Category Archives: Year

London, etc. and Paris 18: Opera, Opera, Opera!

On our second-last full day in Paris, we turned our focus to two of the most important sites for opera in the city – opera having become one of my favourite pastimes in the past few decades. First we toured the lavishly beautiful Palais Garnier, then later in the day we made our way to the more restrained but no less magnificent Opera Bastille. There we attended an extraordinary production of Salomé by Richard Strauss, starring Norway’s Lise Davidsen, one of the most in-demand sopranos in the world.

[Reminder: If you receive this post as an email, you might want to click on the “Read on Blog or Reader” link at the top of the page so you can see larger versions of the photos. Once you get to the webpage, click on a photo and it will expand.]

The magnificently designed and lavishly decorated Palais Garnier was built at the direction of Napoleon III. Construction began in 1861 and took more than a decade to complete. Named after Charles Garnier, its architect, the theatre was built in what is known as the Napoleonic III or Second Empire style. And as the “influencers” posing everywhere in the Palais when we were there had clearly discovered, there are more varied photo backdrops for lovely young women outside the performance auditorium than there is inside it. In fact, much of the facility was intended to be decorative rather than functional.

“The basic principle of Napoleon III interior decoration was [to] leave no space undecorated. Another principle was polychromy, an abundance of color obtained by using colored marble, malachite, onyx, porphyry, mosaics, and silver or gold plated bronze. Wood panelling was often encrusted with rare and exotic woods, or darkened to resemble ebony. [….] Drawing liberally from the Gothic style, Renaissance style, and the styles dominant during the reigns of Louis XV and Louis XVI [including Baroque], the combination was derided by Émile Zola as ‘the opulent bastard child of all the styles'” (Wikipedia).

“Opulent” is right.

“The ceiling of the Opéra Garnier was completely renovated and re-imagined in 1964 at the urging of Minister of Culture André Malraux. The talented Marc Chagall was entrusted with painting 2,400 square feet of frescoes. The opera’s new ceiling was widely decried and contested when it was unveiled to the public on September 23, 1964, and the work at this iconic Paris opera house continues to elicit curiosity and stir passions.” (The Ceiling of the Opera Garnier)

The Palais Garnier, which seats nearly 2,000 people, was for many years the sole home of the Paris Opera, which has itself has been around in one form or another since it was established by King Louis XIV in about 1670. The impetus for establishing the company was a desire to catch up to or even surpass the Italians in the field – although the Italians, having invented opera during the Renaissance, did have a good head start. Still, today French opera is well established, and works by composers such as Bizet, Massenet, Gounod and many other traditional and more modern French composers are enjoyed by audiences around the world.

The Paris Ballet is also part of the Paris Opera organization. Although most of productions by the Paris opera and ballet companies are now staged at the “new” Opera Bastille, nearly 400 performances still attract sold-out audiences to the stage of the Palace Garnier every year. Tickets for the opportunity to tour the building (without seeing the current stage production) also regularly sell out, which is why we didn’t get into the facility until our third attempt.

Before we left Canada, we happened to see a very interesting documentary on TVO called Building Bastille (available to watch for free on YouTube). This fascinating program documents how an almost unknown Canadian architect named Carlos Ott won the competition to create a modern opera house where the infamous Bastille Prison had once stood.

The Bastille Opera was an initiative of the then-president of France, François Mitterand. Construction began in 1984, and Mitterand wanted the project completed in time to mark the 200th anniversary of the storming of the Bastille, which had occurred early in the French Revolution in 1789. No expense was to be spared – he wanted the building to be both culturally and architecturally cutting-edge. Jacques Chirac, who had been mayor of Paris and was elected president of France in 1986, tried to halt the project several times due his to concerns about rising costs, and part of Ott’s challenge was to keep the construction moving until it was completed. With Mitterand’s help, he succeeded, and secured his name as a world-class architect with this amazing facility.

“[The Opera Bastille] was a conscious, egalitarian, departure from the Palais Garnier, which has several dozen types of seats and does not offer stage visibility from all of them. Every seat at the Opéra Bastille offers an unrestricted view of the stage, is the very same type of seat with the same level of comfort, and there are no boxes. Subtitles are visible from every seat except for those at the very back of the arena and of the first balcony” (Wikipedia).

The Bastille Opera house was just one piece of a massive monument-building initiative undertaken by Mitterand in the 1980s. Entitled the Grands Projets, the undertaking was intended to revitalize the architecture of the city and to reflect France’s commitment to, and achievements in, the arts. In addition to the Opera Bastille, the Grand Projets included the Musée d’Orsay, the pyramid at the Louvre, la Grand Arche de Défense and several other major buildings. When all of it was complete – many years after originally scheduled – the cost of these projects was estimated to have reached 15.7 billion francs.

The facility seats 2,703 people. In addition to the main theatre, it includes a concert hall and a studio theatre.

“The backstage [of the Opera Bastille] occupies an enormous area (5,000 m2), six times larger than the stage […]. A system of rails and a rotating dock make it possible to roll entire sets on and off on giant motorised platforms in a few minutes and to store these platforms on the available backstage spots; quick changes of set enable the artists to rehearse a work in the afternoon and to perform another one in the evening within the same space, something impossible at the Palais Garnier. The use of such platforms also makes it considerably easier to use three-dimensional sets rather than traditional flat images. Under the stage is a giant elevator, which is used to lower unused set platforms to an underground storehouse as large as the backstage itself” (Wikipedia).

Another elevator system lifts and lowers the entire orchestra pit, as required by different productions.

Here is a video showing the interior of the Opera Bastille’s main theatre.

Critics have called the Bastille “cold” and “impersonal” due to its minimalist design and the extensive use of concrete walls, and black, cream and grey decore. To my mind, the spareness also works to its advantage, as it surely offers less distraction from actual productions than would the ornately and colourful Opera Garnier.

Ott’s building certainly seemed a perfect setting for the production of Salomé we saw on May 9. Lise Davidsen was outstanding as the stepdaughter and niece of King Herod, a man who has lustful eyes for her. She falls in love with prophet Jochanaan (John the Baptist), whom Herod has imprisoned mainly because he’s afraid of the power he wields with his spirituality. Jochanaan resists Salome’s overtures, and ultimately she gives Herod everything he wants from her (as depicted in the agonizing and powerful Dance of the Seven Veils) in exchange for Jochanaan’s head.

The opera was dramatic, haunting, and fantastic.

After the opera, we emerged into a warm, perfect Paris evening.

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London, etc. and Paris 1: Intro/Arrival

[Note: In the past I have tried to write my travel blogs as I’ve been travelling. This has always been difficult because it takes time to write down what you want to say in the way you want to say it, and sometimes there just isn’t the time or energy to do that in addition to the enjoying the trip. I usually ended up finishing the series of posts after I got home to Canada. This time I decided to write the entire blog after the trip was over. Here is the first instalment of what will eventually be… quite a few. Facebook friends will have seen some of these photos and a few of my thoughts on our trip already, as I couldn’t completely resist the urge to share while we were away.]

We departed from Toronto for London, England at 8:30 p.m. on Sunday, April 21 and arrived without incident (!) at about 9 a.m. on Monday April 22. Of course in our heads, it was still late on the 21st so we took it fairly easy the first day, having a nap after we’d checked in, and then wandering about our new neighbourhood to get our bearings.

Our hotel was in one of dozens of boutique hotels and apart/hotels that have been made out of what appear to have previously been adjoining apartment buildings on a street called Sussex Gardens, about five blocks from Paddington Railway Station and the Paddington Underground Praed Street Station. I would stay in that area again anytime: there are many many excellent and reasonable restaurants with a wide range of ethnic (and veg-non-veg) options in the area, the people are friendly and helpful (used to dealing with tourists), there’s a laundromat, a grocer, and convenience stores nearby and the Underground links the neighbourhood to anywhere in London you want to go, promptly and efficiently.

The hotel room was reasonable because it was small, which might make it tricky if you had children with you, or had to spend any significant time in the room, but it was fine for a couple that was mainly using it to sleep and shower between adventures. The staff of the Orchard Hotel was friendly and helpful but the establishment offered the worst breakfast buffet we’ve encountered anywhere in the world: no fresh fruit or juice at all, and no fresh coffee (instead serving instant made in advance in large pots). No hot food either, just cheese and bread and sliced meats and boiled eggs. But considering the price of the hotel comparatively speaking, the fact that we ate such wonderful food the rest of the day, and our awareness (constantly sharpened by the sight of tents and destitute humans throughout the city) that lots of people don’t even have as much as we did for breakfast, we survived just fine.

In Paddington, I was intrigued by the street art. In one (apparently temporary) installation that dominates the square outside the railway station, a very large group of twelve brass animals dine together – with a couple of seats left open in case you’d like to join them. According to Londonist, this is the work of Gilli and Marc and is entitled “Wild Table of Love.”

A bit closer to our hotel, in a long cozy park with a ping-pong table, we found another instalment by Gilli and Marc of brass animal sculptures – dogs this time – entitled Paparazzi Pack.

And then near the end of our stay in Paddington I noticed for the first time an animated (but accurate) clock that appears to have a person inside it, cleaning and repairing it and peering out at passersby. It was great fun to watch.

Having sussed out our immediate “home” surroundings for the next ten days and secured SIM cards for our phones (primarily so we could communicate with one another when we got separated, as we inevitably do), we had a solid sleep and were ready to really begin our adventure on Tuesday morning.

Muskoka: The Daily Wild Goose Chase

Here are more photos from our stay late last month at the Grand Tappattoo Resort in the Muskoka region of Ontario. We had excellent weather and Otter Lake was a perfect temperature for swimming. We also canoed, read books, strummed the mandolin (Arnie), ate too much and just generally did all the lazy things one should do on a three-night getaway from the city.

I spent some of my vacation time considering the problem that the Grand Tappattoo Resort has with Canada geese. I’m sure it is a problem in many vacation areas of this country. I counted 28 in the flock that is summering at Grand Tappattoo this year, and that many geese produce an impressive amount of poop – not only in quantity but in size: their individual droppings are more substantial than those of certain dogs I’ve known. Humans attempting to cross any of the pathways or grassy areas at the resort are well advised to pay close attention to where they put their feet in order to avoid slipping and sliding on tube-shaped excretions of digested grass, not to mention the need to scrub the soles of their shoes before they step inside.

The beach at Grand Tappattoo would be equally bad if the resort staff didn’t stay on top of it, raking the sand carefully clean every morning. Happily, they do and, having been cleared, the white sand stays that way until the humans leave for dinner. Then, the geese return.

At about 7 p.m., the birds move from the treed area beyond the main buildings of the resort (top left photo) to the water, and they swim around the property to the dining hall area and the beach. There they emerge from the lake and nonchalantly strut forward onto the lawns which, to their goosey little brains, must look as appealing as a five-star restaurant might to the humans who have just headed off for their own dinners.

A friend on Facebook told me that metal cutouts of wolves can help discourage geese from trespassing, and indeed the last time we were at the Grand Tappattoo Resort (2020, the first summer of the pandemic), fierce-looking plastic wolves or maybe coyotes (it was hard to tell) with brushy tails were arranged along the waterfront to warn the geese against coming ashore. Wandering among them were the geese. Apparently familiarity breeds contempt even among Branta canadensis (their scientific name).

When I noted to the Grand Tappattoo staff that the plastic wolves from 2020 were gone, they told me that they only worked for about three days at the beginning of goose season, after which the birds would happily walk among the fake canines and graze, even flapping their way up onto the backs of them at times to get a better look at their surroundings

So now, among the waterfront cleanup tasks assigned to a young resort employee each evening is the shooing away of geese from the areas supposedly reserved for human guests. He runs after the birds, clapping his hands and chasing them into the water and away. (See video at the end of this post, which also features Arnie’s mandolin.) It is a Sisyphean task and my heart breaks for him. If he’s lucky, he gets them all across the beach and into the water, headed away from shore, but they just swim around to the dining hall, step out of the water again, and circle around until they are once more munching the grass behind him.

I credit my very-late-onset maturity for the fact that, as we watched the geese through the dining-room window one evening, I did not go over to the next table to correct a man who was loudly telling his dining companions that the Canada goose is Canada’s national bird. There was outrage at his table. “How can that be??” his companions asked. “That’s terrible!!!” “Everyone hates the Canada Goose!!” Etc.

Canada does not have a national bird. Most of our provinces have a bird, but not unsurprisingly, none is the Canada goose. There was a movement several years ago to have the Gray Jay given the national bird honour, but it failed.

I have seen Canada geese as far away as Frankfurt, Germany so I don’t know why Canada has to be the country that is most closely associated with this unwelcome, noisy, messy, airplane-menacing bird. Its fondness for summering in this country probably has something to do with it. I personally welcome Canada geese only as harbingers of spring and autumn (when we see them vee-ing north and south, respectively, honking as they go), but for most of the spring and summer I could do without them. Well, one or two would be all right – they are quite beautiful and obviously clever (aside from their propensity to honk, which must make them easy pickings for hunters). But these massive flocks are just too much.

Speaking of hunters, there must be some way to put Canada geese to practical use. A friend tells me they can be made into excellent sausage. So far, no one seems to be turning that into a thing.

Land of the Silver Birch

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Germany 12: Lovely Berlin, Part 1

A Boat Tour, The Brandenburg Gate and The Memorial to the Murdered Jews of Europe

Berlin is a city in which I can easily imagine living – or, more accurately, where I imagine that I would have liked to have lived at one time: not so much now, when my days are filled with people here in Canada (including a lovely bunch of grandchildren) and places of which I am so fond. But when I was just starting out, if I had known about Berlin as anything more than a city in Germany that was frequently mentioned in my history classes, I might well have considered it.

From what I’ve read and seen in movies, I know that Berlin would have been an interesting place to live before World War II, especially during the “Golden Twenties.” Of course, I hadn’t been born at that point. I think I’d also have liked to have lived there in the 1980s, during the period when Nick Cave made Berlin his home. (Although Nick Cave himself did issue a warning about the dire fate that befell young women who wasted their youths hanging out in Berlin nightclubs.*) At that time, of course, the city was divided into East and West Berlin, so it would not have been the same as the reunified Berlin of today. So my fantasies regarding a life in Berlin are complicated and impossible. However, I am very happy that we had three days to enjoy some of its sights, sounds and flavours (if not its bars and music halls) in 2022. If there weren’t so many other places I still want to see, I’d put it back on the list for a more extended visit.

Our first day in the city, September 2, began with a stroll from our hotel (the Best Western am Spittlemarkt) to a dock on the Spree, where we would board a tour boat. On our way, we passed some scenic things and some interesting things.

Landwehr Canal

The boarding area for the tour boat was at one end of the Landwehrkanal, which runs parallel to the Spree River and is 10.7 km long. “It was built between 1845 and 1850 …. [and] connects the upper part of the Spree at the eastern harbour in [the district of] Friedrichshain with its lower part in Charlottenburg, flowing through Kreuzberg and Tiergarten.” (Wikipedia) Today the canal is primarily the domain of tour boats – and the approximately two-hour trips are a lovely way to begin to learn about the city. The boat passes through the famous Tiergarten, a park that was originally a hunting ground for nobility who stocked it with exotic animals, and which was badly damaged during World War II. It also goes past Museum Island, which we would visit another day.

One problem with taking photos when you’re seated at a table on a boat is that the same stranger appears right in front of you in almost all of them. I cropped him out of a lot of photos but the image below in which I covered over his face will give you a sense of how difficult it was at times to capture what I wanted without capturing him as well. The advantages of sitting at a table on a boat, on the other hand, include getting to know a bit about people from other places, such as an interesting young family that had just moved to Berlin from India via the USA.

The architecture and the scenery we passed on the tour were fabulous but since I didn’t take notes, I can’t remember what several of the buildings were. Maybe you know. If not, just enjoy the view, as we did. (Click on any of the photos to get a better view.)

Brandenburg Gate

After the tour, we walked a couple of kilometres to the Brandenburg Gate (Brandenburger Tor), stopping along the way for an ice cream cone. We passed a remnant of the Berlin Wall and a lovely statue of Heinrich Zille (1858-1929), a famous German illustrator and photographer of whom I had never heard until the statue caught my eye. On Unter den Linden (Under the Lindens. I love the name of that long avenue) which leads from Schlossbrucke (Castle Bridge) on the Spree to the Gate itself, we came across signs and installations protesting Russia’s war, and honouring Ukraine.

Berlin’s Holocaust Memorial

Before returning to have dinner in a restaurant near our hotel (German food this time!), we spent an hour or so at the beautiful and very moving Memorial to the Murdered Jews of Europe.

“Designed by architect Peter Eisenman and Buro Happold, [the Memorial] consists of a 19,000-square-metre (200,000 sq ft) site covered with 2,711 concrete slabs or ‘stelae,’ arranged in a grid pattern on a sloping field. [….] The stelae are 2.38 m (7 ft 9 1/2 in) long, 0.95 m (3 ft 1 1/2 in) wide and vary in height from 0.2 to 4.7 metres (8 in to 15 ft 5 in). They are organized in rows, 54 of them going north-south, and 87 heading east-west at right angles but set slightly askew. An attached underground ‘Place of Information’ holds the names of approximately 3 million Jewish Holocaust victims, obtained from the Israeli museum Yad Vashem.” Wikipedia (The history of how the site was designed and developed, which can be found at that Wikipedia link, is very interesting. So is the museum’s website, which tells us that “Following an amendment on 3 July 2009, the Federal Foundation Memorial to the Murdered Jews of Europe is now also responsible for the Memorial to the Homosexuals Persecuted under the National Socialist Regime and the Memorial to the Murdered Sinti and Roma of Europe.” Only a block or so from the Brandenburg Gate, the memorial is definitely worth a visit, for artistic as well as historical reasons.

And that was Berlin, Day 1!

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* To hear Nick Cave’s comments about the young women who have wasted the best part of their lives in Berlin’s nightclubs, check out this video (it’s at about minute 28). If you want a more accessible, albeit almost equally ancient (1990), documentary about Nick Cave, try this one instead.

Germany 9: Side-trip to Prague Part 3 – Prague Castle, Or Kafka on the Hill

One does not need to be a fan of Franz Kafka to get the full impact of visiting Prague Castle, but being one does add a dollop of spine-tingling interest to the experience.

I’ve recently reread Kafka’s unfinished novel The Castle, and am currently listening to The Trial (also unfinished) on Audible, and although he is not an author I would recommend to others (I think, like a taste for olives, you need to discover him on your own), I find Franz Kafka’s work intriguing – and he has inspired many of my other favourite writers, from Gabriel Garcia Marquez to Haruki Murakami (e.g., see Kafka on the Shore). Throughout our time in Prague I was always aware of the castle on the far side of the river that seemed to loom over the city just as The Castle does over the town in Kafka’s novel.

It would not of course have been a truly Kafkaesque experience if we had not become lost on our way up to visit the castle, but we did. Several times. Our first big mistake was that we somehow got on the wrong bridge across the river (there are way too many bridges) so our first order of business after we’d reached the other side was to locate the west end of the bridge we should have come across (and which we later successfully took back again) – the famous medieval pedestrian-only Charles Bridge (Karlov Most).

From there, we started up the winding cobbled streets toward the castle, but soon our ultimate destination disappeared behind the buildings that were closer to us, which inevitably led to wrong turn after wrong turn. The signs were not too helpful. But the homes and businesses we passed were endlessly interesting. We walked past the Slivovitz Museum (Slivovitz being a European-made plum brandy) and, part way up the hill, a bookstore named “Shakespeare and Sons.” To my mind, being lost is rarely a problem unless you’re pressed for time or your feet are threatening to wear out: you just see more stuff that way. (You can click on the photos for a better look.)

The Castle and The Cathedral

We finally reached the top of the hill where the Prague Castle is located, and when we emerged on the crest, the first thing we saw was a Starbucks! (We resisted the temptation.)

Within the walls of Prague Castle, which is a UNESCO site, stand a palace, a basilica, a cathedral, the cathedral’s Great South Tower, and the Golden Lane. St. Vitus Cathedral, which gives the complex its distinctive silhouette, is the third church to have been built on the same site since Prince Wenceslas founded a Romanesque rotunda there in 925. Following the initial construction of a chancel and chapels in the Gothic style, which occurred in 1344 during the reign of Charles IV – St. Vitus remained a work in progress until a final push, named “the Union for the Completion of the Cathedral,” led to its actual completion in 1929.

The cathedral is a huge, breathtaking complex that measures 124 m × 60 m (407 ft × 197 ft). The main tower is 102.8 m (337 ft) high, and front towers 82 m (269 ft) (Wikipedia). The Royal Mausoleum contained within it accommodates the tombs of Bohemian kings, Roman emperors, and patron saints (including St. Wenceslas), and “[t]he door in the south-western corner of the chapel leads to the Crown Chamber in which the Bohemian Coronation Jewels are kept” (St. Vitus website). St. Vitus just feels like the kind of place where a country would want to keep its kings, emperors, saints and crown jewels.

Part of our tour of the castle included a view out of the first window ever known to have been the location of a defenestration (a punishment much favoured by the Russian government in recent years). Here two royal governors and a scribe were thrown from the window during the Uprising of the Bohemian Estates against the Hapsburgs in 1618. All three survived – unlike most targets of modern defenestration initiatives. Their survival was later deemed to have been a miracle.

The Golden Lane

After we had toured the cathedral, we made our way to the Golden Lane, a fascinating alleyway still within the castle walls with access to dozens of small dwellings. Built in the 16th century, the row-housing-type arrangement is “now the last remainder of the small-scale architecture of Prague Castle. [The homes] were inhabited by defenders of the Castle, servants or for example goldsmiths and the Castle marksmen. The tiny houses were occupied until World War II, but already during the period of the First Republic, care was taken to ensure that the picturesque character of the Lane was not changed in the course of modifications. From 1916 to 1917 house No. 22 was inhabited by the writer Franz Kafka.” (!!)

Several of the dwellings are open to the public, and are either furnished to look the way they might have been when occupied, or serve as locations for relevant displays – from the artifacts of a torture chamber to the collection of amateur film historian, Josef Kazda, who saved thousands of films and documentaries from the Nazis during World War II. .

After walking back down the hill to the river, across Charles Bridge, and back to our hotel, we were almost too tired to go out again. But for reasons I can no longer recall, I had procured tickets to a Baroque concert at the Klementinum Mirror Chapel which was only a few blocks from our hotel. We managed to get there without getting lost!

The Concert

The “Four Seasons” concert we attended included works by Charpentier, Pachelbel, Verdi, Dvorak, Smetana, J.S. Bach, Beethoven, Mozart and Vivaldi, and it featured members of the Royal Czech Orchestra as well as Marie Fajtová (soprano from the National Theatre), Robert Hugo (titular organist for the St. Salvator Church), and Viktor Mazaček (violin soloist from the Czech Philharmonic). The program and artistic lineup were as magnificent as they sound. And the “high baroque” setting was an extraordinary backdrop.

The Royal Czech Orchestra was established during the reign of Leopold I, King of Bohemia and Holy Roman Emperor, and was reestablished after the Velvet Revolution of 1989. The chapel itself, its website tells us, “was built in 1725 most likely by František Maxmilián Kaňka. The impressive installations of Baroque mirrors on the ceiling make the chapel unparalleled worldwide. Together with gilded stuccos of Bernardo Spinetti, marble panelling and ceiling frescoes by Jan Hiebl, these mirrors create great artistic value of the interior.”

To sit and listen to that magnificent chamber music in that magnificent chamber was an unparalleled experience, and I was beyond grateful for whatever impulse had led me to buy tickets.

The concert began at 6 and was over by 7, which gave us time to enjoy another dinner under the stars on the plaza near our hotel, thereby perfectly closing out our final night in Prague.

I’d be happy to go back anytime.

I will leave you with two very brief samples of the glorious music we were privileged to hear that evening.

Excuse the guy in front of me (as the guy behind me is probably saying about me in his blog post)

My First Sleep Test, Part 2: Thoughts on Sleep Apnea and Other Stuff

I’ve learned a bunch of things from the responses I received when I posted about my first experience with a sleep test.

First, I learned that I should have explained what a sleep test is — not everyone knew. A “polysomnography” or sleep study is primarily intended to determine whether or not the subject has sleep apnea. “Obstructive sleep apnea” occurs when your throat muscles relax when you are sleeping, obstructing your airways, causing your breathing to stop and start while you are asleep. It is usually associated with snoring – those who have heard someone with sleep apnea will recognize the silence in the middle of a snoring session followed by a huge intake of breath in an extended snort.

Sleep apnea can lead to all kinds of cardiovascular problems and other health issues, as well as daytime sleepiness. Researchers have recently identified a link between sleep apnea and an increased risk of dementia. (As I told my son, who pointed this study out to me, nothing is more likely to get seniors to comply with a health recommendation than the threat of dementia.) The major snoring associated with the condition also causes distress to those who have to sleep next to it (or, in really bad cases, anywhere in the same house).

A CPAP (continuous positive airway pressure) machine corrects the problem: it involves a face mask and a steady stream of air. A friend of mine has pointed out that APAP (automatic positive air pressure) machines are now available. These adjust to the particular sleeper’s breathing patterns rather than releasing a continuous stream of air. An internet search reveals that there are also BPAP machines (!. They will eventually take over the whole alphabet!) that increase air pressure when you inhale, and reduce it when you exhale.

Since those who have sleep apnea don’t get enough restful sleep, they are often tired the next day. If you have a sleep test and are diagnosed with sleep apnea, you may not be legally allowed to drive unless you are using a CPAP machine, because of the danger that you might fall asleep at the wheel. Therefore, if you have sleep apnea, by using a CPAP machine you may be avoiding a ticket, saving your own life, preserving your brain, and reducing the risk of running your vehicle into other people and objects. Up to nine percent of adults have been diagnosed with sleep apnea but it is likely that many more have it and are undiagnosed. Therefore, having a sleep test when indicated is a Very Good Idea and my whining post should not discourage you. End of Public Service Announcement, but here’s more if you want it: https://www.mayoclinic.org/diseases-conditions/obstructive-sleep-apnea/symptoms-causes/syc-20352090

Here are other (related) things I have learned in recent days:

  1. In the provinces of Alberta and British Columbia, several of my Facebook friends have had “remote” sleep tests where they attach monitors to themselves at home and these are tracked remotely from the sleep lab at the hospital (or wherever it is located). At least those sleep-study subjects get to sleep in their own beds. I don’t know why they don’t do this in Ontario.
  2. People in the United Kingdom don’t seem to be sent for this test as often as people in North America. Several Facebook friends in the U.K. had never heard of a sleep test, while most of those who responded from North America had.
  3. A lot of people I know have had the test, and a lot of people have been diagnosed with sleep apnea and are now using CPAP machines. After they got used to them, most users love them because they sleep so much better with them, and they feel more rested during the day. I’m guessing that many of their sleep partners also love them: in addition to eliminating snoring, CPAP machines are great “white-noise” makers, as I can personally attest.
  4. I wish I had stock in a CPAP company and, now that William Shatner is promoting them, CPAP Machine Sanitizing Systems might be a good investment too. (Not the sanitizing machines themselves: they’re too expensive and likely not covered by insurance. I mean stock in the company that makes them.)

Finally, here is a video of Phyllis Diller — to whom I referred in my previous post — sharing some early-1970s humour and looking sort of the way I did on Monday night hair wise, except that she has no wires.

My First Sleep Test: Hope It’s my Last

I’m sure a lot of readers have had sleep tests. I am far more sympathetic to you today than I was yesterday. I don’t know how long it will be before I get the results, but I hope I never need another “polysomnography” again.

I got to the hospital at 8 p.m. last night and checked in to the sleep lab. They attached wires everywhere, including to a fingertip, my neck, my legs, my chest, below my nostrils, and a bunch of places on my head, using both goop and tape. There were also a couple of devices to wear for a study some students were doing (about sleep tests! They are hoping to create a system you can use at home. Good plan.) They gave me three long questionnaires to complete (seriously. About 15 pages total). Then at about 10:45 p.m., the technician, Steven, a gentle and patient man originally from Ghana, said “Do you have to go to the bathroom before sleeping?” So I walked to the bathroom trailing all my wires. I must have looked like an overfull colander of spaghetti walking down the hall. Managing in the bathroom was quite a trick, as I’m sure you can imagine.

Back in my room, I told Steven that the room was freezing, and he kindly brought me three more sheets, but I was still not warm enough. So in addition to the equipment, I had four sheets, socks and a bathrobe plus my sleep wear, and my hair stood up like Phyllis Diller’s. (Look it up, kidlets.) I felt like a car wired for a boost, and I was a sight for sore eyes, I tell you. Should have taken a selfie.

At 11 p.m., Steven hooked the wires up to the monitoring system and turned out the lights. Despite a sleeping pill, I tossed and turned. I tossed. I turned. I tried listening to podcasts but they were too interesting, and I couldn’t get Spotify (where I sometimes listen to the sounds of rain or ocean waves). So I gave up on that. I tried meditating. It didn’t put me to sleep, and I wasn’t feeling too zen so I probably didn’t do a very effective job of it. In fact, I was about ready to rip off all the wires and tell poor Steven to F*** the test: I was going to sleep without them. At about 2 a.m. I had to go to the bathroom again, so Steven came back in and disconnected me and then when I returned he reattached all the wires I’d disconnected with my tossing and turning and bathrooming.

At about 3 (I think) I finally fell asleep and at 6 a.m., Steven came in and said cheerfully, “Time to get up!” He pulled all the wires off, ripping off a thin layer of skin on my face, neck, chest along with the tape (“Sorry, Sorry, Sorry”), and gave me another questionnaire. There was goop all over me because of how they attach the things that hold the wires, but they can’t let people have showers because of COVID so I left the hospital goopy. Arnie (my guardian angel) was waiting outside at the appointed hour (7) and he drove me to McDonalds for breakfast (we ate in the car), then we came home and I went to bed and slept for three hours. It was a night to remember.

The last question on the last questionnaire was “Do you have any comments?” I said, “The room was too cold.” I figured the rest of the problems came with the territory, but I had to complain about something.

Thanks, but…

I think I’ll have to bail

I really do mean the “Thanks” part. I’m grateful to everyone who sent me messages of support. I wouldn’t have covered nearly as much ground as I had if you hadn’t been cheering me on. Also thanks to you, if intentions had been actions, I’d have covered a lot more territory.

But with two weeks ahead of me before my foot surgery, and a week of swimming and canoeing but no jogging behind me, I am giving up my running aspirations for the nonce. (Nonce = maybe just for six months, and maybe for longer. Time will tell.)

I’m not stopping because of my age: I know (because I have several friends who are doing it) that being over seventy is no reason not to run, unless there are actual physical restrictions. Which fortunately, I do not have. Essentially, in my case, given my appointment with the foot surgeon, I should have started this program in the spring.

On the positive side, my appreciation for walking has increased. 🤓 When you walk, you can take pictures more easily – like the ones I took (below) last week in Muskoka. So that’s what I’ll be doing for a while. Except when I’m sitting on the couch with my foot up.

Special thanks to Dan, for the words of support, and the running chart. At this point, I’m optimistically filing it for next year.

Slog Slog Slog

Week Two, Day Seven

Just a quick update tonight because we are out of town on a mini-holiday and it’s hard to focus on writing a blog post when you’re sitting on your hotel balcony looking out at a Muskoka Lake. Maybe by tomorrow I’ll have grown used to the change of scenery but after four months (!) of being mostly at home, it is a sweet break.

During Week Two (which ends today), running continued to be a challenge. I promised myself part way through it that if it doesn’t get easier within another week or two, I will switch to (fast) walking. My sister is doing that — five to eight km a day! – and has been since the pandemic began. I am so impressed with her. Mind you, she is a LOT younger than I am (not really. Just 18 months) but obviously she is staying in great shape and keeping her spirits up by striding all over the west coast, while I drag my sorry butt around a few city blocks in Toronto.

It wasn’t all bad. I did notice a bit of improvement: for a couple of minutes on my second and third running days, I did manage to find that elusive “zone” where I find it as easy to run as to walk. But it has been much harder to reach that zone this time around than on any of my previous attempts to re-start my running program. I am hoping that Week Three is the turning point where I finally start looking forward to going out.

In the meantime, for a few days I can swim! I love being in the water, and I have always preferred a lake over a pool. I grew up in London, Ontario and when I was a kid, many summers we came up to Muskoka for camp or to visit friends and relatives who had cottages. After spending decades in Alberta, where they don’t have what I think of as “real” lakes, I have thoroughly enjoyed the opportunity to revisit Muskoka since I moved back to Ontario. It’s just the perfect place for me: evoking long-lost memories as well as making new ones.