Drone-Effect Selfie

I've often thought about buying a drone. To get a bird's eye view from a spot that only a bird could see.

And a few years ago, I bought a recreational drone, but it was as cheap as it was inexpensive, and I could never get the control or quality of image that I wanted from it. I still have it but will likely never fly it again. It's useless in wind and I've crashed it into too many trees.

I have as many reasons for not owning a proper drone as I have for wanting one. And so, I sit on the fence.

But I can still get drone-like shots from my 360-degree video camera and I'm having lots of fun with it, even though I can only get so much height as my monopod and selfie stick allow.

Last month, DW and I took our kayaks out for the last time of this season. We drove to Long Sault, along the St. Lawrence Seaway, and paddled around the chain of islands that are linked by the Long Sault Parkway.

It's in this area that, in the 1950s, the St. Lawrence River was flooded so that the seaway would allow large freighters to move goods all the way to Lake Ontario. As a result of the flooding, a few villages were wiped off the face of the map.

There's not much to see when you explore this area: some bits of concrete where building foundations once stood, and the bed of a railway line where it came to a station were all that DW and I saw. We had planned to paddle to some villages that are in the seaway, proper, but high winds and a strong current told us that we shouldn't venture out on that day, so we stuck to the inside part of the parkway.

We made our way to Wales Island, where we found what was left of the railway line and station. The water around this area is very shallow, and we found that sometimes our kayaks would scrape against the gravel and sandy bottom.

Because I was hoping to capture some of our findings on video, I had my Insta360 One R mounted to a selfie stick and attached to a forward hatch on the deck of the kayak. From this vantage, the camera can see me as I paddle and also the scenery ahead of the bow. I swing between views in post-production.

As Insta360 says, shoot first; aim later.

I wasn't that impressed with what we found on our excursion, but to try and get the best angle of view, I extended the selfie stick to its maximum length, which is just under a metre (I have a monopod from Insta360 that extends to a full metre, but it tends to capture water and my selfie stick is waterproof). From this height, I could capture me and everything below the shallow waterline.

I decided that I didn't want to make a video of this kayak trip, but I took some stills from the video. One, I'm currently using as my profile pic on Twitter. Using the Tiny Planet effect, it's perfect for the circular photo.

Here's another screen capture. It's set at the camera's widest angle without creating the Tiny Planet effect. I like how the camera, from this height, was able to hide any stitching lines. After all, there are two lenses that are used for this photo: one, looking forward; the other, looking straight back.

It's as though I took the shot with a drone. But I don't have a drone. Not yet.

Possibly, not ever. I'm still undecided.

Happy Friday!

Beer O'Clock: G'Deh!

These days, when I see IPA on the label of a beer can, I hesitate. Is this going to be a true IPA-style beer or is IPA on the label simply to draw attention? Is it an IPA the way the British had intended or is it a contradiction, like a black IPA or a hazy, tropical-fruit punch?

When I see IPA on the label, that's what I want: a deep amber gold to copper colour, creamy head, with notes of grapefruit and pine. I want good hops and a solid, bitter finish.

Don't get me wrong. I do love those hazy, fruity ales. I just wish brewers would stop associating them with an IPA.

So when I saw that Spearhead Brewing Company has introduced a collaborative brew with Australian brewery, Sea Legs, and called it a "Transcontinental IPA," I was a bit nervous. After all, the Aussies aren't known for embracing anything British. What was I going to see when I opened the can and poured its contents into my glass? What would I smell? How would it taste?

Here are the answers I was waiting for:

G'Deh! Transcontinental IPA
Sea Legs Brewing Co. & Spearhead Brewing Co.
Kangaroo Point, Queensland & Kingston ON
6.8% ABV, 50 IBU

Appearance: a clear, deep amber to copper colour, just as a classic IPA should look. The head poured thick and foamy but quickly settled to a dense, creamy-beige head. So far, so good.

Nose: lush grapefruit, straight-off. Lots of citrus on the bouquet. I was happily encouraged to take a sip.

Palate: bitter resin and spice, like clove. I also detected white pepper in the flinty finish, which holds on and doesn't let go. It says, "here I am, this is what you want. Take another sip." I was happy to comply. I detected alcohol in the finish but only through subsequent mouthfuls and never overpowering: this was a potent brew but not boozy.

Overall impression: this is, beyond a doubt, an IPA. Though the bitterness units fall smack in the middle of what a classic British IPA provides (anywhere from 40 to 60 IBUs), it has a mouthfeel of a much bitter ale. Perhaps it's because of the spiced notes that adds to the impression. Either way, I like it, though I think I would have appreciated a bit more grapefruit on the palate, and not just in the nose.

But there's no doubt that the can unreservedly deserves those three initials on the label. This is a very good IPA. A classic English IPA, made by Australians and Canadians.

Beer O'Clock rating: 🍺🍺

I was almost tempted to give this ale a perfect score of three mugs, simply because it called itself an IPA and truly was an IPA: not a session IPA, nor a NEIPA,  nor a West Coast IPA, nor the dreaded black IPA (if it's black, what does the P stand for??).

But I rate this IPA as 🍺🍺 simply because it is what it says it is: no more, no less. It's an honest-to-goodness IPA. It's a solid-drinking ale that I would be happy to enjoy anytime and am happy to recommend. Giving three mugs means that this ale would deliver as advertised, and then give more, and I didn't get that from this lovely ale. Perhaps more grapefruit in the mouth might have provided a more flavourful profile.

This IPA is an all-round, good brew, and both Spearhead and Sea Legs can be proud. Maybe, it's worth two-and-a-half mugs.

If you like IPAs—and I mean true IPAs—don't pass this one up. It's a limited release, so get your hands on some. You can purchase it directly from Spearhead Brewing, but if you're outside the Kingston area, they will deliver anywhere in Ontario.

I would like to thank the wonderful folks at Spearhead for sending me this wonderful IPA, as well as the British red/amber that I reviewed on Tuesday.

Cheers!

Ducks

Beer O'Clock: Amber of the North

When the cold weather settles in, I turn from the lighter ales—sessions, saisons, wheat ales, Kölsches, pale ales, and so on—to brews with a bit more body and lasting finish: stouts, porters, wee heavies, brown ales, Scotch ales, and the like.

And then there's amber ales.

I have to admit, though I like amber ales, they are not the sort of beer that I turn to very often. I don't know why that is; perhaps, it's due to there similarity to Irish red ales, of which I'm not a great fan (though I have had some exceptional Irish reds in my days). They're similar, but not really the same.

And yet, I don't often yearn for an amber ale. Until one fell in my lap (or, rather, came to my doorstep).

The folks at Spearhead Brewing Company, in Kingston, have been kind enough to send me care packages over the years. They were one of my favourite Ontario breweries well before they started doing this, and I have really appreciated their generosity, especially during the pandemic.

It's like friends paying you an unexpected visit, and I welcome them into my home.

Last Friday, a small box was delivered by courier, and as soon as I saw the dimensions of the package, I knew that Spearhead had treated me again. Inside the box was six cans of two distinct brews: one, an IPA collaboration with an Australian brewery, which I will review next (come back on Thursday for that one); the other, you guessed it, was an amber.

It's hard to believe that I haven't written a Beer O'Clock review since March (incidentally, it was of another fabulous offering by Spearhead). I haven't done a video review on my Brown Knowser YouTube channel since January.

I admit, it's the YouTube channel that has kept me away. I find my video reviews a bit hard to watch and because I haven't wanted to make more, I seem to have moved away from beer reviews altogether. Starting today, that ends.

If you like the video reviews, let me know in the Comments, below, and if I get enough encouragement, perhaps I'll make more. In the meantime, Beer O'Clock is back on The Brown Knowser blog.

So let's jump right to this one:

Amber of the North British Red Ale
Spearhead Brewing Co., Kingston ON
4.8% ABV, 15 IBU

Appearance: this British red pours a clear, deep copper-red with a generous, foamy beige head that comes on thick, clings to the glass as the beer moves down the glass, leaving a lace sleeve, and never loses a solid, creamy cap all the way down.

Nose: light caramel and spice, though the nose doesn't really open until you're well into your drink. But when it does, the malts are rich, warm and comforting.

Palate: there's an ever-so-slight creaminess that carries the malts straight off, but then a lightly toasted nuts and pine resin fills the mouth and the hops, while mild, are evident. Though low in alcohol, the body is full, given the backing of the hops. There's a medium fruity finish that makes this an easy-drinking amber.

I read the profile description on Spearhead's Web site after my first two glasses were finished and learned that they detect "chocolate, molasses and honey undertones with vanilla," but I didn't find that myself. Nor did I pick up dried fruit in the aroma. (This is why I never read a description of a beer until I have fully sampled it.)

Overall impression: drinking this amber (or British red) makes me wonder why I don't drink this style more often. There are balanced and solid flavours, it's easy-drinking, and it's perfect for a cold autumn evening. And because of the relatively low alcohol level, you can enjoy a couple without any trouble. Amber of the North is a perfect new addition to Spearhead's lineup. It's a solid amber that I would happily reach for.

Beer O'Clock rating: 🍺🍺🍺 (see rating descriptions in the right-hand margin)

You can find Amber of the North at Spearhead's brewery, but if that's out of your way, they'll ship it anywhere in Ontario.

Beer O'Clock will return with a review of Spearhead's other new brew, on Thursday. My Beer O'Clock reviews will return to their Thursday slot after that, though not necessarily every week. I still like to share the occasional Throwback Thursday post.

Cheers!

Nightscape

In January of 2020, before everything went to shit, DW, our then-16-year-old daughter, and I went to Toronto because of a music workshop that our kid was attending, and she was also considering the big T-O as a candidate for post-secondary education. It was also a good time to visit with some friends who live in the GTA: one, who was soon to be celebrating a birthday and had offered to put us up in her Airbnb unit, just off the Danforth.

For her birthday, our friend wanted us all to go out for an evening at an axe-throwing game bar. We have one in Ottawa's east end, which I had visited two years earlier, and I was looking forward to burning off some aggression, as January of 2020 was the month in which I had participated in Dry January.

BATL Axe Throwing is located in the old port district of Toronto, Port Lands, just south of where the Don Valley Parkway ends at the Gardiner Expressway. At night, this part of the city looks downright dodgy; in the day, it seems to be an area of transformation and growth. Lots of businesses, nightclubs, and even a drive-in theatre seem to occupy the dockyards.

We had a great time with our friends, throwing axes, sipping drinks (they even served the non-alcoholic beer that I reviewed for Dry January), and catching up. When game night wrapped up, we returned to our friend's house where we drank and chatted some more.

But as we pulled out from Port Lands, I was met with a great cityscape of Toronto and I wanted to return with my camera equipment to capture the city at night. Only, I was loathe to leave my friends and I was feeling a bit nervous about being in a dodgy neighbourhood with which I was unfamiliar, on my own.

Another time, I told myself.

Twenty-one months later, DW and I were back in T-O to visit our kids, who had decided to stay in their respective campus residences, rather than come home for the Thanksgiving weekend. But because DW and I wanted to see them, and because my parents wanted to see my younger sister, who also lives in Toronto, we all decided to make the long weekend a family gathering. Our elder daughter caught a GO train from near her campus and stayed with us in a hotel in the Old Toronto neighbourhood.

We had a great weekend and the weather, though rainy on our first night, was great on the second day, Sunday. And though the number-one purpose of our trip was to be with family, I told DW and the others that I wanted to take some time, one evening, to drive back to Port Lands to capture an image of the skyline. I was still nervous about going alone, so I was hopeful that somebody would join me.

In the days leading up to the Thanksgiving weekend, I went onto Google Maps to find the best place to park my car and stand to get my shot, and I was pleasantly surprised to learn that there was a small park and boardwalk along the end of the pier. It would be easy to pull over, hop out of the car with my gear, get to the boardwalk, set up and take my shots, and jump back in the car. I still wanted to have someone join me, because I didn't know what this park would be like or if it would be safe at night, but at least I had a definite spot.

I needn't have worried. There are a couple of nightclubs at the end of Polson Street, which is well-lit. Lots of young people were coming and going, as this cul-de-sac seemed to be alive, particularly at Jennifer Kateryna Koval's'kyj Park.

Both DW and our elder daughter came with me, as we had just finished having a wonderful Italian dinner at a restaurant with my girls, parents, and sister, and had also just dropped our younger kid at her residence, as she had plans for later that evening.

At first, DW and our elder kid just wanted to wait in the car, rather than explore the park and pier. The pier isn't lit very much, but that suited me for my purposes. Around me, young couples and friends strolled the boardwalk or found spots upon which to sit and take in the city lights.

I quickly mounted my Nikon D750 on the tripod and opened the legs, but didn't extend the height. The shot would be as close to the ground as possible, without simply setting the camera on the ground. I had a 50mm fixed lens, which took in the skyline nicely, and roughly at the same magnification as the human eye. I set the camera into a manual mode, and shot.

I experimented with a few different exposure times and aperture settings, and moved the camera angle a couple of times. During some long exposures, I also fired off a few quick shots from my smartphone's camera. In only a few minutes, I had about 10 shots and decided that was enough.

Back at the car, I showed DW some of the captured images from my phone. "Oh, I want to see that," she said. Our daughter, who was listening to music through her headphones was content to staying put, so we locked her in the car and gave her a fob, just in case she needed to move the car. DW and I returned to where I had taken my shots, and she captured some of her own with her own smartphone.

My best shot? Here you go:

I have also rendered this shot with a Prisma filter, and I'm even considering enlarging it on a canvas print.

Now that I've been to this spot at night, I'm no longer fearful of returning, and I'd like to do so to capture Toronto's skyline at different times of day. Perhaps a sunset shot? Sunrise? On a foggy day? I'd also like to change lenses and get some zoomed-in closeups.

With our kids in the GTA, there will be plenty of opportunities to return to Port Lands and capture the city.

Happy Friday!

Dining During a Pandemic

I've been reluctant to put myself around strangers during this pandemic.

For the first year, I only went to grocery stores when we really needed to stock up, and I would only go at off-hours: I'd hit up our local Farm Boy on a Friday evening about 15 to 20 minutes before the doors closed. With only a handful of customers in the store, I'd be able to zip around the produce and negotiate aisles without encountering anybody.

For trips to Costco, DW and I would go as soon as doors opened, and again we were able to quickly get what we needed before the crowds arrived.

For other shopping, I'd either do a curbside pickup or have a required item delivered.

My family and I didn't dine in restaurants, even when restrictions were eased. We would either order take-out food or have it delivered to our doorstep. But after DW and I were fully vaccinated, we ventured out to our first patio in more than a year.

It felt strange, and we almost forgot how to interact with a server, though it all worked out okay. Some things were different, of course: the menu was accessed on our phones through a QR code; we put on our masks when we weren't eating or when we left our table. But it was all good.

As more and more of our friends were becoming vaxxed, we went out more often but we limited our dining to patios only. I didn't want to be in a confined space with the air being spread around the room with possible water droplets that contained the virus.

I told myself, and my family and friends, that I'd only dine indoors when everyone in the restaurant was fully vaxxed.

That time finally came over the Thanksgiving weekend, when DW and I drove to Toronto to join our kids, my parents, and my younger sister. Because we were staying in a hotel, we knew that we'd have to dine indoors at some point.

The patio at King Taps.

On our first evening, we found a spot that had a rooftop patio, and the weather allowed us to dine out. But to access the patio, we had to pass through the restaurant and were required to provide proof of vaccination.

It was no problem for anybody in our party, and after a few minutes of showing our vaccination receipts and photo identification, and filling out an online form. It was well worth the effort to get a great table at the restaurant with a great view of the city. The food and drinks were also worth the effort.

The next morning, we found a wonderful breakfast spot that was not far from our hotel. It also had an outdoor patio area, extended out onto the street, so no proof of vaccination was required. We were outside and far from other tables, so there was no issue.

George Street Diner

The same went for lunch, when we sat on a patio on Toronto's harbourfront.

Terroni Adelaide

But dinner was a whole different matter. We had reservations at a restaurant, sitting indoors. This would be DW's and my first indoor dining experience since the pandemic started. The thought of this evening made me nervous, and I was tempted to see if the restaurant had a patio.

It did, but it was unnecessary.

A masked doorman stood on the steps to the restaurant, and as we approached he asked to see our proof of vaccination and identification. Once shared, he held the door open and allowed us inside. In the reception area, we had to scan a QR code and fill out an online form, much like we did the previous evening. Again, it only took a few minutes and, once done, we were led to our table.

The table was in a large room with high ceilings. Tables were spread far apart and it appeared that less than half of the capacity of this room was being used. Once seated, we could remove our masks.

We were spoiled by the service and the quality of the meal. This was our Thanksgiving meal and I was thankful that I was surrounded by family, all of whom were healthy and happy.

The next day, we all met once again, for brunch, at a restaurant in a shopping mall near my sister's place, at Yonge and Eglinton. Again, proof of vaccination was required. But this time, while one of my daughters had a digital copy of her vaccination receipt, she had forgotten her wallet with her identification in our car.

Though seven of eight people were able to provide identification, the greeter of the restaurant would not bend the rules for our kid. We had to retrieve my daughter's wallet.

Fortunately, DW had a photograph of our daughter's health card, which showed her name and a photo, and the greeter accepted this (though, we were prepared to run back to the car to get the same ID). The greeter apologized for being diligent, but in response I thanked her for that diligence. "You're making all of us safer," I said, "and I appreciate it."

No one wants this pandemic and we all want it to be over as soon as possible. I'm for restricting indoor dining to fully-vaxxed patrons. I don't mind carrying proof with me, nor do I mind having to fill out forms before I'm seated. It's a small price to pay for peace of mind.

Get the shots. Provide the proof. And enjoy your dining experience.

Looking Up

Falling Fast

Our neighbour's tree, which towers above our shared front lawn, is close to bare.

Typically, this honey locust changes from a bright green to a rustic yellow over the first month of autumn, and over the fall season, until the first full snow, the small leaves drop and are carried down the street by the October and November winds.

That didn't happen this year.

Instead, half of the leaves seemed to turn yellow overnight, and within less than a week, almost all of them have left the tree, fully covering our lawn and blanketing our car in the driveway. To see our walkway, I had to sweep it, providing me with a preview of having to break out my winter shovel.

Saturday's rain. By Sunday, most of the leaves had left the tree.

Indeed, it seems that this past weekend, with the heavy rain and light but steady breezes, the leaves are leaving trees much more quickly than usual. And last week, with the above-average temperatures, and this weekend's sudden drop to just-below-normal temperatures has caused the trees to explode in a flash of colour.

Fall seems to be suddenly accelerated and I'm not seeing as many colourful leaves on the trees as on the ground.

Autumn is my favourite time of year and I usually grab my cameras and head out into nature, but I've done so little so far. And I fear that by the time I am able to get out, the leaves will be gone.

I have stopped, once, on one of my bike rides to capture the leaves on the trees. Last Thursday, as I cycled from North Gower toward Richmond, on Fourth Line Road, I was drawn to a green pasture with a colorfully treed background. In the foreground, cows were grazing and standing around.

It was my first autumnal photograph of the season.

During this weekends downpours, we lucked out with a brief window of light, just before sunset, and I happened to have my D-SLR handy. There weren't many leaves left on the trees around me, as DW and I were visiting our friend, near Plantagenet, but I managed to snap a couple of fiery shots. (I haven't pulled those photos from my camera, yet. Stay tuned.)

I don't know that I'll be able to capture many more photos of colourful trees, but I'll try sometime this week.

Autumn seems to be falling fast, taking the leaves with it. I just hope it doesn't mean that the snow is coming sooner.

A Shot in the Dark

Photographers do it all the time.

We take a series of flash photos, and sometimes the flash fails to fire. We look in our preview screen and a black void stares back at us. And so we take another shot, the flash goes off, and we don't give the dark shot another thought.

Until, that is, artificial intelligence came along.

Ever since DW gave me a copy of Luminar AI photo-editing software, I've gone back to some of my older photos and have seen if I can further enhance an image. Sometimes, I fill a blank sky with clouds or a sunset. Other times, I see if I can add a filter that changes the overall look or mood of the photo.

And sometimes, just for fun, I see if I can bring a lost image back to life.

Because Luminar AI has some neat portrait filters and editing tools, I've been going back to some of the model shoots that I've done, over the years, to see if I can change or improve what I've already created. I've seen if I can change how the light is cast over a model's face or I've added a filter that transforms the entire look of the photograph.

Recently, out of curiosity, I've looked at some of those dark images, where the flash didn't fire, and I wondered what the artificial intelligence could do with a RAW file that I had considered deleting from an image folder.

In August, 2018, I met with some photographers from my Meetup group at a farm in Ottawa's south end, just west of Manotick. Though this is a working farm, there are some abandoned structures, including a farmhouse and a barn. Today, I question whether the barn is safe enough for people to enter, but the farmhouse, despite the peeling paint on the walls and water stains and mildew on the ceilings, still has good bones. But in 2018, we used both of these structures for some creative photography.

Our model for this meetup was the talented and versatile Denisa Strakova, from the Czech Republic. Denisa works in fashion, classic portait, and artistic nude photography. As a lover of dance, she loves to be captured in dance poses. And for this shoot, she adorned her ballet toe shoes to strike some beautifully elegant poses that were juxtaposed against a desolate setting.

We used some ambient light that flowed from a window but also used a softbox studio light to further illuminate the room. With a trigger attached to my camera's hot shoe, I was able to fire the softbox remotely. Only, sometimes the flash failed.

Because Denisa was continually moving, if the flash didn't fire, it was hard to get her to recreate that identical pose, and so that moment would be lost. In the grand scheme of things, that wasn't an issue because most of the time, her graceful movements would be captured.

When I originally processed my images, I would see thumbnails of the black shots and my brain would automatically discount them. My eyes would search for the photos that were perfectly exposed, and I would work from those files.

Recently, I returned to my files from that photo shoot, and I was looking to alter some of the source files for photos that I had already processed, using PaintShop Pro as my editing software. Looking through the thumbnail images again, my eyes saw the black rectangular previews of nothingness, and this time I thought I'd see what Luminar could do.

Here is the RAW image, with nothing done other than to convert it to a JPEG:

One for the Recycle Bin, right?

By using Luminar AI, I applied the first preset filter that appeared from the Templates tab, which was in the Big City Lights collection. I told myself that this was definitely the wrong group of filters, but I humoured myself anyway.

From this group of filters, I clicked the first one, Frosty, and was amazed at the amount of information that the RAW image held. I could actually see things. The wall and Denisa's gown were cast in a cool-blue hue, while her skin and the window frame lit up with a warm, orange glow.

I kept this filter and went to the Edit tab, where I applied Luminar's default white balance, pulled back on the highlights, and reduced the shadows. Some sharpening, some noise reduction, and some high-key touchups, and this is what I got:

Pretty amazing, right? Considering I saw absolutely nothing in the RAW image, this was a huge improvement.

I wondered if my trusty old PSP could do as well, or even better. I let the program apply its own settings with its Smart Photo Fix tool, applied some noise reduction, and added a fill flash, and here's the result:

I know: it's not much better than the source file.

Not content to just work with one file, I chose another image where the flash failed to fire. Actually, I had taken two consecutive shots where the flash didn't go off. As I remember, I switched triggers at one point, and the problem went away.

Here's the very next shot, without editing:

Here's the Luminar AI edit, with a different filter (City Thrills) and similar editing:

I was sure that I could do better with PSP, so this time I didn't use the Smart Photo Fix feature. I applied the Fill Light/Clarity tool, bumping the Fill Light level to 40 (out of 127—don't ask me why that's the range). Denisa was visible, but not by as much as I wanted, so I applied the same tool at the same setting (which tends to be different than just setting the level to 80 from the start).

There was a massive improvement. I then applied some white balance and noise reduction, and performed a high-pass sharpening and a fill flash, which boosts the light saturation.

This is it:

Which shot do you prefer? I've set the images side-by-side: on the left, the Luminar AI edits; on the right, the PSP edits.

From an exposure aspect, the photos are still dark and lack definition. But I think that from an artistic perspective, the images create a wonderfully dark mood. And I'm glad that I could revive a photo that was shot in the dark.

What do you think? Please leave a comment.

Happy Friday!

Reviewing Reviews

Years ago, after my novel had been available for online purchase from a handful of book stores and shopping sites for several years (it was published almost 10 years ago), I found myself checking these sites to see if there had been any reader reviews.

I'm genuinely interested in whether someone who has graciously taken the time to read the 440 pages has given even more of his or her time to let others know about their impressions. At that time, only one reader had left a review, on Amazon.ca, for Songsaengnim: A Korea Diary.

The reviewer had given my novel three stars out of five, which is actually a score that I gave myself after I read the completed, printed book. Roland is a fairly believable character and we can easily follow along with him as he experiences a new way of life while reflecting on his past, from which he is desperate to escape. But at times, I find the writing tedious and I've always found that the ending wrapped up a little fast.

It's not a happy ending (not an overly sad one, either) and there really is no conclusion. But when I first wrote Songsaengnim, I meant for it to cover a two-year period in which Roland is in South Korea. As I came to the end of the first year, I felt the story was too long for one book and so I made the decision to cut the story in half and make Songsaengnim the first of a two-parter.

I told myself that I could write the second part in a year—two, at most.

(Yeah, I'm still laughing at that one.)

This Amazon reviewer was spot-on in that there are grammar and spelling mistakes. My editor caught most of them but not all. I'll be much more careful for the sequel. The reviewer also thought the ending was too short. I couldn't agree more.

It's fair that the reviewer didn't like Roland, though he or she refers to the author, rather than the character, and Roland and I are very different people. He or she called Roland back-stabbing and without remorse.

Okay.

But the reviewer also liked the day-to-day experiences in Korea, albeit some days were mundane.

It's a fair review and the rating is, as I said, what I would give the book, myself.

Yesterday, a social-media friend referred to a collective book-reading site, goodreads.com. It's where you can meet with people to see what each other is reading and get reviews on books. Out of curiosity, I searched for my book and was excited to see it was listed on the site.

Two people who use the site had marked my book as one that they wanted to read. Those indicators were a few years old, and I don't know if they ever read the novel.

Four people had rated the book, as recently as September of last year. One person is a Twitter buddy of mine. The average score for my book was four stars: two five-star ratings, a four, and a two.

The person who gave me a two-star rating also left a review, and I was curious to learn why he didn't seem to like the story. The review starts positive, where the reviewer mentions that the story is structured as a diary, which he finds to be a good thing. But the reviewer then says that he doesn't like how the story has been written in the past tense, something he says makes the flow awkward.

For me, diaries are usually written in the past tense because the action has already happened. When I was actually keeping a diary, while I lived in Chŏnju, I wrote about my day or weekend, and everything was in the past tense. And how many stories are written in the present tense, anyway?

The reviewer then goes on to say that the main character seems self-indulgent (it's a diary), with most of the action focusing on the expat characters, rather on the Korean ones. Here, I respectfully disagree.

Roland does interact with Koreans. We know about the secretaries at the hagwon and get to know a bit about some of Roland's students. But when Roland is away from class, he tends to interact with his fellow teachers and expat friends. I don't see how Koreans are excluded from the story.

If you've read the book and agree with this reviewer, I'd be interested to hear your take.

I'm not upset at the reviewer, nor am I hurt by his words. It sounds to me as though he was looking for more depth on Korea and Koreans, and this story is about a westerner's journey as he tries to cope with his tragic past.

I've only read two reviews from readers, and I'd love to hear more. As I say when I meet people who are reading my book, "If you don't like the book, I'd love to know why you don't. If you love the book, tell everyone about it."

Because I'm still working on the sequel, Gyeosunim, I'm constantly re-reading my drafts, looking to fix the spelling and grammar errors. And I'm restructuring so that the end product will grip the readers and make them want to turn pages. I've taken these reviews to heart, and I'm hoping that my readers won't be disappointed.

When I eventually finish it, that is.

If you've read my novel, please consider leaving a review on one of the online sites. If you didn't like it, tell me why. If you loved it, tell everyone why.

Cheers!

Church and Front

The Fall

Whenever our orchids start to lose their flowers, I get a little worried.

You see, DW and I used to be the killers of orchids.

As much as we were careful not to over-water or under-water the plants, as much sunlight as we gave them, they seemed to thrive for the first month or so that we had them, and then, when the flowers dropped off, they never came back.

A year after, with no signs of life from the orchids, even though we continued to care for them, we would give up and replace the plants with new ones, only to go through the sad process again.

A few years ago, we bought a pink orchid plant. That same week, my mother gave DW a white orchid plant for her birthday. We still loved the flowers but we were becoming used to keeping them for only a year. That time seemed to be no different.

Except, about six months after they had lost their flowers, new buds appeared on both plants. A few weeks later, both pink and white orchids were growing in abundance. Our losing streak seemed to have come to an end.

We've had both plants for several years and have had flowers come and go. We've trimmed off the shoots that have dried up, pleased to see new ones take their place. When both plants are in full bloom, they look absolutely amazing.

We don't know what has changed and why these orchids seem to survive, but we're not arguing.

But I still get a little worried when I start to see the flowers wither and drop off. I can't help but wonder if this is the end of flowers.

This autumn, the fall has started again.

Time to wait.

No Turkey

It's Canadian Thanksgiving. I hope you are able to safely celebrate with your loved ones.

We celebrated, last night, in Toronto, surrounded by family in an Italian restaurant. Around the table were DW, our kids, my parents, and my younger sister, who lives in the city. We were thankful that we're all fully vaxxed and healthy, and able to celebrate together.

But we ate no turkey.

That's okay. While we love a traditional Thanksgiving dinner, it's nice to change it up every once and awhile. Decades ago, when my siblings and I still lived at our parents' home, there was one year that my mother decided that she didn't want to prepare a big turkey dinner, that she wanted to be pampered. So our father packed us all up and went downtown. We ate a wonderful meal at Mamma Grazzi's.

Another Italian restaurant.

If we do this one more time, it'll be another family tradition.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Under a Van Gogh Sky

The pattern of the high cirrus clouds was captivating. It was as though someone had taken a giant can of white spray paint and had slashed it all over the sky.

Walking from the exit doors of my local Home Depot, I couldn't help but turn my head upward. As DW and I made our way through the parking lot to our car, I knew one thing: as soon as I had free hands, I would capture this image.

Yes, I did increase the contrast and saturation, and lower the highlights. But that's it, and by no more than a 10-percent increase for the first two aspects, and a 25-percent reduction for the highlights.

As I said, I thought the sky looked as though a graffiti artist had taken spray paint to the sky. But when I showed the photo to my mother, later that evening, and as some of my Twitter followers also attested when I shared it on social media, she said it looked more like something that Vincent Van Gogh might have painted.

I stand corrected.

Happy Friday!

Away

I miss my girls.

Both are away at college and university. Both are following their passions: one, pursuing her love of games; the other, living her dream of being a musician. I couldn't be happier for either of them.

We keep in touch regularly. I send them text messages, asking how they're doing. I occasionally send them pictures of our cats, as the kids miss them, too. We have FaceTime chats where DW and I find out how they're getting on and whether they need anything. One lives in residence, just down the hall from the cafeteria, for which she has a meal plan, and she tells us what she likes to eat and what she dislikes. The other lives in residence where she has to prepare her own meals with groceries that she has to buy from a grocery store, a couple of kilometres away.

When she's busy with an assignment and forgets to eat, we order food for her and have it delivered. We stay on a chat with her to make sure she knows when the driver is arriving, so that she can go down to the lobby to pick it up. DW will order her breakfast at a Tim Horton's that is across the street. Our daughter just has to walk over to pick it up.

At home, it's a lot quieter in the house than it was over the summer, when both girls were living with DW and me. I miss them when I stop and notice the silence.

When they headed off to their respective institutions, they said that they would not be coming home for Thanksgiving, and a piece of my heart broke. So DW and I made plans to celebrate the upcoming holiday in Toronto. My parents will be joining us, as my younger sister also lives in Toronto and they thought it would be nice to have us gather together for a nice dinner.

I miss my girls, but we'll be together again soon.

Father's Day, 2012.

Pastoral Moonrise

Vacationing Abroad

I'm getting so close to calling the whole thing off.

DW and I have been desperate to travel since our vacation to Europe was cancelled. We had booked our flights and accommodation in Belgium, Germany, and the Netherlands, where we were supposed to go at this time, last year, only to have the pandemic come along, causing us to put a pin in our trip.

Like so many people, we've been anticipating the so-called return to normal, when we can start travelling again. In the meantime, we've made lists of where we want to go when it's safe to board a plane and leave Canada.

DW and I absolutely loved our Mexican vacation, where we stayed in an all-inclusive resort on the Mayan Riviera and rented a car, which allowed us to explore the attractions, on our own. We still watch the video that we made, and long to return.

To that end, we booked a return trip for next February.

But DW wants to get away sooner, and so she searched for vacation deals in December, before Christmas. She's looked up Jamaica, Costa Rica, Cuba, and the Dominican Republic, and found a great deal in the D.R. The resort booked, we looked forward to another Caribbean getaway.

Having the trip booked, though, didn't keep DW from searching for better deals. She's sat me down and we've watched countless YouTube videos of various resorts and vacation destinations, to the extent that I've said, "Enough!"

It's information overload but it also becomes more of a chore, in doing the research, than a relaxing destination.

I've told DW to search all she wants but to keep me out of it. I don't care where we go, as long as there's a comfortable bed at the end of the day, good food, lots of drinks, and lots of exploring. Wherever she chooses to go will be fine by me.

She's still looking, and every so often she mentions what she's found.

"Book whatever," I say, "I'm good."

The latest thing that DW is researching is the vaccination rates of the locals and what the protocols for visitors are. This is a good thing to look into. We're doubly vaxxed but it's important to us that the people who interact with us are also vaccinated. We protect them: they protect us.

"Eighty percent of Cubans are vaccinated," DW told me the other day. "Fewer than half of the people in the D.R. have even their first dose."

"That's concerning," I said.

"Their protocol for travellers is pretty lax."

"I'm not liking that."

"Cuban resorts offer tests for visitors who are heading back home," she added. "They only charge $35 U.S. dollars for the test. I'm seeing as much as $200 per test in the D.R."

"Okay," I said, "cancel our D.R. trip. Let's go back to Cuba."

"I'll look into Cuban resorts," she said.

"But don't tell me about it," I said. "The more info I'm flooded with, the less I'm interested."

I can't believe it. I'm desperate to get away but the more I think about it, the more I have to contemplate the wheres and whatfors, the more I just want to call the whole thing off.

This is not how vacations are supposed to work. I blame it on the pandemic.

My Past Self

The mall was just as I had remembered it.

I entered by the northwest entrance, at the back of the building, where the t-shirt printing shop had been replaced with a drycleaner, and then a print shop. Over the years, I had used all three businesses at one time or another. The businesses were easy to forget, as they were hidden from the main part of the mall.

Merivale Mall, today (photo credit: First Capital Realty)

Walking through a second set of glass doors, I could smell the ammonia and shampoo from the hair salon, Hair World. For decades, this was where I could have my hair cut and styled by Valerie, who knew exactly what I wanted. Looking through the entrance to the salon, I waved at Sandy, who was answering a phone call from behind her reception desk. Though she returned the wave, she was obviously focused on the caller.

Swiss Pastries was the next store, as the rear entrance widened to reveal more businesses: Farm Boy, Baskin Robbins, TD-Canada Trust. The rest of the mall lay ahead of me.

The last time I walked down this mall, I encountered so many people that I had known over the 16-plus years that I had worked at the various stores in this mall on Merivale Road. Without exaggeration, it took three hours to leave the mall, at the far end, from where I had begun. People who worked in the mall and customers, alike, stopped to talk to me and catch up from my absence, from more than two years of living and travelling in East Asia.

DW had been with me that time. She would come and go, running errands at a handful of shops, engaging in conversations as she recognized people she also knew. For a couple of years, she had also worked in the mall, working side-by-side with me at the bank. When we finally left the mall, she compared me with Al Waxman, the star of an old Canadian sitcom, King of Kensington.

"When he walks down the street, he smiles at everyone," she sang the show's theme song.

This visit was different from that previous one, and even remembering that day made me feel disoriented. Something wasn't right. As I looked at the stores, I saw some that didn't seem to jive. There was Sam the Record Man, where I used to buy all of my vinyl. St.Clair Paint and Wallpaper was also there, next door, as was Grand & Toy. But across the hallway was the Shoppers Drug Mart, and seeing it made me realize that the other stores were long gone from the mall. The drug store had also moved further down, toward the Sport Chek.

I looked down to the far end of the mall, and I could see a red sign with a store that hadn't been in the mall in decades: Woolco. The mall was not right. It had returned to the past.

I saw other stores that were long-gone: Warren's House of Britches; Radio Shack; Algonquin Travel.

The camera store was still there, on the left-hand side of the mall. It hadn't been on that side since the mid-1980s, since before it moved into a larger space, on the opposite side of the mall. But there is was, with its original sign and colours, laid out exactly as I remembered it when I first started working there.

Standing by the film-dropoff counter was one of our regular customers, Wilma T. She hadn't aged a day. But what shocked me more was the person who was accepting her latest roll of 35mm film.

It was me.

I recognized the silvery-grey rayon shirt and the knitted, burgundy necktie. My hair was coiffed short on the sides, thick on top, and long in the back. Valerie had done another great job with a style that I carried from the mid-80s to the early 90s. I could see the moles on my cheek and upper lip, evidence that they hadn't yet been removed. The Ross that I saw hadn't been to South Korea, had likely never left North America.

"Take care, Wilma, see you next week," the 80s me said, as she accepted the ticket for her film and turned to leave. With no other customer to attend, the young me looked up to the middle-aged man approaching him. As soon as his eyes met mine, he smiled as though he recognized me but couldn't quite identify me. Was I a customer that he hadn't seen in a while or a forgotten relative?

"How are you, Ross?" I asked, further adding to the confusion that was being drawn across his face. Not only did I know him, but I knew him by name. His eyes were trying to place me but failed. For him, he was not looking into a mirror nor into the future, as I was looking into the past.

"Fine, thanks," the younger me replied, "how can I help you?"

I looked toward the back of the store, where the cameras were on display, on shelves behind glass-covered doors. "I'm interested in a D... um, SLR." I slipped a bit, but the younger me didn't catch it. Digital cameras were just under a decade away but it would be even longer before SLRs entered the digital age. I could see Nikons, Canons, and Minoltas on the shelves. The very SLR that I bought before I started working at the camera store, the Minolta X-700, was next to the newer Maxxum 9000, an auto-focusing SLR. I hadn't seen one since the early 1990s.

The assistant manager, Graeme, was working alongside young Ross, searching for an envelope of processed photos for another customer. "Take a calculator with you," he said. Though his face was expressionless, I knew he was joking, and I understood the joke. In the first week that I had started working in the camera store, I had sold a Minolta X-700 kit, complete with the body, zoom lens, flash, camera bag, UV filter, cleaning accessories, and film. I hand-wrote the invoice and added up the items by doing the math in my head. Only, I had made a mental mistake and charged $100 less than the kit cost.

Graeme had caught the error that evening, as he was reviewing our sales slips. The next day, when I came in for my shift, he showed me the store copy of the invoice, gave me a calculator, and asked me to add up the items. I was horrified at my discovery but Graeme was sympathetic. "Next time," he advised, "use a calculator."

Salesperson Ross slid the glass doors aside and retrieved the new flagship of the Minolta line. Built-in motor drive and a motorized, fast-focusing lens (but not as fast as my modern D-SLR lenses), I remembered how I had fallen in love with this camera when it first came on the market, but that I would never consider buying it because I couldn't afford it at the time, and Minolta had changed its lens mounts, which meant that I would not be able to use my current lenses with it. The camera came with a 50mm lens but I already had a superior, f/1.2 lens for my X-700.

With the bulky camera in my hands, I refamiliarized myself with the buttons. My younger self could see that I was no amateur by how I held the camera and proceeded to look through the viewfinder while my fingers continued to make adjustments with the controls. But even as I focused on the wall with picture frames and photo albums, I could tell that he was looking at me, still trying to determine where he knew me.

"How is L–?" I asked, trying to determine what year I had found myself in. If the camera store was in this location of the mall, rather than across the hall, I was in a period of time before I had started dating DW. With Graeme still my assistant manager, I was in a time when I was a journalism student. But had I met the girlfriend who preceded DW?

"Who?" my past self asked.

"Of course," I said, more to myself than my other self, "we didn't meet L– until after we left The Low Down to Hull and Back News and returned here."

"Do we know each other?"

I lowered the camera from my face and turned my head so that I was face-to-face with the younger me. "Take a good look," I said. "You know me. But not as well as I know you."

He searched my face but when his eyes locked on to mine, they went wide. "How... ?"

"I don't know," I said, lowering my voice and speaking softly, "I just found myself in the mall. I can't remember the last time I was here. Imagine my surprise at seeing you, and here. This store hasn't been in the mall in over a decade, for me. The company itself barely exists."

"How old are you?"

"Fifty-six. I'm you, 33 or 34 years later."

"How are we? Do I get rich?" In my early 20s, I had hopes of becoming a successful, best-selling author. By my late 50s, that dream had all but faded.

"Rich, no, but I've measured my wealth by more than money. We have great friends; some, whom you have already. Others will come. We have a solid roof over our head and are debt-free. We have a life partner who we love dearly. We have kids who have enriched our lives."

"But my dream of becoming rich was a means of being able to see the world," my younger self said. "Tell me I get to see the world."

"You do, starting very soon." In a year or so, the younger me would visit a friend in Glasgow, Scotland, and travel from there to Berlin, Germany. I didn't know if I should tell this young dreamer too much about his future, lest I affect my past.

In fact, if this person from the past owned his Minolta X-700 but hadn't met L–, he was still in the Journalism program at Algonquin College. He had already written about Roland Axam but hadn't fleshed out the character.

"First year of Journalism?" I asked myself.

"Yes," I answered myself. "Second semester."

In the second semester, I had come to a crossroads in my life. My core-course teacher approached me about taking a job as a city reporter at the Edmonton Journal. A friend of my teacher was an editor and reached out, looking to scoop a fresh student to fill the role.

I was honoured that my teacher had thought of me, but I didn't feel that I was ready. I hadn't finished my first year and there was so much that I had yet to learn. But my teacher told me that I was a good writer, and that I would learn everything else while on the job.

I wasn't convinced. But more importantly, I didn't feel that I was ready to pull up roots and move to Alberta, where I knew no one or nothing about western Canadians. My teacher gave me a week to make up my mind but ultimately, I declined the job offer.

To this day, I still wondered what would have happened if I had accepted the job.

"Has Klaus talked to you about a job?" I asked. Klaus Pohle was our teacher.

"Yes," the younger me said. "I'm supposed to give him an answer tomorrow. What do I say?"

If I said nothing, I ran a risk of changing the future. This version of me could still decide to go to Edmonton. Even I came close to saying yes. It would not change the timeline if I told Young Ross the answer that I gave in my 1986.

"I said I wasn't ready. My answer was 'no.'"

"Okay," the younger me said. I could detect disappointment in his voice, just as I felt sad at turning down a new opportunity.

Without another word, I turned and walked away. I felt that there was nothing else to say, that perhaps the reason for my visit to my past self was to ensure that I made the same decision about moving to Edmonton was the correct one. The 'what ifs' that occasionally occupied my head were moot. I was happy with the choices that I had made in life since that time.

I walked further down the mall, turning left at People's Jewelers to head to the central entrance to the mall. To my right was the CIBC, where I would work from 1990 to 1997. To my right, was Rockwell's restaurant.

The sun was shining through the glass doors, almost blinding me. Indeed, white rays of light flooded into the entrance and washed the bank from view. The light grew, engulfing me in a white void. As I tried to orient myself, to find the way to the exit, the unfolding event brought a clarity to my mind.

Everything familiar was being washed out. The past me had made a decision about the job offer. He was going to say 'yes.'

I didn't know where to go or what to do. Memories of my life were fading. The wife and children were now just a concept. My home was gone. My past was just a dream.

Everything was just a dream.