Category — Daily Musings

“That hockey is a dangerous sport…” is the response I keep on hearing when I tell people how I broke my leg. One look at the National Hockey League injury reports and you might just agree. Concussions, broken ankles, separated shoulders, blown knees. Even our beer league team has had a number of players injured this year.

This is the second injury I have ever had playing hockey. The first injury I got when I was young, maybe 11 or 12 years old. I was playing shinny with a few friends in the winter on the outdoor Fauquier hockey rink. I tried to slide down to block a play and ended up sliding into a friends skates. He fell backwards onto me, with his elbow landing on my mouth. This probably wouldn’t have caused too much of an injury for me if I hadn’t had braces. Unfortunately his elbow dislodged two of my braces and pushed them up into my gums. I remember being in the hospital and having the doctor straighten the braces with what looked like needle nose pliers. I kept thinking to myself, “Dad could have done that and saved us a drive up to Nakusp”.

I have played hockey for most of my life. Mostly recreational with friends, however over the past 5 years competitively (as in beer league competitive) in and around Vancouver. I have seen friends and teammates go down with numerous injuries. From separated shoulders, to pucks in the face. You do what you can to keep safe, but sometimes it is just bad luck.

I like to play a pretty aggressive game. Go hard in on the forecheck, and win the battles against the boards. Once the puck is free try and make some offence. This is how the story of how I broke my leg begins.

Our hockey team (The Master Bladers) were into the second round of the playoffs. We were one of the hottest teams leading up to the post season, and swept our first round opponent with 2 very commanding wins. We were playing some excellent hockey and feeling pretty good about ourselves before the first game of the next round.

Unfortunately the second round proved to be a lot more tough than the first. Our opponent got up to an early 1-0 lead. Then after a quick goal by each teams we found ourselves down 2-1. Despite the close score, we were being outplayed pretty badly. Mid way through the first half I jump out for another shift. I wanted to bring some energy and get playing my aggressive game. I brought my forecheck and started challenging for a puck along the boards against one of the opponents players. I had the player pinned up against the boards and was trying to work the puck loose. I could sense the opponent was starting to lose balance, so I tried to get a handle on the puck and get out of the boards. Then he fell.

I am not sure if our legs were tangled, or if he fell directly into me, but the first thing that I remember was hearing a crack. I wasn’t sure if it was a stick, or bone, or something else. I looked down to where I heard the noise, and began to scream. My foot was pointing almost 180 degrees in the wrong direction. Heel where my toes should be, toes where my heel should be.

By this point I was crumpled on the ground. My screams were now due to the pain. Teammates rushing off the bench to help out. At this point I realized I needed to calm down. I could feel myself freaking out, bordering on shock, and needed to settle down to help prevent any further damage. Like a monk reciting their mantras, I kept tell myself, “Be calm, breath deep, be calm breath deep.”

With the help of some teammates I was able to roll over onto my side, in doing so my leg flopped over as well. Then I waited for the paramedics, while my friends did what they could to make me comfortable. A few long minutes later and the ambulance had arrived, and I was off to the hospital.

After x-rays it was determined I needed surgery. I had broken both my tibia and fibula in a spiral fracture. There was some major separation and work needed to be done. They put my foot in a cast, and sent me home to await my surgery date. Over the next few days I worked my way into a hospital in Vancouver, and was able to get surgery a day afterwards with one of the leading orthopaedic surgeons in Vancouver.

The surgery was a success, not that I can remember it. I had a metal rod implanted into my leg that starts just below my knee andl ends just above my ankle. Each end of the rod is secured to my bone with two screws.

Now here I lie a week later on my couch anxiously waiting for the swelling to go down in my leg, and to eventually get back on my feet.

Will I play hockey again? I hope so. My injury was freak and accidental. I could have just as easily broken my leg by tripping on a step or getting hit by a car crossing the street. It is unfortunately I broke my leg, and the recovery process is slow and painful, but I won’t use that as an excuse to be fearful and not play a sport I love and am passionate about. So is hockey a dangerous sport as everyone keeps telling me? Perhaps it is, but I don’t think it will stop me from playing. If you think that during the entire time I have been playing hockey, I have only had 2 notable injuries, I would say I am doing pretty good.

Also just wanted to say thanks to all my friends and teammates who helped me out the night I got injured and throughout the last week and a half. Also to all those wishing me well it has been appreciated! Lastly I have to give a big shout out to all the nurses at St Paul’s hospital. They were simply amazing. Actually all the staff there were really fantastic, nurses especially.

In 2005 I bought a Van with two guys I had only met twice in my life. Jason, Tak, and myself drove this van across Canada following Pearl Jam. Along the way we picked up fans who were doing multiple shows and gave them rides from city to city. Eventually we became known as the Touring Van within the Pearl Jam community. After the Canadian tour Jason didn’t get his fill of Pearl Jam, and went on to drive the Van across the USA. Finally he continued to follow the band through Europe and Australia, embarking on one epic journey.

Jason recently finished writing a book about his adventures following Pearl Jam. The book title This All Encompassing Trip will be release on October 31, 2010, however you can pre-order it now on his website at: http://www.thisallencompassingtrip.com. I haven’t read the book yet, but I am pretty sure it will be fantastic. So go out and pre-order yourself a book and help out a first time author.

A few weeks ago on a raining Sunday morning I ventured out to Abbotsford with Oliver to go pick some hazelnuts. I had found a farm online (Garside’s Fruit Farm) that did u-pick, and after a quick call to confirm they were open and had nuts we were off.

In less than an hour we were at the farm, a few short turns off highway one. The sign for the farm was a little small, but the very straight, very local road we were on made it easy for us to turn back around after we totally missed it. Once at the farm we went up and knocked on the door at the house. A nice elderly gentleman (Richard?) answered the door and pointed us in the direction of the hazelnut grove. He gave us a few rakes and some carpet to kneel on, which I thought was really nice of him.

Just as we headed out towards the hazelnuts it began to rain again, which was a little unfortunate, however we decided to stay and pick anyway. At first the picking wasn’t easy. There were a lot of empty shells from the past pickers, and it was difficult to spot shells that would contain any nuts. After about 20 minutes however I began to develop my eye for the nuts. My mom always talks about how she has to train her eyes every season before she goes pine mushroom picking, and I think this was much the same.

The hazelnuts at Garside’s farm were a little different than I was used to. My parents have a big hazelnut tree in our front yard, however it is much larger than the trees at Garside’s, as well the nuts at my parents were rounder and smaller. I imagine they must be different varieties. After a short time I had a full bucket of hazelnuts and had the technique down for removing the nuts from the skin. I continued to pick a few more as I waited for Oliver to finish up his bucket.

After we both filled our buckets we went back to the house and weighed our nuts. We each picked 5 pounds. At 60 cents a pound that cost us a whopping $3 a piece. We talked to the owner of the farm for a while about the farm and his other produce. We each bought a few apples (all organic) for again just a few cents a pound, and he gave me a bunch of free plums that were starting to go overripe.

It was really a pleasant way to spend a rainy afternoon, and was a real pleasure getting to meet the owner of Garside’s farm. That night when I got home I set out my hazelnuts for drying, and made one amazing plum cake (Pflaumenkuchen).

I highly recommend checking out Garside’s Fruit Farm. Not only is it easy to get to, but the owner is extremely nice, and the produce tasty.

Yesterday I re-launched kloppmagic.ca my alternate home on the Internet. In the past I had simply used kloppmagic.ca to link out to my other areas of interest, such as this blog, my Flickr account, or websites I was trying to promote. With the relaunch I am giving myself an outlet to write about more technical related issues that are on my mind. It also gives me an place to showcase some of the projects I am or have worked on in the past. If web development, scalability or web technologies are of interest to you, go check it out.

Last Saturday I went for a hike with some friends up Mount Brunswick. Mount Brunswick’s trail begins at the same place where you start when hiking the lions in Lions Bay. We started bright and early and started powering up the mountain.

The ascent up Brunswick was steep; much steeper than the Lions, making it not the easiest hike. We would take quick 5 minute breaks every 100 meters or so before continuing to push on higher. We did make it up the mountain quickly however and were at the top within 2.5 hours. The last little section of the ridge you have to scale across to get to the final peak (or what we thought was the peak). It was a little sketchy, but nothing outlandish.

The bugs were pretty bad on top (I got one in my eye, Rob swallowed a few), however none of them were biting. If they had been feasting I don’t think we would have made it out alive.

Overall with our lunch break we did the full hike in about 5.5 hours, which was good as we wanted to get back into the city at a reasonable time before the fireworks. Here are a few photos from the hike:

A few weekends ago I made it out to Victoria for the first time in years. I had lived there previously with my brother Tony for 5 months while going to school at UVIC, before making the move to Vancouver. It was nice to make it out to the island again.

Tony picked me up at the ferry terminal and we headed straight out to the Victoria Golf Club. He wanted to show me the course he was a member of, and get me to take a few photos. We grabbed a bucket of beer, a golf cart and drove out to the holes by the water. After taking some photos we ended up playing some of the holes. I even managed to par one of the par 3′s! It was a blast to get out onto a course again, something I wish I was able to do more often. Here are a few shots from the course:

The next day we went for a hike up the Juan De Fuca Marine Trail. We started at China beach and made our way north with stops at Mystic Beach and Bear Beach. The hike began pretty casually, however after Mystic Beach the grade began to pickup with a lot of up and downs into valleys. After about 13 kilometers into the hike I had to tell my brother we needed to head back. I was having some problems with one of my knees recently especially when hiking downhill. The constant up and down of the hike caused my right knee to be in a lot of pain. I made it out alive with a stiff knee but nothing serious. The Juan De Fuca Trail is really a beautiful trail to hike on, and has some amazing beaches that you can camp on. Highly recommended. Here are a few shots I took from our hike:

The rest of the weekend was pretty relaxed. We checked out the movie Inception, which was good, but a little too James Bond at the end, and pretty similar in concept to Canadian film ExistenZ. The Victoria Museum was also a must, and we finally finished up with beers and tacos at The Oyster Bar downtown. Finally it was off to the ferry where I rushed to get downtown Vancouver so I could catch Wolf Parade that night with my buddy Vincent.

A really great weekend on the Island, and one I will have to do soon again.

During my latest visit to my parents place in the West Kootenays I spent the majority of my time out at my parents camp site on the lake just south of Fauquier. I spent a good portion of my time out in a canoe exploring the lake, and taking in all the nature. Here are a some photos (and a select few stories) from my time back home.

One fun story is about a beaver I happened upon. I was paddling the canoe up into the mouth of Taite Creek slowly sneaking up on a blue heron. As I approached the heron quickly spotted me and flew off; too bad. However as he flew away I noticed a object slowly moving towards my canoe. On closer inspection it appeared to be either an otter or a beaver. He quickly disappeared under the water, so I decided to continue to circle through the mouth of the creek. As I was coming back around the mouth, I heard a strange gnawing sound. I navigated the canoe over to where the sound was coming from, and found the beaver sitting on a small island taking down a tree. I continued to watch (and follow) the beaver as he took the tree and dragged it to shore where I am assuming he was going to use for a damn.

The beaver became pretty familiar with me quickly and didn’t mind my presence, so I continued to watch him as he swam around and did his thing. Eventually my Father and nephew showed up on land to let me know it was time for dinner. I quickly canoed over to the bank where they were and let them in on the secret. we continued to watch the beaver as he had a late dinner himself. Eventually my nephew got restless and broke a stick, which spooked the beaver. The beaver then jumped into the water, gave us all a nasty look, then dived into the water with a big tail flap to show his displeasure. At that point we decided to give the beaver his peace and left to go for our own dinner.

Another fun story is of an osprey. One morning I woke up early for a sunrise paddle. The lake was so calm and glassy it was a perfect morning for the trek. I paddled south from Taite Creek (where my parents camp is) on my way to Octopus Creek. Along the way there is this fantastic old log that juts out over the water. On top of the log an osprey has built a nest on. As I passed by the log I noticed one osprey sitting in the nest guarding her eggs I assume, and a second osprey standing guard on a nearby tree. As I continued to paddle by I noticed two ravens fly in attempting to get at the ospreys nest. The osprey that was on the nearby tree immediately took action and flew with talons out at the ravens. It didn’t take long before the ravens had retreated.

On my return from Octopus I got really close to the nest to take a few photos. The osprey in the nest did not enjoy my presence too much and began chirping at me. The osprey did this funny head bob every time he would chirp, which I found somewhat hilarious. Eventually the bird got a little too fed up with me and took to the sky. I had thought I had chased him away, however within a minute the bird was dive bombing at me with his talons ready for action. At this point I decided I wanted to keep my eyes and paddled away as quickly as I could.

I have to say it is really awesome to see such a return of animals to the arrow lakes. When I was growing up the trend was towards the opposite. The lake was being abandoned by the ospreys, fish stocks were dwindling, and you were lucky if you ever saw an eagle. There has now been a great turn around, with osprey nests on every telephone poll, kokanee and trout in full abundance and larger than ever, and animals we never used to see like the beaver.

Hopefully I can return again before the summer is over to enjoy the solitude of the Arrow Lakes and all it has to offer.

In a few short hours I will be off to pickup a bunch of friends on route to the Arrow Lakes. Some of my friends are from the Arrow Lakes, while others had never heard of Fauquier, Burton or Nakusp until they had met us. We are all traveling to the valley to take part in a celebration of Burton Hockey, and the 10 years since it’s official formulation when we added Kyle Kusch to take stats for us.

For most of us though, hockey has been a part of our lives for more than 10 years, but rather a lifetime. Hockey was never about winning or losing, how many goals you scored, or that sick deke (not that we didn’t want to win, score goals, or revel in how awesome that deke was!); It was about getting to spend time with your friends and having fun. Some of my fondest memories of when I was young were from playing hockey. Foot vs blade sessions in the Fauquier Rink, knee hockey in Steve’s living room or shooting balls at his shed, and of course those ridiculous sessions up at the Burton basketball court with some of my closest friends.

As we grew older, hockey became more and more a tool to keep friendships together. Often times coming home for a visit your time was short and mostly spent with family, so it was tough to see all your friends. However you were bound to see most of them if you showed up to a Burton Hockey session. In that way Burton Hockey was a tool to reconnect, to be apart of something, and to be with Friends.

With many of us original players now living in Vancouver it was natural for us to branch out, and start what we had in Burton here. It took a while, but that same enthusiasm for the game was found here with the new Vancouver based players. In the same way, Burton Hockey in Vancouver provided friends to get together, to have fun, and reconnect.

Why were stats important? Stats first and foremost were a way to include a really close friend in the fun we were having. Stats turned out to be more than that though. Stats provided a way to document our sessions, and have a record of all the good times. Along with the website the stats were a way to build excitement, and a way to make things ‘official’. It was a way to build excitement, and to entice new players to play, and in the more recent years they have been a good way to fuel the friendly rivalries between the two leagues.

While the stats provided the momentum to Burton Hockey 10 years ago, it would all be for not if there wasn’t a rink. It took a major effort from Lorne, Joern and Simon and their parents to fight for the community to build that plot of asphalt. When they had won the community over and were given the grant money, those 3 spent every day at the rink to help build it. It was a community born effort that has gone on to strengthen not just the Burton community, but the community of the Arrow Lakes as a whole.

This weekend as I take part in the DecaSession, it will to celebrate a lifetime of great times I have shared with friends. It will be to take part in something that has reconnected old friends, and made new ones; and finally it will be to play as much hockey as humanly possible to help kick start another lifetime of great memories.

Most people who know me knew I wasn’t a big proponent of the Vancouver Olympics. The city of Vancouver has a laundry list of problems that the money spent on the games could have gone towards. Despite my opinion the games were going to go on, and I had the choice to make the most of them, or sit them out sulking. I decided since I would likely be paying for these games (along with the rest of Canada) for many years I would do my best to enjoy all they had to offer; and to be quiet honest, it was hard not to.

My Olympic experienced started off with the torch running through my neighborhood down 4th avenue. Chip Wilson of Lululemon fame was the torch bearer, and got to run it past his flagship store. I was blown away by how many people were on the streets. hundreds packed 4th avenue in both directions as far as the eye could see. The city was excited.

One of the things I was looking forward to during the Olympics was all the free concerts that were going on around town. I was able to catch a good number of great bands. The Arkells and Broken Social Scene at Ontario House, The Stanfields and Julie Doiron at Atlantic Canada House, Wilco at Livecity Yaletown, and Wintersleep at the Ozone in Richmond. The sheer musical talent that was in the city over the 2 weeks was outstanding, I just wish I was able to catch more of it.

I was also able to attend one event during the Olympics; a hockey game featuring Russia vs Latvia. It was a bit of a blowout by Russia what was expected. I got to go with Jason for free courtesy of our good friend Brian in Lethbridge.

In addition to the concerts and the events I tried to get out to many of the houses and pavilions after work. It was often tough to get into specific places as the lineups were just horrible. This is to be expected when over a million new people show up in your city.

Ultimately though the Olympics came down to experiencing the excitement of the games and the city with friends. The experience wouldn’t have been the same if it weren’t for my buddies.

It was also great to have visitors from out of town in the city. Joe and Kasie made the trip up from California, Sophie was in from London, Bryan from Lethbridge, and of course Mr Newfie Joe made it to town as well.

In the final few days of the Olympics I got more and more into watching the events, especially the hockey and the curling. Out of shear luck we were able to find a place to watch the semifinals game against Slovakia as we just happened to be watching the womens curling finals outside a fully booked bar that happened to have one table just come available.

Since finding a bar to watch the gold medal hockey game was near impossible, I invited friends over to my place for an impromptu brunch to watch the final game. It was an amazing finale to the Olympics, and a nail-biter of a game to watch. Eventually Canada pulled out the victory in overtime thus calming all of our nerves.

After the game we took to the street and marched down Granville Street to join the city wide party to cap off an amazing 2 weeks.

Despite my opposition to the games I did do my best to make the most of them. Now that the party is over, it will be interesting to see what happens with this city. Will it go the way of Barcelona and turn this city into an exciting, “fun” city? Or will we be the next Athens riddled in dept. Only time will tell. One thing is for certain, that 6 billion dollar price tag certainly won’t be going away anytime soon.

Over the holidays while at my parents place I started a project. I wanted to mount a camera in their yard, have it take pictures, and upload them to the Internet. Basically I wanted to start a webcam.

Before heading back to my parents place, I did some last minute shopping on craigslist and was able to get an old Canon A75 camera. In it’s day it was a decent camera, but now at only 3mp not many people would want it. So I was able to get it for a cheap $20.

Next up I was able to get a mini Compaq computer that would control the camera. My friend Oliver helped me out with getting it, and I thank him profusely for it. With these two items, a network cable, and a bit of programing I was able to setup Fauquier Cam.

So how does it work? I will get into the technical details in another post, but here is the brief overview. The camera is mounted outside on one of our sheds. It is connected via USB to the Compaq computer which sits inside the shed, as well to an ac adapter cord. The computer sits inside the shed running Ubuntu Linux, and controls the camera via the usb cable, and the wonderful Linux application GPhoto 2. So I have a script setup that runs every 2 minutes from 30 minutes before sunrise to 30 minutes after sunset. The script tells the camera to take a picture, then downloads the picture to the Compaq computer. After the image is downloaded to the Compaq it proceeds to upload the image to my webserver.

Once I have the image on my webserver, I resize it to multiple sizes, insert it into a database, then upload each size to Amazon S3 for storage and hosting. OK I can see your eyes glazing over, so I will leave the rest of this for the technical overview.

So what am I getting at? Well basically that if you browse to www.fauquiercam.com you will be able to see an up to date photo from my parents backyard. Greenhouse? check. Garden? check. New cabin my brother is building? check. Scenic pasture and mountains in the background? check. Yup you get it all. I have even included an archives section so you can go back and view photos from past days. Like January 2nd, when my parents made a snowman and a sign for the camera.

This is all just a start. Up next is compiling time lapse videos of every day and adding them to the site. Then as content gets built up (like lets say a years worth) I will do some time lapses of the seasons changing. Lets hope the Canon A75 stays reliable!

Well I hope you all enjoy this little glimpse into my parents backyard and a view of the weather in the small Kootenay town of Fauquier.

No long story for Italy like for Croatia. However a little back story to fill you in. Jason and myself left Croatia on my birthday bright and early in the morning. We took a bus into Trieste, where we then caught a train to Venice. We spent my birthday in Venice feeling a little tired from our weekend in Croatia. The next day Jason departed for England to see Pearl Jam, while traveled on to Verona for a few days. We finally met up in Florence for a night there, before heading off to Siena for the Palio di Siena (which will get it’s own blog entry). Here are a few photos from that time in Italy. Due note I was working during this time of my trip, which somewhat limited my exploration ability!

Venice:

Verona:

Archway into Verona:

View from lunch:

Jason in Florence holding David:

During my stay in Montreal this past July I wanted to make a point of visiting some new poutine places in my ever ongoing search for the Best Poutine in Montreal, something I started the year prior. This years search almost didn’t happen due to me getting sick. I wouldn’t let my little gastrointestinal problems stop me, as the day before I flew off to Germany (and the first day I started feeling good) I went out on an excursion to find the best poutine in Montreal.

Now I must first preface this and say I had a warm-up poutine my first weekend in Quebec on route to a chalet in small town Quebec, and a second warm-up poutine at a fancy restaurant in Montreal. All the other poutines were ingested on the Sunday, with my tasting crew of Jason, Tatiana and Vanessa.

Alright enough jibber jabber, onto the results!

Casse-Croute Chez Mon’Oncle Emile

Located on the side of the road in the small town of Saint-Gabriel, this little take away restaurant provided me with my first poutine of the year. I had high expectations as my Brother and his Wife both told me the best poutine in Quebec was to be found in places little take aways like this.

On first inspection the poutine looked really good; very clean fresh cut fries, lots of cheese curds, and a good serving of gravy. But did it pass the test? Lets see what people thought:

End result? The poutine was average. Yes my Nephew and his friend scarfed theirs down in probably 30 seconds or less, but that is likely more attributed to their hunger than the taste of the poutine. So why so average despite the initial good impressions? It was just kind of bland. The gravy wasn’t overly tasty, the cheese curds were not that stringy, and the fries, were nothing special. Don’t get me wrong, the poutine was still good, just nothing amazing.

Au Pied de Cochon

Jason, Tatiana and myself went out for some fine dining in Montreal at the Au Pied de Cochon. It is a happening French restaurant in a cool part of town. We enjoyed a really wonderful meal here, and the fact they had poutine on their menu, made things that much better.

So the poutine they served is a Foie Gras Poutine. At $23 a plate, we decided it was best to share. This was ultimately a good idea as the poutine was quiet large. So what was in the poutine? Basically it was a standard poutine, with a large chunk of Foie Gras placed on top. The gravy used was in the poutine was not typical however. It was more a creamy gravy that was extremely rich in flavor, a bit of a change from your typical beef/vegi stock gravy. I do have to say I thoroughly enjoyed the gravy of this poutine. The cheese curds were of high quality, and overall this was one delicious poutine. My only grips about the poutine was that the taste of the Foie Gras became a little overwhelming, but that could simply be because I don’t normally eat Foie Gras.

Overall this poutine stands near the top of my list!

Rapido

This diner I had wanted to try out the year prior however didn’t get around to it. It is often listed as one of the top places to get poutine in Montreal. One of the big draws for Rapido is that it is open 24/7, so it often turns into the big drunken hangout after for people coming out of the bars looking for a poutine to fill their stomachs with.

Jason, Tatiana and myself tried the standard poutine at Rapidos, and it was another case of looking good, but tasting nothing special. The gravy had a bit of a peculiar taste too it, somewhat of a poultry flavor, and had the consistency of one too (think chicken or turkey gravy). The cheese was extremely melty/stringy, however Tatiana was very concerned that it was not even cheese curds, but rather mozzarella. The taste of the cheese strongly pointed towards this.

So overall this poutine was average. I would likely get a poutine at Frite Alore before hitting up Rapido, but in a pinch their poutine will do.

Fameux Restaurant

Famuex is located right across the street from Rapido, and apparently there is a lot of debate who has the better poutine. In a video podcast from CBC Radio 3, Murray Lightburn, lead singer of the Dears claimed Fameux had the best poutine in Montreal. He swore by their poutine gratinée. Basically gratinée means they put the poutine in the oven, so the cheese is very melted. We had high hopes, thinking the poutine gratinée would be a poutine lasagna of sorts.

We were joined by Vanessa at Famuex, and our high hopes for the gratinée ended in disappointment. We found the poutine gratinée to be a bit dry, had an odd tasting gravy (similar tasting to Rapido oddly enough), and not really making us feel like we were eating a poutine.

Perhaps if they had used more gravy in the poutine it would have tasted better, but from what we got, I can’t say I can recommend this poutine. So Murray Lightburn, while you can write one hell of a song, you sure could use a lesson in good poutines.

Maamm Bolduc

Yes what would a poutine tasting tour of Montreal be without a stop at last years favorite Maamm Bolduc. This was our final stop on the tour as Jason had to get back to work (as poutine chef at Montreal Poutine!). So we marched our way in the pouring rain to Maamm Bolduc. We arrived to find it extremely busy. It took us a little while to get a table, and likewise to actually get served. Finally the waitress realized she totally forgot about us and got to our order.

We order the same meat in wine sauce poutine as I had last time, as well as 1 small regular poutine for Vanessa as she is a vegetarian. Need I tell you what the overall consensus was from everyone?

Best poutine they had ever had, and best in Montreal. I fully agree. The beef wine sauce is of course the favorite. It’s gravy is rich, but not over the top. The meat is tender, and adds to the overall flavor of the poutine. The fries are perfectly cook, clean (a sign that they change their oil), and fresh cut. The cheese curds were of good high quality, and very stringy. What more could you ask for?

Conclusion

Maamm Bolduc is my top choice once again. A few places I really had high hopes for this year, turned out to be average or disappointments. Au Pied de Cochon did provide for a solid challenger for best poutine, however at $23 a plate, and the clashing taste from the Foie Gras, I had to stick with Maamm Bolduc. That is the beauty of the beef wine sauce poutine from Maamm Bolduc. The beef and wine gravy don’t clash with the flavor you expect from a poutine, but rather enhance it. Maybe someday I will find a better poutine, but for now, my Montreal favorite still remains Maamm Bolduc.

So I figured after my last post I needed something a little more positive! So I thought I would outline my travel plans for Europe. Especially since just a few days ago I was considering calling the whole trip off.

So I am now leaving for Europe tomorrow night. I will be arriving into Frankfurt airport in the morning where I will take a train to Berlin to begin my 3 weeks in Europe. The following is an outline of where I will be:

July 28 – 31: Berlin, Germany
July 31 – August 2: Oldenburg, Germany for my cousins wedding
August 2 – 4: Berlin, Germany
August 4 – 6: Dubrovnik, Croatia
August 6 – 8: Driving north up the coast of Croatia in a rental car. Ending in Rijeka where I will visit my friend Sid.
August 8-9: Visiting with Sid in and around her hometown of Kastav.
August 9-14: Venice, Verona, and Florence Italy.
August 15-16: Sienna Italy for Horse race: Palio di Siena
August 17: Depart back to Vancouver

That about sums up my trip. Lots of places I have never been. A few familiar favorites, and not too overloaded. I am really looking forward to getting my appetite back and being able to indulge in many of the fine cuisines of Europe.

Sitting in the back of a car, somewhere between Ottawa and Montreal I feel a chill go through my body and I begin to shiver. The humidity outside is raging, and everyone else in the car is desperate to cool down, yet I reach for my hoody and curl up against the window as my teeth begin to chatter. My brother looks over at me in shock, and asks if everything is alright. I can only muster a whimper of a yes back.

Things however weren’t so alright. We arrive in Montreal. I quickly make my way upstairs to my Brother’s apartment. I try to goto the bathroom. Nothing. My brother brings me a warmer blanket, which I curl up in on my bed and slowly drift off to sleep in.

Panic

I wake from my sleep. I am a covered in sweat. My head is on fire and I am feeling this horrible surge from my body. Few seconds to process, what is it? What is it? Right I know this urge, I have felt it before. I need to through up. Sweat beads are forming on my forehead, I am starting to lose my ability to think. Something inside of me needs to come out. Based on previous experiences I know I have about 20-30 seconds max before I will be keeled over and letting loose. Not enough time to get to the bathroom. Not even close. I quickly scan my bedroom for a vessel. Looking. Anything. My backpack. I quickly dump the contents. Open up the pockets, grab out my passport, money, travel itinerary… The wave is on me, I need to expel what is inside me. I stick my head in my backpack and begin to throw up.

When I am finished the bag is nearly brimming. I have enough strength and wits to tiptoe past a sleeping nephew to the bathroom and dump the bag into the toilet, and throw it into the bathtub. As I do a second waves comes over me. Head in the toilet I let loose again.

As I finish up my second round, my stomach is feeling no less better than when I started. However now I begin to feel a new sensation. My abdomen feels like it is being stabbed by a million knives, and I realize my purge of my system has only just started. I manage to sit myself down on the toilet. Within seconds I am rocked with the most dreadful diarrhea I have had in years. My system is in complete discharge mode.

I finish up in the bathroom. I am weak, and tired. My last 2 days of food now shooting somewhere through the Montreal sewer systems. Channeling my strength I find enough energy and wits in me to rinse out my backpack and hang it on my brothers balcony before I stumble my way back to my bed where I crash.

The rest of the night is a mad feverish dream of little sleep, and many tiptoes to the bathroom, as the diarrhea takes hold of me.

Morning Arrives

I wake. My body is purged and empty of any substance. I wander into the kitchen to be greeted by my brother and wife. When queried how my night was I fill them in on the details. They are shocked that they never woke up once. We start to question what could have caused my sudden sickness. The first thing that pops into all our minds is the food. Ottawa was an extravagant time for my stomach. Two nights in a row I dined on home made Indian cuisine. The second day also featured a Ugandan beef stew and hamburgers. Lots of places to point fingers.

Having a very similar reaction the last time I had food poisoning, I resolved myself into thinking the worst was now over, and it was time to recover.

Tuesday Morning, Still No Change

I wake Tuesday morning. The night was again troubled with another raging fever and constant trips to the bathroom. No longer riddled with nausea, I still find myself with a horrible case of diarrhea. With only 4 days left until my trip to Europe I resolve myself that I need to see a doctor.

I arrive at a walk in clinic a few minutes past noon on Mont Royal. I pay my $50 “I-am-not-Quebecois” fee and begin to wait. I scan the waiting room. Despite the clinic having just opened at noon there are probably a good 7 or 8 people ahead of me. I look around for a tap or a fountain, as I am beginning to get thirsty. There is a water cooler. I get out a cup, turn on the tap. Nothing. The cooler is empty or not working. Damn. I sit back down. My body at this moment is in a state of stasis. An hour roles by, my time has still not come. My mouth has become a desert, and I am in desperate need of water. Dehydration is setting in I can feel it. My head begins to sweat, and that oh too familiar feeling of cold chills begin to set back in. I look nervously around the clinic. Still 3-4 people in front of me. I begin to shake. I try to control it, and keep it to a minimum. A little girl beside me looks at me for a second, then goes back to playing with her mother. I need to see the doctor.

I wait, and wait, and wait. Finally around quarter to one my name is called. I stumble into the doctors office. “Fermer la porte s’il vous plaît” the doctor says to me. I close the door. This was as much French as I was going to be able to handle in my state. I quickly return, “Pardon-moi je ne parle pas les Français”. He looks at me sideways with a bit of a smirk forming on his lips. He replies, “À Montréal, il faut parler français”. Yes I realize in Montreal I should speak French. Thanks. I don’t. I reply again that I do not speak French, and ask nicely if he can speak English? He replies again that in Montreal one must speak French.

At this point I was about to stand up and walk out. I came to a doctor to get help when I am sick, not to be ridiculed for not speaking French. I give it one last try. I tell the doctor in English I am from Vancouver, I am sick, and I need help.

Finally he breaks. He begins the diagnosis. My dehydration is getting worse. At first he doesn’t seem to concerned. Thinking it is likely to be food poisoning as I suspected. Then he does an examination. Checks my temperature. 39.4 degrees Celsius. That is bad. Now the doctor is worried. I can see it in his face. We sit back down at his desk. He looks over his notes. He tells me most food poisoning should have passed, and I shouldn’t have a fever. He thinks I am severely dehydrated, yet he can’t tell me what I might have. Either a bacterial infection or a virus. He thinks I should goto the emergency room at the hospital. He asks what I think? I say this is fine. He writes out a referral and sends me on my way.

The Waiting

I make my way to the emergency section of the hospital. There is a large waiting room that is brimming with people. So much so people are standing in the hallways. This doesn’t look promising. I talk to a receptionist who tells me to sit in a purple chair and wait for a nurse. In the meantime Youki (who at this point has escorted me around from the clinic to the hospital) finds me a bottle of water. It is cold. I start drinking the water, and find the more I drink, the calmer I begin to get. My chills start to get better, and the head begins to cool.

Twenty minutes later, a nurse comes. She takes me into a small room, does some preliminary tests and checks me in. She takes my temperature again. 36.9. She sees the cold bottle of water in my hand and notes that it is likely the cause of my lower reading. I am brought back to the waiting room and am told to wait until I am called. Youki checks with the receptionist and asks how long a wait time it likely will be. 3-4 hours. The receptionists advices us to simply go home and come back in 3 hours or so. So we do.

Back again at around 5pm. The waiting room is filled with the same people I saw 3 hours ago. Their faces are blank and bleak. Having to wait in that room is enough to drive a person mad. We make our way to the nurses booth to let them know I am back, and to check where in line I am. There is a good 11 people in front of me. 1 doctor on duty. 20-30 minutes per person. 3-4 hour wait. This is getting typical. We leave again, this time with the nurses phone number so we can check on my status.

Around 9:30pm we call back and find out there is only 1 person in front of me. Good news. This time Richard is my escort and we make our way down to the hospital. I speak to the nurse to let her know I am there. She says I will be up next. I wait, and wait, and wait. There is a really drunk Hispanic guy now in the waiting room with blood on his forehead silently mumbling to himself. The 10 or 12 people in waiting room quietly watch as the security guard tries to tell him to sit in a purple chair instead of a red chair. He mumbles something incoherent, before resting his head against the wall and falling asleep. On the far side of the room is a heavy set man with a walker. He has a massive growth on the top of his head, which doesn’t seem to phase him. I silently munches on a sandwich from a vending machine. He eats the sandwich as if it is the best food he has ever eaten. A few minutes after finishing his sandwich, he gets up and buys himself a second one.

A little after 11pm I get the call. Stefan Klopp to Salle 7. Another room to wait in. The doctor shows up sometime after 11:30pm. She is a young doctor who had clearly had a long tough day. The bags under her eyes, and the obvious head cold she was battling hide what was clearly a very beautiful French lady.

So asked why I was at the emergency. Then proceeded to diagnose my problems. Like the previous doctor she was unsure if what I had was bacteria or viral. So she wanted me to take some tests. First a blood test, then an xray of my abdomen. First up was taking blood. It is amazing how quickly blood leaves your body when a needle is connected to your vein. I fill two vials of blood, and am then told by the nurse to go to the xray department. I arrive. Put my form in the holder. Knock on the door. Wait. I get called into a dressing room, where the radiologist tells me in French what to do. I tell him I don’t speak French. He says to me, “This is Montreal, we speak French here. I suggest you learn.”. He then goes over what I need to do.

I have my abdomen xrayed. “Don’t breath… … Breath.”. “Don’t breath… … Breath”. OK Mr Klopp you are done.

I make my way back to the nurses reception. She tells me that I need to wait for my blood test results to come back before the doctor will be able to discuss further. Back to the waiting room I go. It is a little past midnight now. My brother looks tired. There is only so long a person can wait in a emergency waiting room and be able to keep their spirits up. He was trooping it out for me.

It is now past 1am and I haven’t been called back. I go back in and find the doctor. She tells me she hasn’t gotten back the results yet, and is wondering why. I think I am her last patient. She calls the lab. Looks like they forgot to send my results back to them. They post them up on my file. The doctor looks over my blood work and xrays then takes me back to the examining room.

My blood work looks find. Xrays look normal for someone with diarrhea. To know what I have they need to take a stool sample. However stool samples take 5 days minimum to process. She leaves the room. Comes back. Then leaves again. She says if I can get a stool sample to her now, or in the morning she might be able to have it processed before I leave. Great. I go to the bathroom, and fill the vials for the doctor. That is one problem I don’t have.

She says she can’t guarantee the results will be back, however wants me to book an appointment with a followup doctor for Friday. She gives me a number to call, and tells me to insist on an appointment. She then disappears with no further advice. We go home, and are in bed sometime after 2am.

Friday Checkup

Wednesday morning I call the number I am suppose to call. Apparently they are suppose to open at 8:30am. I get an pre-recorded message in French. I hand the phone to Youki. The office is closed today. Great.

Thursday up early again. Call at 8:30am. New message. “Our offices are open from 8:30am to 12pm, please call back again” it said in French. Humm. I proceed to call back every 5 minutes or so. Same message. Sometime after 10am the message changes. I pass the phone to my nephew. He says it has something to do with cards or something. I call again. Same message. This time I hang on the phone a minute… I am put on hold. Bingo. I talk to the receptionist, she books me in for Friday morning at 8:45am. I am set.

I get to the hospital I wonder how long I will have to wait despite my appointment. To my surprise I am immediately placed in an examination room. The doctor shows up 5 minutes later. “Why are you here?”, he asks. He say I was told to book the appointment because I am suppose to fly on Saturday to Europe. I inquire on my stool samples. He laughs. Those take at least a week he says. Damn. What do I do?

He looks over my file, then looks puzzled at me and asks, “Why haven’t you medicated yourself yet?”

How could I? Medication requires prescriptions, prescriptions come from doctors. The doctors have simply passed me around.

“You leave for Europe in a day and you haven’t medicated yourself”, he says again as he shakes his head. He looks over my file again. Viruses usually last 1-2 days tops. Since you no longer have a fever, and this is your 6th day of diarrhea, this looks bacterial he concludes. He writes me a prescription for an anti-biotic called Cipro, and sends me on my way.

Resolution

I get home with my new drugs. I pop my first pill. Within 30 minutes of taking it I am already feeling better. The pain in my abdomen is now gone, I have a new sense of appetite, and a smallest sense of hope enters into me. Despite my new found medication I decide to change my flight to Monday. I have to rebook my train trip from Frankfurt to Berlin, and update my booking at the hostel. The costs involved will be worth having a few extra days to recover before having to fly.

So this is where I stand now. It is Sunday morning. I just took my second to last pill. I am feeling a great deal better. The last week has been an adventure and a severe test of patience. Now I am just looking forward to regain my strength, so that I can fully enjoy my time in Europe.

Friend and co-worker Tom wrote a hilarious piece comparing operating systems to women. He came up with the notion yesterday at our company barbeque. Pretty funny read:

Windows 7 Codename: Lipstick Mascaraed Whore