Pit Stop, Red Deer

I was driving from Calgary to Edmonton, the evening was getting late. Big thunder clouds, like silent, ghostly buffalo, would cross over the landscape. The sky wasbe blue, the the roads were slicked with rain from the passing storm. I had the window down all the way, the wind roaring. In the corner of my eye, I saw a crack of lightning, then a rainbow. Patches of yellow canola, hay rolled up in coils.

I pulled my rental car to the side of the road and followed a dirt trail to the end of a field of tall grass. I turned off the car and stood there for a while with the wind blowing.

45 Minutes from Calgary

I just got my camera fixed. Here's my daytrip from Calgary into the mountains. I figured it was worth skipping the almighty Stampede for. 

A letter from Amadou, with good news

When I first met Amadou Diallo Sadio in 2002, he was serving the beginning of a life sentence in a Thai jail. He was busted for smuggling at the age of 20 and lived in Bangkwang Prison with other international inmates. I met him by chance when I saw a notice tacked to my hostel billboard asking people to visit foreign prisoners who have no visitors.

Since our first meeting, we have kept in touch by regular mail. Often, people ask : what do you write to someone whose life is confined to a few miserable square feet behind bars?I've always tried to write about my life, my ups and downs, the good news. And now, for the first time in four years, good news has come in the opposite direction.

Dear Mike,

I was so grateful for the letter and post card I received from you today! Nearly two hours ago they call me from the prison loud speaker and handed me your letter...

I am in sound health this time... the Prison especially this Bangkwang life will soon be history and a thing of the past. If everything goes as planned, by the end of the next six or seven months time, you will be communicating with me from my home country or you will know the exact date I am going to leave prison. My time to serve here is only a question of months. Now it is not about the past but all about the future. So please continue to stand by my side. Believe in me. Since the first day you visited here I never felt like a lost person, even though no one again writes from my family, your letters always give me a sense of belonging.

Mike, I have good news to share with you, this month was a great month for me; now my original sentence, heavy like a thousand tons, was reduced to 40 years. This June, the king of Thailand celebrated his 60th year on the throne. In his great occasion to honour the king, the government granted amnesty to the long serving prisoners in Thailand. I saw some inmates I know here being released all of them have been here for the past 19 years. This has removed the ugly irong gate of prison and filled their faces with excitement....

Another letter from a monk

I got a new letter from my friend Chinnaworn Jarin, a monk who lives in the mountains 200 KM north of Chiang Mai. If you want to read more about him, read this (scroll down a bit).

Dear Mike,

What is freedom? Having physical and social freedom, people learn how to live independently, to be happy and contented within themselves.

This is a kind of happiness that is independent of externals, no longer dependant on having to exploit nature or our fellow beings. We become more and more capable of finding contentment within our own minds and through our own wisdom.

This ability to be contented without having to exploit nature or our fellow humans can also be called the ability to be content independently of natural and social conditions.

At Second Home, I learn how to live independently, to be happy and contented with myself. I learn how to be happy with simple things and to be as part of nature.

Ok, let me tell you about jail. What is the jail? Clinging to your mind and body. Clinging to the ego-self is the true jail. So stop clinging to your ego-belief and we get inner freedom. It is a true freedom. Forever freedom. We believe that mind and body are our ego, but that is not true. There is no ego within the mind and body. If we can sacrifice our ego, then we are free to get freedom. It is the inner freedom. We can only get out of jail if we sacrifice our ego.

Do not cling to the belief in ego. No ego no suffering, no ego no crying, no ego no birth and death.

I hope this letter can find you inner freedom.

Kind regards,

Chinnaworn Jarin

#3: Uncle Bob's Stampede Advice

When I arrived in Calgary, I e-mailed my Uncle Bob to ask him what I might do and where I might go when I am in town. He's lived in Alberta for 30 years.

------------------------------

From: Mike A
Sent: Tuesday, July 04, 2006 1:20 PM
To: Illic, Robert
Subject: Mike in Calgary

Uncle bob,

so... i'm heading out for work to Calgary and Edmonton. i leave tomorrow (Wed) and leave for edmonton thurday night. i was going to come back to Calgary for the stampede weekend... but i hear you are outta town. but if i dont get to see you, i'd love some suggestions as to what to see etc.

talk soon, Mike A.

----------------------------------

Uncle Bob's, Response:

From: Robert C
Sent: Tuesday, July 04, 2006 1:20 PM
To: Mike A
Subject: RE: Mike in Calgary

Hi Mike, sorry we will be out of town this coming weekend. You will fine the whole city is one big party, all the bars will be hopping, no problem getting laid. PLAY SAFE! Uncle Bobby

#2: What's with the Stampede anyway?

I went to the CBC Calgary Stampede breakfast on Thursday morning.

More than 2,500 people were lined up for pancakes and coffee served up by the TV and Radio hosts... including one cowboy-hat-wearing Jack Layton.

A country band played, followed by an African band.I spoke with a radio reporter, who was overseeing the back stage, and asked: "what’s with the Stampede anyway?"

He spoke about the history, the traditions, etc, etc, etc.... "And this is the time of year when alcohol poisoning and STDs skyrocket."

#1: What's with the Stampede anyway?

I was walking around Calgary. I was waiting for my food at a greasy spoon restaurant. All around, people were now getting ready for the Stampede parade.

I asked the older lady beside me "what's the big deal about the stampede?"

She said:

"Oh, it's when the city comes alive. You know like Mardi Gras, but in the prairies. You know, we don't get to get outside much here. So this is a chance for the entire town to really blow off some steam and get just have a good time. It started back in 1912 and now it's the biggest rodeo event in North America."

"Really?"

"You bet. The rodeo prize is $1.5 million dollars. It's even bigger than Vegas. There's chuck wagon races, the bronco riding, bull riding... and then there's the rides and all the food and crowds. It's just a hoot."

"wow."

"And then there are the Pancake breakfasts everywhere. Every company and organization is almost obligated to hold a pancake breakfast where everyone comes out before work to eat pancakes and drink coffee. You don’t have to pay for breakfast for a week."

"I should have done that than come in here."

"Oh and there are concerts every night with fireworks at the end. And most people don't even show up to work the next day until noon because they are hungover. Absolutely nothing gets done!" She laughs.

"Wow."

"But basically, it's an excuse to get wasted and get laid."

Impressions of Calgary

By coincidence, I arrived in Calgary at the beginning of annual Stampede. For those uninitiated (like me), I never realized how this event comes to represent the essence of this shining city on the edge 0f the prairies. After checking into the Marriott downtown, I went for a walk. Expecting to see dudes and dudettes in cowboy hats, I saw people in suits with Blackberry's in hand.

I went to a restaurant on 7th Avenue. Expecting to order a steak, they had crab stuffed ravioli on special.

I went for a walk and attempted to get into the infamous bar called Cowboys, a bar that everyone says:"oh you must go to."

The doorman, a wide slab of meat with leather gloves and a cowboy hat told me that it was ladies night until 11pm.

"What's that mean?" I ask.
"Ladies only."
"I know. But what happens at ladies night."
"Ladies. Drinking two for one. You can go in after 11."
"Oh."
"And guy strippers."
"Oh."

I rounded the corner and snuck past the line into a bar called Mynt. The name alone is enough description. Expecting to see a country band, instead I witnessed a fashion show on the rooftop patio where vodka was on special. During the intermission a gay guy did kereoke to a skipping CD and reading the lyrics that he wrote on the palm of his hand with a ball point pen.

I felt like I was in Toronto.

However, there was one difference. In Calgary, you are banned from smoking on patios, but get this, smoking indoors is a-OK.

Such is the Western way.

The Torontonian in Cowtown

I'm in Alberta for the next few days between Calgary and Edmonton doing auditions for our new CBC show Dragons's Den. I arrived at the airport, spotting the oil pumps beside the runway. Got lost in the confusing roads. And found myself in the company of cowboys in seconds. Anyone know a good place to hang out during the Stampede? In Edmonton? This Toronto boy is a fish outta water... err... a cow lost at sea.

I'm doing auditions for pitchers, so if you know anyone that wants to pitch their biz or invention to us, come on down!

Yeee hawww

Eventually, everyone must return to their tree

Weekend away. I arrived at the farm on Friday night. By Saturday morning, I put on my hiking boots, cammo shirt, filled a water bottle from the creek and walked up to my tree. It's a place deep in the forest that no one has ever been to, no person knows about except me. Unless I draw a map, you'd never find it. This is the place I go when I need to get away. Not just a vacation, but a place completely absent of all things human.

Saturday morning was hot and humid. I walked up the paddock, the wind coming in strong from the west in heavy, short bursts. Rain was coming. Swallows darting along the field and took flight as I drew closer. Monarch butterflies landed on the purple flower of a thistle. A white moth in the buttercups. The trees lining the fields, by the broken down fence, turned inside out by the wind. The air is sweet with fresh earth. I walk up the trail, the weeds grow thicker and grab at my boots and laces. The heat is intense and I am sweating, sweating. There is no breeze as the forest grows thicker. I hear a scratching: a porcupine crawls up a hawthorn tree. A wild turkey darts in to the tall grass and disappears. When I get up the trail far enough, I turn into the woods where there is no trail. Pass under a fallen tree and weave through mud and trees. I brush the bugs from my arms and neck. It is dark, except for spots of shattered light coming through the openings the maple canopy. The sound of the road and the planes disappear now as the wind picks up. I feel like I am under the ocean. A few more steps and the forest floor drops away into steep limestone cliff. A fallen log hangs over the cliff like a diving board. And this is where I sit for hours looking out over the cliff. Below a small creek splashed between the stones. I can look to see Georgian Bay in the distance, farms and fields in between. Four hawks circle in the rising wind. I take swig of water, lie down, and look up. Then I close my eyes and listen to it all.