Sailboats, magic house and a broken sandal (June 7, 2009)
I just had a bowl of neapolitan ice cream, a banana and some plum jam. So now I’m blogging. What’s the connection? Nothing.
As I had said in one of my pulses, yesterday was quite eventful. I was pretty much out the entire day.
I went to my parish for adoration at around 8:30. I was late. Sigh. I wasn’t able to stay for Mass at 10:30. It was only yesterday that Mass was scheduled later in the morning. It’s usually at 9 am, which works for me because my Holy Hour is from 8-9.
Our parish priest’s mother died a week ago and so he’s gone back to the motherland. He’s Filipino, too. We have a wonderful 80-year-old Chinese priest, Fr. C, offering Mass in our parish priest’s absence. He celebrated Mass today and just after Communion he invited all of us to sing a hymn of thanksgiving. After Mass, when he was greeting parishioners as they left the church, I went up to him, shook his hand and thanked him for the hymn. It’s very short and the words are simple: “Thank you, Jesus. Thank you, Jesus. Come into my heart” twice repeated. The Eucharist is an awesome gift, and we often don’t realize it because it has become so routine. Whenever I go up for Communion, I am oftentimes so distracted. So while standing in line I make it a point to repeat to myself : “Prepare my heart (to receive You), Oh Lord” or “Heal me, Lord” (reminiscent of the prayer before Communion: “Lord, I am not worthy to receive you but only say the word and I shall be healed” which, in turn, is reminiscent of the centurion’s prayer). Fr. C, thanks for the reminder.
Anyways back to Saturday’s adventure:
So after adoration yesterday, my brother offered to drive me to the skytrain station before he and another brother headed south of the border to pick something up from my cousin’s place. I took the sytrain and then hopped on the 99 b-line. I got off the bus to go to do some banking. I hopped on another b-line to get to my final destination. I think that taking transit has made me a very patient person, not as patient as I would like to be, but patient enough that long commutes don’t ruin my day. Next time remind me to tell you about the time I missed a particular skytrain stop (took me to Surrey) and when I was finally back on the right route, the skytrain had mechanical problems. It took me about 3 hours to get home. Yup, one way… and yet, it was the one of the most peaceful days of the year thus far.
Back to yesterday’s commute:
I got off the bus and there in front of me was a secondhand bookstore. Hmmm.
To go in or not to go in. That is the question. “Do I have time?” “Yes,” said my inner bookworm.
To go in.
I quickly scanned the titles but didn’t see anything. There was an older edition of Mere Christianity, but it wasn’t as cheap as I had hoped it would be. So I decided to leave until I saw the table of bargain books… and there was…
An old Vatican travel guide for $2. I like the pictures plus that little piece of the previous owner’s personal history: Vatican ticket stub of some sort.
After making my purchase, I headed towards the water to get to stonejewel’s house. She had told me the walk was about 10 minutes. I looked at my watch. I had a little more than 10 minutes to get there. Is that 10 minutes for tall people? Anyways…
To shoot or not to shoot. That is the question. Point and shoot, I mean. I’m in a beautiful area in Vancouver. How can I not take pictures, right?
I decided to take some pictures along the way. I would’ve lingered more on a flower or a colourful door if I had more time.
Walking down the hill, I saw a spectacular view of the water, and there was a solitary sailboat. I’ve often wondered why when I daydream of falling in love, I think of the ocean. Images of a beautiful sunset, waves crashing against the rocks, a sailboat, sand and shells are somehow connected to my dreams of love. I don’t know if it’s because of a Stephen Bishop song. Sigh.
When we first came to Canada (Saint John in New Brunswick), my uncle and his friends decided to take my family to a camp/picnic site in the province. The drive was longer than our little picnic, but still I could never forget one of the rest stops where we saw the Atlantic Ocean. There I was this 18-year-old girl, recently uprooted from the place she called home, confronted with the vastness that is the ocean. I, of course, grew up near the ocean, my piece of the Pacific. I was after all an island girl, but it was a different vastness and uncertainty that I had to face: a new life in Canada.
”I guess this is where I’ll fall in love,” I seemed to resign myself to that. Of course, I can’t possibly fall in love in the place I just left behind, not anymore. It’s physically impossible. “Well, I’m here now.”
Back to my westside walk yesterday:
That solitary sailboat set against the blue ocean as I was walking to a friend’s house is my wistful heart with sails.
I took a few more photos, said hello to an old man standing outside his home, asked a runner for directions when I felt I was lost.
I think that cute bee gathering pollen from an orange flower outside the man’s home distracted me. (So we go blaming bees now, huh?) I missed the gate I was looking for. Or maybe because instead of looking for a bamboo gate, I looked for a gate near a bamboo plant. I need to pay more attention to what people tell me, especially when it involves directions.
I eventually found the Magic House, and I was even the first person there. Yay! Just-in-time and a-few-lovely-pics me. The Magic House is a beautiful home with beautiful things (oh the stories behind them!) and beautiful people with welcoming hearts.
I met another fellow blogger. First it was onfyre4him a few years ago, then stonejewel a year ago and myshkin yesterday. My fellow storytellers. (Edit: I have to mention my memorable international xanga meetup: with sitwithme! A kindred spirit, fellow heARTIST!)
I also met stonejewel’s housemate (who has a lovely name) and her wonderful landlady (who has a million interesting stories) who told me my hands were very cold. She said a couple more things that I didn’t quite catch so I just smiled while she kept on holding my hands :)
I’ve had cold hands (and feet!) for as long as I can remember. When I volunteered with Vanspec, we’d pray while holding hands. I would often sheepishly apologize to whoever’s holding my cold hands, especially when someone points it out to me. It was only very recently that we had our last class for Vanspec. Most of the classes were held in the fall and winter so I would oftentimes be coming in from the cold (I have to walk a few blocks to the centre as soon as I get off the bus). Even as I write this post, my hands are cold.
Now I’ll be remembered for my cold hands :P/:)
It was a wonderful meal! Even though gatherings make me self-conscious about the fact that I eat like a bird and that I eat so slowly (and that I have a tendency to stay quiet unless spoken to), I enjoyed the good food, friendships and conversations (and laughter!)
Oh and I love the pie because I love lemony things… and there’s always something so delightful about lemony pastries.
We then had a tour of the Magic House after lunch. Beautiful old furniture, spectacular view, old books!! (And even before we ate we already had a little tour of the living room with all its treasures. Landlady M is a wonderful storyteller, too. Housemate With a Lovely Name also told us about the very interesting histories of the antique clocks and paintings.) We went up to stonejewel’s magic place, the attic… lovely, lovely.
After the tour we said goodbye to myshkin, but onfyre4him, Engr. A, stonejewel and I lingered upstairs for a while for a nice chat (and more laughter).
Then stonejewel and I headed to the beach for a nice walk (and talk). I haven’t been to that beach in years! I had forgotten how lovely that place is. We talked about some of the things that have happened to us recently, the things we have had to confront or are still confronting, a lot of listening and reflection. Life, love, faith.
Walking back to stonejewel’s place, I took a misstep and broke the strap on my left sandal. It’s an older pair (about four years), but I think I can still have them repaired and reinforced. I used up much of stonejewel’s invisible tape (even her tape is magical) to keep the strap in place. It worked for a while until it came off again, and I decided to walk barefoot until I got to the bus stop. I flipflopped between dragging my left foot in order to keep the sandal from sliding off my foot or to take off both sandals and just brave the warm, prickly concrete or the unknown terrain called grass (dog owners were everywhere, you see).
But even that didn’t stop me from taking a few more pictures.
I just needed cheap flipflops. I decided to go back to dragging my foot when I got to the commercial part of the neighbourhood. I didn’t want to draw attention to myself by walking barefoot. Four stores and seven dollars later (as I was writing that I realized it sounds like the start of the Gettysburg address. When I was very young, I somehow had the first line of Lincoln’s address memorized. Anyway…) It was quite the hunt. Where are dollar stores when you need them…
The lady at the pharmacy where I bought the flipflops initially wanted me to get the Geckos (they look like Crocs). She said they’re very comfortable, but I don’t know. I just couldn’t get myself to wear them. They were more expensive, too.
I had a good companion on the bus: stonejewel’s book on Madeleine Delbrel :)
Another b-line ride then the Oak bus to meet up with V. We went to Richmond… and that my friends, is another adventure that deserves its own post.
This is long. Well, my storyteller self seems to be back. I quite like that. Thanks for walking with me.
