Beer O'Clock: Sunsplit DDH

I've been drinking Sunsplit IPA from Dominion City Brewing for a few years now, and it's one of my go-to brews, especially when I'm in a restaurant and pub and find it on the beer menu (mind you, I haven't been to many restaurants and no bars since COVID-19 hit, in March of 2020, but I remember those days with fondness and longing).

So when Dominion City released the next incantation of this hazy, juicy pale ale, I was more than intrigued. And I was also pleased that this east-Ottawa brewery had released a handy phone app from which I could order it.

The app, available for both Android and iOS users, makes it very handy for ordering your favourite brews. And currently, Dominion City is offering a 10-percent discount code for your first order with the app.

I hope more breweries create apps to make ordering beer so convenient—not that ordering from a Web site is complicated, but I've never ordered from my phone before because I find negotiating a Web site on a small screen to be more cumbersome than a laptop.

My first order from this app included a coffee stout and this new iteration of my beloved Sunsplit. It's a hopped-up version that pumps up the bitterness without getting carried away.

Let's look a little closer.

Sunsplit DDH IPA (6% ABV)
Dominion City Brewing Company
Ottawa, ON

Appearance: pours like a cloudy, pale ruby-red grapefruit juice with a creamy white head that settles to a solid cap.

Nose: tropical notes of mango, pineapple, and light citrus. I actually found the aromas to be more closed than the regular Sunsplit.

Palate: tight hops and grapefruit. This double-dry-hopped (DDH) ale doesn't easily give away the tropical fruits on the first sip. Indeed, it takes consequent sips to bring out pineapple and citrus flavours. I found it to not be as juicy as Sunsplit IPA. The hops don't overpower, nor is the six-percent alcohol content in your face.

It's a subtle ale.

Overall impression: this is an easy-drinking DDH ale. I expected it to eclipse the regular Sunsplit IPA but it doesn't. Perhaps the dry hopping tempered the juicy explosion that I associate with Sunsplit. This ale doesn't disappoint but it also doesn't blow me away. It's a decent, easy-to-drink brew.

Beer O'Clock rating: 🍺🍺

I ordered Sunsplit DDH IPA on the day that I was notified of its release, which coincided with my notification about Dominion City's beer app. My delivery came too late for me to review it, last week, and at the time of writing this review, I now see that it's no longer available for order.

Likely, because this new release sold out right away. We can only hope that the brewers make another batch soon. But in the meantime, the regular Sunsplit is available and you should snatch that up. While I appreciated the DDH version, I'm going to put my money on the original.

Cheers!

A Short Nine Minutes

This one is much shorter.

On Wednesday, February 16, 2022, I walked along the beach in Akumal Bay to the touristy part of the town of Akumal to find an ATM. The next day, DW and I were planning an excursion to the Akumal Natura Rescue centre and we needed cash for our taxi and for a tour of the grounds.

Up to that point, I only had a handful of 20 and 50 peso notes, which we used to tip the maid, bartenders, and servers at the resort. I didn't have enough cash to pay for our excursion.

I found an ATM at the Oxxo convenience store, withdrew my funds, and made my way back to the beach. But before I could reach the shores of the bay dark clouds loomed over head and emptied themselves over the town.

I sought shelter under a small canopy, near an art shop and waited for the storm to let up. So far, on this trip, the weather had been great and any rain came and went within five to 15 minutes, and this storm, though with the heaviest rain I had seen on the Mayan Riviera, was no exception.

Within 10 minutes, the rain had let up enough for me to move to a better shelter without getting soaked. A minute or two later, it was just a light trickle. I decided to make my way back to our resort, where DW was sitting near the bar with a drink and her laptop.

While I was waiting for the rain to let up, I stood with my hands in my shorts pockets. In one pocket, I could feel the wad of cash that I had taken from the ATM; in the other, I had my Insta360 camera with its 4K lens module attached.

And it struck me: what if I recorded my walk back to the resort?

I didn't have a selfie stick nor the bracket for the video camera. I would just have to hold it in my hand. I pressed the play button, held the camera at waist height, and started walking.

When I found DW in the main lobby. I stopped recording. The length of the video was exactly nine minutes long.

In post processing, I decided to speed up the main part of the video to four times the speed. And this weekend, I decided to turn that footage into a two-and-a-half-minute YouTube video to share.

With the underwater video, the walk around the resort, the visit to the rescue centre, and this walk along Akumal Beach, I've used all of the footage that I recorded of our trip. And in doing so, I feel I can move on to other projects. I still have other projects that I've recorded but never edited or produced into worthwhile videos. Over the next few months, I'll turn my attention to them.

Stay tuned.

Akumal Natura Rescue

Last month, when DW and I were in Mexico, I wrote a post about an animal rescue centre that we visited. You can read about it here.

If you don't want to read about it, I have finally put together the video clips that I shot while we toured the centre. It's the longest of my Akumal vacation videos on my YouTube channel but I think it's one of my best (it got DW's thumbs up, and she's my biggest critic!).

It's 26 minutes long so please watch it when you have time to kill. If you're ever thinking about visiting the Mayan Riviera, I highly recommend spending an afternoon at Akumal Natura Rescue. There's a lot to see, the guides are engaging (if you get Jano, tell him I say hello!), and your pesos go to a worthy, non-profit cause.

I'll have a much shorter video to share, tomorrow.

Thanks for watching. If you like the video, please hit that thumbs up and consider subscribing.

I'm working on three more videos that I shot last summer but never found the time to work on them. I'm hoping to have one new video on The Brown Knowser YouTube channel each month—we'll see how long that lasts.

Stay tuned.

Not Done With Us

When your kid calls you and says she needs you, you don't ask why. You just go.

Our kid has struggled a bit through her first year at university, living on her own and trying to make new friends. And I get it: Toronto is a huge city and she's in a highly competitive program. Add on the pandemic and the constant protests that happen around her neighbourhood, and yeah, it's stressful.

But she was also under the weather, with what seemed to either be a nasty head cold or spring allergies, and she was unable to sleep properly through the week. As a result, she missed a bunch of classes and she was feeling defeated.

Hence, the call to Mom and Dad on Friday.

I got some pressing work items out of the way and jumped in our car, making some very good time on the highways (only one quick pee break) and pulling up to her residence building before 2:30. I called her several times, unsuccessfully, in the hour and a half before I arrived, hoping that she would eat something from her residence cafeteria before we headed back for Ottawa. I only got through about five minutes before I arrived, and learned that she had just woken up, that she was feeling really rough.

"Just throw your essentials in a bag, grab your laptop and Lily (her cat), and come out."

I'm grateful that I had recently replenished the tissues in the car. Our sick kid was going through them like they were going out of style. "I've taken like three rapid COVID tests this week and they were all negative," she said, "but I'm so sick."

We made one stop on the way home: the ON Route rest-service stop in Port Hope. We entered, masked, and were disappointed to see so many maskless patrons. Thankfully, we were able to steer clear of them and the staff at the food outlets were masked and behind plexiglass. We grabbed our food and jumped back in the car.

At home, our kid made herself some homemade mac and cheese, chased it with some Nyquil, and called it a day.

On Saturday, DW and I awoke early and headed to our local Costco to get in our bi-weekly shopping before the masses arrived. We were surprised to see more people than usual for a Saturday morning, and we were also disappointed at how many people were not wearing masks. As many as 25 percent of the people I saw, including staff, were uncovered.

I was particularly stressed when I saw one person, unmasked, who was coughing and not even covering her mouth. Whenever I saw her coming toward me, down and aisle, I turned around and avoided her.

Groceries collected, DW and I returned straight home. The kid was just getting up and we offered to make her breakfast.

Photo: 3D4 Medical

When she came down, she was wearing an N95 face mask. "I just did another rapid test," she said, "it's positive."

I had spent five hours with her, in a confined space, while she coughed and blew her nose. In retrospect, I should have donned a mask, simply to avoid catching any possible head cold she had. Indeed, just the week before, my nose was running and my sinuses were congested, though I chalked that up to the mold in the air from our rapid spring warmup and thaw.

It happens to me every year at this time and I simply take allergy meds to help combat it. But neither of us wore our masks in the car.

It looked like our kid was going to spend more than a weekend at home. I don't blame her for catching the virus. She's diligent about wearing her mask and keeping a distance. Even taking precautions doesn't guarantee immunity.

I haven't taken a test to see if I also have COVID. I'm going to wait another day or so. I initially thought I would take the test if I showed no symptoms, just to see if I had it. If I showed symptoms, I'd just assume I had it. In the meantime, I already assumed I had it and just stayed at home.

Betcha' those unmasked folks at Costco are glad I wore one. And I guess I won't be seeing my folks this week.

On Sunday afternoon, my sinuses started acting up and I developed sniffles and a cough. No worse than I felt the other week, so fingers are crossed that this is as bad as it gets. By the evening, a sore throat developed as well.

This experience has taught me a valuable lesson: we are not over this pandemic. The virus is not done with us.

If people continue to not wear masks—the simplest way to slow or stop the spread—it's only going to get worse, especially because the BA2 variant seems to be replacing Omicron. Dropping the mask mandate has been the worst idea our governments have had during this pandemic. And utterly irresponsible.

Do the folks around you a favour. Wear a mask.

Friday Fiction: Puzzle Piece

The following passage is a rough-draft excerpt from my upcoming novel, Gyeosunim, the sequel to Songsaengnim: A Korea Diary. Be warned that there are spoilers and you may be missing some context. Passages are in no particular order and are subject to change.

June 5, 1988

Photo: Google

My head fell forward and then snapped back, awakening me with a jolt.

I was still in the chair, still in the cold, empty room. A small window, far too small to crawl through and at the top of one of the walls, showed me that the sun had set some time ago. Light from nearby street lamps gave the room an eerie amber glow. Other than that light, I was in utter darkness. I must have fallen asleep some time ago, when the grey light from an overcast sky offered better illumination.

I was hungry and my lips were shriveling. It had been hours since I had eaten and my captors offered me neither food nor water. My grumbling stomach, mixed with the coldness of the room, had done a good job of dampening my spirits, such that they were. What if I had to use a toilet? The two chairs were the only furnishings in the room. It was a sad realization that I wished they’d move me to a proper jail cell with a hard bed and an open toilet–heck, a bucket would do.

Where was Charles? What of Gunther? I had seen them drive away in one of our cars, sitting in the back seat, one of our drivers speeding off, before I was taken. Did Gunther get away? What of our other agents, similarly dressed? Were they working on a plan for my release? Were Nigel Moore and Sir Harold apprised of my abduction? If they were, I’m sure that they would be fuming. Charles would have a lot to answer for. I wasn’t even supposed to be in East Berlin at any time, let alone during the operation of the mission.

I could only imagine Moore’s words to Charles: “Axam was your responsibility and now he’s our mess.” Would the Berlin office consider me collateral damage? Would I be left to the fate of the East Berlin authorities? The price that Charles would pay for involving me?

Would I ever see Kristen again? My parents? My sister? The darkness was swallowing me, both outside and in.

When I heard the marching of boots again, approaching from the outside hall, I expected to be met by my interrogator and men with rifles, ready to march me to a firing line. And, indeed, when the light came on, the door was opened, and my captor, accompanied by two men with machine guns, came into the room, I expected that my fate was sealed. I had seen my short future and it was turning out as I dreaded.

The middle-aged man looked at me and could, no doubt, read the fear on my face. He stood behind the chair at which he had earlier sat, not saying anything for what seemed an eternity. When his lips eventually parted, I had a hard time understanding him. I had expected him to tell me that I had been summarily found guilty of espionage and had been sentenced to death. I stared at him, silently, and when he realized that I hadn’t heard him, he repeated himself.

“You are free to go, Herr Axam.”

“Smith,” I said, still determined to hold onto my alias, still burying my Scottish accent.

“Whatever you choose to call yourself,” was his cold retort. “You will be escorted to Checkpoint Charlie, where we will release you to West Berlin authorities.” His eyes were locked onto mine and were as cold as the room. “You will never cross into East Berlin again. If you do, you will not be as fortunate as you are today.”

I was ordered onto my feet and could immediately feel the stiffness in my knees and the numbness in my legs. Though I hadn’t been confined to the chair, I was afraid to leave it, feared that if I was caught out of it, when my interrogator or the guards had left me alone, that I would be reprimanded for leaving it, that I might give them an excuse to beat me. The psychological control that they had over me was effective in keeping me in the seat. And now, once on my own two feet, I feared that my legs might fail me.

One of the guards produced a burlap sack from his belt, hidden behind him, and proceeded to pull it over my head. I could smell a woman’s perfume on it so either it was a different sack than the one that I wore on my way to this cell, or someone else had been subjected to it after me. Both guards claimed an arm and led me out of the room, the boots of my interrogator clacking on the hard concrete, ahead of us. We turned several corridors and passed through one heavy, metal door, judging by the sound it made, and down more corridors. Ahead of us, I could hear another door open but we were passing it. By the sound of footsteps, someone was entering the room. But it was the female voice that made my heart skip a beat.

“I am an American citizen! I have rights! You can’t just grab me off the street! I demand that you let me call my embassy!” The door abruptly slammed but I could hear her continuing her outraged rant.

I knew that voice. It was Gwen, the American I first met, as Alexander James Carson, on my way back to West Berlin, and again, later that night, as myself. What was she doing here? Was Charles right? Was she a spy?

And then everything became clear. In a wave of understanding that nearly knocked me over, it hit me. It was as though a missing puzzle piece had been handed to me and I could see the whole picture. I fought to contain my composure, was actually thankful for the sack over my head. I was led out of the building and into a car, and couldn’t wait to get out of East Berlin.

The night wasn’t over just yet.

***

Nigel Moore and one of his agents were waiting for me on the west side of Checkpoint Charlie. The agent held the back door of the Mercedes open for me and Moore joined me in the back seat. It wasn’t until the car began to move that he spoke.

“Sir Harold is livid.”

“I’m not surprised,” I said. “Is Townsend with him?”

“Is that a joke?” quipped Moore. “Half of our agents haven’t checked in. Gunther is missing.”

“Gunther is dead.” Though I had no proof, the words came out with certainty.

“How do you know?”

“I need to speak to Sir Harold. I’ll fill you in together.”

“This is an absolute cockup. Heads are going to roll.”

Heads have already rolled, I thought to myself but dared not say.

Same Old

I look at some old photos of myself and I think that I haven't changed much.

When I found this photo of me, lounging on the dock at my in-laws' cottage, I think that it couldn't have been that long ago. But then a couple of things strike me:

• I haven't worn that shirt in more than a decade. I bought it in Thailand, in 1998. But a few years after wearing it, I accidentally put it in the dryer and it shrunk to a size that wouldn't have fit me at my thinnest. I haven't seen it in more than 15 years.
• Same goes for the sunglasses. I haven't seen them in years. I think they were broken at some point.
• I'm reading a book without reading glasses, something I haven't been able to do in more than a decade.
• While my hair style hasn't changed much in the past 20 years, I certainly have more grey in it. And there isn't any in this photo.

The photo was shot in 1999, in the summer that DW and I returned home from our two-year stint in South Korea. This was a time before we had kids—probably why I was able to read in peace.

With perfect vision.

In a much-loved shirt.

It's the same old me, and yet so much has changed since that summer day, almost 23 years ago.

Happy Thursday!

When 2004 Meets Prisma and Luminar AI

More Brushes, More Celebs

Nearly nine years ago, I wrote a blog post about some of the celebrities I've met in the past. These were entertainers that I met before the Internet and social media made it much easier for a celebrity to notice that you existed.

The famous folks that I listed in that post crossed paths with me because of an internship that I did with the Ottawa Citizen when I was finishing up my Journalism program at Algonquin College. But these are not the only celebrities that I've met. Since then, since even before the days of Twitter, there are a few people that I've had the honour of rubbing shoulders with, so to speak.

Dan Ackroyd

Photo: Google

In the mid to late 1990s, I was a big wine aficionado, taking the sommelier program at Algonquin College, learning all I could about the nectar of the grape, and hanging out with like-minded wine lovers. I met and became good friends with Perry and Astrid, who worked in the wine industry, and I would help them at various events, pouring wine for judges, the general public, and famous folk.

One year, Perry and Astrid asked me to help out at a fundraiser just outside of Kingston, Ontario, which was hosted by food writer Gay Cook. I would be helping pouring wine for Chateau Des Charmes, from the Niagara Peninsula.

As people approached my table, the unforgettable face of Dan Ackroyd came up, his empty glass at the ready. He wanted something red and jammy, and I poured him a bold Cabernet Sauvignon. He loved it and returned for refills several times, happily engaging me in conversation every time.

At one point, he approached me and asked, "Do you have any more of that Cab?"

With a sad face, I replied, "I'm sorry, we're all out."

"Oh, really?" He seemed genuinely disappointed.

My serious face turned to a smile. "No, not really." I reached for the bottle and gave him a generous refill.

Mr. Ackroyd let out a genuine laugh which made my day. I had made a very funny man laugh at my own joke.

When we actually got down to our last bottle, I brought it, uncorked, to Dan's dining table. "Take this," I said, offering him the bottle. "It really is the last one." He shook my hand, thanked me, calling me by name, and took the bottle. (What I didn't tell him was that it was one of the bottles that had been given to me for helping out at the fundraiser and that we had already poured the last of it earlier.)

This happened shortly before Dan Ackroyd began putting his name on his own line of wine and I like to think that he was inspired to start his winery after that day. I know that I'll always remember that day.

Gord Downey, Rob Baker, and Gord Sinclair

Photo: Google

When Dan Ackroyd attended the Kingston fundraiser, he wasn't alone. Three members of The Tragically Hip were part of his entourage. The Kingston band was already big, with five albums under their belt, but they really seemed like they were just a bunch of fun-loving guys, happy to support a local cause. In addition to serving Dan, these fellows and their wives also came up to my table. After their first visit to my table, with Ackroyd, Gord Downey came back on his own.

"What's that wine that you poured for Dan?" he asked me.

I produced the Cabernet Sauvignon and filled Gord's glass. "Cheers," I said, and he raised his full glass to me before returning to his table.

My encounter with the band was limited to simply refilling their glasses as they returned for more wine. While I enjoyed meeting them, and they were all kind and polite, I never really engaged them in conversation like I did with Dan. But it was still a memorable time.

Steve Patterson

Photo: Google

I didn't see the host of CBC's The Debaters at first. It was his voice that gave him away.

I was with DW, her sister, and her brother-in-law at a very crowded Mill Street Brew Pub. We were waiting for an available table, were planning to have dinner before heading to a comedy show, where comedian Nikki Payne was headlining.

I made my way to the bar, where Pete (the regular evening bartender when I was a regular) was busy at work. I ordered pints for the four of us, and while I waited I heard a lively conversation next to me. I knew the voice right away.

I turned around and came face-to-face with Patterson. "Hey, you're Steve Patterson!"

"That's right, I am," he said with a smile.

"I'd know your voice anywhere." I introduced myself.

"I'll never forget your name," he said. "My brother's name is Ross."

"Good name."

I asked him if he knew that Nikki Payne was in town, if they were doing something together, but he didn't know she was in Ottawa. My meeting two comedians within hours was purely coincidental (I actually met Nikki and chatted with her after her show, and told her I had run into Patterson earlier).

I offered to buy Steve a beer but he said that he was just finishing up and would be heading out, but thanked me anyway.

I continue to listen to The Debaters and Steve's voice over the airways.

Sam Roberts

Photo: Brown Knowser

He wasn't even supposed to be there.

Several years ago, Kid 1 and I went to the National Arts Centre (NAC) to see an African drum show, but when we arrived, we learned that the show had been cancelled and that another show, with the NAC Orchestra, would take its place. We were promised a special guest.

We were disappointed as we took our seats but when we learned that Canadian rock icon, Sam Roberts, was the special guest, we were excited once again. We were both fans.

Mr. Roberts surprised us by playing the violin with the orchestra. He was quite good.

After the show, Sam was wandering the crowds to shake hands and say hello. When he came near us, we were eager to let him know that we enjoyed this surprise performance. I asked him how long he had been playing the violin and he told me that he still practiced for several hours a week.

Sam was so engaging and was not in a rush to move through the crowd, easily talking to us for about five minutes. I captured a photo of him and my daughter but I only had my smartphone, which didn't work very well in low light. The photo, sadly, was blurry.

But I've seen him in shows since, and have captured much better photos.

Kate Kelton

Photo: Brown Knowser

Years ago, when I had my Brownfoot Journal blog, I wrote a silly post that took inspiration from an episode of Friends, where Ross and Rachel made a list of five celebrities they would be allowed to sleep with, without repercussions, if the opportunity arose.

When DW and I first watched that episode, we immediately came up with lists of our own.

Over the years, that list changed for me, slightly, and I decided to write about it on my blog. I carried that post over to The Brown Knowser, years later.

One of the women on my list happened to read that post and reached out to me, through Twitter. That person is none other than Kate Kelton, who caught my eye in some 90s Tic Tac commercials and who I saw again, years later, in the film Harold & Kumar Go To White Castle.

Over the years, we have kept in touch: one time, she even set up a video chat so that we could speak, face-to-face.

We've lost touch, over the past few years, but Kate still remains one of my best brushes with celebrities. Dare I say that we're even distant friends?

Sarah Slean

Photo: Brown Knowser

The greatest brush with celebrities has to be when I met one of my favourite Canadian musical artists, Sarah Slean. We met, initially, through Twitter, and it was a great honour when she followed me back. But that wasn't the highlight of our meeting.

One year, on Canada Day, Sarah joined the NAC Orchestra for a free concert and my wife, kids, and I were in attendance. We managed to get seats that were only a couple of rows from the stage and right in front of Sarah's piano. Because I had my camera with me and there seemed to be no photo restrictions, I captured some great shots of Sarah in action.

After the show, Sarah sat at a table to sign autographs and we joined the line to meet her. Kid 1 held a CD for Sarah to sign; Kid 2, a poster.

I let the kids go ahead of me, and Sarah greeted them with a wide smile. She then looked up to their dad, had a double-take, and said, "We're Twitter buddies!"

I think my heart stopped. Sarah Slean actually recognized me! She knew that I existed!

We took photos together and had a very nice, but brief chat.

Photo: Brown Knowser

A couple of years later, DW, the kids, and I attended another concert, just outside of Carleton Place. It was an intimate setting in a restored barn, and we sat in the front row, anxiously awaiting Sarah to take to the stage.

The lights dimmed and Sarah emerged from back stage. As it was a small venue, she took the time to look out into the fully filled area, trying to see faces.

"Oh, it's so nice to see so many of you," she said, and then looked to the front row. "And friends," she added, looking right at me. It's a good thing the lights were dimmed, because I'm sure I was blushing.

Sarah took an intermission and, as she moved across the stage, reached out and took my hand in a gentle squeeze before moving backstage.

After the show, we stayed only briefly, as the kids were tired and wanted to go home. I was able to chat with Sarah and it felt like we were truly old friends.

Best brush ever.

What about you? What celebrities have you met? Leave a comment.

No Mask? No Thanks.

Because the mask mandates have been lifted in Ontario as of today, I decided that I would get my hair cut before, on Saturday. I didn't know what my local barber shop was planning to do and I needed a cut, anyway.

I had only been going to this barber shop since last fall, when I was desperate for a decent haircut. I hadn't been to a barber shop in almost a year, opting to cut my own hair, and it showed. I looked awful: shaggy and uneven didn't even begin to describe the mop on my head.

I was never really happy with the place I had gone to, previously, and so I decided to try a barber shop that was fairly new in Barrhaven, having only opened about a year before the pandemic. Not knowing what to expect, I randomly chose someone to cut my hair.

It couldn't be worse than what I had been doing to myself.

As it turned out, the barber was a lovely and charming woman who did a fantastic job. It was the best haircut since early 2019, when my regular barber moved out to Casselman, leaving me somewhat stranded. She had cut my hair for the final time in early May of that year, just before I left for my trip to Korea.

My autumn, 2021 haircut was the best I had had in about two-and-a-half years.

I returned for a second haircut at the end of October and again, last December, just before my trip to Cuba. Again, this barber did a great job and I decided that she would be my new stylist, going forward.

But when DW and I returned from our vacation, the Omicron variant of COVID was raging in Ontario, and so I decided to stay indoors, avoiding shopping malls and restaurants, and only going for groceries when we were absolutely desperate. I put any haircuts on hold.

But by the beginning of February, when Omicron seemed to be settling down, and my hair was once again out of control, I made a visit to my new barber. It turned out that she had contracted the virus and was sick for six weeks, and that she had just returned to the shop a few days earlier.

So here I was, just last Saturday, in need of another haircut, wondering what mask restrictions the shop would be exercising, come Monday (today).

My barber told me that no one, not even the staff, would be required to wear masks. "You can wear a mask if it makes you feel comfortable," she said, "but I, for one, can't wait to be free of my mask."

My heart sank.

As of today, because of the no-mask policy by our provincial government, I'm not going to get my hair cut until the mask regulations return or the pandemic has come to an end. This means no restaurants, no bars, no stores—except for grocery stores, of course, but I plan to go during off hours, to avoid as many maskless people as possible.

For non-grocery items, I'll have to shop online and have it delivered. If that means I can't shop locally, regretfully, so be it.

Doug Ford and his cronies may be tired of mandates but the virus isn't done with us.

My only hope is that the number of COVID cases rises enough to make the government re-introduce the mandates. And that's a terrible thing to hope for.

I'll continue to wear a mask. But for places that allow the unmasked to enter, I have one thing to say:

No thanks.

As I Imagined

In 1997, DW and I took a vacation to China, which was a hop, skip, and jump from where we were living at the time, in South Korea. For me, it was a bit of a dream come true.

When I was in elementary school, my classmates and I learned about the Great Wall of China. It was hard for my young brain to comprehend just what a colossal undertaking its construction would have been. Averaging from six to seven metres tall and four to five metres wide, the roughly 3,500-kilometre wall took more than 2,500 years to build.

It's said that for every step you take, while traversing the wall, someone died while building it.

In grade school, as we created and presented a project on the Great Wall, I thought that someday I would see it for myself. As I got older, in my teens and twenties, I began to believe that it was just a dream and would never be realized.

And then I moved to South Korea and the dream seemed doable.

When we visited the wall, DW and I were with a group of ex-pats on a chartered excursion. In Badaling, we were given a time to walk upon the wall, and as I climbed the countless steps toward each tower, I found myself leaving the others farther and farther behind. By the time I realized I had to be back at our bus, I was several kilometres away and on my own.

I remember, as I made my way back to the starting point, that the sun was beginning to fall toward the horizon. Through the thick haze that blanketed the sky, the sun was a giant, orange fireball that was sinking toward the distant mountain ridges to the west. Yet, when my photos were developed, the sky didn't seem as orange as I remembered.

Fast-forward to 24 years later, when I'm back on the Great Wall, virtually. When I reached Badaling, I was able to view the spots that I had actually trod in 1997. It made me revisit the photos that I shot, and all I could see was the plain, hazy-grey skies above the snaking wall. The wall itself had a bit of a warm hue but that sky did nothing for me.

Enter Luminar AI.

Applying a sunset filter and adding some clouds, my photos don't make me think that this is how the view from the Great Wall actually looked but it does take me back to how I felt when I stood alone, looking out over the ramparts.

I still have the original prints but I prefer this warm enhancement. What do you think?

Happy Friday!

Beer O'Clock: Peach Gose

I don't have to wait for Dry January to go for a non-alcoholic beer. Sometimes, I just want to have a drink without getting drinky.

When DW and I were in our local Loblaws, over the weekend, we found ourselves down the beer and wine aisle when all we were looking for was sparkling water. Naturally, my eyes fell to all of the colourful cans behind the glass refrigerator doors and I thought, "do I want to pick something up while I'm here?"

"Nah," I replied to myself, "I've got plenty of beer at home. I don't need anymore booze."

As I moved further down the aisle, away from the fridges, I saw more beer, in boxes, lining the shelves. I saw a familiar non-alcoholic beer label, from Partake, and recognized several of their booze-free brews that I tried when I participated in Dry January, in 2020. I saw their pale ale and their IPA. I was happy to see their stout and was tempted to pick up a four-pack, but then I saw a style that I hadn't seen before.

Peach Gose.

While I don't tend to gravitate toward sour beer, I do like the subtle sourness of a gose. And though I'm allergic to peaches, I do love that flavour and miss it. And I'm happy that none of my fruit allergies carry through when I drink beer that is flavoured with those fruits.

I picked up a four-pack and continued to the sparkling waters.

Later in the week, when our neighbour came over for tea with DW, I joined them with one of these non-alcoholic beverages. Here are my notes:

Peach Gose (0.3% ABV, 15 calories)
Partake Brewing
Toronto ON

Appearance: a slightly unfiltered, apricot yellow with a white, foamy head that settles to a thin but solid cap.

Nose: ripe peaches.

Palate: the peaches carry through in the mouth, with a bit of melon, right through to the finish. While I find many non-alcoholic brews to have a somewhat watery feel to them, the slight—very slight—sourness tempers the watery sensation. The peach lingers all the way to the next sip.

Overall impression: if I didn't know that this gose was non-alcoholic, I would have easily believed that I was drinking a light, fruity, alcohol-fermented beer. You can enjoy this brew without feeling that you're sacrificing anything. At only 15 calories, it's a better alternative to sugary pop. As with the other Partake beverages I've had, I'd happily drink this anytime I was thirsty but didn't want alcohol. That said, I prefer Partake's Pale Ale and Stout, but that's just my personal preference rather than a smear of the Peach Gose.

Beer O'Clock rating: 🍺🍺

I found this offering in my Loblaws but according to Partake's Web site, it should also be available in various grocery stores such as Sobey's, Metro, Independent Grocers, as well as The Beer Store. On a search of the LCBO Web site, only the Pale Ale and IPA are available.

Some pubs also carry Partake, and because today is St. Paddy's Day, you can still party while keeping your head about you.

And, according to Partake's Web site, Peach Gose is part of their regular offerings and is here to stay.

If you do see it at your local grocery store, pick up a four-pack and keep it for when you want something light, fruity, and with next-to-no alcohol.

Cheers!

Centretown at 50mm

Travelbug Train of Thought

We always feel this way after a vacation: we want to travel again, and soon. But if the pandemic has taught us one thing, we don't enjoy being in crowds.

Travelling to resorts has been good. We're able to keep our social distance and stay outside for most of the time. We were able to enjoy lounging on beaches or swimming in the sea, away from people.

Tuscany, 2009.

But I miss vacations where we explored city streets, wandered the terrain between towns, and explored the countryside from a vehicle.

My big trip of 2022 was supposed to take me to Iceland, to drive the Ring Road and explore the waterfalls, mountains, geothermal ponds, volcanoes, and black beaches. I've wanted to go since my first day of my virtual challenge, last year. I wanted to go, so much so that I was willing to push out our trip to Belgium, Germany, and the Netherlands, which was cancelled in 2020 because of the pandemic.

That trip is indefinitely on hold, though we plan to do it as soon as the pandemic is officially over.

With the Russian invasion of Ukraine and the resulting explosion of gas prices, it looks like our trip to Iceland is also on hold. The price of fuel in this remote country is expensive in the best of times, and we expect it to be extortionate come June, when we thought we'd go.

We still want to travel. DW is already monitoring several travel Web sites for sales on our Akumal Bay resort. We plan to return either next January or February. But we're going to need to use our vacation days that we accrue in 2022 or we'll lose them.

On Sunday, we started brainstorming for travel destinations. A couple of months ago, some dear friends of ours travelled through the south of Spain, and we became intrigued with Seville. Spending a couple of weeks in Andalusia didn't seem like a bad way to spend a vacation, and so we started looking for flight deals.

My first search had me looking for direct flights from Ottawa to Madrid, but then DW had me try for flights to Lisbon, Portugal, because she thought the flight might be cheaper and the train to Seville might be faster.

The flight was cheaper but we didn't get as far in our search to see if the train would save us time.

"What's Lisbon itself like?" I asked.

"It's supposed to be beautiful and there's a lot of history to it." We then went onto YouTube and watched a couple of videos about Portugal's capital. "I could spend a week in Lisbon before going to Seville," offered DW.

"I could spend a couple of weeks in Lisbon alone," I said. "Forget Seville."

We watched more videos that included the surrounding area. We began considering a month in Lisbon, where we'd bring our work computers and do our jobs from there.

The travel bug has a firm grip on us. We still want to explore more options and we have plenty of time to plan. Assuming World War III doesn't start.

Where would you go? Would you travel from country to country or would you pick a place from which you could branch out? Would you find a beach and lounge for a few weeks or would you get in a car and drive?

Stay tuned.

Two Years On...

... and we're not out of this yet. Not by a long shot.

Anti-maskers, anti-vaxxers. Governments who are ruled by the economy, rather than science, eager to open all businesses, loosen or lift restrictions.

We'll still be at this, next year.

We may be done with COVID but COVID is still not done with us.

Sure, we're better than we were two years ago, or even at this time, last year. Many of us have happily, readily received our vaccinations and will continue to get the boosters, as is required and responsible. We have understood that belonging to a society means that we do what is right, is for the better good. Being a member of society means thinking of others, not just ourselves.

One week from today, Ontario plans to lift mask mandates. For the Toronto District School Board, I've seen reports that unvaccinated teachers can return to the classroom. In which universe does this make sense? Has the virus given up?

I'm planning to continue wearing masks indoors. I limit my exposure to the general public to places such as Costco, Farm Boy, and Loblaws. For all other businesses, I'll only go to those that still require a mask to enter.

Forget bars and restaurants.

I'm not ready to return to working at the office and may never be. I can do more than 99 percent of my job from home. In 2021, I showed up at work only once, and that was for a couple of hours, tops. Most of my work can be handled remotely.

I hate that this pandemic has dragged on as long as it has. For me, it shouldn't be taking as long as it is. I look at Cuba, how more than 95 percent of the population is at least double-vaxxed, how people are required to wear masks, even on the streets, and how the rates for the virus are so low. I imagine that for as long as they allow tourists and for as long as the pandemic exists, they'll continue safe practices.

Why can't we do that?

Living in a free society doesn't mean we are free to do as we want, regardless of how our actions affect others. Freedom is an obligation to one another in our society so that it remains free.

It seems that the Ontario government has forgotten that. My fear is that they know this but don't care. For them, the economy is more important than fighting the pandemic. Money is more important than human life.

Always an Amateur

When I was in my early 20s and worked in a camera store, I thought I knew almost everything about photography.

First of all, I was studying photojournalism at college, where we learned all about shutter speed, aperture, and ASA, and how they all worked to capture the correct amount of light, clarity, and depth of field. I learned all about composition, to shoot for the greatest impact, to tell a story with a single photograph. And I learned how to develop film and print images, and how to manually dodge and burn (though, I actually learned a lot of those skills because of my best friend's dad, and by being a photographer for my high-school yearbook).

Working in the camera store, I got to play with a lot of different cameras and read lots of books by the pros. When a representative from Nikon, Canon, Minolta, or Pentax dropped in the store, I gleaned a lot of information about creating special effects and getting the most out of each camera.

Yeah, in my 20s, I thought I was hot shit when it came to photography.

More than 30 years later, I realize that I still have a lot to learn, that I'm still of amateur rank.

On our recent trip to Mexico, I made the decision to leave my D-SLRs at home and only took my smartphone—a Samsung Galaxy S10—and my two Insta360 video cameras. During December's trip to Cuba, I had also brought my Nikon D7200, my 24–70mm f/2.8 lens, my 70–300mm f/4.5–5.6 zoom, my travel tripod, one of my speedflashes, and a remote trigger.

I only used the D-SLR a couple of times. I only used the zoom lens once and I never used the flash. I used the tripod two times and ended up forgetting to bring it home (I usually had it tucked in a corner of our room, out of the way—and, apparently, out of sight). Most of the time, I used my smartphone and my Insta360 One R.

For Mexico, I wanted to travel light. My smartphone would have to capture all stills (though, the Insta360 cameras also capture stills and you can take a sharp image from video footage—see my snorkeling photos in Akumal Bay).

I thought my photography skills would mean that I could take great photos from my phone. Easy-peasy. Though it's pretty good at capturing images in Automatic mode, there is a Manual mode and I thought I could handle more complex shots with it—at night, for example.

I'm not the hot-shot photographer that I used to think I was. Truth be told, I haven't felt as confident since I moved from 35mm film to digital. But in working with my smartphone, I've discovered that I have so much more to learn.

One evening, when we had a full moon, I was standing in the dark on our balcony, listening to the soothing waves, taking in the fresh air, and admiring the view. I told myself that I needed to capture that moon, and so I placed my phone on the selfie stick, attached it to a mini tripod, and got to work with my manual settings: f/1.5, 1/7 second shutter speed, at 2000 ISO.

I know. It was awful. I fidgeted with a few more settings but the images just got more and more blurry or would only show the moon properly exposed.

As a sidebar, I have a horrible habit of using my smartphone without glasses. Because of this, I can't read half of the settings on the phone, especially the camera app. So after squinting at my screen with each shot, I decided to fetch my reading glasses.

With my next shot composed on the screen, I was about to put the camera in Manual mode, again, when I saw a small button, next to the shutter button, that read Night Mode.

Apparently, I've never worn glasses while taking a picture at night. I tapped the button and took my shot.

I need to go back to school.

Happy Friday!

Beer O'Clock: Birthday Beer

It started as a tongue-in-cheek post on Twitter.

The very next day, there was an unexpected knock at my front door. As I descended the stairs from my home office, DW was already standing at the door, talking to a man with a paper bag. The man said he was from Broadhead Brewery and bade me a happy birthday.

Naturally, I thanked the good folks at Broadhead for taking my tweet seriously, and a couple of days later I actually made the trek out to the east end of Orleans to thank them, face-to-face, and pick up 12 more cans. It was my first time to their brewery since they had moved their operation from their old digs in the south end of Ottawa, on Auriga Drive.

It's been years.

I was told that they selected the beer to send to me based on past online orders. I tend to go for their limited Taproom Series, 174 (named after the highway that cuts through Orleans and runs past the industrial park where Broadhead is situated, along with Stray Dog Brewing). They also included a fruity saison (I love saisons and hadn't tried this one yet).

In the six-pack gift mix, I also received an ESB, the Munich Dunkel that I reviewed last month, their coffee porter (I had just run out a few days earlier), a black currant cream ale, and a Belgian IPA (side note: what does the I stand for if it's a Belgian pale ale? What does India have to do with it?^*).

The first can that I cracked open was the Guava Strawberry Saison, which was chocked full of guava in the nose and on the palate, and finishes clean with ripe strawberries. When I visited Cuba, last December, I started most mornings with a glass of fresh-squeezed guava juice, and this fine saison transported me back to those mornings. The body still possesses the flinty, mineral mouth feel that I love in a saison, so this is a definite gem of a brew (and it's available through the LCBO!).

After I returned home from my visit to the brewery, I cracked open my second can from my birthday six pack, the Black Currant Cream Ale 2.0 (5.1% ABV; 10 IBUs).

This 47^th release from the 174 Taproom Series is worth a proper review.

Appearance: a deep garnet red to purple with a light, fizzy head that reminded me of grape juice. The head doesn't last long but there is a vibrant effervescence that keeps the party going.

Nose: a strong cassis with hints of barley.

Palate: have you ever had Kir Royale? It's a sweet cocktail of crème de cassis and champagne. I was immediately reminded of this drink, even though it's been ages since I've enjoyed a glass of it. But there's that happy fizz with sweet, dark berries in a very light body that reminded me of this treat. The finish carries a bit of the barley and malt flavour that also has me thinking that it's more like a radler than a cream ale—trust me, that's not a complaint.

Overall impression: I truly wish I had opened this can before my visit to Broadhead. I would have walked out with another six pack. The berry flavour is so intense that it works well in the late-winter season but I could easily see myself quenching my thirst on a hot summer's day. I can see this ale appealing to all sorts of beer lovers. This is sure to be a huge pleaser and I hope that Broadhead plans to keep its production going into warmer weather.

Beer O'Clock rating: 🍺🍺🍺

Broadhead offers free shipping in Ottawa (minimum $40 order) and a flat rate of $10 across Ontario (minimum $60 order). I suggest you get your online order in fast, before I clear them out.

I'll be back to visit my friends at Broadhead in the near future. Their taproom is spacious and beautiful, and they have picnic tables for enjoying their beer outside.

Thanks, once again, to the good folks at Broadhead for the birthday surprise. You made my entire week, and then some. I'll be smiling every time I crack open one of my gift brews.

Cheers!

^* this is a pet peeve of mine to what is an industry-wide issue and not directed specifically to the wonderful people at Broadhead and the excellent beer that they brew. I just find IPA is thrown around too freely, where styles that use the initials don't really reflect a traditional, British IPA. Next to my dream of world peace is the hope of the I disappearing from all ales other than an India Pale Ale.

About Our Resort

Well, no sooner had yesterday's blog post dropped when I finally got most kinks out of my YouTube video of our resort and published it.

If you're looking for a relatively quiet resort—that is, no party animals but with a good night life—and you don't want to be at a huge resort that's cram-packed with people, I highly recommend the Akumal Bay Beach and Wellness Resort. It's about 90 minutes south of Cancun, between Playa del Carmen and Tulum, and the bay is home to where sea turtles come to feed.

If you've seen the video I shared in yesterday's post, you've seen the coral and sea life.

If you want a Mayan Riviera getaway, take a look at this video.

I plan to make two more videos of our Mexican vacation: one, of the animal rescue centre that we visited, just outside the town of Akumal; the other, an overview of our entire stay, with some video that won't appear in the other three videos.

Stay tuned.

Akumal Bay Snorkeling Adventures

In the week that DW and I spent in Mexico, we donned our snorkel gear each day—sometimes, a couple of times a day—and went into the bay that was just a few steps from our resort.

From February 14 (Valentine's Day!) to the 19th, we spent several hours exploring the grassy patches and coral reefs, in search of marine life. We were not disappointed.

Each time we snorkeled in Akumal Bay, I took my trusty Insta360 One X, in its dive case and on a metre-long stick. While I would always be on the surface of the water, I could extend my arm and the camera straight down, in front of me, or to the sides (I dangled it behind me, once, as I swam, but the video footage wasn't great—just flippers and lots of bubbles).

I was careful to keep my distance from the sea life. In post-production, I could zoom in on a subject so that it would fill the frame but the camera was never closer than a metre or two (making me more than a metre, further away).

I was able to capture footage of so many tropical fish. I had a few encounters with sting rays, though only one video clip was good enough to share. Many days were windy in Akumal Bay, and as a result the tides kicked up a lot of sediment and made the water too murky to record decent footage.

Of the more than two hours of video that I shot, I was able to boil it down to a video that is just over nine minutes. I've added it to my Brown Knowser YouTube channel, and I have it here.

I hope you enjoy it. It's certainly a calming distraction from what's going on in the world.

And the turtle steals the show (we saw it on our first day of snorkeling and again on our last one).

I made a second video, over the weekend, where I walk around our resort, but after watching it on YouTube, I deemed that the video quality wasn't good enough and pulled it down. I hope to improve it and post again in the next day or so. Stay tuned.

Cycling for Cancer Research

There is no disease more seemingly indiscriminate than cancer. And there's nothing worse than when it affects a child.

This May 1, I'll be joining many Ottawa cyclists in riding to raise money for the Children's Hospital of Eastern Ontario to create better treatment options and find new cures so that more kids survive cancer. To that end, I've created a Web page to raise money for the CN Cycle for CHEO.

It's a modest goal that I've set, at a mere $250. I've already chipped in 20 percent of that goal, so I'm confident that I'll not only reach that goal, I'll far exceed it. But I need your help.

Please go to my page and give what you can.

I'm planning to ride the 70K route. I've been on my spin bike nearly every day since mid-November, so I'm confident that I'll be able to complete this distance.

Just as confident that you will help me. Thank you!

Stand United

The news of the past week in Ukraine is simply heartbreaking. You don't need to have bloodlines to feel for people whose lives are being upturned purely to satisfy the ego of a madman.

Give what you can. Help, however possible.

Stand united.

It's My Party and I'll Sing If I Want To

Because my birthday had fallen on a Monday, in 1973, my mother arranged for my birthday party to fall on the Saturday that preceded the actual date.

Forty-nine years ago, today.

I remember a lot of people who attended that party in the garden homes on Bowhill Avenue, in Nepean: Billy, Gary, Suzie, Ann, Valerie, Alan, Stephen, Kirk, and Ricky. I look at the old photos and some names elude me now.

My sisters, Holly and Jen, were there, of course.

Being my birthday, I had to be the centre of attention. Being the middle kid, I sometimes felt as though I wasn't getting as much attention as my siblings, so when my eighth birthday party came, I wanted everybody to pay attention to me.

When the music started up, I started singing. But not only did I sing along with the record, I grabbed the microphone for our tape recorder and swaggered around the room, serenading my guests as they danced around me, the unplugged mic cord dangling below.

Dressed in bell-bottom, brown slacks with a matching brown button-up shirt, complete with a sweater vest knitted with beige elephants, I was a 70s superstar.

I was likely singing to the Partridge Family. They were huge at the time and I loved them. Only a few weeks later, Led Zeppelin's Houses of the Holy would be released, and my musical tastes would change forever.

Happy Thursday!

Snowshoeing on the Farm

Moving Toward Badaling

It's a bad day for me when I only cover a distance of five kilometres. I call those lazy days, and even though more than half of those kilometres were covered on shoeshoes, in deep snow, when at times I actually ran, I feel that I hadn't accomplished much.

On a typical day, I cover between 30 and 40 kms, by walking and on my spin bike. But this past Sunday, after visiting our friend on his farm and snowshoeing the nearly three kms of trail that he's carved out, I spent the majority of my day, sitting on my arse, transferring video clips of our trip to Mexico from my cameras onto my phone.

And watching TV.

I'm currently undertaking another virtual challenge, covering the length of the Great Wall of China. With Sunday's dismal 5K, I had covered just over 560 kms, taking me to the mountains just to the north of Beijing. Monday's marching around the house and after-work spin added another 35K.

I'm less than 30 kilometres from Badaling, where, in 1997, DW and I ascended the wall and walked a part of history. At one point, I continued to walk as far as I could, not giving thought to the group I was with or the time, totally immersed in the awe of actually standing on a wall that has fascinated me since the third grade.

At one point, as the sun was starting to fall toward the mountainous horizon, I looked back at the ground I had covered, only to find that I was the only one in sight. Ahead of me, parts of the wall were crumbling away, making my forward motion unsafe, and so I had to turn back. I also had to make haste, as I had several kilometres to cover to return to the tour bus, and my watch told me I had fewer than 10 minutes before I would be late.

So far, in my virtual challenge, The Conqueror app has offered very few Google streetview images of my trek, only allowing glimpses in spots that are open to tourists. I'm confident that today, when I reach Badaling, I'll see spots that I walked upon. I'm hopeful that I'll even get on Google streetview, within the app, and recognize spots where I actually stood.

The view glimpses of the wall, so far.

If not, I'm not worried. All I have to do is turn to the photo album that I have of DW's and my trip to Beijing. I have plenty of shots of the wall.

Happy Tuesday!