MicroJournal

More houses from recent walks.

I'll highlight some of the interesting items from my Packing List.

Here's the Roam Ducky, the world's smallest universal power adapter.

When you ignore the GPS that tells you it’s a dead end, you find gems like this.

As the sun is setting, follow me over the wall to the left. It looks like private property, but I don’t believe it is, and since there’s no sign ...

I have a running belief that I am watched over by egrets and herons. I believe so, because in every country I’ve ever been, I see one within a few days of arriving. I landed in Portugal on Tuesday and saw my first egret today. And though the birds are native to every country I’ve ever been in, and I’m well acquainted with the concept of confirmation bias... Well, it's just more fun to believe in guardian angels.

Admittedly the photo is terrible as I was standing in the middle of a highway and my camera was completely zoomed in.

More from today

Walking just about anywhere in town, I'm overtaken by the same feeling I had in Spain: Toronto houses are boring.

I did this hike today, as well as the walk to and from the hike. Excellent workout.

↑ Drag across the elevation to travel the route. Drag/zoom the map; tap a pin or photo to open it.

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Baby T is having his breakfast.

Ruby says hello from Portugal. She's a nine year old pug.

11 pound 57 year old tortoise, Baby T

Some of the birds heard in the backyard this morning.

Waiting on the train to Tunes, where Lou, my host, will pick me up.

Sunrise at 37000 feet heading towards Lisbon.

I have finalized my Portugal Itinerary:

Fly into Lisbon the morning of October 20. Train to the Algarve that afternoon. Stay at Lou's place until December 16.

Train to Lisbon December 16 and stay in Airbnb in the Alfama neighborhood.

Return to Toronto December 20.

Surprisingly warm today. Did a 14km walk down around Lake Ontario. Lovely fall colors on the trees.

I’ve been a David Milch fan for decades. He’s one of my favorite writers and thinkers. About ten years ago, fearing his domain would fall into the hands of spammers or squatters, I bought davidmilch.com with the intention of building a free fan site. Of course, life got in the way and I never got around to it. Every couple of years, I'd reach out to one of his past collaborators (Jim Beaver, W. Earl Brown) about surrendering the domain to Milch, but I never heard anything back. (Milch himself is not on the internet and doesn't even own a computer).

In September, I managed to get in touch with Milch's daughter, Elizabeth. She said the family had hired a developer to build a site, so I donated the domain to them and the transfer was completed today. I’m really looking forward to seeing what they come up with.

I've been walking in High Park for many, many years. For 13 years, I did it daily. This is the first time I've seen a turkey here.

I built this site to keep track of my travels. While I’m on a trip, I’ll try to post daily updates. I’ll also be filling in earlier trips over time, using my journals, map data, and photo galleries, so those posts will appear sporadically. For now, there are big gaps in the timeline, but I’ll close them gradually.

The High Park Swimming Pool had its annual free for all for dogs. I never attended when Shakedown was alive as she didn't like being in water when other dogs were around. This year, I got in the pool with 60 or so unfamiliar dogs and 3 I know quite well. It was a bit of chaos but managed to get a few good shots.

Lovely katydid came to say hello.

Son of Gillan

This particular bird, a Great Blue Heron who I call Gillan, is one of my favorites, I photograph her often. Heron's rock!

Testing the Night Mode on Project Indigo. Not bad for handheld.

I was interviewed by Running Man Press.

INTERVIEW: Lincoln Stewart & Toronto’s Word of Mouth Record Shop (Volver) | Running Man Press

Running Man PressRunning Man Press

Shakedown died today. We had 13 amazing years together and I believe she was about 2 when she came to live with me. I'll miss her greatly.

Finally was able to book an appt to get vaccinated. June 9 it is.

My stepfather, Daniel Clarence McKechnie, died today from complications due to Covid. Four months shy of his 100th birthday. Lockdown prevents a proper funeral, which is brutal. May he rest in peace.

I swear this dog is the only thing keeping me sane.

Turned 52 today.

A few weeks ago, Geoff and Lorraine offered me another three months in Vanuatu looking after their home and their dog, Vatu, just down the beach from Sal and John’s place. I would have loved to take it, but who knows how all this virus stuff is going to shake out?

So I’m back in Toronto. I feel like people aren’t taking Covid-19 seriously. I flew Vanuatu > Fiji > Los Angeles > Toronto, and only Fiji checked the temperatures of incoming visitors. Everywhere else was a shitshow.

Late. Exhausted. Heading to bed. I'm really going to miss that little country.

Spent the evening at Mali Beach with Scott and Tamara. Perfect night.

I'm responsible for 3 houses while Sal and John travel. This is the main one, where I've lived since arriving about a month ago and where I'll be until March, 2020. The properties on either side of me are not developed yet (Sal's brother owns one; some Australians bought the other) so it's pretty quiet.

Christmas Eve morning. The travel in Port Vila is mostly done by bus, which is essentially a bunch of independently owned and operated minivans or VW MicroBuses that have been retrofitted with bus seats. They're every where and you just flag them down. Due to the holiday, this was the busiest one I've been on.

This kid seemed fascinated with me so I asked his mother if I could take his picture.

Kava is a local drink made from the ground root of the kava plant, and it causes a calming feeling. It's on my list of things to try while I'm on Efate island.

Hermit crabs are everywhere. I'm calling this black one Darh Vader. For scale, those are grains of sand on its belly.

Two sweet Australian guests are here, Tamara and Scott, but I'm overwhelmed by melancholy today. This would normally be the time that my winter blues come in when I'm Toronto (or anywhere grey and cold for overlong).

I'm hoping the sunshine kicks its ass.

A local told me this boat had been deposited inland by the last cyclone. Since it avoided the road and is expensive to move, it's been left there. You can click the map pin in the sidebar to see how inland it is.

Signs in bislama. Any guesses?

Bislama is one of the official languages of Vanuatu. French and English are others. With 110 local languages and a population of around 300,000, Vanuatu has the highest language density in the world. Most locals speak at least three languages: Bislama, their local language, and either French, English, or both.

You can listen to Bislama here:

Sunday Best.

Honeymoon Beach was just a few minutes walk from Sal's, though it faces SE whereas Sal's faces SW.

John and Sal left for Australia to meet their grandchild and stay with their kids over Christmas.

Here's the view looking out my front door towards the beach. Just me, Coco the Dog, and Thing One and Thing Two (chickens) until March.

Homes of some ni-Vanuatu (locals).

Met some of Sal and John's friends over dinner. Our hosts were a couple from Amsterdam: Deb, an artist, and her partner, G. Two Kiwi brothers, Kieran and Brendan, were there as well. Terrific people all around. The food was extraordinary, as was the view across Deb's pool to Paradise Cove.

So you remember Flowers, the very good dog mom? She found me again and asked me to follow. Sal happened to be around and was up for an adventure, so she came too.

Flowers led us to the neighboring property, the abandoned Orem University, where she'd hidden her five pups under an old chapel. We gathered up all six of them and took them to the vet.

The vet was not so happy to see us. She sensed (correctly) that we were going to leave mom and pups for her to treat and find homes for. It was a weird situation: the dogs weren't ours, and vets and food ain't free. I was a fish out of water, culture-wise, but I slipped the vet some vatu on our way out.

So this very good girl wandered up while I was having lunch with John, Sal, and Geoff and Lorraine, two friends from down the beach. We had an instant connection. I have a natural instinct for naming dogs on first contact and as I lowered to her, I said, "Hey, Flowers, how you doing?", and gave her some good rubs. She flipped onto her back, and I could see she'd recently given birth.

John chided me a little for being friendly to an island dog. You don't want them coming around; it's not fair to the dog who actually lives on the property. I knew that, and made a mental note to keep my nature in check.

If you look closely, you'll see a lizard on the roof. This is why locals in countries with roof-dwelling critters put their coaster on top of their drink.

One of the residences of Orem University. The property is apparently abandoned and for sale. I hope to explore it at some point during my trip.

Sal and John's dog, Coco. A very island dog.

Flight one of three, totalling 28 hours of travel:

Toronto > Los Angeles
Los Angeles > Fiji
Fiji > Vanuatu

Broke up a dog fight yesterday and got chomped by a dog I've known for years who was absolutely losing it. Thankfully, didn't break the skin (much), but it's a helluva tender bruise.

Heading to the airport to return to Toronto. Finally captured a "locals on motorcycles" photo I'm happy with.

I've decided to take a trip over the winter of 2019/20.

I'll leave Cabarete and spend a couple of weeks in Toronto getting everything in order. Then, it's 28 hours of flights to the South Pacific archipelago nation of Vanuatu, where I'll stay until March. It'll be my longest journey yet – Melbourne was 22 and a half hours, if I remember correctly.

Technically, the Vanuatu visa limit for Canadians is three months, but a friend, Sallie, who's offered me lodging, says she can pull some strings with her contacts in Immigration. Neat trick if she can manage it. Otherwise I'l be back sometime in February.

Thankfully, temps will be a little cooler than the Dominican has been, but I shouldn't need to pack anything unusual. It'll be cyclone season there but I always pack Good Nature in my carry-on. I'll just have to bring enough to share with the locals.

The view from the penthouse veranda.

Morning game of chase with Lucky.

Not every day that you come across a scene like this walking down the beach to get breakfast. I'm guessing this'll be my favorite shot of the trip.

The motorcycle culture here is fascinating. The casualness; the lack of helmets; riding sidesaddle; transporting oversized items; multi-passenger (3 times I counted 5 on a bike!); infants...

When I was living in Oliva, Spain, I was told that the world champion kitesurfer was from my beach. Now I’m told that here, on the appropriately named Kite Beach, is where the North American champion calls home.

I count ten in the photo below:

There are small lizards and crabs everywhere.

While Gillian and Rodney are back in the UK, I'll be looking after Lucky, the indoor cat, and Outside and Oh No!, the two outdoor cats.

Gonna take my first trip to the Dominican Republican. Will spend the month of October on a beach in Cabarete. Friends Gillian and Rodney are letting me stay in their condo while they settle some affairs in their home in London.

Crashing at Buster and Lucy's place in Studio City for a few days. Always some nice houses around here.

Merry Christmas. Came across the kettle garden while out grabbing some groceries to make Sprouts 225* for Harley's annual party. Really looking forward to seeing everyone and catching up.

* Sprouts 225

Servings: 6
Prep: 10 min
Cook: 9 min

Ingredients

• 14 oz Brussels sprouts
• 4 tomatoes
• 1 tbsp olive oil
• 1 red onion, thinly sliced
• 2 cloves garlic, thinly sliced
• 1 fresh chili, thinly sliced
• 1 tbsp coriander seeds, crushed
• 1 tbsp fresh ginger, sliced
• 1 tbsp soy sauce

Directions

1. Chop the tomatoes in half, then into thickish slices.
2. Peel the outer leaves from the sprouts and slice the larger ones in half.
3. Bring a pot of water to a boil and drop the sprouts in for just half a minute before removing them.
4. Heat a tablespoon of olive oil in a wide pan and add the sprouts and the red onion.
5. Cook over medium-high heat for two minutes, stirring, before adding the garlic, chili, coriander, and ginger.
6. After another two minutes, add the tomatoes and soy sauce, and cook on medium heat for five minutes more.
7. Add a splash of water if the dish seems to be drying out — it should be moist when finished.

I know a lot of people hate Santa Monica, Venice, and Los Angeles County. Over the last decade, I've lived here for three and a half years, all in spits and spurts.

Me – I love the food, the people, the weather... but most of all, I love the architecture, and the plants and trees. Toronto, my home city, is very drab, with so many of the homes being cubes of grey and beige. The variety of house-shapes and colors in LA is wonderful. I passed all these places on a single day's walk.

Chilling with Spooky in Woodland Hills.

Spoke with Anne Marie. She and Richard are gonna leave town for a bit so will crash at their place in Woodland Hills and look after Spooky. Looking forward to some hot tub time with a good book.

This gives me about another week or so in Harley's loft. I always enjoy my time here. He's been out of town and I'm sharing the place with the director, Noaz Deshe. Knowledgable guy. Just about fell off his chair when he realized I could discuss the work of Miklós Jancsó.

I believe Harley's table seats 30. I've been to numerous Thanksgiving and Christmas dinners here over the years. The food and company are always extraordinary. I generally bring Sprouts 225, which is always a hit and is easy to make.

The first time I came to Los Angeles, I befriended Alicia, my Airbnb host in Venice. We've been friends ever since. At the time, she lived near Lincoln and Rose, which was close enough to walk to the beach. During one of my walks, I stumbled into the Canals neighborhood. I now visit every time I return. Love the houses here, though the smaller ones, which once were prevalent, are rapidly being replaced.

Staying with Rolo and Bailey in Beverly Glen. Here are my favorite houses from some long walks.

Found myself walking in Sherman Oaks for the first time.

The Barcelona airport has a different vibe than most others.

Heading to LA for a bit. Gonna crash at a few different places: Rolo and Bailey's in Beverly Glen; Henry's in Mar Vista; Judd's in Venice; Harley's in DTLA; and maybe with Reese in Santa Monica.

Will do my best to catch up with Alicia, Scott, and Nirvan.

Love these windows in the Hotel Casa Fuster.

Took a walk through the Museu Etnològic d'Oliva, Oliva's Ethnological Museum. Some beautiful objects there, and some wonderful light.

Took this about halfway up the hike to Castillo de Santa Ana.

More north and south strolls along the playa.

John, the expat taxi driver, picked up Ana Maria this morning and took her to the airport. I've got my first solo day with Blanche. Still exploring the beach.

I’d been walking down a dirt road towards the main town when I heard a rustle, and Miguel stepped out from behind a bush where he’d apparently been hiding. He tried to play it nonchalant, but he’d clearly been waiting for me.

In broken English, he asked me, “Am I wrong, or is she...” He pointed at his head and made the “crazy” gesture with his finger. Scrambled brains.

“Paranoid,” I said, and Miguel snapped his fingers. “That is the word!”

“Yes,” I said. “I think so.”

“You are going into town?”

“Yes,” I said.

He offered me a ride in his BMW. While we drove, he explained that Ana Maria had found him on Airbnb and asked to rent the house for eight months. He agreed but insisted she pay up front. After three months there, she started behaving strangely. “She never leaves the house. Only to get groceries, that’s all. Before renting, she wanted only to be sure the house was next to the playa, but she never goes there.”

Miguel dropped me off at Aldi. As I walked past chocolate pizza (wtf?!) and other unfamiliar foods, I wondered what I’d gotten myself into and was very thankful Ana Maria would be leaving in the morning.

Lunch with Miguel was a hit. His English was better than my Spanish, but neither was great. We managed a decent conversation, with Ana Maria occasionally translating, as she speaks both languages fluently.

Ana Maria had to sign some waivers, and with that, Miguel was fine with me occupying his home for the next three months. Miguel, a retired police officer, though he looks to be in his thirties, gave me his number in case there were any issues and said he’d pop by every once in a while to make sure everything was okay.

He left, and I set myself to the next task: getting Ana Maria to buy her plane tickets so she could get out as soon as possible and I could sleep a lot easier. She asked if I’d mind buying the tickets for her and letting her reimburse me. I declined, and she asked if, at the very least, she could use my phone to buy them with her credit card. She didn’t have a data plan, she said.

I didn’t see a problem with this, and we proceeded to search the airlines for tickets. Get this: she wanted to fly from Spain to Abu Dhabi, where she would stay for a few days, before heading to the Seychelles. She didn’t care how many stops there were or how long she’d be travelling in total, but she didn’t want to be in the air for more than four hours at a time, and she preferred never to double back over an area she’d already covered. You read that right.

After what seemed like forever, we settled on Valencia to Rome to Amman to Abu Dhabi. There was no way to get from Abu Dhabi to the Seychelles in hops of under four hours without doubling back across Africa, so she agreed to a four-and-a-half-hour direct flight.

Money seemed to be no object to her, and any time I brought it up, she was quickly dismissive. She gave me her credit card, and I bought the tickets. She’d be leaving tomorrow morning.

Everything settled, she started to pack. I decided to take another beach walk and leave her to it.

When I returned an hour later, she was sitting on the couch, her bags next to her and Blanche in her lap. I asked if everything was all right, and she told me, “It will be tomorrow. I hope never to set foot in this horrible city again.” I was a bit baffled, as she was supposed to return in three months to collect her cat. “I wish I could see his face when he realizes I’m gone,” she added.

“Who?” I asked.

She nodded towards the kitchen window. I walked over and looked through it. The nearest house was about 200 feet away. An older man was outside, watering the garden with a hose.

“The neighbor?” I asked.

“He’s been watching me. Listening to me. But he has no idea I’m leaving.”

“He seems too far away to hear us,” I said.

“Not with his ears,” she said, looking at me like I was daft.

I blinked and asked if she needed anything from the grocery store. She shook her head. I was going to ask her where the grocery store was, but instead I stepped outside, pulled out my phone and googled “supermercado.”

I asked Ana Maria what time her flight was and if there was anything I could do to help her prepare. Turns out, the odd feeling I had yesterday was not unfounded. She's confessed that she doesn’t own the house she’s asked me to look after while she travels, and she isn’t even Spanish; she’s Maltese. She’s rented the house long term, paying a lump sum in advance, and then decided she doesn’t want to be here. Blanche, her cat, makes further travel difficult for her, so she wants me to look after the cat while she heads to Abu Dhabi and the Seychelles.

The problem? She didn’t clear this with Miguel, her landlord, before her trip, or before having me fly over. She’s invited him to lunch with us today so we can meet. I’m good at first impressions, so I’m not worried about the lunch, but the circumstances are bizarre. Further complicating matters, she hasn’t bought her plane ticket yet, presumably foreseeing there may be an issue. So she’s covered her own ass and left mine hanging in the wind.

Dropped my bags off and met Ana Maria, my host, and Blanche, her white Persian cat. She was very gracious but something seems off that I can't quite put my finger on. I asked if she wanted to take a walk and show me around the area. She declined and said I'd be better off doing that on my own.

I stayed pretty close to the house so as not to get lost right off. The playa (beach) is about a 4 minute walk, mostly through brush and past dunes.

The weather is perfect.

In the distance I can see Montgó, the mountain between Dénia and Xàbia. Wikipedia says:

Montgó (Valencian pronunciation: [moŋˈɡo]) is a mountain in Alicante Province, Spain, which rises to 753 metres (2,470 ft). It is the last spur on the Cordillera Prebética Mountain Range and is located in the Marina Alta region in the north of Alicante between the towns of Dénia and Xàbia. The mountain rises dramatically from the valley floors surrounding it and dominates the skyline for miles around. Its craggy cliffs are home to some of the most unusual flora and fauna in Spain.

It's about 20km away so would be a good day's hike. It's the walk back that'll be brutal, though.

Arrived at my final destination, the small Mediterranean town of Oliva.

So that I could avoid the language barrier, Ana Maria gave me the phone number of an expat UK taxi driver that could take me directly to her house, which has no official street address. Just waiting on his arrival.

Valencia is an absolutely gorgeous city. I wish I'd planned for more time here but am catching the bus to Oliva in the morning.

Grabbed an early breakfast and walked to Barcelona Sants to catch the 11am train to Valencia-Estacio Del Nord. Will spend just a day in the city before heading on to Oliva via bus.

I've only been here two days, but Elephanta may be the best cocktail bar in Barcelona. Befriended the barkeep, Anabel, who was happy to make me a Two-Legged Dog.

Walked to Park Güell to visit Casa Museu Gaudí, the final home of Antoni Gaudí, architect of the Basilica of the Sagrada Familia.

Oddly, the room is very much as I imagined Rilke's room when he was working on his Book of Hours.