Author: James MacDonald
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Vimy Ridge
124 years ago today, July 18th 1892, my great grandfather, George Andrew McDonald, came screaming into the world. In his 24th year he enlisted with the Canadian military and entered the Great War. He volunteered likely believing the war would be over by December and thus set sail for England, I imagine, excited for adventure.…
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Home Sweet Home
In January 2007 I completed my graduate work at the University of Alberta in Library and Information Studies. I was a newly minted librarian looking for work and desperate to take whatever I could find. It turned out that I really didn’t need to worry. As I entered my final semester in the fall of…
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Ultra Bowron
Thirty hours and eight minutes. That is how long it took Brenton and me to circumnavigate the Bowron Lake circuit last weekend. We should have finished in about 22 and a half hours but when we reached the mouth of the Bowron River (more of a snaking lake) it was nearing 1am and we talked…
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The Taj Mahal and Home
Nothing runs on time in India. At least, this is the impression I am left with in my brief stay in a corner of the country. A bus was to take us into the Taj Mahal this morning at 5am. Actually, we were told 6am then 5:30am, then 5:45 and finally at the end of…
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A Mosque in Old Delhi
It’s been a few days since my last post. My time in India has included much later nights than in Italy making it near impossible to write. Of course, I’ve been at a conference much of the time so there is little to report on a daily basis that would not bore you to tears.…
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First impressions of Delhi
Some experiences are raw and unfettered, experiences that leave you breathless and reflective that both cut deep and inspire. Today was such an experience. If this post feels like I am reaching, if its tone is strained, it is because the story is beyond my control of the English language. How does one convey in…
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“Home James” A Car in Italia
Dad was on his last ounce of energy when we finally stumbled into our hotel last night. It was a long train ride, followed by another train ride, followed by a taxi to the hotel. We’ve made this mistake two years in a row now: booking a hotel near the airport rather than next to…
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Hot Chocolate and Selfie Sticks
On our final day in Venice dad and I walked into St. Marks Square for breakfast and to catch a view of the place without all the tourists. We picked up a couple hot sandwiches on the way. Note, do not eat a sandwich while walking through St. Marks Square you are liable to be…
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Running and an opera
The air was brisk when I set out for my morning run. The sun had barely crested the horizon and the narrow lanes of Venice were shrouded in darkness. The occasional lamp cast shadows on the stone paths gliding beneath my feet. Italians are not early risers. The once vibrant shops were dark or shuttered…
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First Impressions of Venezia
A high speed train took us from Rome this morning through the Italian countryside. Rolling hills lined with trees and patched together with recently disced farmers fields sped by. The train travelled at 245 kilometres an hour much of the time. Soon the hills gave way to an immense flat land that remindedus of British…
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