“Unfortunately not everyone is on board”

We went out to run some errands today at noon, which included a stop at NoFrills, the Post Office, and Receivers.

The Island being the Island one stranger shared that they were now on a diet and not eating meat. Another, showed me their feet (they had shoes on) in order to detail their injury and I shared that I have forgotten how to wear pants.

With the exception of Receivers, no one was social distancing, wearing any kind of PPE, nor utilizing what little sanitizing your hands apparatus was available. It’s like nothing had happened; nor was still happening.

We can’t stay inside forever. We need to eat, and not everyone has the opportunity to work remotely as a programmer or other desk bound occupation.

Islanders have from my vantage point been great, at least until it was decided that people from away could come to their summer residences (I don’t think they should). Real leaders make unpopular decisions based on the available data and experience, it’s hard.

Living through viral outbreaks, or in this case, hopefully a once in a lifetime pandemic, requires a massive cultural shift for Islanders. Washing your hands, carrying antiseptic wipes and hand wash, wearing a mask, using store provided antiseptic hand wash, installing antiseptic matts, and on and on, must become an ingrained habit. It is elsewhere; they’ve been screening travellers in Taiwan and elsewhere for over 15 years. Arriving from a region known to have an outbreak? Step aside sir while we ask you a few more questions. Have a fever? Off to quarantine you go. Not wearing a mask? Please leave the building. Kid sick? Isolation and then a call to come collect the child.

These are the things you do. Take matters into your own hands, complaining about people coming in from outside the province is not enough.

Via Ruk.


Blue

I went for a walk Monday evening and while this section of Stratford has that lack of life feeling that comes from quickly building houses on a farmers field, the blue skies and clean air can’t be beat. I could stare at the skies on PEI for hours on end.


Back to the classroom in Shanghai

This was shared with me by Sheryl from a friend who posted it on Facebook. It’s for a school in Shanghai and though I wouldn’t characterize it as new (whenever there is an outbreak these procedures are put in place), it represents in part how schools elsewhere are returning to the classroom.

It’s the new “normal”, returning to school after 15weeks of home schooling. Every day at school Mr F will:
– have to wear a face mask all day
– take his temperature before he leaves home
– have his temperature taken at school before entering
– sit with 1.5 meters between each school desk.
– take his lunch to school
– not wear a tie (considered germ catchers)

With the addition of 1.5m rule, all other steps are the same ones taken during SARS. We can do this! And he is very happy to see his friends again.

I would be very surprised if we had similar procedures here. Not because of science, but because my impression thus far is, that unlike the leadership exhibited by the Chief Medical Office and the Provincial Government, the Public School Board hasn’t been exhibiting the kind of leadership required to institute these procedures.


A visit to Deckers in Cornwall

It was a beautiful crisp day yesterday and after a finishing the days work and a quick run we finally had the chance to head out as a family for a sojourn to the wilds of Cornwall.

The main attraction in Cornwall, and a summer tradition, is Decker’s which is now open for take out, with some common sense initiatives in place for social distancing. The main attractor for me is the ice cream, but the temperature though much improved, still feels far to akin to winter to start that summer habit. So we opted for some burgers and fries, which we shared with my uncle who lives just around the corner. It’s been a long time since he has had so many visitors, or any visitors at all, due to all the restrictions in place at seniors residences. He also shared that he has now lived in Cornwall for 12 years, which is “longer than he expected to be alive”.

The taste of the food is fueled by nostalgia, which is to say that when I got the bill for $80 I laughed, and ate the burger, which came devoid of any of the salad inside, a little more slowly that I might normally eat.

It was money well spent as finally getting outside as a family led to laughs, and a much needed break from the confines of our too small abode.


What do you like about the place where you live?

Oliver Rukavina is organizing an unconference, in Zoom, today. Unfortunately I can’t attend but I have been pondering the two questions he posed for the unconference all week

What have you learned from the pandemic that you want to keep for the future?
What do you like about the place where you live?

The first question I have seen posed in a number of places and it requires a lengthy response. The second question is much easier. The response comes to me from simply looking out our patio doors this AM.

The lovely clear blue skies.


Just buy Receivers

I have since returning to PEI ventured to try every coffee bean brand that I could find in the local stores and on Amazon. With the exception of Kicking Horse coffee’s Hola Light Roast, all have proven to be a disappointment. The Hola Light Roast proves to be a value only when on sale, it’s regularly $9.99 for a 1LB bag on Amazon. I can’t imagine paying the prices in local grocery stores. Even Lavazza, which I’m drinking now is nothing deserving of their heritage and the small batch roasters located in Nova Scotia and Toronto are nothing to get excited about.

One of the main factors for this other than the industrial sized roasting that many brands do, is simply that by the time that bag of whole beans arrives at your door it’s already stale. You taste a huge difference when you roast your own, or buy from a local roaster.

Considering the cost of coffee here in the stores you would be far better served buying Receivers Operator Blend, which tastes great, and importantly is roasted less than a month from your date of purchase.


Dinner at Phinley’s

We ate out for the first time in 6 weeks last night and opted for a restaurant nearby, which gave Phinley’s the win by default. Camren wanted Vietnamese food but we overruled as Sheryl wanted a burger and I never go against a chance to eat red meat. Though it’s a short walk away this was our first time experiencing their food, though we have visited their dairy bar a couple times during summer.

The service was amazingly quick and the food was … fine. We may go back sometime when sit down service is allowed again.

While the food was not “lets get on Yelp and leave a 5 star review worthy” it was a good way to mark the restart of normal life on the Island.


Day 3,679 or so it feels

I never thought I would say it but I miss our daily rush to get the kids out the door in the morning and the nightly rituals of taking them to swimming, jujitsu, and choir. And as much as I’ve had mixed feelings about it, I miss the shared suffering of our night time CrossFit classes.

Staying together in a tiny apartment day in and day out is a challenge, as are the neighbours who seemingly are having the time of their life, but that has thus far only meant more time than usual with headphones on, tuning out the world.

Life right now seems otherwise rather ordinary. There is an undercurrent of stress brought on by the uncertainty of work and the concern that we may find ourselves without any income by June. Somehow I feel this #StaySafeAtHome experience would be easier to handle if there was an air of emergency; living in the sedate suburb that is Stratford tends to isolate you from the horrors that people are experiencing elsewhere.

That kind of isolation is something to be thankful for.


Thankful for simple pleasures

My coffee intake has spiked to record levels this past week and I have been finding myself dreading drinking each cup of stale store bought beans. So being able to buy a couple of bags from Receivers was a welcome respite and treat.

I have a lb. of unroasted beans arriving today, so I expect our place to be filled with the smells of roasting coffee beans shortly after their arrival.


Madness

These are fairly mild compared to the scenes that are being shared endlessly throughout social media.

This was the scene at NoFrills last evening. People on the island have joined with many others around the world in abandoning community and retreating to their base instincts. It’s one thing to ensure you have a 2 weeks supply of the essentials, it’s another to hoard, thereby denying availability to others.

Hoarding is easier I suppose, to choices that have greater effect; choosing competent leadership and living a healthy lifestyle are a couple that come to mind.


Bus vs. Taxi

The bus I take from Stratford to the downtown and return, is quick, inexpensive, and features a friendly helpful driver. So helpful that the driver will even drop me off at my door when I am taking the return trip. People talk and share stories.

It’s such a contrast to the taxi experience on the same route, which is slower, far more expensive, and generally not as social a drive. Taxi’s don’t feel as safe either.

I only see growth for public transit in Charlottetown, fuelled in no small part by the bus drivers themselves. I see only decline for taxi’s, especially if ride sharing ever takes hold, which despite the negativity surrounding the gig economy, is incentivized to provide a good experience.


Kudos to Silver Streams Restaurant

Last week was Camren’s 14th birthday, and keeping with tradition there was a pancake breakfast replete with balloons and a later dinner out at a restaurant of his choosing. Our weekday evenings are full of activities, so the dinner part of the day had to be delayed. One part of our birthday tradition that was missing was the Daddy Cake. Camren elected to have cheesecake, surprisingly difficult to find in Charlottetown, instead of the monstrosity that I would create.

His choice for dinner was Silver Streams near the 1911 jail. With all the decent Asian style restaurants in Charlottetown, it’s hard to understand why this place has become his favourite, but it has, and so off we went.

Their buffet is about what you would expect, but I managed to find more protein than starch for my plate, and the sweet and sour chicken balls reminded me of the Chinese food we would have when I was Camren’s age.

The staff were new, I believe the restaurant has new owners, and were friendly and kept the food fresh.

At one point Camren coughed, he has a cold, and an older couple looked at him with a look of horror on their face for seemingly a long period of time. Hopefully it wasn’t a sign of early Covid-19 hysteria. This I believe led to a conversation as to how Sheryl was pregnant during the SARS outbreak and how that has changed our habits since.

As we were leaving I asked Catriona to mention in Chinese that it was Camren’s birthday and they graciously gifted his meal. An unadvertised special.


The Precariousness of life on the Island

When I read this thread on Twitter I found myself nodding in agreement. Since moving here there has been a general sense of anxiety that we were always close, or one malady away from being out on the street. I thought at first this was just a response to having to look after the kids alone for the first time, but the feeling hasn’t gone away. This despite Sheryl being here, and her good fortune in finding long term subbing work.

I don’t recall having this level of concern in the 20+ years we lived in Taiwan, in spite of the fact that we were not citizens, and as such had little in the way of rights. If you lose your job, you need to find another quickly or you’re out of the country. There is no EI or gov funds for retraining, or much of anything. You are on your own with no social safety net but for the one you construct yourself.

Part of the anxiety may stem from the fact that the cost of living on the island has proven to be far higher than our wildest estimates. With few exceptions, we pay 2x or more to live here with a far more conservative lifestyle than years past. Net income is also far less. I also don’t have much confidence in a social safety net being there to help us. Medical care is top notch but access severely constrained.

I’m sure winter has some effect as well.


Hillsborough Bridge Construction

The construction on the bridge, or the Hillsborough Speedway as I refer to it, has meant the end of riding my bike across to Charlottetown during rush hours. In fact it’s probably unsafe for the majority of cyclists who might use the route to make the trek to work.

We had long since planned that I would ride a bike to wherever I needed to be during the days that Sheryl was in need of our car. There is nowhere in the city that I can’t reach by bike in less than 30 minutes and if I can reach the entrance to the bike trail unscathed, it feels pretty safe. Bridge construction aside, it hasn’t gone as smoothly as planned, as I don’t particularly like riding in the rain, and with two active kids and all the errands that I need to run, we drive more than ride.

The bus has proven a great alternative, particularly on wet days. No where have I seen a happier group of bus drivers; they talk to the passengers, help them whenever they can, and know the regulars almost by name. I have seen some forget their bus pass and the bus driver wave them on, because they know them. It’s the exact opposite experience that I had riding the TTC in Toronto for the 10 years I lived there. It’s also an efficient time box for the type of work I do in the downtown – 9 to 4 is plenty of time to accomplish something. It’s a great stress free alternative to the car if you can make it fit into your schedule (which can be difficult when you have active kids who also require near daily trips to the grocery store).

The current construction on the bridge forces cyclists to ride as close to the edge of the road as possible, which is always full of garbage and gravel, and when I rode across last, there was only a few inches between handle bar and mirror. At one point I had a long line up of trucks behind me when on the bridge proper, because thankfully they realized it wasn’t safe to pass. I’ve seen the same with other cyclists.

It would be safe to say that the bridge is a product of an era when the car was the primary stakeholder in urban design. The recent construction of the Shoppers Drug Mart in Stratford, whereby it’s location is far enough away from the other buildings to require all but the most dedicated walkers to drive, indicates that this era is still alive and well. There is still a great deal of work to be done to make it attractive for people to even consider replacing their cars for bikes in Charlottetown’s bedroom communities.


X mark

Sheryl and I spent our Friday night having dinner at MadWok, which she found underwhelming (she needs more time to forget what PadThai really tastes like), followed by a quick trip to NoFrills, and capped by a visit to the local polling station to cast our vote in the advance poll. Once at home we attempted to finish El Camino on Netflix but failed.

This I think was a far more rewarding evening than in my youth when I would spend my time standing around in a crowded bar pretending to have fun.

This morning after having burpees for breakfast at Crossfit (the Saturday crowd are a lively bunch), we dropped by the Farmers Market to get some rainbow carrots, my sons surprise favourite, fill him with rice noodles and hopefully run into Elizabeth May. Which I did, as Glen Beaton brought me over somewhat reluctantly to meet her. I had nothing to say other than some niceties, but it would be rude to take her away for more than a brief moment, from what looked like a delicious lunch, to ask yet more questions of her.

She is I think the perfect antidote to the Andrew Scheer’s of the world.


Another cut

I walked into the barbershop this afternoon 5 weeks after the last visit for another cut. At 22 minutes in and out it was slightly slower than my previous visit but I am more pleased with the result. Perhaps adding more time to a task does result in a corresponding increase in quality. I think she styled me as she might see her grandfather, if she had one.

She is new I think, and doesn’t know me, so we started our short time together with some small talk about Thanksgiving. My lack of desire for chit chat during an activity which brings no joy to me was apparent and we stopped at that.

I do continue to enjoy listening to the way they talk and phrase the beginning and end of topics. “Well it is October”, was a convenient excuse for talking about what they described as a dark topic. Todays topic was a comparison between getting tattoos and giving blood. Both use needles, but getting a needle at a hospital is seen as far scarier in part because of something leaving your body vs entering your body (ink), which is the case with getting a tattoo.

I wanted to ask them some questions about all the whiskey on display. Do people really want to drink whiskey while they are getting a haircut? Many places offer you something to drink upon arrival, which I think is polite. But the ones that do this best are the places that give you time to enjoy quality tea or coffee in an environment conductive to doing so. There is a barber in Quebec City that doubles as a café which looks worth a visit. Some places in Taiwan do this well, but most don’t which often resulted in hair floaties in my cup.

Todays barber was rather inspiring with her died hair color an exact match for the color pattern on her sneakers. Something I might try in the near future.


Quiet Please

This August past we were given the best of gifts as both of the neighbors, who for over a year caused me so much grief, moved out.

Their absence combined with beautiful weather, friends visiting from Taiwan, and the whole family together again made for a great month.

Stampy as I called him, and the young man who did nothing but scream at his tv all day and night, left suddenly without much fanfare, leaving the apartment above us to be occupied by people who have been largely invisible. The best kind of upstairs neighbors are those that don’t make their presence known.

The young person who would have loud parties in her bedroom was replaced by a delightful family who cook the most delicious smelling food. Certainly, they represent the best of apartment living.

It’s been so quiet that I was starting to believe that living in an apartment in Stratford wasn’t so bad at all. I even considered removing the earplugs that I started wearing last year.

But alas winter is coming.

Recently there has been a noticeable change in activity levels upstairs – with a new heavy foot and someone operating some kind of machine that vibrates the floors at all hours. As it turns out new residents have moved in with the tenants above bringing the number of adults to 5. There may also be a young child in the mix.

As far as problems caused by the housing shortage goes, this would be far far and away from those who are sleeping in their cars. We are warm and we have a place to sleep, for which we are thankful.


Number 2

I’m playing catch up this week, trying to understand each political party’s platform, as I head to the advance poll this Thursday or Friday. I think this is only the 2nd time I’ve had the opportunity to vote and Sheryl believes it may be her first, so there is a certain thrill to being able to exercise this privilege.

The kids have questions too, but I’ve only been able to talk about this election in the most vaguest of terms. During the provincial election I was much more engaged, meeting with representatives, going to speaking events and digging into their various platforms. I’ve been distracted for this election and unable to attend the speaking events – Sheryl often needs the car and it’s still very difficult to get from Stratford to anywhere without one.

The only representative who made the effort to reach out in our building was Wayne Phelan of the Conservatives. As is often the case on PEI we established that first I grew up here, and how we might be connected. I went to high school with his older brother Alan. We also have something in common in that we both spent time in Asia. When asked if I had any questions, I felt like asking his opinion on resume padding, but seeing as he seems like a far more amiable person than his national leader, I simply apologized as I hadn’t had time to think through the issues.

The Liberal party did leave a poster, and the Green Party a slew of pamplets, which doesn’t seem so green at all.

I have a “can you please just get out of my way” attitude towards government, which places me at odds with all the major parties worth considering in Canada. It’s been easy to avoid governance for over 20 years, but it’s not so easy now.

Watching the debate last night was much like listening to my kids when they are tired of each other, often times nasty and frequently incoherent, with Elizabeth May seemingly the only adult in the room. She comes across as authentic and honest, something rare in politics I think. But we don’t vote directly for her and I remain unconvinced with Michele Beatons father.

I have a couple days.


Todays long run

Today felt like a dress rehearsal for just about any marathon I have run; very little sleep, upset stomach, out the door before sunrise, and pain and huge appetite after the run.

I took a similar route as last time but wanted to give the hills on Sherwood road and on University a try on tired legs. The last time I ran the PEI Marathon these pushed my left hamstring over the edge and I started to cramp, which caused a loss of about ten minutes in my final finish time. Today I had no such problem, but I was also running far slower. The protests from my body have progressed this year to the muscles around my hips, which have been getting a great work out from CrossFit and my running. Every year of running brings some malady – I’m hoping that this year, with the 15+ hours of training I do a week, may be different.

I’m still not convinced that I can complete a marathon in October within a respectable period of time. At the pace I am running now it’s mostly a mental game. As I don’t listen to music, I usually pick work related problems to solve while running. But work is far less challenging than in the past so I usually spend time writing blog posts or stories, which never see the light of day. I also do other visualization exercises (sometimes visualization a huge feast at the end of a run helps) to keep my mind off the fact that once I hit the 21k mark I start to feel real discomfort. When I start looking frequently at my watch I know that I am near the end of my patience, today that happened at around 25k. At that point though I still had ways to go and had little choice to continue.


Storms

One of the benefits of apartment living for us (I might say the only benefit) has been that when a storm of any magnitude comes the responsibility for cleanup and prep largely lies with someone else. That was the case this past weekend when Dorian hit and we, with the exception of a loss of power for four hours after dinner, escaped unscathed. Others were not so lucky, and the topic of sore backs, the love of hot showers, and the zombies lining up for hours for bad coffee was the topic of many recent conversations.

Being the Gentle Island whenever the wind picks up some level of devastation follows.

Incidentally, it was 3 years ago this month that I experienced another storm, a typhoon this time, right after I landed in Fuzhou.

We were pretty accustomed, as much as you can be, to the yearly onslaught of cat 1-5 typhoons that wreak havoc on Taiwan, China and the Philippines. Living in the Hsinchu Science Park meant that we were well protected, the power never went out, and flooding was at a minimum. But we still would be prepared with fresh water and food in case the need arose.

I was entirely unprepared when I first landed in China. For some reason the company’s HR department required my arrival just as everyone was about to go on a week long holiday. The logic behind this was never explained and it was one of the many mysteries of working there. Since there was no one to show me to my apartment on the new campus I was given temporary accommodations at one of the dorms in the city. And then after a meal of dumplings left alone for a week. Which is fine, I’m in China, on holiday, lots to see. Except, I couldn’t leave the city until all my papers were sorted, which would take longer because people were all on holiday.

I had about a day before the rain started and during that time I covered as much by foot as I could of the sprawling city of Fuzhou. I’m not sure why but for some reason when I went back to my room that night I brought water but no food. Perhaps, it was due to the typhoon being downgraded to a simple tropical storm, which in my mind meant business as usual.

Unfortunately, in the part of the city I was staying in, rain meant flooding, and flooding meant sewage everywhere. So when the storm struck I was stuck in my dorm room. The murky water wasn’t deep, only up to my knees, but any cut from the debris might bring along all kinds of maladies. So at the behest of the building security guard I stayed put.

On PEI Dorian brought out best in some Islanders, and in China as well there were moments of kindness. As the day went on people were checking in via WeChat, there were frequent offers from my new colleagues to come and fetch me, or have food delivered. There were still some restaurants open nearby with people willing to risk the possibility of infection, but I hadn’t yet started the long arduous process of setting up WeChat Wallet, so I had no way to pay. It was the security guard who came to my aid first. Noticing that as the day dragged on I still had nothing to eat he insisted I share his dinner. Which I did, and thanked him as best I could. His simple act of kindness made an otherwise dreary day all the brighter.

By the next day the water receded and the legions of workers came out to clean up the mess. A week later I was settled in my apartment on the new campus by the beach.


The Blue

Sept., 2018

Of all the benefits of living on Prince Edward Island certainly the clear blue skies, which I could stare at for hours, must rank near the top.

The summers when we would arrive from abroad would be a healthy respite, a noise and pollution detox. My mother used to say that the sea air cures all, and I can confirm that the effects of finally breathing air free of pollutants feels curative, like some kind of magic elixir. Others leaving Asia for extended periods report similar effects.

This morning was near perfection, with crisp cool air of the type that I seldom experienced during all the years I lived and traveled throughout Asia.


My Haircut

Kudos to The Humble Barber for yesterday’s haircut experience.

At about 2:40pm I suddenly realized the time, and that I had an appointment for a haircut at 3. I was in the car 5 minutes later and with the help of the Hillsborough Bridge Raceway managed to walk in their door on Kent St. at 3 on the nose. By the looks of the staff standing around in a circle, they expected me to be a no show.

In years past I would take advantage of my time getting a haircut to practice various Chinese language phrases or listen to the banter of the other customers in the shop; it was a great way to gain some insight into what is important to people outside of my usual social circle, or to find out where the latest and greatest restaurant is. But generally I find getting a haircut a chore, and prefer to go and be finished in as short a time as possible. With the exception of language practice, I seldom have the inclination to talk. Some barbers here on the other Island try to engage in conversation, younger ones especially, who use unique difficult to understand language full of adjectives. After a few concise replies, they often give up, figuring I am unfriendly. The ordeal often leaves us both uncomfortable.

It would seem though, that I have found my haircut nirvana. During the whole time I was in the chair at The Humble Barber yesterday, the barber didn’t once attempt to engage me in idle banter (in a previous visit another barber admitted that she didn’t like people). Also, she didn’t discuss hair styling – in Taiwan this always frustrated me, as barbers would always give themselves lofty titles such as “artist” and yet would rely on me to tell them the best look for my big head. What am I paying all this money for if I am doing all the “art?” Lastly, she positioned my chair so that I didn’t have to continuously look at myself in the mirror, another pet peeve, and instead could look out at all the curious characters on Kent St. In the end she performed the big reveal by turning my chair around to explain my new do.

All in all it took less than 15 minutes and I was out the door on Kent at 3:15 dodging the smokers crowded outside of the Tim Hortons.


Don’t ride here

When we lived in Hsinchu it was common knowledge that whenever a driver of any kind of a large vehicle hit you it was best for them to make sure you were dead, because the costs related to your death were less than your continued care while in and out of the hospital. So it was said that if you get hit watch out as truck drivers might back up for another pass to finish the job. How true that actually was I don’t know but I do know that the cost of hitting anyone with your scooter, bicycle, or car could cripple you financially. This despite Taiwan having a health care system equal to, or superior to, what we enjoy here.

With that in mind I still road my bike for a number of years, and when Camren was really young, with him in a trailer behind me. This we would do in the back narrow roads that lead from our house in the hills, to his kindergarten, all the while sharing the road with huge cement trucks that would regularly come within an inch or two of my bike. The same could be said of running, which was at times in a pretty hostile environment, as you dodge vehicles that would speed close enough so you could rap on the window to break the drivers from their stress induced myopia.

That said I think it mostly worked, at least for me as I’m still here, and able to utilize my legs. Part of this was due to a combination of looking out for yourself, the realization that there are kinds of things (people, dogs don’t fare well, cars, scooters, bicycles) sharing the roads, and the confidence and skill to be able to negotiate small distances when driving.

These factors don’t seem to exist here in Charlottetown – particularly in the heavily trafficked Hillsborough bridge and connecting streets. Every time I ride or run across the bridge I am convinced that drivers of vehicles large and small have no idea I exist on the road. It’s especially disconcerting when you see a large gravel truck slowly veering over the white line on the road as it speeds towards you.

This isn’t necessarily the case everywhere. When running on rural roads many drivers give me an extraordinarily wide berth. In Cornwall people used to slow down and ask me if I wanted to talk a break and get a drive home. In other cases people toot their horns and wave as they go by.

There is something about that Stratford to Charlottetown connection that brings out the less than friendly part of people.


Sunday’s route

In a place as small as Charlottetown it’s hard to find routes that stay within the town limits. Running for me is as much a mental challenge as it is physical; learning to ignore the pain while trying to enter into some kind of zen like state. It works for a while but then I get bored and need the kind of visual stimulus that running through an urban setting provides. Running in parts of Hsinchu was a bit like being hunted by people in machines and maimed by all manner of traps on the road. This required a level of mental alertness which is thankfully not usually necessary here

I’ve discovered much of the various neighbourhoods of Charlottetown on my feet. This is the second time I’ve run this route and my favourite part is not urban at all. The Robertson Road Trail goes through a beautiful piece of nature which looks much like how the world may look when all the humans have left. I think we will return this evening for a more leisurely walk around the area.


Founders Food Hall and Market

I dropped by the Founders Food Hall and Market this afternoon for their opening. Well executed I think. Enjoyed some wonderful BBQ wood fired pizza from Fiamma and some kind of bacon, chocolate and coffee on a stick concoction from Holy Fox. This was washed down with samples from Receivers and RAW Juice. The sandwich meat was superb as well. I’m sure that different use cases for this space could be argued but it looks to my eyes to be the best looking space of this type on the Island. I didn’t catch the hours, but if they manage to have weekend hours it will be a more convenient alternative to the Charlottetown Farmers Market.


Secret Design Bunker Pop-up

I love the exterior of this building. So much more inviting than any blue glass monstrosity.

I dropped in to the Nine Yards Secret Design Bunker pop-up early this afternoon – it was a nice display of ideas. It would have been nice to have some explanation behind the work but my timing was off, as a large group arrived shortly after myself, which kept the sole person managing the affair busy answering their questions, afterwards they disappeared into what I guess was the secret bunker part of the exhibition.

It’s nice to see this kind of work – great aesthetic, perhaps a cross between Eslite and some of the work I have seen produced by NCTU GIA.

Hopefully this will be a regular event.