Erin's Journals

Just a thought… If all difficulties were known at the outset of a journey, many of us would not begin at all. [Dan Rather]

As we prepare for a big day tomorrow on our hearts, Lauren’s 35^th birthday (and yes, Dottie’s 4^th), I’ll look back with sunny memories on this week that was – the highs, the hiccups and the WTF moments. Buckle in – it’s a good one.

We left our rental home and got to Puerto Vallarta airport in plenty of time to check in. What we didn’t anticipate was an hour’s wait in a long Disney-worthy lineup (without the zigzag trickery they use) to check us, our two bags and two dogs in for the flight home. It was entirely our fault for not even considering March Break when I booked our flights home last summer…and I lost count of the people who said, “just take carry on” on my FB page. REALLY? For four months? Yeah, no.

When we finally did get through, we thought we’d have time to organize our devices and chargers for the flight – but WestJet had other plans. I’ll get to that in a moment.

As we rode the escalator up to the departures level, I saw a table with some signs and two gentlemen sitting there.

Free measles shots? De verdad? They assured us that, yes, they were giving the shots, and it wasn’t just for Mexican citizens. Once Rob understood what I was going to do – sitting my butt down and rolling up my sleeve – he agreed he would too.

We had read that because of our ages and when we were first inoculated, we were already safe. But I’m not taking any chances. If anything, the anti-vax movement has made me get in line for any and every shot there is, just in case. Anyone can catch measles and I’ll be damned if I’ll pass it along to someone who’s vulnerable (i.e. an expectant mom). FYI, Rob and I had zero side effects: no swelling, itching, soreness or malaise. And we have the record of what we got and when we got it. So, YAY!

After putting our sleeves back down, we hustled to our gate, only to find (surprise!) another enormous lineup. This time, it was to catch a shuttle bus from the airport to our plane. And when we got to it – guess what? It wasn’t WestJet after all!

Yes, WJ owns SunWing, but some of our fellow travellers were worried they’d boarded the wrong plane. Lucky for us, this little fellow kept us well entertained during the flight and could not have been a better traveller!

We got a charge out of him, which was lucky because the seats on this 10-year-old plane (not old at all) had no power outlets.

Four and a half hours later, we landed in Victoria. But the adventures hadn’t ended.

You may recall that, back in November, we disembarked and were in the terminal before I realized my big, new sunhat was still in the overhead compartment of the plane. It had slid off our carry-on so Rob didn’t see it; he had to swim upstream into the plane and get it for me, delaying our departure from the airport.

Well this time, I wasn’t going to be careless. I dug into the seat pocket ahead of me looking for the case with my reading glasses, my hands brushing past what I thought were airline menus and safety cards. Got the glasses, pulled the dogs from their cozy spots under the seats ahead of us, and left the plane.

It wasn’t until after we finally retrieved our luggage, surely the last bags on Victoria’s carousel, that I reached down the side pocket of my leggings. Oh, no! I had one job the whole trip, and that was to protect the passports, and they were not there. I told Rob and he thought I was kidding. I wasn’t. I ran over to a yellow-vested employee who got on her handheld radio and called to the plane and gave our seat numbers. Sure enough, in just about two minutes, he was standing out on the tarmac waving to get in through the securely locked doors and holding up those precious documents.

As I said to the women helping me, “And this is me NOT drinking!” because, yes, I’ve left a laptop on a plane before (cocktails were involved) and the hat this last trip.

I can tell you it’s more the stress of travelling with two little dogs than anything else. But the nerves are calm and, as I type this, Rob and I are recovering in bed from a rotten cold he brought me from Canada. Anyone who noticed that couple (us) wearing masks on the plane? That wasn’t for us. It was for you – and you’re welcome.

More to tell you here next week – travel stories and a brand new homecoming at the cabin. But it’s Monday and your eyes are probably already worn out. So have a gentle week and we will too.

Just a thought…

The two stages of packing:

1) I have all week

2) OH SH*T

Welcome to the final days of winter! A few updates (and a pup-date) for you:

Rob arrived right on time yesterday in Puerto Vallarta, and as soon as he’d been attacked with kisses by the dogs, we headed over to our friends’ house to watch the Oscars. Lisa and I will be discussing the high- and low-lights this Thursday at gracefullyandfrankly.com. Don’t miss the dish!

Meantime, pal Kelita was fooling around with an app and came up with this imaginary red carpet shot of her and me. I wish the “girls” looked like this.

The dogs, by the way, are NOT in heat. Last week right here I told you I awoke stressed at a few little spots on a blanket; turns out they were just bites from a mosquito that made its way into the house. So we’ve bought more time before the gals go to meet their new boyfriends.

Fortunately, whomever they are paired with won’t be looking at their faces. I made a BIG mistake at the groomer’s on Friday and told them, yes, take everything down. But that included their puffy cheeks, which give a Havanese its charm. Now they look like little ruffians. Sure as my legs need shaving, it’ll grow back. Like I said, their boyfriends won’t care. Come to think of it, neither does my husband LOL.

Yes, we’re in the final days of my four-month stay in Nuevo Vallarta, aka Nuevo Nayarit, near Puerto Vallarta, Mexico. Last Sunday I had a wonderful day on the seaside Malecón downtown, including theatre and dinner in honour of International Women’s Day. Here we are from left: Kathryn, Kelita and me!

To the theatre: there’s a duo from Toronto (Dylan’s a teacher at Humber, Suba is a freelancer and both are heavily involved in choirs and choral groups throughout the GTA) that we saw and I have to tell you about them. Called FREEPLAY, their show is all about a cappella live looping. You’ve seen Ed Sheeran do it (albeit with a guitar): he records while he is singing and then performs to what he’s recorded, layering it again and again live on stage.

Suba and Dylan’s show is nothing short of magic: no lip-synching, no fakery, just astounding talent, incredible vocal ranges and percussive and instrument imitations/deliveries and a mesmerizing delivery of music ranging from the Beatles to Joni Mitchell. They’ve performed around the world and we just happened to luck into an intimate show at the Act2PV theatre cabaret lounge in the heart of the Zona Romántica. From bar performers to stage stars, if you’re going to Puerto Vallarta, do not miss what wonderful David and his staff at Act2PV have lined up every night of the week. I promise you’ll be entranced.

The week ahead will be filled with last-minute goodbyes and packing: we leave Thursday to return to Canada. After a wonderful night in our own bed, I have a morning appointment Friday with my hair dresser. After four months of doing my own roots and spray-colouring here and there, plus taking manicure scissors to bangs and long bits, it’s time to put my head back in the hands of an expert. Then that same day, we board the ferry to Pender Island and I’ll see our new cabin as “ours” for the very first time. Rob’s been working his backside off getting it ready, and I’ll share stories and pictures here next Monday.

I’ll miss Puerto Vallarta and the amazing women I’ve met along the way. Kelita’s fun  app rendered this one of me, Jeanne and Cathy (they’re both from Niagara-on-the-Lake and return home today).

I’ve already booked for a month here at a different spot in November to reconnect with friends here in Nuevo Vallarta, as well as to enjoy a respite from a rainier month on the Gulf Islands. Home to Canada for Christmas for the first time in years – so we shall see what that brings. I think we’re ready emotionally; like I said, we’ll see.

Thanks for being here through all of these winter adventures. I’ll carry home a lot of memories and your good thoughts as we return.

Just a thought… Worrying is carrying tomorrow’s load with today’s strength – carrying two days at once. It is moving into tomorrow ahead of time. [Corrie Ten Boom]

Today and this week, I’m playing Beat the Clock on two different stages. I don’t even remember the actual game show by that name (or more importantly, its theme song), but those three words keep beeping through my head like a dying smoke alarm battery that should have been changed when the time went ahead for most folks this past weekend.

Beat the Clock Part ONE: Me Doing Time Zone Math.

Here in this peaceful and gorgeous area of Mexico, the clocks did not change yesterday. So, for the sake of argument, let’s say it’s 10 am here Monday. That means that Ontario, where my pal Lisa, with whom I record Gracefully and Frankly every week, is two hours ahead. So it’s 12 noon there.

But in BC, where my husband (who arrives this Sunday at Puerto Vallarta airport) is readying our new cabin for my return, it’s 9 am. So now he and I are just one hour apart. Okay….

I could write an entire blog on how BC not changing back to Standard Time in the fall, deciding instead we’ll be Daylight Time [to be called ‘Pacific Time’] from here on in, is considered by many to be ill-advised and wrong-headed. It was a poll taken years back that had two options: do you want the clock change to continue or do you want to be on permanent Daylight Saving Time? Instead of providing a third option for permanent Standard Time, the question ended there. So congrats on the big win, Province. It’ll be after 9 am when the sun comes up during the weeks in late fall and early winter when daylight is at its most scarce. I feel bad for those who have to get up – people of all ages. We are not meant to get up in the dark.

But that’s just my take, and frankly, no one asked. I’m here in the corner trying to figure out what the hell time it is in areas where the people I care about live.

Beat the Clock Part TWO: Spots on the Sheets

Both of our dogs – Livi, who’s four, and Dottie, who’ll be four on Lauren’s birthday, March 24^th – are part of a breeding program. It was the only way we could get Dottie as a mature and well-trained one-year-old, and then Livi was thrown into the mix when both girls had their first litter, met and bonded. (I’ll add here if you’re new to this story – they are from a highly-respected and acclaimed breeder in Cobble Hill, BC called Misty Trails.)

The girls are both due (by contract) to be bred this spring and somehow I booked this trip to end right around the time they’re due to go into heat. Yesterday I saw what appear to be signs that Livi (who always begins first) is starting to enter heat. OH NO. We are supposed fly back with them on March 19^th and the breeder will want us to get those dogs to her when their hormones are at their peak. I’m terrified about what this means for flights. Rebooking will cost us literally thousands of dollars, and it’s doubtful we’ll get a seat with a space for a dog (they’re limited per flight) at this late date.

So what to do? Well, for now, we’ll hope that those little spots I found on the sheets yesterday were from a thirsty bug. I’ll take some deep breaths and go back to controlling the things I can, which these days seems to be very little indeed. In these waning days of my stay down here, I am meeting some amazing women and building what will be long-distance and long-term friendships, so there’s that to focus on. The rest is just too damned much, don’t you agree?

Have a gentle week and we’ll talk with you on G&F this Thursday.

Just a thought… In the space between yes and no, there is a lifetime. It’s the difference between the path you walk and one you leave behind; it’s the gap between who you thought you could be and who you really are. [Jodi Picoult]

This is the journal I meant to share with you last week, in the afterglow of the first part of the Milano-Cortina games, as we gear up for the Paralympics later this week. But in the gentle, sleepy hours that followed the Canada Silver win, it seems, if not all hell, then a lot of it broke out in the immediate vicinity of our vacation home. I wrote about it HERE last Monday if you missed it. All is well now and, YES, we are coming back. Rob and I have booked one month in November and have every confidence in the people and the security of this area once again.

Now, I could write for days about media goddess Marilyn Denis, who’s announced, after 40 years of insanely early (and busy) days, she’s stepping into retirement this summer, and I likely will write more about her in the future. But for today I’m wishing her heartfelt congratulations, big hugs and hopes for a long and healthy “happily ever after” with her husband, her son and her sweet granddaughter.

I wanted to share with you the joys of saying “yes” as they’ve shown up in my life. A week ago I said, “No, gracias” to joining a big group of Canadians at a nearby bar at 7 am; I didn’t want to have to behave like a civil human being in public at that hour without copious amounts of coffee. I ended up watching in bed as Rob shared the game with me via video on his phone. But I did miss being with a new friend who I met through the most unusual connection. And all I had to do was say “si.”

About a month back, a woman I met years ago at a book signing for Mourning Has Broken: Love, Loss and Reclaiming Joy, and who corresponds occasionally, reached out and told me of a friend of hers who lives in the same town that I’m wintering in for three more weeks. Big gulp.

Liz Moore from Waterdown, Ontario let me know that Kelita Haverland, whose name you will know from her many record releases in Canada plus a book I’ll tell you about (and several more ways), was staying here and Liz suggested I reach out. I told Liz (with whom it turns out I have a long list of things in common) that my shyness wouldn’t let me do that, but what do you know? Kelita got in touch! She came over for coffee while my pal Lisa, whose ex-husband used to play in Kelita’s band, was here.

The connections with Kelita didn’t end there: she was related for a time by marriage to a slimy ex-boss of mine. The more we talked, the more we realized we had many more favourable mutual acquaintances. Since that first meeting, I’ve read Kelita’s book and visited her and husband Gord twice at their home just across a busy road and about a 15-minute walk from me. We watched the Canadian women win hockey silver.

Between periods, I had some cuddle time with their adorable dog Cooper…

…that is, when he wasn’t busy cheering on Team Canada!

It was Kelita who invited me to watch the big game a week ago yesterday at the nearby bar. Saying no, when I’d become accustomed to the great things that happen with her when I say yes, was not an easy call.

But in another glorious connection, Kelita put me in touch with a couple renting out their place near hers, and we’re considering staying there for the month of November later this year. And on we go. I’m so fortunate to have found this friend.

Add to that the fact that her husband Gord Lemon is also a renowned session and touring bass player as well as a hockey player (two things he and Rob have in common) and I think we’ve got the foundation for a great relationship that we hope will last for years.

It’s all because I said “yes” reluctantly at first, as I didn’t want to bother someone down here just because I’m lonely. And what a gift she’s been! It’s like in 2024 during our final winter in California when Rob and I joined new friends for their Christmas celebration. Just say “yes.”

Reading their autobiography is an unusual way to kick off a relationship, almost like doing a thorough investigation of someone you’re about to meet for a blind date.

In her book Reason to Sing, Kelita details a traumatic upbringing in Alberta, the immense personal losses she’s suffered, the challenges in trying to break in to Nashville music (she even had a showcase at the storied Bluebird Café) and the many trials that parenthood and marriage between two travelling musicians can present. Much of her book is written against the backdrop of the strength of her faith, and I admire that in her.

You can read more, order the book and follow her at kelita.com to learn more about this joyful force of nature. She’s beautiful inside and out, and continues to share her gifts at the microphone whenever she’s asked.

So thank you Liz for introducing us, and giving me the opportunity to meet you in person as well. Liz, too, has a heart of gold and has overcome challenges that might have taken you or me down. How lucky I am to be surrounded by such extraordinary women – and better yet, to call them my friends.

Have a gentle week and I’ll talk more with you this Thursday at gracefullyandfrankly.com and thank you for coming by.

Just a thought… Violence is the last refuge of the incompetent. [Isaac Asimov]

Well, this isn’t the blog I had planned for you today; that will have to wait until next week. I hadn’t intended to be in an area that is the focus of much of North America’s attention today, but here we are.

Sunday began early but pleasantly enough: Rob and our friend Chris FaceTimed the hockey game with me from the condo in Sidney, BC so I could watch. But shortly after shutting down the feed and writing today’s journal, I got a message from my Airbnb host:

I hopped on Google to find out just what was going on. Apparently a high profile drug lord was taken out (permanently). How big was El Mencho, a nickname derived from his first name? Well, there was a 15 million US dollar bounty on his head – that’s a record amount and who knows if it’ll be paid. But it’s believed that rather than a war between factions, the aftermath of his death was an explosion of rage from his followers. At least, that’s what we’re hearing from people with their ear to the ground. And cbc.ca. They’re doing a great job from their post in Mexico City.

Visitors and residents of a wide swath of Mexico, from Puerto Vallarta to more than four hours down the highway near where my sister Cindy lives in Lake Chapala area, are advised to stay indoors until we get the “all clear.” Roads were blocked by burning vehicles. Some WiFi was out (at least according to Cindy and to hockey fans who lost their hotel lobby feeds yesterday morning in the middle of the first period). Cars and buses were burned and used to set up roadblocks to stop military vehicles, shots were fired, and airports and all transportation in, out, and around the areas ground to a halt.

One poster on my Facebook page told of a friend who was two hours away from PVR when their plane was turned around. Aw, man! Porter, Air Canada and WestJet all halted flights in and out of the main PVR airport; anyone travelling here is advised to check before heading out. Which you are smart enough to do anyway, I know.

You can imagine the pandemonium this caused as hotel guests gathered in their lobbies, thinking they were departing, and were now awaiting word on where to go and what to do in order to stay safe. Everyone, from residents to visitors, was told to remain indoors; my host reminded me (as did a few ex-pats down here) to make sure my phone and extra chargers were all fully juiced, and asked if I had enough food and water. My fridge and freezer are basically stocked for the remaining 3 1/2 weeks I’m here, while any water I drink is either from a water service that delivers weekly, or simply boiled in the kettle. I’m just fine, the dogs are paper trained and we have a tiny fenced yard should a biological emergency arise. So all is well.

In fact, between occasional updates on Facebook, I spent most of yesterday cosy in bed watching season two of ER and cuddling with the dogs. As of this writing Sunday evening I have no worries; our neighbourhood is gated with a man at a booth by whom any cars have to pass in order to enter or leave. I doubt he could stop cartel members but that’s not something I’m thinking about right now, as it would appear that tourists are not being targeted.

We’re in a quiet neighbourhood and from what I’m seeing and hearing around us, it is certainly staying that way for now. I see images of the destruction near the famous Malecón in downtown Puerto Vallarta, the nearby Costco and – in the other direction from us – even in bucolic Bucerías. I count myself extremely fortunate to be as cocooned as I am.

Already people are saying they’re changing their future travel plans from Mexico to other countries like the DR. My opinion is that this too shall pass, and I would expect the area to return to order quickly; tourism means a lot to the wonderful Mexican people, especially from Canadians who are now skipping right over the US. As Lisa said yesterday, “Boy, this didn’t happen in Palm Springs!” but I responded with a photo of a neighbour’s across the street from the house where we stayed last year in nearby Cathedral City, California.

Violence can, and does happen everywhere. And without being foolish, I’m not letting an aberration – if indeed this is what happened yesterday, time will tell – keep me from living my life. I’ll pay attention to our government’s warnings and do as I am told. But I’m not afraid. Call it naïveté or the innocence of living in Canada, where a mass shooting draws together leaders of all political parties in grief and renewed calls for gun safety, but I’m hoping for the best. I choose to believe the beautiful locals who say this is definitely not the norm.

And so, on we go, waiting for the green light to head out and carry on with our lives, trusting the Mexican government to get a hold of the bad guys who brought fear and death to the streets of this usually serene part of North America. Mexico needs our love and support, and I’m going to continue to hold the good people of this country in my heart.

Got a different opinion? Please let me know: call the voicemail line at gracefullyandfrankly.com (it’s a little microphone icon on the bottom right) and Lisa and I will discuss this further on Thursday.

Also, there’s also a new story at erindavis.com and Drift with Erin Davis tomorrow: part two of the supremely sleep-inducing History of the World by H.G. Wells. Don’t worry – I won’t tell you how it ends. (That was a joke.)

Sweet dreams.