COVID Chronicles Part 3: Breaking points, bubbles and the grieving process

It’s been a little over a month since my last post and update. It has mostly remained the same, aside from a few tragic events. But, for me, personally, the day in and out has remained relatively the same - get up, workout, eat, take Gertie for a walk, work, eat, go to bed. It’s a pretty mundane existence, if I may say so myself - but a safe and healthy one!

But things changed last Wednesday. I woke up to snow falling violently to the ground. Sure, it was beautiful, but it was the middle of May - not cool! This led to a bit of a mental breaking point for me. In a single moment, I didn’t know if we’d gone back in time or forward. Had I just dreamt the last 9 weeks, or was it actually December, and my concept of time has been dramatically lost?

Thankfully (sort of) neither of those scenarios were true. No time travel had occurred, but it didn’t ease the frustration of having to deal with snow this late into the year. And in confronting that, a lot of despair, uncontrollable tears, and even some time in the fetal position questioning all of my life choices had taken place.

Soon into the afternoon, the sun was bright and shining, the snow had melted, and life had mostly restored to this newfound routine.

I know many have been struggling in this process of isolation. I have been too. But overall, I’ve been okay with my circumstances, because I’m mostly happy to be on my own. It does get lonely, though, particularly when people around me complain about looking forward to seeing other people, when I, a single human living solo, sees NO ONE.

Last Wednesday was probably the most hopeless I have felt in the 9 weeks of isolation, so far. The recent tragedies that took place in and/or related to my province were sad, but I am able to distance myself from them for a number of reasons. But snow in May, fears of “the return to normal” and feeling like I would never see anyone again all hit me like one massive emotional brick. I know that things will ease up, and I will be around groups of loved ones again. I also know how hard it can be to remain rational when you’re alone with your thoughts 24/7.

But then Friday happened, and our illustrious Premier and Chief Medical Officer announced an easement in the Provincial restrictions - the introduction of Bubbles. These bubbles are a co-mingling of two households, with a specific directive that it be immediate family. I don’t know who dictates what “immediate family consists of” but I seriously considered choosing one of my chosen family pods!

To my surprise, my brother was on board to bubble with me, and, on Saturday evening I got to hug him for the first time in 60 days. It felt so good to interact with someone other than myself and to get a few hugs in. We went for a beautiful nature walk and then had a much needed BBQ (his partner also gave me a haircut!).

Beautiful views on a lovely summer-like evening hike in Wolfville, Nova Scotia!

It was amazing how normal that visit felt. It was like no time had passed and that I hadn’t been sequestered to my house for 2 months. I returned home feeling light in heart and mind (not so much body - I stuffed a lot of food in my mouth!).

But that brings me to tomorrow - the 7-year Death Day. Usually I take the day off, but this year, I was too late requesting the time and a few work obligations were scheduled. If it had been any other year, I would have been upset by this change in routine. This year, however, everyday is the same, so who knows if tomorrow actually is May 20th!

I imagine it will still be a difficult day. I imagine I will continue to have moments of tears following the recount of memories with that beautiful soul.

Nothing is the same anymore - and truly, I’m not sure it should be. I don’t mean this from the perspective of how I handle my loss, but in the grand scheme of things. We live in a mighty dysfunctional world. It doesn’t work. There appear to be pockets of hope, when reading and seeing families taking time to slow down and connect again. When I see that items like flour and yeast are unavailable - because people are starting to cook for themselves again! When people are more excited to get back to their favourite park, than they are to peruse a shop in the mall. There is hope that we can make a positive way forward, instead of going backwards, when the pandemic has passed. There is hope. There has to be. Otherwise, what are we isolating for?

- the Orange Canadian

COVID Chronicles Part 2: A holiday in quarantine

Easter weekend has arrived, and with it a 4-day weekend, a month in isolation, and far too much time to rehash the past.

None of those three things is productive for me.

This weekend represents the beginning of an extremely trying time for me.  The idea of being isolated is adding additional fuel to the memory fire. No, I’m not talking about a religious association - I’m talking about grief and loss.

Seven years ago my mom and brother came to Wolfville to pick me up from university for the holiday weekend. My roommate at the time was also joining us. I had just finished a hectic few weeks of school, work, and extracurriculars and was emotionally spent.

It turned out that when they arrived to come get us, my mom dropped a bombshell on me. My gramma was not well, and my mom had known for sometime. There is an entire history here of my mom being hurt by her own family for keeping her out of the know when there were similar struggles. To this day, I still feel a bit confused as to why she did the same thing to me. Though I know her rationale was that she didn’t want me to be upset with all the other things going on, I was so exhausted that it was worse finding out in that moment than it would have been had I known from the get go.

This led to a very inappropriate 28-year-old tantrum. I’ve written about the above situation a number of times in this blog, but most descriptively a few years ago.

This was my last Easter with my gramma AND my mom.

Given all that is going on in the world today, I fully recognize the need to be at home. I understand the importance of not seeing friends or family at this time (in general, not just during a holiday weekend). But, it also places me in a difficult position - needing to keep busy but not being able to.

This weekend would have been a time I would take to the woods for a good hike or spend some quality time with the people I love. And it’s true, this isn’t my first Easter on my own, but it is under the circumstances for which I find myself - doing so not by choice.

It’s no secret that I struggle with the family component of my life. There are a lot of memories that have created an unnecessary, yet real tension. These memories pop up regardless of the global circumstances.

I think what makes this particular weekend more difficult, is that I’m already starting to sink into the vortex of memories past, in general. The time at home has given me more time to overthink and question/relive things from the past. It’s a horrible cycle that is not easy to get away from when you cannot change the things around you. I try my best to stay positive, but I’ve got to be honest, it’s becoming increasingly more difficult to do so.

The guilt, regret, anger, grief and heartache from that weekend seven years ago are just as present today as they were following the loss of both of those amazing women.

Sadly, the truth of it all, is that I probably would have opted to stay home and avoid people even if it weren’t legally mandated. But I think this is what makes it so difficult this year. I don’t have any other option than to be at home, alone with my thoughts. And that is never a good place to be...

Weirdly, I had a dream last night that I was looking for my mom. When I woke up, I forgot for a few minutes that she was gone. It was a strange moment, as was the realization of what happened. Grieving never really goes away. And these times are only augmenting that heartache.

So, if you are reading this, and going through that, as well - I want you to know you are not alone. I want you to know I’m sorry you’re having to deal with all of this on top of your regular struggles. And I want you to know that you are stronger than you realize, no matter how hard the days may seem.

-the Orange Canadian

COVID Chronicles Part 1: Two weeks in

Today marks Day 14.

Two weeks ago, I spent the morning at my brother's working and doing some laundry (my dryer died months ago and I haven't bothered to replace it!). We listened to Council and ate pirogies drenched in sesame oil. And when my laundry had dried, we hugged each other and went our separate ways.

In the last two weeks I’ve encountered two other people in real life. Interestingly, all three of these events took place on Tuesdays.

Last week, we had a heavy, wet snowstorm that dropped 7 more centimetres than forecasted (for a total of 10). My neighbour kindly came over with her snowblower and made a big enough dent that I could get out, if I wanted or needed to. I didn’t.

Today, my friend dropped off a refill for Gertie. She knocked on the door and left the package on my doorstep. But I opened the door in time to have a quick chat from about 2 safe distances apart (about 10 feet, probably).

Aside from those two encounters, I’ve had plenty of chats online and over the phone with colleagues, friends and family. I workout every morning with my brother and his partner, and my friend and her partner. We do so, again, using an online video call platform. I’ve left my house once (this past Sunday for a quick drive), but didn’t see anyone. I see people walking by my house everyday, and an uncomfortable amount of cars on the road while I walk Gertie at ungodly hours of the morning and night.

If you’ve followed my journey over the past number of years, you will know I have struggled with depression and anxiety. Over the last year or so, I’ve been good, though. I’ve established a good routine that involves healthy eating, fitness, a great job and plenty of rewarding volunteer activities. But when I was told I would now be working from home and not to come into the office, my immediate thought was oh, this is not going to be good.

Week 1 went by pretty quickly. It was easy to stay home, because I had plenty of snacks and stuck to my routine, aside from physically going to work. Instead, I switch my PJ bottoms, drank an extra cup of coffee and tried my hardest to focus. But I will be honest, most of that week was a blur. I know I accomplished quite a bit, work-wise, yet I don’t really recall much.

Week 2 started with a clean outlook. The sun was shining on Monday morning, and I was ready to plow through the workload I planned to accomplish. I had a number of conference calls and webinars scheduled throughout the week, as well. In other words, I was busy. The snacks were running out, though, and my fitness schedule more than doubled what I would regularly do. Somehow, I lost 5lbs, despite eating 20 of the 32 donuts I made during the week!

Both weekends I’ve found hard. It’s where I notice the heaviness of the current situation more than other times. It’s when my brain goes into overdrive and risk of entering a very dark place is high. I try to keep busy and stay focused. I’ve actually been keeping up my work schedule, as much as possible, so that the routine remains in place. But it’s still a challenge. It’s hard being on my own...

And then Week 3 rolled around. I woke up Monday morning and my brain was in a fog. My body ached. I felt sad. I felt overwhelmed and helpless. My training has been in an action-based, helping-hand capacity, not to sit at home and hope for the best. I still rolled out of bed and worked out. I still did all the things I normally would, but I was definitely not present.

Tuesday (today) it was more of the same. Though my body hurt much less and I slept through the night, my brain was absent. I could barely focus on the exercise and standing up at the same time. It’s a weird thing to describe. I had a good work day and was productive, but I just felt off for most of it.

And then I heard the welcomed sound of a knock on the door. It was my friend making the drop. And to see her, and the reaction that followed caught me completely off guard. I was so overcome with emotion and overwhelmed by how long it had been already (and how grim the outlook for this period ending was), when she left, I burst into tears. I sobbed, uncontrollably, for a good 30 minutes. And it was an ugly, hyperventilating sob. Like high school girl just got dumped, teen movie cry.

I’ve felt like I’ve been holding things together pretty well. I’m fortunate that all my friends and family scattered all over the world are so far unaffected by this virus. Well, at least in terms of health. But I am constantly reminded of how privileged I am. Not just because I’m healthy, but because I (so far) remain employed. I can afford to stay home, because I can afford groceries that will sustain me longer than I would typically shop. I have clean water. I have heat and electricity and internet. I’m still connected to the world around me, but there’s an odd sense of being disconnected. I cannot explain it.

Yet despite all of this, I am not filled with anxiety related to the virus, itself. I still see it in practical, scientific terms from my perspective of climate change. I continue to remain accepting of the fact that I will likely loose people I love in the coming months. And while, yes, it will be sad to experience that loss of life, when looking at the greater good, I’m not swayed on my belief that we need to lessen the number of people on this planet. I am focused on this fact, which helps me to stay calm and rational. The numbers do not scare me. They do not incite fear or panic. They just make wonder, how much longer am I going to be stuck here?

The Triple Threat: Pandemic, climate change and privilege

It’s 4AM. I’m wide awake and overthinking. Again. The world seems somewhat quieter - the hustle and bustle of the weekend is somehow hushed with the events happening around the planet. It feels somber.

On March 11th, the World Health Organization declared a pandemic. Since this occured, I’ve had numerous conversations with an equal number of people. They get heated very quickly, and it’s generally unpleasant. People I once was able to have calm, rational debates with are now giving me the silent treatment, or giving me prescriptions for how I should live my life based on their personal assumption I couldn’t have concluded these things on my own.

It’s exhausting, to say the least - not to mention demeaning.

I’m continually reminded that we are living in “a new world.” But the reality is, this threat has always been present in our modern world of air travel and globalization. Countries have seen health-related events take the lives of thousands in the past, and we will surely see this again in years to come. The struggle I am having internally, however, is in relation to two very present realities of the world we live in - climate change and privilege.

We have known for many years (decades even!) that one of the impacts of climate change is health. Mental health is increasingly becoming a part of the conversation and we, in the field of climate change, are already struggling with how we can help to mitigate this very real outcome of what’s on the horizon. We also talk a lot about other health factors, such as the rise in disease. In fact, the CDC lists a number of vector borne diseases that are augmented by changing climates - one of which is the plague. I believe, what we are seeing today, is only the beginning of globalized health crises as it relates to climate change.

And yet, no one is talking about it. At least not in this context.

When Australia was on fire, the link between that specific reality and climate change was so obvious. No one talked about it. They sent thoughts and prayers and then went about their day.

Over the last week, I’ve become increasingly more frustrated at how quickly people are becoming enraged over the rise of COVID-19 (and by all means, people should be calling on their governments to take action and taking logical precautions themselves!), but not that of an equally present and arguably more devastating threat - climate change. Imagine if the outrage for the latter matched that of the former. Maybe we’d be in a better position. But the reality is, things are bound to get much, much worse in the next several years and by then it will be too late.

I am frequently asked how I stay “so optimistic” working in this field. But in truth, I’m not overly optimistic about our ability to cope with the pending implications of inaction related to the climate crisis before us, and this pandemic is further proof of why.

The current reality was (and still is) a perfect opportunity to showcase how incredible we are as a species. We have the chance to truly work together - globally - on preventing or at least reducing the impacts of something horrific. And, in fairness, I think on a political level, this is happening and I am pleasantly surprised by this course of action. But at the individual level, I am disheartened by what I’m experiencing. Store shelves emptied of basic essentials, black market sales of said essentials at exuberant prices, and threatening and unpleasant messages from peers to family and friends travelling abroad. This is not what I expect of my fellow humans. This is not normal behaviour, nor is it acceptable. And it is the foundation that has put me in an uncomfortable situation when discussing the pandemic with those around me.

And this brings me to the second piece - privilege.

When news of the initial cases of COVID-19 began to break in January, it was barely a news item. People shrugged, made some comment about China, and then carried on with whatever they were doing. In North America, China is pretty far away. As is Australia. So the whole “us vs. them” “here vs. there” psychology is at play. If we can’t see it, it doesn’t exist, right?

The problem with climate change, and now the emergence of this virus, is that the most vulnerable people in both cases, the ones already dealing with the realities of either scenario, are typically not white. They’re also not your neighbour. Yet.

My time in East Africa, in particular, placed me face-to-face with climate change every single day. It wasn’t super obvious at first, but eventually it was the only thing I could see. The shift happened so quickly that it felt like everything changed overnight. Rains were failing, crops were struggling, markets weren’t selling “in season” products, prices were higher, etc. But convincing those at home of this reality in relation to climate change was just as much of a harsh reality. Most would give that pity face and tell me I was doing great work “over there.” Yet the truth of the matter is, I wasn’t. The problem was far bigger than anything I could contribute to. And it is from here that my internal turmoil is founded.

Seeing people buy van loads of toilet paper, hand sanitizer, etc., is mind boggling. It hurts my heart immensely. It hurts in the same way it does when I talk about putting together a 72-hour disaster preparedness kit. The rich - those with an additional privilege - can afford to do this with ease. But this is not the case for everyone, or even most. Our privilege shows now more than ever. And it’s disgusting. 

The reality is, this virus is surely to account for many lives lost. And what I’m about to say now, I recognize fully, will be unpopular and is also uncharacteristic of my general view on humanity, but it’s a scientific rationalization that I have been working through over the last few years. A massive loss of life, though troubling, is actually positive in terms of climate change. Less people on the planet means a reduced burden on resources. Allow me to say that again - a reduction in human lives will benefit our ability to lessen the impacts of climate change. But, unfortunately, like we’re seeing now, and like with almost everything in the world, the outcome will be disproportionate. It won’t be an even mix of “us vs. them.” It will be the world’s most vulnerable. The geographically disadvantaged. The sick. The elderly. The poor. 

The least affected will be the “us.” Westerners, usually white, have the greatest ability to adapt and cope with whatever we are about to face. They have the financial means to do so, but they also have institutions and specific systems in place to ensure they aren’t immediately impacted. And even if trouble does find them, in many cases, they can buy their way out of it. This isn’t new. It’s been happening for as long as human beings have existed.

So, while you’re stockpiling for the apocalypse, think about how your actions are directly (or even indirectly) affecting others. Be grateful for the systems we have in place, here in Canada, that offer us certain assurances, at least for the immediate future. Be grateful for the water we easily have access to in a split second, that enables us to not only drink, but keep our hands and surroundings clean. Be grateful to have access to food (though this is surely to become challenging in the weeks and months ahead for food banks offering respite for those not as fortunate). Be grateful for the healthcare we are afforded simply by being born in this country. 

The time to get angry has arrived. But we need to address this in a logical manner. We need to take a breath, remain calm, and act together to find workable solutions for as many as possible. We have reached a crossroads where we have a choice between community, compassion and making effective change, OR we can continue as usual.

I know which one I choose. Do you?

Guilt

Guilt. (‘gilt) noun 1. the fact of having committed a break of conduct especially violating law and involving penalty; A jury will determine the defendant’s guilt or innocence. 2a. the state of one who has committed an offence especially consciously; His guilt was written all over his face. 2b. feeling of deserving blame especially for imagined offences or from a sense of inadequacy: SELF-REPORACH.
3. a feeling of deserving blame for offences; Wracked by guilt, he confessed his affairs.- Merriam-Webster Dictionary

To a good number of people in the world, Christmas is a time that is spent enjoying time with family, visiting loved ones, and sharing a meal, a drink, or both. Within that group of people, there are a number who include spending time at church, practicing their religious beliefs, as a part of their celebration. As well, there is a group that feels the exchange of gifts is a necessary part of this holiday.

All of these are quite well known.

But there's another group within the group. This is a group who may not celebrate in the way the Hallmark-world wants them to. They aren’t typically acknowledged, and yet, they somehow suffer it out year-after-year.

Growing up, I knew about this lesser-known group. I had an inside track: my Mom.

For those who knew my Mom, you’re well aware how much she loved pretty much every holiday. She would decorate weeks in advance, and bake whatever themed cookies, treats and more to give out to friends, family, neighbours, and anyone who happened to be in proximity of our home (if you found yourself lost or had your car breakdown in front of the house, you were leaving with a bag of fresh baked goods!).

Despite this, there was a part of her that not many knew about - the dreaded family dinner.

In the last few years of her life, it became more and more obvious (at least to those closest to her) that these family events were a source of anger, resentment, and dread. We had many conversations about how they made her feel after we all parted ways to our separate households, and I gotta say, it didn’t sound great. There was a part of her that wished she could simply skip them altogether. But, there was a much bigger part of her that felt guilty for feeling this way.

The first Christmas after she passed, I worried about how things would go at our tri-annual family gathering*. I avoided Thanksgiving so I wouldn’t have to deal with the whole first major holiday sans-Mom thing. And to be honest, it was great! Everyone got along, things seemed to be a collaboration, and I left that day feeling good.

Then I fled the country for a while.

The thing about spending Christmas in another country, is that you learn how it is for others. I don’t mean this in the now I know how grateful I am to be Canadian sort of way that most people would assume, but in more of a holy noodles - we’ve been doing it wrong sort of way.

Aside from the excessive presence of Celine Dion Christmas tracks playing 24-7, the holiday season in Uganda was really about sharing time with family. For a good majority of folks who celebrated, this also included some sort of church service or services. It made me realize just how beautiful Christmas could be.

So, when I returned home a few years later, it was a rude awakening to confront those differences. Rather than a slower pace, filled with meaningful moments, it was less about the quality and more about the quantity. And that’s never a good mix.

In the nearly year and a half since I returned home, I have wanted to spend less and less time with family...or really anyone. Things changed from when I left to when I returned, and it hasn’t gotten much better.

This year, I decided I wasn't going to play that game. I was going to take back the joy of Christmas, and spend the holiday the way I actually want to. Of course, this lasted until about December 23rd, when the heavy weight of guilt started to set upon me. And guess what - I’m participating in the family dinner, once again.

The thing is - the meal will be delicious, the conversations will be fine, and it will be great to see everyone. But it’s so surface level. Nobody actually talks about anything of value. It’s small talk...for two hours. It’s an obligation for everyone! I know this because everyone else shows up 15 minutes before the meal is scheduled to begin and leaves the minute the dessert plates are cleared (if the even stay that long, citing any number of excuses to vacate the premises).

Today, as I drove home from a little Mama-Puppy bonding time, Coldplay came on the radio, and I erupted in tears. This year, I, too, know where my Mom was coming from. I feel the anger, the resentment, and the dread that she once did. I am my mother’s daughter whether I like it or not. And like her, I will never be able to stop the cycle, because, like her, guilt ultimately controls how I make decisions when it comes to family. Not my desire to engage with something or a whole lotta somebodies. Not my being swept up in the magic of it all. Guilt. And imagined guilt, born out of a sense of inadequacy, at that.

-the Orange Canadian

*We tend to meet for Easter, Thanksgiving and Christmas.

Me and all Moai friends

It’s hard to put into words all that I experienced last week*. I never imagined I would ever get to Easter Island in my life time - especially this early on! The intrigue of Easter Island is a) because I’m an environmental history nerd, b) because I’m a nerd and c) because of the island’s history. Getting to see the Moai in person and to learn more, first hand, about the history and culture of this island has been #2 on my travel bucket list for well over a decade. The amazing thing is that bucket list #1 is climbing Kilimanjaro, which I was able to at least see earlier this year! Who would have thought I'd complete one in full and a second in part in the same year. (And for the record, my goal is Kili by 2023)

In August of this year, I was having a crappy day. Usually this prompts me to check out flights to any number of places and for whatever reason I happened upon a deal that I just couldn’t pass up**. Round trip airfare to Easter Island for a 10th of the price I usually see it at. I felt like this was too good to be true, but sure enough, it was a legit flight and price.

Upon arrival I was picked up from the airport by the hotel’s owner. She drive me around town and helped me to navigate my way around before arriving at the property to get settled and take a much needed shower***. I then ventured into town (about a 20 minute walk each way and involving a trek either up or down a hill) in search of a much needed bite to eat. And this is when I learned just how small the island is...

Within a few minutes, I had bumped into someone I had met on the plane. We then proceeded to tour around Hanga Roa (which means long bay in Rapa Nui language) coming across Tahai, the cemetery and several horses. We eventually parted ways, I grabbed dinner and made my way back to the hotel to catch some overdue zzz’s.

Look at the blue! First impression/visual of Hanga Roa.

First glimpse of Tahai. These are recreations of Moai that were originally placed here.
(Above and below)

The cemetery. Such a beautiful space with so many bright colours celebrating the lives of those found within. 

Day two started with a delicious breakfast and then I was picked up for a the first of two full days of cruising around the island. And they were full days! The guides for both days, Ata and Benjamin showed us the many highlights of the island, while offering up much of its history and just being genuinely fun guys to hangout with.

This tour included six stops, including: Anakena, Te pito kura, Puna Pau, Ahu Akivi, Tahai and Orango. Each told a different part of the island’s history.

Anakena - the birthplace of Rapa Nui culture. The Moai that sit upon this alter are the tributes to Royalty. 

On the backs of the Moai are carvings that depict several things, but usually represent the transition from life to the afterlife. You can’t see them well here - partly due to sunlight and partly due to how far away you are from them as a measure of protection/preservation - but the detail on these Moai are quite visible. This is possible because of their location.

Te pito kura or the navel of the world. Really cool history here, but also - stellar backdrop!

The view of Hanga Roa from Puna Pao!
This is the site where the pukao, or hats/topknots were carved. 

The quarry where the pukao were created. It’s pretty overgrown now, but you can see subtle reminders of what once was. 

Ahu a Kivi, or the Seven Sailors. It is believed that a priest had a dream which prompted seven sailors to take to the seas only to find themselves upon Rapa Nui! Of course, it also correlates to a certain seven-star constellation which happens to pass by this exact spot for three months of the year, beginning around the month of June...

The Seven Sailors from behind. It also rained while we were here, creating a nice break from the heat and humidity!

Back to Tahai for the second time in as many days! 

Picture perfect - this is Moto Nui, which is sometimes called Birdman’s Island. This is the island that was part of the Birdman competition! What a view from Orongo - the birthplace of the Birdman Society!

These are the houses that competitors would live in leading up to the competition. It reminded me so much of L’Anse aux Meadows in Newfoundland. Now I want to go there even more! There are 54 in all!

Also at this stop is Rano Kou - one of the three volcanos on the island! The unique feature here is that the crater is home to a large source of water! See the video below. 

Afterwards, a fellow tour mate, Chicago, and I continued our venture in Hanga Roa and eventually found a place to grab dinner. Then we parted ways, and I made the trek up the hill for an evening of relaxing, reading, and trying to recount every fact I had been given throughout the day. 

The next day I jumped back into the van with Chicago and the boys (great band name!) and a few others we picked up along the way and began the second day of touring. This day included: Tongariki, Reno Raraku, Akahanga, Vaihu and Vinapu. Again - we uncovered more of the history and culture. It was also a sad break fro my travel buddies, as Chicago was heading on to her next destination, and I could no longer afford to pay Ata and Benjamin to hangout with me.

The 15 Moai that make of Tongariki and the fallen 16th. In 1960, a tsunami hit the island, which destroyed this area. It was actually referred to as the mess. The tallest of these Moai is 10 feet, and estimates place the wave at a minimum of 15 feet. In the early ‘90s, a Japanese company donated a crane and paid for the restoration of this site, which was completed in 1997. To recreate the ahu, old pictures and drawings were used to put the pieces together so that we can see them as such today. 

A view from behind. 

And speaking of behind...this one’s got a bit of a tushy! Always the mature one...

Welcome to Rano Raraku - THE QUARRY! This is where the Moai were carved out of the rock  and later transported to their alter. Here, you can see one still in the rock, which was abandoned for one of many reasons - the end of the Moai era, or to compete with an even larger one, among other reasons. 

This bad boy is the largest Moai found to date. Can you see him, sleeping amongst the stone? If you can believe, he is actually 7 stories tall, most of which has been buried due to erosion and such!

Carved Moai that were abandoned before transport, many of which had the details etched into their backs. Again, we can only see part of these, as most of their bodies are actually underground. 

An ocean shot from Akahanga. There was also a cave that we visited here, but the pictures all seemed blurry. These caves were used to mark territory and where quite uniquely designed...but you’ll have to take me word for it!

Vaihu. This is a recreation of a typical village found near the ocean. In this image you can see one of the housing structures. 

Aside from the home, there are these round planters, which are actually quite tall.  Here they grew a number of things, including sugarcane and a plant that was used to make cloth fibres for clothing. The rectangular structure in the background is a chicken coop!

The final stop, Vinapu, included the only female Moai. There is a bit of disagreement about what this actually represents. Some believe it’s a representation of Mother Earth, while others believe it to be Mary. Apparently it was two headed, which could also represent a woman pre-PMS and whilst PMSing... just a thought.  

The days following the two intensive tours were not as exciting. Ata and Benjamin were a tough act to follow. On my first day sans Chicago and the boys, I walked into town and made my way toward the museum. I ended up checking out Tahai for the third and fourth time and was amazed by how each visit to this same site showed the Moai in different ways. Before the museum, though, I started part of the hike along the shoreline, but gave up because it was hot and my need to pee outweighed my desire to exercise.

The outside of the Museum.

My best shot of Tahai! 

Afterwards, I grabbed a bite to eat, checked out some of the markets, and then made my way back to the hotel, as I had an early start the next day.

This was the view from my room. It was so relaxing to sit outside and read, or just watch the chickens run around. It reminded me so much of Uganda, which made me incredibly homesick, but in a comforting sort of way. 

My final full day started with a 5:50AM pick up. The destination? Back to Tongariki - the place I had started my tour only a few days before. I had a great conversation with my guide and we made it just in time to secure a good parking spot (both for the car and for me to witness and take photos of the sunrise). There is something spectacular about a sunrise. Sunset? Sure, they’re okay too, but how many people actually get to see sunrises on the regular? Tongariki did not disappoint.

No words. 

A side view. That mountain in the background is Rano Raraku, or the Quarry!  I think this was my favourite place on the island. So beautiful, but also oddly peaceful despite all the people. 

“Sun’s coming up and a new day starts. Ain’t nobody trying to break my heart.”
- Walk This Road, Bruce Guthro
How can you feel anything but alive when you get to witness this first hand?!

The rest of the day was spent relaxing and doing some final wandering around Hanga Roa. I also had an incredible meal that will make all future meals pale in comparison.

My view from the restaurant. You can’t see them, but if you were to look hard enough there’s a couple of canoes out there that had just flipped. It was so much fun watching them chase the waves...and tip continuously!

In the evening, I jumped into another vehicle and attempted to undergo a stargazing tour. Here’s the thing, it was disorganized and a little preachy**** (there was a slide show!). It had been raining just as the tour began, so the sky wasn’t super clear. Luckily when we arrived back at Anakena, I found few stray dogs and got my money’s worth in dog snuggles. I named one of them George. My only regret in life is not bringing him back home with me. I did get to see some stars, though, between snuggles. Here’s my best shot from the night:

My final morning was odd. It’s the first time in a long time that I’ve gone somewhere just for fun. It wasn’t work. I didn’t feel a sense of loss in leaving, other than the dread of returning to winter in Canada. But, I’d made a few friends on the island; people I hope I get to see again in this life. I’m still in disbelief that the past week actually happened. I feel grateful for the time I spent on the island and to all of those who shared a piece of their home, their history, and their energy with me.

Once in a life time, for sure.

-the Orange Canadian

*I mean let’s face it - I still haven’t been able to put my trip to Kenya into words yet - and that was in May!
**You know, because who doesn’t deal with rough days by daydreaming about running away...?
***Sometimes I feel like the less active I am the more disgusting I smell. Also, after living in Canada for a year, I’d forgotten how magical cold showers were! 
****Further proving just how great Ata and Benjamin were!

Rapa Nui: A Cole’s Notes style history lesson with just a dash of wit

There have been very few times in my life that I've wanted to do or see something and it's lived up to or exceeded my expectations. In fact, I can list them all: the Colosseum (2015), the River Nile (2016 although I’d seen it before), Mt. Kilimanjaro (2018), and now, Rapa Nui (2018).

I didn’t tell many people where I was heading. This was partly because most people that I did tell had no clue what I was talking about, but also because I truly did not believe this was going to happen until at least the second full day on the island was complete. Several questioned why I would want to go there over any of the other islands in the world. And the truth is, I’ve been interested in this place ever since I saw a television advertisement for Dristan in the 1990s.

In recent years, the island seemed to pop up in course work for my undergrad and in one of the books that led me to attend university in the first place - A Short History of Progress by Ronald Wright. It fascinated me how quickly an entire ecosystem could be decimated by human activity and have always thought of this as THE place to look at environmental history and the impact we humans have on the world around us.

Before I really get into my trip, perhaps it would be good to provide a bit of the background.

Rapa Nui, or Easter Island as it’s known more widely, is believed to be the most isolated inhabited island in the world. It is a territory of Chile, although it’s found 3500+ kilometres away from the continent. The nearest inhabited place are the Pitcairn Islands located 2075 kilometres north-west of Rapa Nui. I’ll be honest, the idea of heading to an island that doesn’t even show up on a world map because it’s so small was something that made me hesitant to visit. Thankfully, this did not appear to bother me once I arrived (tsunami signage and all!).

Image Source: Google Maps
Notice that the town name, Hanga Roa, takes more space than the island itself?!

In case you were wondering, the safe zone area was basically the church, which, for any Nova Scotia folks,
is about the distance of running from the harbour to Barrington, maybe Argyle Street. Upon seeing these signs, I asked how big of a threat this was and was told the last tsunami took place just 3 years ago. You’d never know...

Anyway, the Polynesians are said to have arrived on the island somewhere around 300 to 1200 CE/AC. It was essentially the last stop in the trifecta that makes up the Polynesian area, and as a result was given the nickname Te pito o te henua or land’s end/the navel of the world. Eventually they set up shop, and before long they began to search for ways to honour their ancestors. This came in the form of what we now know today to be the Moai (you know - those famous head statues, as some of you have described...).

Building the Moai was labour intensive, resource intensive, basically just intensive. It took a lot of time to carve the statues, plus transporting them throughout the island (which is only 22.5 kilometres by a little over 11 kilometres, for the record...but it’s a hilly 22.5 by 11!), and setting them upon their alters, or ahu.

To put this into perspective, to date, there are 887 Moai registered/known on the island. Of those, 288 had been moved and placed (at one time) on one of the ahu, 397 can be found at the quarry, and the remaining were enroute to their respective ahu. That’s a lot of rock and man power. And it became completely unsustainable (surprise!). Eventually, the Moai era came to an end and those beautiful creations came tumbling down.

Following the end of the Moai era, it got a bit weird. Enter: the Birdman era. Okay, so, it wasn’t entirely weird, at least not in the good way, but it was pretty competitive. Essentially, in the time of building Moai, there was a king-based socio-political structure to the Rapa Nui lifestyle. The Birdman era sought to change this, by giving everyday folk a chance. This, my friends, is known as the Birdman Competition.

This competition is like no other I have ever heard of. Picture a bunch of scantly clad sirs scooting down a steep cliff (approximately 300 meters) into the ocean with floatation devices made of reeds to a near by island (known in English as Birdman’s Island, but to the Rapa Nui as Motu Nui.). Once there, they searched for the first manutara (or the sooty tern) egg of the year. When the lucky guy was successful, he place the egg in a sort of headpiece, and swam back to Rapa Nui, climbed up the cliff and was then deemed ruler for the year. Of course, they had to deal with the usual challenges of swimming in the ocean, plus the risk of being murdered by other competitors if they found out you had the egg. Kinda makes our elections seem pretty boring, eh?

The Birman competitions continued until the white-folk showed up in 1722. And this, is when Rapa Nui was transformed into Easter Island. The reason? Well, the Dutch showed up on Easter Sunday 1722 and hence, the name Easter Island became the name of “choice” to both the Dutch and the other white explorers to follow. Not unlike a typical Easter in my family though, instead of a good home cooked dinner and conversation, these explorers brought disease, slavery and Christianity to the island over time. Also, they made the island exist...because the hundreds of years before they “discovered” it, there wasn’t really anything going on...

In the 1860s palm production began, which once again decimated the environment and brought down the population significantly. (Side note: in case you haven’t been paying attention, this is the 4th societal/environmental collapse I’ve mentioned here in the island’s history...) The most recent shenanigan was an attempt to produce sheep, which lasted until the 1950s. It also did not great things to the island’s environment.

Today, the island has recently passed a law that makes landownership exclusive to the Rapa Nui. This means, not unlike Canada, you have to show up with a job offer in order to stay, but you can’t own land or a house. The island is also a National Park, and is now solely operated by Rapa Nui (although guides and such do not need to be Rapa Nui).

To conclude, if you haven’t been able to see the link between human genius/irresponsible activity and the impact it has on both people and the environment, well, what can I say? But, if you have, then you can see why the history of the island (and I mean the real history, not the half-assed attempt at recounting every word I’ve read or heard and trying to make it fun for you to read) is one of the best examples of environmental collapse. BUT it also gives hope that we can actually rebuild should something like this happen on a larger scale (i.e. globally). I just hope we come up with something better than a Birdman competition...

-the Orange Canadian