There's no place like home.

Two months later and I have finally found the time to write a new post. Ironically, it is a time when I should be in a lecture but horrendous Moscow traffic made me ten minutes late (first lesson I have been late to this term) and the professor wouldn't let me in. [It is by far the most boring lecture but I still don't think the principle is right*] I have also decided to treat you to a two-part post to make up for the long summer break; even though nothing has been published, I still make notes on an almost daily basis of thoughts and observations that I would like to include in future posts so here is an attempt to make sense of some of them.

As always, the summer went by in a flash. It seems that the more I try to fit in, the quicker time passes and by the time I touchdown in Heathrow returning from Vancouver Island, the summer already seems nothing but a hazy, distant blur (and not an alcohol-induced blur I might add).

Arriving to Canada is always somewhat of a shock. As I waited for my luggage in Victoria, I heard one man comment on how renting a car from a well-known car rental company had been "the BEST decision that he had EVER made." I dread to think the kind of life he has lead if that really was the best decision he has ever made. Over the course of the following week, I realised that this seemed to be a common theme amongst other Canadians. A co-worker said that carrot cake being on the dessert menu that day was "the BEST thing that had EVER happened to her." Well, it's always good to appreciate the little things in life, there's no doubt about that. Although slightly over-the-top, it was quite a welcome change after months of serious, sad/angry-looking Russians.

As usual, I wasted no time being jet-lagged and quickly settled back into Canadian life; essentially being given never-ending garden chores by my dear mother. It is always lovely to have the family back together... Birthdays especially: turning 23 on the 23rd was celebrated with a bottle of prosecco on our local beach, which we polished off just in time for a police man to walk past (on a dog inspection) commenting that he hoped "it wasn't an alcoholic beverage in our plastic cups". "Of course not!" I replied with a slightly over-enthusiastic giggle. [Compared to life on the other side of the pond, Canada is much stricter about alcohol consumption with state-controlled liquor stores and two pieces of ID being required to buy alcohol and enter alcoholic-orientated establishments; if only the same could be said for other, more natural, herbal substances. Cough cough.]

Another part of our Canadian life is something, or rather, someone I received when I turned 9 on the 23rd. We have a very clever cat who goes by the name of Bluey, and who has been the main keeper of the house for the last 14 years - he moved in a couple weeks after we did. He always seems to overhear us booking his yearly vet appointment and always manages to embarrasses us by deciding not to come for food on the day of his appointment. This year we were ahead of the game and secretly arranged his appointment behind his back. On the day, a plan had been carefully evolved and by inviting him to "join us" for breakfast in the sunroom, we kept him well confined until it was time to go. Success! On the way back, we decided to take the more scenic route along the water. Thinking aloud, my dear mother commented that it was a shame Bluey has lived so close to the beach all his life, and yet, had never seen the ocean and might not get the chance before he left us. Next thing I know, we've stopped the car and made our way to the water's edge, clutching our poor, confused, terrified cat in our arms as we dip his paws in the chilly, salty water. He got his revenge by peeing on my mother's lap and throwing up all the way back home. At least that's one more thing he can check off his bucket list.

Seeing as both our parents had to take a break out of the summer to fly to various places for work, my brother and I decided that we were finally grown up enough to take a trip of our own. Having never really seen mainland Canada, we made Kelowna our chosen destination (out of a grand total of one option as our friends were there for a couple weeks and had invited us.) Bearing in mind that our vehicles are 22 and 23 years old, we felt that the 22-year-old would be more reliable for the mountainous drive. Mountainous to the extent that there were "runaways tracks" every few kilometres, which resembled dirt walls to restrain potential out-of-control trucks. Mountainous to the extent that our van had to be gently encouraged most of the way by playing Rachmaninoff and Mendelssohn piano concerts. And mountainous to the extent that you enter the freeway greeted by a sign saying '157 km till the next gas station', only to follow directly onto the next freeway after 157 km and be greeted by an almost identical sign saying '75km'. One might think it would be sensible to put the sign at the last gas station, BEFORE entering the freeway. But those sneaky Canadians do like to keep you on your toes. Ironically, we made a pit-stop in a small town called 'Hope' on the way. [My fuel tank light came on just as we were entering Kelowna...] Saying that, we made it there and back in one piece and there is no denying that the drive is absolutely breath-taking. 

Daily swims all summer, reading in the sun, evening card games and fresh food from the garden for lunch and dinner made me very appreciative indeed. My boss at work, when deciding where to go on holiday at the end of summer, very wisely said, 'I mean once you've seen British Columbia, you've seen it all, haven't you.'

And buying a Tim Hortons doughnut at the airport was the BEST decision I have EVER made.

Lots of love,

A xx

The beginning of the ultimate outdoor piano treasure hunt. 

Forty is a magic number.

The pleasure one gets from a dip in the ocean.

Too busy taking a picture and missed the ferry by three cars.

Once you've seen BC, you've seen it all. 

AirBnb views from Joe - who is writing a bass part for my brother to record his next album of 'wood' music.

Hornby-Islanders keep to a tight and rigorous schedule.

*I managed to catch him afterwards and explained why I thought it was unfair. He understood and accepted my points and didn't put me down as absent.