Newcomers’ Bookclub

TURNING THE PAGE ON ANOTHER YEAR OF STORIES AND FRIENDSHIP.

CV COLLECTIVE, WINTER

Photographs by Joslyn Kilburn and words by Hannah Slomp

A group of women were gathered around a propane fire pit on Kye Bay in the fall of 2022. The sun was setting; they were drinking wine and hibiscus tea out of chipped enamel cups, and a few books lay strewn in the sand. Only a year prior, they had been strangers—mostly newcomers to the Comox Valley—but this September evening they gathered like old friends, sharing stories about summer trips and the novels that accompanied their travels. I felt lucky to be part of the group.

My family and I had moved to Vancouver Island a year earlier to be closer to my parents and answer the beckoning call of the West Coast: the sky-high Douglas firs and misty mountain backdrop would never get old. But the move left a part of me feeling uprooted and lost. I often caught myself making the analogy of being an amoeba in those days, untethered and floating aimlessly. I was excited for the life I would eventually have here, but missed the city I’d left behind. To make a little bit of home for myself, I thought, maybe I should start a book club.

One morning, while waiting awkwardly in a group of parents at École Puntledge Park’s new-student orientation, I met a woman who had recently arrived with her family from Kingston, Ontario. Before long, we were going for evening walks. We discovered our mutual love of reading and put out some feelers—and within a few weeks our book club, Bibliotherapy, was born. (A close friend in Calgary, who always has the best book recommendations, had been my bibliotherapist for years, hence the name.) As it turned out, we knew a lot of avid readers who also wanted to meet new people. The idea was to convene at different locations every month to explore our new surroundings while discussing topics inspired by the books we read.

During the years of the French Enlightenment, not long after centuries of the illiteracy and censorship of the Middle Ages, women and men would meet in salons to discuss the latest philosophies on politics, religion, and humanism. Women would not have direct political power until many decades later, but within these eighteenth-century salons, they wielded influence by setting topics for discussion. Criticism about the monarchy and other oppressive structures made way for increased equality for women and other disenfranchised people.

Salons enabled participants to examine their own privilege, such as the privilege of literacy, and use that to change society. And, even though the Comox Valley could hardly be further from the decadent brocade wallpaper of a French salon, perhaps a book club is its modern counterpart—and still very much needed.

Take book selection, for example. I never would have picked some of our club selections of my own accord, but I’m often grateful for the lessons I glean from them. The group does a good job holding each other accountable, as we strive to learn and grow. At the same time, we are respectful of diverse opinions.

The books we read frequently become catalysts for discussing hard topics. At first, Trevor Noah’s book, Born a Crime, didn’t appeal to me because I had misgivings about what an American talk show host would offer. Boy, did I get schooled! Little did I know about the harsh realities of the multi-layered racial division in South Africa, and the many roadblocks Noah overcame to become the international icon he is. Unexpectedly, his book motivated us to reflect on the demographic makeup of our own community. Some of our members, parents of biracial kids, pointed out how important it is to be cognizant of racial inequalities in our small, not very diverse community—and how crucial it is to raise awareness and demand change to discrimination.

Jeanine Cummins’ controversial novel American Dirt led to lively discussion. The setting for this meeting was local artist Shelley Vanderbyl’s beautiful studio off Anderton Road. Shelley’s atelier overlooks a forested backyard complete with a chicken coop and droll laying hens (sigh).

The book centres around South American migrants forced to flee their home countries due to violence, drug cartels, and economic hardship. The novel led to important discussion about the danger of approaching topics from a place of privilege. Who are we to comment on the story of Lydia, a Mexican migrant, without looking at ourselves, and our lifestyles, and asking whether we are in some way complicit in this complex issue?

Barbara Kingsolver’s book, Demon Copperhead, which won the Pulitzer Prize for fiction in 2023, led to a deeper understanding of addiction and the humanity around it. It is hard to miss that addictions are sadly also a stark reality right here in our community. And while many of us may instinctively look away, her character Demon showed us that perhaps we need to, in fact, look more closely at ourselves, our governments, and the causes of addiction. Demon begs us to do better.

You might be thinking, “Wow, that sounds really heavy for a Saturday night.” But in reality, these are evenings I really look forward to. Like any other book club, someone didn’t finish the book, someone drinks one too many glasses of wine, and sometimes someone stays late to sing one last Cher song at the pub’s karaoke night. (In addition to many lovely living rooms, we’ve enjoyed meeting at local haunts like Atlas Café, Gladstone Brewing Co., and the Griffin Pub)

We’re now into our third year of Bibliotherapy, with many more locations to explore and conversations to have. I’m looking forward to cold afternoons, wool sweaters, and the unmatched feeling of the weight of a book in my hands this winter season. Perhaps our next book will have an ecological focus that will encourage us to reflect on ourselves as part of a greater ecosystem (will Robin Wall Kimmerer finally teach us how to braid sweetgrass?).

Whatever the book will be, I am comforted knowing a new lesson is just around the corner, and new friends will be reading it with me.

Coastal Camera Obscura III

This past May there was an opportunity put on by CVAG that I couldn’t pass up. It was called Coastal Camera Obscura III and the title alone drew me in. Little did I know that I would be literally drawn into an actual Camera Obscura aboard a kayak in the middle of the Comox harbour. Donald Lawrence, a visual art professor at Thompsons University, was coming to town to set up his floating life-sized version of the 17th century apparatus and forefather of photography. Latin for Dark Room, the Camera Obscura is a device wherein light comes into an enclosed space from an aperture and projects an image on the opposing side. Lawrence’s buoyant contraption would work much the same yet his installation involved the spectator experiencing the structure in person and afloat.

It didn’t take much to convince my adventurous son to go to Goose Spit on the second day of the May long weekend to go check it out. Upon arrival you could see a black tunnel affixed to a frame made of tied-together wooden polls and beams floating in the middle of the Comox harbour. There were already a few participants circling the structure. Mr. Lawrence himself could be seen kayaking around the curious contraption welcoming the spectators. Before long some very helpful volunteers helps outfit us with lifejackets and kayaks and soon we too paddled toward the exhibit. My son, a fledgling paddler, was trepidatious at first to enter this mysterious cavern through the dark flaps of the Camera Obscura. But with some convincing he was soon inside and in awe of what he saw therein. I eagerly followed. I entered the dark chamber as the last flap closed behind the stern of my kayak. Once inside, it took me a while to sort out what I was, in fact, looking at. I saw the volleyball-sized hole on one side which cast light onto the opposite side. I could soon see that the projection was the water of the bay and the beach where we had just paddled from. I saw the reflections on the water and I saw tiny figures of people on the beach in the image infant of me. It was a moving picture on the canvas but it was remarkably upside down. It reminded me of a grade 10 science textbook diagram of the eye. Fascinating. I paddled out of the structure into the stark light of the day to where my son was chatting with the artist. Mr. Lawrence was happy to answer any questions. I told him what a cool experience it had been and that I knew many a prairie art-lover who would enjoy this installation were it to make its way across the rockies. He informed me that the installation only worked on tidal waters so coastal exhibitions were only possible for now. This was because he had to set the camera up on the ocean floor when the tide was out and wait for the tide to come in for the contraption rise and ultimately function. This now made sense! It was a pleasure to be able to have had this experience in the outdoors in such a beautiful setting where I could intertwine my love of art and my love of nature.

Peace Beyond the Absence of War

I have been extremely fortunate to have been connected with the fine folks at ACGC over the years. They have supplied me with inspiring books and resources for my classroom to help students more closely understand global issues. Most recently, through them I learned about the Peace Beyond the Absence of War National Conference in Montreal, Quebec which I was lucky enough to attend.

The conference aimed to bring together 45 small and medium-sized organizations with 45 Canadian teachers to explore solutions to build a peaceful world.

Attendees were introduced to this Uranian-themed chocolate made by the wonderful chocolatiers, Peace By Chocolate. The Syrian family behind the chocolate has their own incredible story of being refugees faced with unbelievable adversity. The word on the packaging means “Peace” in Ukrainian- a word truly beautiful in any language. Some of the proceeds of the sale of this chocolate will go towards the Peace on Earth Society which funds peace-building projects around the world.

Here are some of the valuable lessons I learned about fostering peace in our complex world:

Olena Suslova joined us via satellite phone from Kiev, Ukraine. She is the founder of the Women’s Information Consultative Center. She spoke about what women and children are facing in Ukraine right now. Her organization provides housing for refugees and also provides mental health counselling for the victims of sexual violence. More information about this can be read in this sobering UNs report. What amazed me most with our live conversation with Ms. Suslova, from a country in the midst of active conflict, was her radiance and optimism. When asked by an audience member whether she thought eastern Ukraine would surrender any time soon, she said, “Never. Ukraine will never surrender.” The power and determination behind her words and the incredible work of her organization leave much to hope for in this time.

Conference attendees were given access to the documentary “not about me” by Yukon-based director Kelly Milner. The film’s website tagline is good intentions and unintended consequences. Before watching the film viewers were asked some survey questions like “What percentage of children in orphanages have living parents?” The film portrayed an 18-year-old Canadian girl from the Yukon who went to hurricane-ravaged Haiti to volunteer in an orphanage. During her time in Haiti she not only learned that the orphans living in the Orphanages there had living parents, she also learned that there was a lot of neglect and child abuse at the orphanages. Over her 10+ years living in Haiti she also learned, however, that there are averse effects of western volunteers coming to underdeveloped nations. Through her time in Haiti Morgan learned her white saviour complex, and that of many western “volunteers”, was highly problematic.

The documentary went into depth about the trouble with voluntourism (the concept of a westerner going overseas to “volunteer” when they more-or-less end up benefitting more themselves form their experience and do little to “help” the country they visited.).

When I actually met Morgan Wienberg in person, I could not contain fan-girling in a serious way. She was also so tall that it made me look even dorkier in this awkward accompanying photo.

I attended a Decolonization 101 workshop that I have since been raving about to anyone who will listen. The presenters of Videa turned conferencing on its head. There was mingling, joke-telling, and informality. They basically showcased a decolonized way of speaking to a group and explained that the power-imbalance of presenter-presentee dynamic is colonial. The Videa members introduced themselves to paint a complete picture of who they were, where they live, what their gender pronouns were, and what they like to do in their free time to demonstrate that there are more than just presenters. A lot of Indigenous content was used. I heard phrases like, ” I’m an uninvited settler living in Tkaronto.” and my mind was blown. Anyway, Videa is an organization that puts the Sustainable Development Goals into action through their decolonization and inclusion workshops, fostering leadership opportunities with Indigenous people, mobilizing youth in social activism, and partnering with similar organization abroad.

Est voila! I’m looking forward to putting many of these valuable lessons to use my the classroom, starting first with the “Connect with Kindness” Videa toolkit perhaps.

The Other Thing Canoes Are Good For- Part II

“George!”, I cried as I slid deeper into the murk….

George saw me out of the corner of his eye. “Oh my god, get out, oh my god are you okay?”

My full Lululemon attire had never seen this kind of active lifestyle before. The poo-soaked lycra weighed me down as I grasped the lagoon’s concrete edge and heaved my body out. I cowered on the ledge, soaked in feces. I was a useless bystander.

The cow was still drowning; her balking was muffled as the manure slowly filled her mouth. In one last attempt to live, the Holstein reached her neck out of the lagoon Simultaneously, George threw the lasso in one last attempt of savior. The loop met the heifer’s neck and ah! he got her.

George threw me the other end of the lasso and I quickly tied it to the Bobcat front-loader. I climbed into the drivers seat while George safely got out of the canoe and onto solid ground. I put the machine into reverse then accelerated. That heifer hung on, and like some beautiful shit birth, she gracefully emerged from the lagoon. She mooed and hollered and yanked on that rope hard. Her black and white Holstein spots were now slimy and brown, but she was free and it was glorious. George and I, stunned with pride, hugged each other. 

“Oh my god, we did it,” I said. 

“That was freaking awesome!” George gloated, “that stupid cow should thank her lucky stars!”

~

My sisters were glad that we didn’t have to go to Plan B, instead they hosed George and I down on the front lawn. Needless to say, I had to throw those clothes out!

The Other Thing Canoes Are Good For- Part I

by Hannah Slomp (2007)

On a lovely spring eve, my family was digesting supper when one of the girls noticed some cows loose in the yard. It was of no immediate alarm since these things happen all the time on the farm due to gates being improperly shut or not shut at all, fences breaking down or broken down by various livestock. This heifer spectacle was one in a million.

Slipping on my mother’s crocks, my sisters and I headed out the door to lead the animals back into their paddock. One would think this is a fairly easy task since cows are the dumbest strain of the mammalian species. This is no exaggeration or prejudiced remark. It is simply a fact, that cows have nothing on their minds other than eating, walking, pooping, and sleeping. This cluster of heifers had walking on the brain. Not to worry, one simply needs to surround the animals in a triangular form and herd them back from whence they came. 

Our simple plan, however, hit a snag when one of the heifers was tempted by the instinct to flee.  

I commanded the girls to close the gate behind the two heifers that had been successful captured and I had no choice but to follow the third fleeing cow, who by that time had made her way behind the barn.

The behinds of barns are places like any other. Although our barn’s behind beheld a lagoon.  Unlike the movies however, our lagoon is not a misty blue water source amidst a lush array of tropical flora. On the contrary, our lagoon is a man-made hole that holds masses of cow excrement primarily for manure-spreading purposes. 

So there was our heifer, absent-mindedly enjoying her short-lived freedom behind the barn. As I came up behind her to shoo her into the barn, she had two choices: 1) to head through the entrance way of the barn’s end and find herself amidst her familiar herd and live life as an exploited prisoner or 2) to find freedom across the lagoon and head yonder to where life is but endless fields of grass and thirst-quenching babbling brooks. If I put myself in the heifer’s hoofs I would definitely choose the freedom scenario. 

What the heifer doesn’t know, again because her brain is the size of a pea, is that the swimming pool-sized lagoon is a viscous trap. There is no crossing it. It looks solid but one you step on it, it acts like unforgiving quicksand. 

I arrived, in my crocks, just in time to watch her prance onto the lagoon, take a few strides, and have her weight give way through the top layer of sun dried feces into the nether quandary of constricting liquid cow POOP.

I felt my heart sink into the poop as well.

I ran back to call for  my brother George who was, non-the-wiser, sauntering his way to the barn to milk the cows. 

“George, the heifer is drowning in the lagoon!” I cried. 

“You’re not serious!” he panted.

We ran to the lagoon’s edge only to find the heifer snout sticking out of the brown murk. She was snorting and gasping for air, struggling to swim out. We could feel her panic and sense her urgency for rescue as she mooed in awful terror. 

“Go get the canoe”, George commanded me.

I found this an odd request, not the best time for a canoe ride George.

I knew full well I could not lift that canoe by myself. But in that adrenaline-rushed moment I reefed the red vehicle off of the rafters, and drug it out as far as I could. George came to help and in one heart-pumping swoop he heaved the canoe over his head and ran towards the lagoon. We arrived at the edge of the merciless murk and heard the begging cries of an animal accepting her fate of death. 

My motherly instincts told my on-looking younger sisters to leave. I said to the oldest, 

“Call the neighbour and get him to bring his shot-gun, we need to put this beast out of its misery”. We needed a drastic plan B if our canoe rescue didn’t work.

George was still on plan A and flung the canoe into the lagoon. With a lasso around his neck, he tried to paddle through the thick cow dung.

“Hold on girl”, he cried, “you’re not gonna die. You listen to me! I’m not going to let you die, not like this”.

Like a skilled prairie cowboy, George flung his lasso towards the drowning heifer, you could only see her snout- steamed gasps of air came out of it. He missed, pulled the rope back, threw it again, and missed again. George tied one end of the rope to his middle and threw the other end to me for security. With another rope, he lassoed, and lassoed, then lassoed again. The heifer was breathing more heavily now, struggling to keep her snout in the air. Then her head went under.

“Get back here, damn it!” George desperately screamed, “you’re not gonna die! Not on my watch”. Her head came back out with an agonizing snort, releasing excrement from her nostrils. 

“Go get the bobcat,” George yelled at me.

“Where is it!”, I panicked, forgetting my bearings. My beating heart was exploding. 

“Dude, it’s in the ally, open the gate and drive it out!”

I ran through the back entrance way, fumbled desperately with the pin-lock on the gate, finally got it open. A life was in our hands, we had no time to loose. I threw the gate open, flung myself into the cabin of the bobcat, somehow remembered from my youth how to turn it on, back it up, accelerate, drive, and parked at the lagoon’s edge. I got out.

“Okay”, George said, “ push me out farther, I can’t reach at this length.”

I stood on the concrete edge and put two hands on the canoe’s stern and pushed while George lassoed the desperate heifer. 

“Oh my god”, George said, “I have never been so far in the lagoon, this is so freaking scary”.

As I pushed the canoe out further, my feet lost their ground, my knees buckled and the next moment I was shoulder deep in cow caca. 

“George!”, I cried as I slid deeper into the murk….

A Series of Tableaux: Haida Supernatural Beings

Terri-Lynn Williams Davidson’s artistic depiction of TidePool Woman, a Haida supernatural being.

I had the pleasure of attending my first Campagnolo Lecture a few Thursdays ago. This lecture series, put on by the Community Justice Centre, is intent on educating the public on restorative justice by bringing in speakers on the topics of First Nations, equity, and the environment. It was here that I heard Terri-Lynn Williams Davidson speak. Ms. Williams Davidson is difficult to introduce. She is a visual artist, lawyer, musician, and activist, to name a few of her accolades. Born and raised in Haida Gwaii, she was in the Comox Valley to exhibit her work visual art in the show entitled “The Hope of the Supernatural Beings” at CVAG which runs from September 29-December 31.

Ms. Williams Davidson focused her lecture on introducing Haida Gwaiian supernatural beings that are ubiquitous in that culture’s folklore. The artist described how in her culture there is Tidepool Woman, for example, who represents the ecology of that geographical feature. Tidepool Woman is a sister/ family member of the Haida people. Ms. Davidson recreated these supernatural beings in a series of evocative tableaux captured on film. The figure each photograph is adorned in the supernatural being’s imagined garb and is depicted in their natural ecosystem, such as the one pictured above and currently on display at the Comox Valley Art Gallery.

What was striking about Williams Davidson’s discourse throughout her lecture was her emphasis on the fact that the natural world in which she grew up in is very much part of herself and her people. She often referred to the Cedar tree as her brother and emphasized the significance this tree had on the establishment and sustenance of Haida communities. Interestingly, Ms. Williams Davidson participated in the Supreme Court ruling that led to the protection of old growth forests and set the precedent of First Nations being consulted before any resource development takes place. Williams Davidson spoke of the importance of recognizing Indigenous law and how traditions, customs, and practices of Indigenous people need to be recognized within the Canadian legal framework.

Terri-Lynn Williams Davidson’s hope is that through her photographs of Haida supernatural beings, viewers will get a stronger sense of the Haida worldview and come to understand the interconnectedness of people and their natural surroundings.

Storm at Sea- The Art of Shelley Vanderbyl

By Hannah Slomp

I am a recent import to the Comox Valley by way of the Rocky Mountains. Moving can leave one feeling uprooted and unsettled. However, it also comes with exciting opportunities to meet people you did’t know were out there and adventure in a vastly different ecosystem.

To settle in to my new surroundings, I sought out local comforts that would make me feel at home. I did a morning yoga class on Goose Spit beach. I ordered coffee from the Local Refillery Cafe. Next, I sought out a piece of the local art scene.

I had been following one woman, Shelley Vanderbyl, on Instagram who is a Courtenay-based artist. I was first intrigued by her tiny paintings in old aspirin-style tins. I was happily able to make an appointment to visit her atelier. I passed the 40-Knots winery on a forested road outside of Comox and pulled in to a steep driveway that led to a quaint home surrounded by earnest Douglas firs. My art caddy, my 6-year-old son, came along for the journey. We may have innocently trespassed into the back garden while announcing our arrival. Our sights caught a busy chicken coop. Before long, Shelley greeted us with a smile and introduced us to her runt chick who was first assumed for dead. Fowl cuddling commenced complete with fawning and cooing.

Moments later, with my son climbing a tree somewhere else, I was led to a brightly lit studio abutting the house with large windows overlooking the yard. Inside, large abstract paintings leaned against the wall. There were low wooden side tables which held tins of brushes, and a harvest table that displayed more canvases. One eye-catching abstract painting was beautifully textured in varying layers of whites and creams surrounding darker swaths of blue juxtaposing flames of orange and yellow. The painting welcomed themes of warmth amidst moments of upheaval. Shelley informed me that her work had recently been part of an exhibit at the Comox Valley Art Gallery as part of a show entitled Under One Sky. Ms. Vanderbyl soon led me to understand that her most recent work deals largely with concepts surrounding post-traumatic stress disorder, search and rescue themes, and feelings of loss and loneliness- all of which could be relayed from the canvas before me.

Other large canvases were propped up along her studio walls. One large abstract work in hues of light blue, white, and pale orange had a patina of fire damage in the bottom right hand corner. Ms. Vanderbyl shared that this piece had been part of a performance piece. She had sewn the word rejection into the canvas and had lit the stitching on fire over the surface of the painting. The charring left evocative residue on the work leaving the markings up to the interpretation of the viewer. What was remarkable was that the damage left by the fire had not effaced the painting but had added depth and dimension to the work.

On her website Shelley is quoted as saying, “This is my life’s work, to heal and inspire.” The artist informed me that her work often leads people to open up about struggles they are facing in their own lives. Upon seeing her work, people are invited to reflect on their own lived traumas, near-death experiences, and existing feelings of despair or loss.

On a wooden bureau near the window a beautiful tin painting captivated me. Shelley explained that the top half was a depiction of a forested area near Winnipeg, where the artist is from. The base of the tin held a painting of a nearby shore- gentle waves alit by the morning sun. A lot of her smaller, hand-held tin paintings have a market in Scandinavian countries I was informed. When asked to reflect on why that might be Ms. Vanderbyl related that in that society there is a great appreciation for art. The arts there are supported by governments and individuals alike. Where art in North American may be acquired for prestige or irony, there is a more genuine, reciprocal relationship with art in Scandinavia- at least that is what is being reflected in the sale of these pieces. There is a certain whimsy behind the idea of carrying a hand-crafted painting in one’s jean pocket that the Scandinavians may have caught on to. Imagine a stressful deadline is coming up at work. Your inbox has countless unanswered emails. You take out your vintage tin, open it up and see the shining shoreline of Seal Bay painted in tiny acrylic brushstrokes. You gaze at it for just for a few moments. Perhaps it will be a moments release, a chance to take a breath. And then you can get back to it.

Shelley Vanderbyl’s work is multifaceted and unforeseen. It may make you reflect on your own day at sea-cold, and wet. Or it may cock your head and provoke you to squeeze the hand you’re holding.

Check out her latest work here.

A note on my hiatus

There is a glaring gap in my posts that can fully be explained by implanted embryos,

birth centres,

oxytocin highs,

zoo play dates,

siblings,

forest paths.

About Town 2014: A Year in Review

2014 was a year of change for me and thus I didn’t log as many cultural experiences as I would have liked to. As the year comes to a close I reflect on the inspiring events that I got to part take in in 2014 and I’m noticing that this year was largely participating in social justice events, awareness raising events, and listening to lessons from activists. So here is what I thought were some of the best gatherings this year, in no particular order.

1) The Lost Twelve Years- Truck Contemporary Art Gallery. Performance art is definitely an art form that I find courageous and intriguing. This particular performance was part of MS:T 7 festival back in October. The venue was at Truck gallery in an industrial space painted white with stark fluorescent lighting. Upon entry artist Chun Hua Catherine Dong was standing naked on a rice paper wall hanging with a Chinese teapot, a supersoaker, and a ceramic bowl around her. The performance began with Ms. Dong repeatedly pinching her brow ridge above her nose between her index and middle finger knuckles. From time to time she stopped to wet her hand in the ceramic bowl which held water then she continued to pinch. After about seven minutes a definitive flesh wound had begun to form taking the shape of a red bhindi-like dot. As she continued this motion the onlookers were initially amused but as it became clear that Ms. Dong was inflicting harm on herself the mood changed to somber then disturbed. Next she picked an object out of the ceramic bowl which appeared to be a wanton soup spoon. With the spoon she began to scrape her throat along her esophagus. She pressed down violently as she repeatedly stroked her throat until a clear red, raw mark appeared. Again the audience did not know where to look or how to look away. Discomfort and concern could be sensed on the faces of the onlookers. My own internal dialogue consisted of me asking myself how long I was going to let the artist maim herself. This was followed by Dong taking the tea pot, turning her back to the audience, and balancing the teapot on top of her head. She proceeded to pour what appeared to look and smell like calligraphy ink down her back. The ink cascaded down her body and landed on the rice paper. Unexpectedly she swiped the ink pot off her head towards the audience. A shard of the pot landed in my lap. The finale consisted of taking the supersoaker (also filled with ink)and shooting herself first in the heart and then the head. She repeated this motion until there was not ink left. All-in-all this was a very distressing performance and I was trying to make sense of it for quite some time. Perhaps something about self-loathing and cultural rejection. When I read up on it it had to do with Dong’s absence from her home country and her wanting to express her experience as an ethnic minority overseas. What I liked about this performance was that it was the most evocative piece I have witnessed and I thought it was quite ambitious for our generally tame city.

2) Marda Loop Justice Film Festival– November– This is quickly becoming an annual favourite for me. Not only is this event free, there are awesome documentary screenings, tasty food from local vendors, and an NGO village. This year, when I wasn’t tabling for human rights with Amnesty, I watched a couple of great films including “The Patent Wars“, “The Human Experiment“, and “La Violencia“. The last film, about women during the Guatamalan genocide was a hard watch and I found the film, “Granito“, on similar subject-matter, much better done.

3) Honens Hullabaloo– September– This event was definitely more high brow than I have experienced in a while. Honens is well-known for putting on excellent events around the city and this one was no exception. This was an evening in French Cabaret style complete with amuse-bouche food sampling from some of Calgary’s best restaurants accompanied by music from pianist Alexandre Tharaud and Canada’s great Martha Wainwright. Ms. Wainwright, one of my favourites, was singing songs from her Edith Piaf album. The mortifying part of this evening, however, was that Martha had to stop her singing several times to tell the noisy audience to shit the f@#$ up! I respected her assertiveness but was embarrassed for the lack of recognition she got from the audience.

4) Wordfest presents Naomi Klein– October– Wordfest is a beloved annual festival in Calgary. Unfortunately I did not attend as many readings as I would have liked to but fortunately I did catch poli-sci favourite, Naomi Klein. She was promoting her new book “This Changes Everything” which is about the imminent danger of climate change and what we need to do to address it to ensure that life can continue on living on earth. I enjoyed this event for a number of reasons, namely it brought together a like-minded group of individuals to a sold-out lecture in an energy industry city where there is not always room for candid discussion on energy alternatives.

5) Vandana Shiva-April– This event was put on by Public Interest Alberta. Hearing Vandana Shiva speak was a pivotal moment in my life. Ms. Shiva is a leading global food security activist and has led many grassroots movements to protect farmer’s rights and biodiversity, starting in India but quickly spreading around the globe. I was there representing the National Farmer’s Union and petitioning against Bill C-18 which has to do with farmer’s right to save seeds. Vandana’s positive energy combined with her knowledge and strong feminine persona made for a very inspiring evening.

6) Sled Island– June– Last year’s flood led to a loss in revenue for one of Calgary’s trending indie music festivals Sled Island. Many generous music patrons donated their tickets to the festival rather than being reimbursed post flood to ensure that the festival could continue in upcoming years. As a result, 2014 saw a great line up of musicians and fans who were gung-ho to participate in the festivities. Luke’s Drug Mart in Bridgeland started off the festival by bringing in Shad and blocking off 1st ave NE. When Neko Case unexpectedly cancelled her Sled Island show a few weeks later the Sled Island organizers decided to offer a free outdoor show at Olympic Plaza including musical acts by Blitzen Trapper and Joel Plaskett. The beautiful Friday evening of the concert turned into an epic rain blitz that resulted in seeking shelter in outhouses and futilely under tree canopies. The next night, staying up until midnight three and a half months pregnant to see St. Vincent, was also well worth it until I accidentally fell asleep on the couches at Flames Central and got woken up by a disapproving security guard.

7) Emmanual Jal Tour- February– I felt really lucky to be part of Emmanuel Jal’s “We Want Peace” tour. Emmanuel visited about ten schools around Calgary and because I volunteer with Amnesty International I was able to get Mr. Jal to speak at my school. This former child soldier-cum-rapper/activist inspired many youngsters and adults alike during his stay and his story really made me think about the power of human resilience.

2015 will undoubtedly bring changes and the landscape of my cultural outings may consist of more baby yoga classes and long walks along the riverside. A whole new kind of cultural world will manifest itself and I’m looking forward to exploring the different parental communities in this city. Until next year, auld lang syne.

Bakeries, where to go and what to get

One of my favourite things to do is bike to a bakery, smell the fresh bread, buy a good-looking pastry, and eat it in the sunshine. The problem I find is that a lot of bakeries are now in large grocery stores and, while the goods may still be tasty, the charm of the bakery experience is lost. Yes, I should have been alive in 17th century France. Fortunately, there are a few places around downtown Calgary which either have delicious baking, great ambiance, quality ingredients, or all of the above.

The first spot that comes to mind is La Boulangerie in Mission. Not only does it have a quaint French feel with small round tables and large glass displays  it also has quality delicate pastries and wholesome breads. I decided to try the vanilla custard croissant here. For the reasonable price of $3.75 my taste buds got whisked away to the south of France, or wherever they make killer custard croissants. I guess I’ll have to compare it to a France-made pastry when I jet-set to Avignon in a few weeks. But if you’re staying in Calgary this summer you may as well be fancy and treat yourself to La Boulangerie.

One of the first bakeries I stopped-in at that really blew me away was Wild Grainz bakery in Inglewood. They have great curb appeal with a big gallery window filled with tantalizing treats. But what is most striking about this bakery is the aromawafting from behind the counter. Olfactorially speaking (yes I made that word up) Wild Grainz gives you the impression that they know quality and they know how to make good bread. I think I grew up as a bread snob. As immigrants my parents may have found the hardest adjustment the flimsy Canadian bread. Of course I jest but I do think my mom’s critical bread eye (dough eye?) may have subconsciously influenced me. So, I bought the harvest multi-grain bread. It had a quality sturdy crust with a soft interior, delicious. I definitely recommend this place if you’re looking for artisan loaves.

A household name in bakeries here in central Calgary is Sidewalk Citizen Bakery. They are also not afraid to admit that they are, “COMMITTED TO THE ART OF MAKING BREAD” which is the only thing you will see on their opening website page. One of the reasons Sidewalk Citizen is known to many is because a lot of their baked goods are sold at local coffee shops. It was here that I overcame my fear of sourdough bread. While I was perusing the adjoining Sunnyside Natural Market a sour-dough sample caught my eye. I tried it and to my surprise it didn’t have the overpowering sour-dough taste that I normally don’t care for, probably also a mother influence. A knowledgeable baker told me about their 4-year-old sour-dough starter and how the quality grain they use allows for a milder taste. I bought a whole loaf and thoroughly enjoyed it, not in one sitting of course.

Because I would be remiss not to give a shout out to my new neighbourbood of Ramsay, I bring you Double Elle Bakery. Owner Leah Layden prides herself on providing a “taste of heritage” by making products made from family recipes passed down for generations. The bakery itself is adorable and is situated across the picturesque and historic Ramsay School. I’m sure many youngsters get distracted in class when the smell of Leah’s brownies and blonde squares comes wafting through the window. There is not really a lot of sitting room, unless you want to enjoy a bun behind the antique, out-of-tune piano. But Double Elle may be the perfect stopping off point on a bike ride home .

Last, but I do say, certainly not least, is Manuel Latruwe  Belgian bakery. It is no coincidence that this fine shop is situated in the same building as Bernard Callebaut because Manuel Latruwe knows good chocolate and contacted Monsieur Callebaut to start a joint venture. And what a fine fusion they have created. I first heard about Manuel Latruwe bakery from a friend of mine who told me that her mother-in-law only buys baguettes there because they are just the best. When I went early July of last year to discover the baked goods for myself I discovered a vacated building decimated by the flood. A year later, I returned, happily to find a Manuel Latruwe polished, open, and ready for business. The ambiance is clean and uncluttered and the display cases are magnifique. Not so much for the display cases themselves as for what was in them: divine miniature cakes elaborately designed, tarts glazed to perfection, pastries delicately dusted with icing sugar, I could go on. I bought what I had come for, the baguette. And in true on-the-go Parisian manner I tore off an end and ate it while biking home. If I had a grandma in the city or a royal family member I would definitely take them here for an enjoyable mid-morning treat.