escape distance between me and the car in front of me at the traffics light. Is this real or just fear put into me by others. I feel really bad about the way I feel.

After passing an underpass, I am suddenly in a yuppie neighborhood. Students and hippies are walking pass trendy stores and restaurants. A contrast which shouldn't be real. A little later I drive straight into downtown.

I place the bike in my car and with 1 cm clearance above the kayak park the Oto in a garage. When I walk out I realize that I forgot my camera and walk back. Outside again I look around and notice I still do something wrong. I walk back again and this time take my bike out of the car. Chicago downtown is bike friendly.

Downtown is a mixture between old and new buildings. The atmosphere is relax and enjoyable.

Near the waterfront art from Anish Kapoor, Cloud Gate, reflects life in town and the famous Chicago skyline.

Chicago, a cool city, just hope that Obama doesn't forget his old community.

Dag,
   Iris (Chicago, 21163 miles)

20271 - It does exist

My American aunt invites me on their family island in McGregor bay, Canada. Yes, thats right, on their island. Having heard about it my whole life, I also didn't quite believe in it. But on September 29, my aunt is picking me up by boat in the small harbor and drives me to camp where I meet my Canadian uncle. Camp...I would call it a retreat...

And for the next 2 weeks, I am sharing their good life.

I meet my Canadian aunt and loved her first sight and sit with my new family in the dark to watch the sunset.

I spend an afternoon kayaking in Killarney provincial park and explore the bay with my aunt.

I hike up a hill for a bird eye view of the Bay.

I get a 101 course on the Grenville front and the La Cloche's white quartzite cliffs.

I watch the Indian summer taking over the colours of the woods.

I learn about my NL families past and look in the picture mirror, which turned out to be my mom.

I figure that although my character comes from my dad, confidence might come from my mom.

I close the landscape, the island and my aunt and uncle in my heart.

Dag,
   Iris (McGregor Bay, 20271 miles)