BUOY 2016 by BUOY

Joignez-vous à notre voyage fantastique!

Travel with us, it’s going to be a sweet ride!

A Literary Arts Journal • Un journal artistique et littéraire Volume 7, Issue 1 • volume 7, numéro 1

VOYAGE

Paris, Montréal, avions, la poésie, la peinture, inclus dans ce numéro!

TRAVEL

Paris, Montreal, planes, poetry, paintings, all in this issue! Travelñ2016

BONJOUR

Judy Minderman, Noel Evans, Nick Serjeantson, Windshell Vilma, Simon Pauze, Barbie Marshall, Vanessa Sparks. Absent Marie-Lou Riberdy Vanessa Sparks, Editor Selfie with Poutine

believe that everyone lives with a paradox: we are who we are but simultaneously, we all also have the capacity to change. It’s a type of moving forward while also staying still.

I �� I’�� , through my work at Forward House and all the magical humans I have learned from while being here. And the Buoy team, well, it has been something special, hasn’t it? Over twenty of you lovely Forward House members have contributed to putting Buoy together over the years and I have squirreled away as many memories as possible of each of you (even though you know how I feel about squirrels!). I appreciate all your hard work so much, and I think you are all awesome. It certainly has been a trip, and one where I have become more myself and at the same time become a new person, and hopefully a better person. T�� B�� . The vacation kind, the temporal kind, the imaginative kind, and the existential kind. For me it’s the end of a road that has been my joy and privilege to travel, especially with such creative and generous travel buddies. Thank you for sharing yourselves with me and letting me witness your journey. It’s meant more than I can possibly put into words. Much Love, Vanessa Windshell Vilma, Orange Julep, photo

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HELLO BUOY STUFF Editor’s Letter. . ..................................................................................................02 Contents...........................................................................................................03 Thank-yous, Ads & Submissions.................................................................................50

WRITING Ester Cabrita, To Portugal with Love..........................................................................04 Lesia Charko, Travelling in Montreal..........................................................................06 Gilles Chiasson, Nowl Lute of the Tru.........................................................................07 Gilles Chiasson, The Lame Dame Ballad.......................................................................08 Dana M. Friend, Go!..............................................................................................12 Theresa Krug, Going-to-the-Sun Road.........................................................................13 Fred K. Lee, Vetrans without Ribbons.........................................................................15 Francis Marquis, Le voyage de ses rêves......................................................................21 Isabelle Michaud, sans titre.....................................................................................22 Judy’s Travels: An Interview by Barbie Marshall and Vanessa Sparks .....................................23 Lisa Picado, Escape to the Rainforest.........................................................................30 Marie-Lou Riberdy, Beautifully Unique........................................................................31 Catherine Sanders & Christopher Teddy ‘Speed’ Dubiel, Unmasking our Sheep Dreams Within Our Imaginary Sheep Selves..........................................................................................38 Nick Serjeantson, Bus Adventures #1..........................................................................42 Nick Serjeantson, Snarzo or Unexpected Travel can be Fun................................................45 Windshell Vilma, La clef de bonheur..........................................................................47 Windshell Vilma, The Key to Happiness.......................................................................48 Emma Yuen, untitled............................................................................................49

IMAGES Noel Neil Marlon Evans, Cadillac. ...................................................................Front Cover Vanessa Sparks, Editor Selfie with Poutine...................................................................02 Windshell Vilma, Orange Julep.............................................................................02-03 Sylvie Charest, Voyage dans l’imaginaire.....................................................................09 Nick Serjeantson, Bike Travel..................................................................................10 Fred K. Lee, Pictures for Vetrans without Ribbons..........................................................17 Suzanne Cusson-Alexander, Soleil levant.....................................................................18 Suzanne Cusson-Alexander, Nos printemps...................................................................19 Renée Drouin, The Oak Trees...................................................................................20 Renée Drouin, The Beetle.......................................................................................25 Windshell Vilma, West-Bound Montreal Metro Train #1 at Radisson Station.........................26/27 Sheila Ferrando, The Beach Scene in Barbados..............................................................28 Nicole Macoretta, Peace to you and your Bird...............................................................33 Barbie Marshall, The Road to Banff............................................................................34 Barbie Marshall, The Rockies...................................................................................34 Isabelle Michaud, Voyage en bande dessiné..................................................................35 Marie-Lou Riberdy, Beautifully Unique........................................................................36 Isabelle Michaud, Expérience vécu.............................................................................43 Jonathan Paige, untitled........................................................................................44 Windshell Vilma, Le Train #1 Du Metro de Montreal En Direction Est A La Station Radisson 2 ...47/48 Nick Serjeantson, Foul Travel..................................................................................51 Eric Silverman, untitled...............................................................................Back Cover F�� C��: Noel Neil Marlon Evans, Cadillac, acrylic B�� C��: Eric Silverman, untitled, acrylic

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ESTER CABRITA

t was to be my first visit to Portugal since my parents and I immigrated to Canada six years before. I was to stay with my grandparents and extended family for the whole of the summer.

Since I was to travel alone, my parents arranged it so that I would be on the same plane as family friends. The flight itself was uneventful. Us kids spent the whole trip playing. After touchdown in Lisbon, an airline stewardess came to bring me out to where my family would be. By the time we got out of customs everyone had gone home. There were three ladies talking together. I knew they had to be my aunts and grandmother. They were good looking women who smiled easily and had a unhurried pleasantness about them. One of the ladies was the splitting image of my mother. After the hugs, hugs, hugs and kissys, kissys, we went outside to hail a taxi. THE SIGHTS

The sky was a bright blue with not a cloud, I had never seen palm trees in my life. The boulevard was unreal. The fancy design of the cobblestones and the palm trees made it seem to me that I was on another planet. Fortunately I had not forgotten my Portuguese so communicating was not a problem. The

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taxis were green and black so that was different. Everything was different and new. When we got to my grandparents’ apartment I was introduced to my grandfather. He had the cutest dimples and like my grandmother was very good looking and to me they looked like the perfect couple. They were my idea of what grandparents should look like. It was so good to feel at home so far away from Montreal. GRANDMOTHER’S COOKING

My grandmother spent lots of time in the kitchen. She liked to feed us well. It was a love thing. I had always been taught to eat whatever was on my plate; with my grandmother’s cooking, that was always a pleasure. My grandfather would go to the market every morning and buy what was available and in season. I must say we ate well. It was a pleasure to eat the fruits and vegetables that were so fresh. My grandfather loved fruit so much that just talking about it made his hands shake. He would be in heaven while savouring the tasty morsels of food. It’s like the Fado song says: the stains on a tablecloth just show that there is food and it is eaten with pleasure and abundance. Also, if someone comes to visit they would be invited to sit and join the family at the table. LISBON

Lisbon was originally built on seven hills. It seemed to me that where my grandparents lived was one of the hills. It was like hiking going up the street to take the bus or trolley. We went to many places in Lisbon. There was a park where we would often go and it was good to run and play there. My grandmother always fed me a snack in the afternoon. It would be a glass of milk and a bun with ham. It was very good. VISITING OTHER PLACES

During my two month stay in Portugal I got to know my extended family. During my stay we also travelled to the Algarve, the southern province of Portugal. Here there are many beaches. I also visited my father’s side of the family while there. My paternal grandfather was very personable. My paternal aunt and uncle and cousins were fun to get to know. My aunt was a hoot! I was very lucky to have spent that summer in Portugal and to have been able to get to know the family. These memories are precious to me and I can only thank my parents for having made such a trip possible.

I had always been taught to eat whatever was on my plate; with my grandmother’s cooking, that was always a pleasure.

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TRAVELLING MONTREAL BY

LESIA CHARKO

Where do I have to go? Where do I need to go? All day I ask myself morning rush people everywhere In the bus In the metro packed like sardines In the evening people everywhere In the bus In the metro packed in like sardines This is life in Montreal To go grocery shopping To buy clothes I need to travel bus metro To go to the doctorâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s I need to travel Travelling in Montreal all day and all night I get tired at the end of the day

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NOWL LUTE THE TRU. BY

GILLES CHIASSON

Anchored on The ceiling of the heart Fluttering emotions dance Bright yellow eyes Growing more and more With each clinching joy, Splashing a coolness Bringing certain serenity To bear upon the will Of Nowl Lute of the Tru A shuffling huff Lets Nowl move along Expelling multihued vapours Catching the wind, propelling Past the murky magma tiers of K’telmo Bay by the Sea Closer to home, Nowl feels Palpitating flavours of affection Letting everything go Partitioning grace from angst The war of life from The love of home There is no escape however From the push and pull and the Reflex of impossible reconciliations But for this end of day It is enough to know That soulful embraces loom Copyright © Gilles Chiasson 2011

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THE LAME DAME BALLAD BY

GILLES CHIASSON

1Thumbing for a ride in the Algonquin. Tired of all the lies and pardoning sins. No more bromides or devotional spins. Let my collar slide, gonna turn it in. The road is long, The end is near. Got to move along, Get the hell outta here. Oh yeah, oh yeah. 2A lame dame plegic rolled up onto me. She was young and slick and her name was Loco Jeanie. Mistress of magic, Queen of fantasy, She had a wry wit and a jar of whiskey. The road is long, The end is near. Got to move along, Get the hell outta here. Oh yeah, oh yeah. 3Made it to the Sault, she wore a wicked grin. The sky’s midnight blue, time to turn in. Didn’t know what to do, so close she leaned in. A kiss long and true, we danced skin to skin. The road is long, The end is near. Got to move along, Get the hell outta here. Oh yeah, oh yeah. Continued on page 11

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Sylvie Charest, Voyage dans lâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;imaginaire, marker and watercolour

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DAME Continued from page 8

4The sunrise was red, Jeanie was on the phone Had ideas in my head, tired of being alone. The truck battery’s dead, she asked for a loan. After we broke bread our hands began to roam. The road is long, The end is near. Got to move along, Get the hell outta here. Oh yeah, oh yeah. 5We got to North Bay just short of noon. Jeanie went on to say we’d be splitting up soon. I had to go my way, she had no more room. My mind went astray, buried my heart in a tomb. The road is long, The end is near. Got to move along, Get the hell outta here. Oh yeah, oh yeah.

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GO!! BY

DANA M. FRIEND

Go and visit a place Where none of the rules of the Dawn are ever broken, Where time is but a bad old dream, A place in your soul Where silence is ricocheted But by the hosannas of the heavens Happily splashing in a puddle of cool rain Washing away all the pain of the earth, Where no mere dream is but a dream. Learn to float in your mind Where gravity has no laws, Only levity to laugh at. A place where the wind does not blow But a careful caressing breeze. Where lavender scented dreams wash your soul With their slumberous love. A place where your cortisol coils Of furious frustration can properly unwind. No dishes to suds. Where even the weary weedy garden of your mind Is mystically tended by angels Playing some mysterious inviting music In your newfound reality. This is the Dream, where God Himself is to be found. So go! Start your quest. It is but a sleep away with your soul floating in your mind. Now go! Your very first awe awaitsâ&#x20AC;Ś

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GOING-TO-THE-SUN ROAD BY

THERESA KRUG

fter Banff and Jasper, many of us expected our visit to Glacier National Park in Montana to be somewhat anti-climatic. We were, however, in for a pleasant surprise. When our bus pulled into the entrance of the Park we were told that regular tour buses weren’t allowed on the grounds and our group would have to transfer to three of the special little mini-buses used to manoeuvre the hairpin twists and curves. These conveyances dated back 30 or 40 years and they looked their age. They were painted in what had at one time been bright red and had convertible canvas tops which would be removed during the trip.

As they spluttered and protested indignantly, he whipped all their paraphernalia into the seat behind and marshaled me, tiny Mrs. Carland and her grandsons, aged 13 and 14, into the front row.

I was assigned a particularly battered-looking vehicle together with 65-year old Mrs. Carland, her two teenage grandsons, four French school teachers and (to the disgust of all) Mr. and Mrs. Bradley. This middle-aged couple had made themselves unpopular with all their fellow travellers by their selfish insistence on having the best seats or first service everywhere we went. They enforced their demands by aggressively pushing, arguing and complaining. True to form, they had bagged the front row of seats and were settling in amidst their parcels and camera equipment.

“You can see great from that seat,” he informed the Bradleys. “Right! Let’s go!”

ASCENDING THROUGH NATURE And with a bouncing of springs he leaped into the driver’s seat and started the engine. After much wheezing and groaning the little bus was finally on its way, climbing protestingly up the forest road. As the road ascended, the scenery grew increasingly spectacular. Our three little buses wound their rumbling way around narrow paths reaching higher and higher up the peaks. What struck me most at this point was the quality of timelessness and of nature at its most untamable. By comparison to this rugged “Uh-uh,” said our guide, Roger, noticing this surrounding of towering cliffs and bottomless liberty. “The shorties first.” canyons, the picnic camps and pretty lakes of Jasper and Banff seemed as city parks. ROGER THE COLLEGE STUDENT Roger was a toothy, loud-mouthed college We were now reaching the highest level of the student with an interesting habit of shouting glacier which was called “Going to the Sun “Right!” in answer to any and all statements Road.” The buses were circling the peak in a and questions addressed to him. He showed tiered path that led ever higher towards the sky. little evidence of ever listening to anyone, but We had long since removed the canvas top of his big smile and forceful affirmations defied our bus and the two Carland boys and I were any debate or disagreement. In him the standing up holding on to the front rails as the Continued on page 14 Bradleys had finally met their match. Travelñ2016

Continued from page 13

ROAD

wind whipped our hair from our faces. We passed a sheer cliff with water pouring down in a steady stream. “That’s the Weepin’ Wall,” shouted Roger over the roar of the engine, “cryin’ tears of joy.” “Whoopee!”

yelled Frankie Carland leaning over to touch the streaming wall as we skimmed past. At this point the Bradleys behind us had reached their limit of endurance. All along they had been “tsk’ing” between themselves and urging us to sit down so they could see better. “Guide,” demanded Mrs. Bradley, “will you order those children to sit down. How can we see anything with them standing up all the time?” “Ri-iight!” boomed Roger, “just stand up everyone and breathe in this good, wholesome air.” “I….” started Mrs. Bradley. “Right!” retorted Roger with a wider smile.

By comparison to this rugged surrounding of towering cliffs and bottomless canyons, the picnic camps and pretty lakes of Jasper and Banff seemed as city parks. 14

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FINAL ASCENT That finished the Bradleys. After this episode they simply resorted to loud grumblings to one another. Throughout this ascent up the mountain, our bus had become noisier and noisier. There was a loud rattling from somewhere under the surface that sounded as if the bottom were soon to drop out from under us. The teachers who had been whispering to one another in French and paying little attention to the view were visibly alarmed. One of them now leaned over and asked me to question our guide about the state of his bus. “They’re worried about the noise,” I told Roger, “what’s causing it?” “Weeell,” drawled Roger, “this old bucket is getting on you know 40 years. Wouldn’t be surprised if it fell to pieces any day now. Ha! Ha! Ha!” I didn’t bother to translate, but the ladies seemed to understand enough to stare at our thick-skinned guide with horror. The rest of our attention was quickly diverted, however, by our arrival at the summit of the road. Thousands of feet below us gaped a giant canyon and up its side we could trace the narrow strip of road we had been following. Occasional waterfalls gushed down to a river which we couldn’t even see, hidden somewhere in the vast depth. And above us the sun blazed over the trees, still out of reach, but looking as if we might yet be able to get to it if we only went a little further.

VETERANS WITHOUT RIBBONS BY

FRED K LEE

his is a very brief description of my saga. Space here does not permit even the minimal account of our short "visit" to the Jacksonville brig - much less the events before we reached the city - but you can find the complete story, with colour pictures, as well as my other two books and a bunch of other stuff by visiting: www.buoymagazine.ca TAKING A BREAK FROM SIR GEORGE WILLIAMS This is the story of a guy who after a summer of toil at Expo 67, Montreal's World’s Fair, decides after a long and boring semester of Economics and (gag) Shakespeare, to spend his Christmas break from Sir George Williams University, in Miami, Florida. He does this by taking a car from a drive-away agency and delivering it to a family in Tampa, from where he would take public transport for the rest of the journey. After failing to recruit suitable members of the fairer sex as companions for the trip, he settles for two uglier, but more sensible Engineering students to share expenses. Their trials and tribulations before finally reaching their destination include: an introduction to those great southern delicacies, grits and pee-cahn pah, setting up a tent and almost freezing to death in a North Carolina rest stop, almost getting disembowelled by three bloodthirsty Mau Maus who claimed to be Vietnam veterans, being saved in the nick of time by the cops, and being forced to mingle with an assortment of "violent criminals" when they were guests of the Jacksonville lock-up. Continued on page 16 Travelñ2016

RIBBONS Continued from page 15

MIAMI BEACH, THE ADVENTURES CONTINUE The adventure continues when they venture into the land of the rich and 'wanna-appear-to-be-rich', Miami Beach. Seeing one of the era's last burlesque shows, discovering White Castle's almost transparent but wonderfully filling fifteen cent hamburgers, just gawking at the sights while riding a scooter up and down Collins Avenue, and over-toasting the New Year with too much over-priced booze with some ladies who turned out to be more lady-like than we all expected. It was with more than a little reluctance that we board our bus to Montreal; leaving this place of graceful palm trees and balmy weather. My one regret, to this day, is that we didn't have the foresight to take along a bagful of White Castle hamburgers!

…discovering White Castle's almost transparent but wonderfully filling fifteen cent hamburgers, just gawking at the sights while riding a scooter up and down Collins Avenue… 16

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ARRIVAL IN NEW YORK CITY After a forty-eight hour bus ride, we arrived in New York City, hungry, and more than a little grungy. We had a two hour wait before the bus for Montreal left and when I attempted to clean up in the station's bathroom with the hoard of postage stamp sized wet wipes that I'd grabbed at every opportunity, I discovered a forgotten roll of quarters that I'd intended to use for turnpike tolls. I became a hero when I took the guys down to Times Square for a meal. After another long bus ride, flat broke but happy, we slugged down the rest of the bread and milk that we'd bought with the change, and plodded to our respective homes. Even today, the few pictures I snapped with my Brownie keep alive the pleasant memories of days gone by. GREAT MEMORIES Nothing of earth-shattering significance was accomplished in our short time in Miami, and no one except Denis, Coop and I will ever know what a good time we had there. But the smiles on our faces and the glint in our eyes when we sometimes get together to hash over old times tell the story. And every Armistice Day (Veterans Day in the US) I call up Denis; we put on our best suits and march right along beside those in the parade. We may not have any medals but we sure as hell are veterans - and we have rap sheets from the Jacksonville Jail to prove it!

Images Fred K. Lee from Veterans Without Ribbons

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Suzanne Cusson-Alexander, Soleil levant, dry pastel

Suzanne Cusson-Alexander, Nos printemps, dry pastel

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Renée Drouin, The Oak Trees, acrylic

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VOYAGE DE SES RÊVES PAR

FRANCIS MARQUIS

Le voyage de ses rêves à cette destination fantastique aux couleurs magiques à l'égard d'une trève Le voyage de ses rêves au périple fabuleux qu'y soyant que tout heureux au souvenir qui ennivre Le voyage de ses rêves de toute aventure qui se détermine à l'horizon qui en destine de toute avenue soit festive Le voyage de ses rêves de l'occasion qui se présente à l'avenir qui en oriente de ces ennuis qui s'achèvent Le voyage de ses rêves de féérie qui se manifeste au sujet dont s'atteste de tout exemplarité qui en relève

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SANS

TITRE PAR ISABELLE

MICHAUD

onjour, je m’appelle Isabelle Michaud et je suis très heureuse d’étudier à la Maison Les Étapes. Mes voyages sont limités à la ville. Je les fais en transport adapté. Eh oui, cela paraît ennuyant mais je découvre beaucoup d’aspects de la ville lorsque nous allons reconduire d’autres personnes et que nous en embarquons aussi. Il y a des chauffeurs gentils, d’autres humoristiques, et la plupart du temps ils sont très polis. Parfois ce sont des femmes qui conduisent.

Cet été j’ai reconnu un chauffeur qui est devenu un restaurateur. Eh oui, au restaurant Amir, sur la rue SteCatherine est. Il m’a reconnue.

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O� �� ou ils en mettent d’eux-mêmes. On peut leur parler de nos activités et ils sont ravis. Souvent ils nous font attendre mais ça fait partie du pari. Cet été j’ai reconnu un chauffeur qui est devenu un restaurateur. Eh oui, au restaurant Amir, sur la rue Ste-Catherine est. Il m’a reconnue. L’��, �� avec les Handicapés de St-Laurent. On va aux fraises à Mirabel et à toutes sortes d’endroits dans la banlieue de Montréal. Parfois dans le nord, parfois dans le sud ou dans l’est ou dans l’ouest. Une fois on est allées visiter le Parlement d’Ottawa. On fait des petites croisières en bateau. On va visiter des musées. On va aux pommes, à la cabane à sucre. Cette année on est allées chez Constantin à St-Eustache et j’ai fais un tour de carriole. J’ai aussi visité la petite ferme avec des chinchillas et des alpagas, ainsi qu’un iguane, des dindons et des lapins. Il y a deux paons et un est tout blanc. P��-�� mais je suis quand même chanceuse d’avoir le transport adapté pour aller à la Maison Les Étapes pour prendre des cours ou pour bavarder avec les copains. Je comprends mieux l’anglais maintenant qu’avant et je le parle un peu plus aussi. Je suis très contente de ça.

JUDY’S TRAVELS: AN INTERVIEW WITH

JUDY MINDERMAN BY BARBIE MARSHALL (AND A QUESTION OR TWO FROM VANESSA SPARKS)

arbie Marshall (BM): How old were you when you first started travelling and who were you with on your travels?

Judy Minderman (JM): My earliest recollection was maybe around 5 or 6, going to Cape Cod and a few other areas in the States. I was with my Mom, my Dad and my sister. BM: And what was it like in Cape Cod? I’ve never been there myself and I would like to know a little bit more about what brought you there. What did you do and what were some of your favourite memories of that place? JM: One of my main memories was, I was kind of young, but what I do remember, is about the sea breezes, they were kind of warm, and nice and there were a lot of beaches and landscapes. And as far as other activities, there was shopping, which was pretty cool. And it was the beaches that I most enjoyed. It was lots of fun, playing in the sand. BM: Did they have lobsters, crabs, in Cape Cod? Is there something kind of impressive you remember about it? JM: Um, yes. There were a lot of crabs, especially on the beach. I do remember one Christmas visit to Cape Cod, I was pretty young, I was over 10, I guess, but I remember one house we rented from a man who was obviously a fisherman and there was a huge, huge, unbelievably huge lobster claw on the wall. I’ve never seen such a thing. But the beaches were full of little crabs. It was lots of fun! BM: I believe you’ve been to Florida, too. What was your first impression of Florida when you were there? JM: Well, Florida, that was my first plane trip. It was the late 1970’s, early 80’s. We went twice. I went with my Mom and my sister but when you land, the first thing that impresses you is the heat and the palm trees. Never seen a palm tree up close. So, I mean, they are really tall. They are like, wow. But, yeah, Florida was all really, really interesting. It was like a playground for kids, for adults. So, I mean, for adults, everything you think of can be there. BM: What about Disney World? I believe you told me once about several places you have been to, like Parrot Land, Swamp Land, Sea World… What were these places Continued on page 24 Travelñ2016

TRAVELS Continued from page 23

like? What captivated you about these places? JM: What it is, is like, imagine yourself as a little kid discovering this huge toy box and you get everything you want in this toybox. And I am a big nature person. So, if you enjoy nature, animals, they have everything there, including things you might not want, honestly, like crocodiles and snakes. The beaches are fantastic. It was lots of fun. Walt Disney was wow. Wow, I can’t even describe it. There is so much to do there. Lineups. Immense! There is Mickey Mouse. Cinderella. Everything. Everything was there. It was so much fun. Vanessa Sparks (VS): Can you tell us about your encounter with a crocodile? JM: Well, I didn’t have an encounter, it was sort of a place you would go. There was this guy, who combated the crocodile. It’s very kitsch. It’s very tacky. Unbelievably tacky. When we left we were saying this was not worth the money, but we laughed about it in the end.

Walt Disney was wow. Wow, I can’t even describe it. There is so much to do there. Lineups. Immense. There is Mickey Mouse. Cinderella. Everything.

BM: You’ve told me about Fat Johnny’s? What is it? And what did you think about it? JM: Well, Fat Johnny’s is, I don’t know if they still exist, but it is the name of a restaurant. Who calls a restaurant Fat Johnny’s? But, anyway, it’s all-you-can-eat. Southern foods, like grits, which I never had before and it was just, yeah! Very cheap. It was a $1.99 for a breakfast or something, including coffee. BM: Have you ever been to any places in Canada? JM: Ok, well, to start off, I did visit some Eastern provinces, but I was way, way too young to remember. I just have pictures of my dad and my grandpa playing chess on this big chair. But when I was older... I’ve been to Ottawa, I’ve been to Edmonton, and I’ve also been to Tadoussac. Tadoussac is my biggest memory, along with Edmonton, but Tadoussac because I went whale watching and it was my dream of a lifetime. I saw blue whales, like 20 feet close to the boat and it was a really fantastic trip. And Edmonton is very nice. You fly over the Rockies and I’ve never seen the Rockies like that, it goes on forever. And there’s the West Edmonton Mall, which is immense, there’s everything you can think Continued on page 29

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Renée Drouin, The Beetle, monoprint

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Windshell Vilma, West-Bound Montreal Metro Train #1 at Radisson Station, photo

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Sheila Ferrando, The Beach Scene in Barbados, watercolour

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TRAVELS Continued from page 24

of in there including an amusement park, water slides and a pirate ship. But most of all, it’s where my sister and my cousins live, so I went to visit them. And of course, how could I forget, I’ve been to Vancouver and Victoria and I was very taken by that area because, like how I tell people today that if I had money I would move to Victoria in a shot, in a second, it’s beautiful there. It’s stunning. So yeah, that’s about it for Canada. VS: Could you tell us a little bit more about Tadoussac since it seems to be one of your favourite places? JM: Well, I’ll try. Basically it was a 3 day trip. We stayed overnight in a hotel, I think it was the Tadoussac Hotel, but it was beautiful! At the time, I had some money from an inheritance, and the trip was about $500-$600 or something but it was a lifetime dream to see whales up close and that was why I wanted to go. It was great going with a group and we also stopped over to Quebec city, which was enjoyable and we passed by the Montmorency Falls. It’s a memory I will never forget, seeing whales, blue whales up close. I probably cried because I feel a spiritual connection to whales. It was beautiful. BM: What is your most treasured travel experience? JM: I mean I think that wraps it up, what I just talked about. Tadoussac and Edmonton and Victoria and Vancouver. Victoria has again, more memories, Cathedral Grove where you have these huge trees that actually cars can drive through, they’re so big. I don’t know if any of you have witnessed that but it’s stunning. That is another treasured memory. And they have [a big aboriginal presence] and I have another spiritual connection to that too, I don’t know, it draws me, so that’s why I enjoyed it very much. VS: Why do you think people should travel if they have the opportunity? JM: Because traveling is memories that you can never forget. If you are going through a bad time, and you remember some of the lovely things that you did. Travelling is a way to discover the world and different people and making connections. It’s awesome. BM: Well thank you Judy for sharing your memories with us. Hopefully maybe we’ll be able to take some trips and discover what you discovered on your travels. Thank you Judy, thanks for sharing your thoughts.

…because, like how I tell people today that if I had money I would move to Victoria in a shot, in a second, it’s beautiful there.

JM: Thank you, Barbie, they were very interesting questions, I was very happy to share. Travelñ2016

ESCAPE TO THE RAINFOREST BY

LISA PICADO

envision the lush, tropical rainforest and being in the cool dampness of shade underneath its foliage of green. I am taking a break from the trekking through the vastness of the jungle and decide to sit by a quiet brook. Its peaceful waters gurgle as they ricochet off the stones and pebbles on their way. I soak my weary feet in this cool, bubbling, flowing splendour. I feel instantly calmed, soothed and invigorated. I am re-energized by the wonders of such a beautiful creation as this magical rainforest. In this world of my imagination, there only exist friendly, nonthreatening wildlife like sloths, turtles, wild hares, gophers, and chipmunks. As well as various species of exotic birds like flamingoes, parrots, lovebirds and loons. FIREFLIES DANCE There are no vicious wolves, cougars, lions, bears, no reptiles, or dangerous insects. Instead, there are only butterflies, and fireflies. Fireflies dance in the moonlight when dusk settles and evening is drawing near. They help illuminate the darkness along with the mystical auras of the moon, and the brightness of the stars creating starlight.

The enticing aroma of the latest catch of the day wrapped in banana leaves lingers in the air. 30

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In the glow of the moonlight, I can see a cozy shack in the clearing, with a thatched roof made of various bark, bamboo, and palm trees. AN ENTICING AROMA I’m pleasantly surprised by a friendly voice inviting me to “take a load off and stay awhile!” The enticing aroma of the latest catch of the day wrapped in banana leaves lingers in the air. A native of the island welcomes me to enjoy a meal with him by the campfire and to spend the night. He claims a great beach is just beyond the clearing where I can swim with the dolphins in the morning. I gratefully take him up on his kind offer of hospitality, and sit back, relax and look forward to the adventures that await me on my imaginary rainforest island escape.

BEAUTIFULLY UNIQUE BY

MALORI (MARIE-LOU RIBERDY)

Similar to a snowflake, we are the only ones traversing our uniquely crafted routes, from beginning to finish. We do not blindly fall straight. Instead, the winds of fate thrust us in different directions: sometimes gently, occasionally eagerly, and other times forcefully. During our descent, we not only encounter our own obstacles; we also come across other snowflakes. How long our paths deviate due to these encounters is up to us, down to them, and the wind. Some... bring us towards dead ends. form obstacles that we must counter. would rather follow us, than define their own paths. desire us to borrow their routes, to live their dreams. Beware, (for intentional or not) these can lead to yellow snow, Continued on page 32

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UNIQUE Continued from page 31

contaminating all those within reach. Rare are those that go at our own pace, without accelerating or slowing our trajectory. Instead, a common vision emerges: the path of unconditional love. spirits, our uplift They us guiding towards happiness and inner peace. Nevertheless, fate eventually parts us. At times, we may attempt to resist. Contesting the speed or destination in which we are propelled. The wind cannot be easily swayed; its melody is individually tuned, beckoning us to listen to our own rhythm. One can try to fight the brewing storm; however, one cannot outrun its song. Rare are those that embrace their sunlit paths. Rare are those that find strength amongst hardship. Rare are those that smile no matter what the wind blows their way. Yet... these rare snowflakes bring amazement and beauty wherever they go. Continued on page 37

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Nicole Macoretta, Peace to you and your Bird, mixed media on wood

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Barbie Marshell, photo taken on The Road to Banff

Barbie Marshall, photo of The Rockies 34

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Isabelle Michaud, Voyage en bande dessinĂŠ, markers and pencil crayons TravelĂą2016

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Marie-Lou Riberdy, Beautifully Unique, photo

UNIQUE Continued from page 32

They dance with the breeze. Once landed, they glimmer amongst others when glanced upon a sunlit day. Oh, there will be cloudy days. Wise are the ones who understand we cannot shine all the time. Instead, celebrate the happier times; let go the paths you were unable to venture. After all, everyone is eventually recycled into rainwater. Although the wind may not have brought you where you wanted to go, it lead you to where you needed to be. Who knows where your trail will lead? Perhaps, it will guide you in another snowfall. Regardless where your final destination ends, it’s the lessons learned while traversing ups the and downs that makes one’s journey worthwhile. It’s what makes you beautifully unique.

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CATHERINE SANDERS & CHRISTOPHER TEDDY “SPEED” DUBIEL

nce upon a time there were two young, not fully grown sheep named Christopher and Mary in a far off, out of the way mountain range among a flock of another ninetyeight sheep. They were outgoing artists and lived a quiet life of eating grass and creating organic artisan cheese sold in specialty shops in the surrounding valleys. Their favourite cherished cheese recipe was for Herbed Walnut Blue Cheese. Their Sheppard Mr. Headstrong had a long-haired, two-year-old collie named Blackie. He was shades of brown. He was trained as a sheepdog. His duties included helping to take care of the flock of one hundred sheep on the mountain, making sure none went astray or were lost or stolen by wolves, and overseeing the daily making of the cheese. THE MYSTERY BEGINS One day Mary and Christopher, while at the cheese house checking over the aging cheese, noticed that some of the cherished cheese they had made a few months ago had been stolen. There was no sign that anyone had broken in and only two others had keys to the cheese house: Mr. Headstrong and Blackie. Now it would have been ridiculous for Mr. Headstrong to have stolen his own cheese, as it was his bread and butter to pay for help in caring for his herd of sheep. Besides, trying to make an insurance claim would take proof that someone else stole the cheese.

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That left Blackie as the main suspect. In order to prove Blackie was the culprit, Mary and Christopher had to devise a plan to trap him into divulging the truth. Which was going to be difficult, as after all they were only sheep. DETECTING WHILE ASLEEP Distraught, surprised, and becoming weary, they sat and contemplated in comfortable chairs and fell asleep. As they slept, both sheep traveled to a Dreamland that had a famous fictional detective. Mary went off and consulted Inspector Gadget and Christopher went off and consulted Hong Kong Phooey on how to solve the case of the stolen cherished Herbed Walnut Blue Cheese. Both detectives were certain that it could only have been Blackie who thieved the missing blocks of Cheese as they tapped into their extra sensory perception. In that moment of time they saw him walking around the cheese house dropping tiny morsels of the cherished cheese by the inside welcome mat of the entrance. Inspector Gadget and Hong Kong Phooey concluded that they would need physical evidence in order to have Blackie arrested as at this point they can only suspect he is the culprit in this smelly cheese caper. A FLASH OF INSIGHT In that moment a poetic nuance flashed, eclipsing both the minds of Mary and Christopher. It unexplainably freaked them out totally to realize they were connected in synchronicity in a telepathic, poetic way. Please in the bleats of sheep The crime of a monster-that dog Stole our cheese! May he honestly come forth to admit For what he stole was our gold! So it was determined that they needed to wake up out of la la land and lay an egg of a plan. The thing is they were sheep not chickens. This called for barnstorming, not brainstorming. They both paid the bill for the time spent with their respective fictional detectives. Immediately after paying, they headed over to the airport to embark on a flight home via a stork on Storkenrisk airlines. The key to our legacy - is it hanging in a tree, on Mr. Headstrong’s table, around Mr. Headstrong’s neck on a string,

That left Blackie as the main suspect. In order to prove Blackie was the culprit, Mary and Christopher had to devise a plan to trap him into divulging the truth.

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SHEEP Continued from page 39

or maybe - the sheep have a barnstormed vision - it is inside Blackie’s left cheek! THE PLAN Mary and Christopher met for a quick debriefing about their respective trips to Dreamland before going off to the nearest chicken cooped barn. There they find their incubating plan. It went something like this: let’s give Blackie a steak, and as he opens up his mouth the key will fall out, and we sheep will grab it! So the sheep sauntered over to the meat market and bought a big and juicy steak. Then Christopher put the steak in his mouth and he and Mary both sauntered over to Blackie. They put the meat before Blackie, but instead of eating the steak, Blackie the sheep dog declared that he was a vegetarian! That being so, he would not cross the bridge that had been laid out for him.

Okay let’s have it right off the old kisser. When talking to a sheep what must you do? Be careful not to get the wool pulled over you or you may become a ball of yarn and come undone.

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PLAN B? Mary and Christopher had to resort to plan B... if only there was a plan B. They had put all their eggs in one basket with a hole large enough for an elephant to fall out never mind escape. So they had to cook up a plan B. The two smart sheep performed gymnastics all the way back to the barn for plan B. It is inquisitively with a method of madness that only and nothing else but a hysterical rolling on the floor funny joke will reveal the key in Blackie’s mouth, hiding for dear life, in his left cheek. A JOKE TO CATCH BLACKIE So the sheep sauntered over to Blackie hopscotch style with what they thought was an award-winning joke. Blackie, Blackie we have a hysterically funny joke for you! Okay let’s have it right off the old kisser. When talking to a sheep what must you do? Be careful not to get the wool pulled over you or you may become a ball of yarn and come undone. Is that all you got; it’s more like a lullaby! And Blackie stalked away from them. And the sheep were left sullen. They were out of ideas. When all of a sudden in the quiet corners of their mind the light bulbs in their Idea Store were turned on. The electrons of

electricity started dancing to the music of: cha-chas, waltzes, polkas, rock n’ roll, and everything in between. Mary says that’s it! We will have to don our best wool Sherlock Holmes suits even though we don’t exactly have suits equipped with replicas of the magnifying glass he keeps in his suit jacket pocket. HOW TO GET THE EVIDENCE We need to put tweezers in our mind to get the cherished cheese we saw while tapped into our extra sensory perception near the inside welcome mat at the entrance of the cheese house. We must carefully insert the cheese into a clean unused cheese bag marked for the nearest forensic police lab in the nearest city. There was no time for dawdling or toddling around. Once they had found their trusty suits in their closets they scurried off on their mission of the missing cheese caper at the cheese house. They needed to put a mouse-mined trap to convict the sheepdog of the crime he was not willing to confess to even if he knew he was suspected of the caper at large. SCENE OF THE CRIME Now at the scene of the crime, back at the cheese house, there are foul cheese smelling crumbs of evidence that Mary and Christopher sniffed out of the welcome mat - artisan cheese illegally eaten by the suspected cheese thief Himself Blackie the brown Collie. They carefully gathered up their evidence with the trusty tweezers inserted into their mind. While wearing protective surgical gloves to avoid hoof prints which would contaminate the evidence, they then inserted the crumbs carefully into the clean sterilized cheese bag to be sent via the postal delivery system to the nearest police forensic lab c/o the smelly division. OFF TO THE MAILBOX Mary and Christopher hurried on over to the nearest mailbox to send off the evidence. They did not realize that they were not fully grown and mentally matured sheep. Upon arriving to the mailbox they found out as they try to reach up to open the mailbox that they were too short. It would have been risky trying to balance one on the other’s shoulders Perhaps they should have avoided involvement in the legal discipline and returned to their old lives in the mountain range.

… they then inserted the crumbs carefully into the clean sterilized cheese bag to be sent via the postal delivery system to the nearest police forensic lab c/o the smelly division.

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“A

NICK SERJEANTSON

ren’t you on the FBI’s 10 Most Wanted List?” I said to my seat mate thinking that a joke would break the ice and get us talking for the 10 hour journey to New York City; always

a good way to ensure that a journey will pass quickly. My seat-mate looked @ me and her eyes narrowed a bit. She was dressed casually in jeans, a Star Wars t-shirt featuring Boba Fett and a sleek leather looking black jacket. She had a backpack-like bag on her lap which looked Italian, maybe from Milan. Her hair was blond, her lips red…all to say that she was pretty, but in a dangerous sort of way! Any how, as I was saying, she narrowed her eyes at me and then she said: “Actually no, I am NOT on the FBI’s 10 Most Wanted List!”

She said this with such sincerity and directness that I began to get a little nervous. It was like the answer to my question had a realistic chance of being true! My mind went a bit blank and I managed to mumble, “Well, that’s good to know.” S�� @ �� . I started squirming and staring at the fine stitching on her backpack. When I looked up again she seemed to come to some sort of internal decision and nodded to herself.

I had already decided that my try @ a humorous conversation starter had probably been a bad idea, but now I was very sure it had been. 42

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“But I am on the Intergalactic 10 Most Wanted List of the Falatuim Space Empire.” she said. S�� @ ��. I �� @ ��. W� �� @ �� ! She seemed completely serious, no scratch that, she was completely serious. I had already decided that my try @ a humorous conversation starter had probably been a bad idea, but now I was very sure it had been! She must have seen my unease, and probably thinking I was worried about the police of the Falatuim Space Empire suddenly appearing she said: ‘Don’t worry, the Falatium Concentric Patrol (or theAAG Taallaa Patrooooocha in Intergalactic Basic), don’t know I’m here.’ S�� I �� , especially because, as the bus pulled away from Terminus in downtown Montreal I saw someone standing on the corner of Berri and St Catherine wearing a jacket that looked very much like the one my seat mate was wearing, and he looked very dangerous.

Isabelle Michaud, Expérience vécu, marker and pencil crayon

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Jonathan Paige, untitled, pencil crayon

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narzo, as he was known to his friends, was feeling pretty good. His human underlings had let him out into ‘the field’ so he could smunch on the new spring grass. It was very yummy indeed, with hints of mint and maybe overtones of oats and turnip; his taste buds were extremely happy! Hmmmm, he chortled to himself, I really have it good with the Humans: protection, food, a place to relax when it rains and then you couldn’t forget their help in fulfilling every cow’s desire, which was to travel once we reached 1 year in age! The poor, unfortunate, females did not receive this honour, but the males, except for one or two who were, he suspected, just too ornery for travel or maybe not bright enough to qualify, all got to go on the trip. All who went, it seemed, chose not to return which, Snarzo figured, meant whatever was out there was so much better than ‘the farm’ that they had no desire to come back. A NIGHT SURPRISE Snarzo’s mind wandered onto other things, mainly the tenderness sweetness of the grass. Yup definitely an undertaste of turnip, hmmm, wonderful! he thought. The next time he became aware of his Continued on page 46 Travelñ2016

SNARZO Continued from page 45

surroundings it was night. He looked around in surprise. Hmmm, this was strange, the humans had forgotten him in the field. He blinked and took in the world in its night guise and blinked his long lashes over his large brown eyes again, which, he thought, were one of his best features, although the ladies were all quite a-twitter over his solidly black tail, which he had to admit, was very sleek looking. Snarzo thought, a bit of darkness but basically the same… world, not really…spooky or ahhh scary at all no, no hmm. Snarzo started to amble toward the gate at what he hoped was a sedate trot, but had just a bit, well, if he was being honest, quite a bit of scared in it. COWNAPPED? Suddenly he heard a humming noise and a bright light snapped on all around him. He blinked in confusion. The light went off and as his sight returned, adjusting after the brightness, he found himself in a metal? room with beings that were definitely not human! But, on the plus side, much less ugly than humans. They had nice looking wavy arms, large, round eyes, definitely their best feature, and their skin was the colour of grass in the late summer, a deep green. Any being who was green couldn’t be all that bad, thought Snarzo.

They had nice looking wavy arms, large round eyes,definitely their best feature, and their skin was the colour of grass in the late summer, a deep green. 46

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The not ugly grass green wavy armed ones, which is what Snarzo decided to call them, started to speak, and to Snarzo’s utter surprise they spoke cow! It sounded like a dialect that emanated, he believed, from southern England. This, Snarzo thought, is going to be very interesting! WHERE’S BOB? James Neeson saw the slaughter house truck pulling up in the driveway and he went out to the barn to get cow #B110124b (or Bob for short), As he went toward the barn, he remembered he had forgotten to put Bob in it the night before because an emergency had come up. His 8 year old daughter Lacy had a book report due the next day so he had been helping her put that together. It had been fun. He smiled as he went toward the back field where Bob was. He looked around; the field was empty! He looked, closed his eyes, and looked again! No, no Bob. Bob was not there! What there was though, was a large patch of grass, maybe 10 metres wide, that was completely white. Farmer Neeson scratched his head. Now where has that darned cow got to? he thought.

LA CLEF DU BONHEUR BY

WINDSHELL VILMA

La Clef Du Bonheur c’est de se chercher soi-même Bien avant de chercher le vrai bonheur. Et c’est qu’après avoir trouver son soi Qu’on arrivera enfin à la porte du bonheur. Se chercher soi-même est un long voyage au fond de soi, Sur un chemin qu’on doit voyager pour trouver le réel bonheur. Nous sommes venus dans le monde Totalement nus et sans abri, Et totalement pauvres et démunis, Avec rien d’autre comme possession Que notre âme et notre esprit, Notre corps et notre santé. Tout ce qu’on acquiert d’autre Est un plus, et tout ce qui nous Est donné d’autre nous rend bénis. Notre soi le plus simple est suffisant Pour atteindre le vrai bonheur, Sans aucune autre prospérité. Les bons et les méchants cherchent Le bonheur à leur propre façon. Les bons cherchent le bonheur Dans le bien-être des autres. Les méchants cherchent le bonheur Dans le malheur des autres. Nous sommes tous à la quête du bonheur, Mais c’est en se cherchant soi-même, En explorant son intérieur, Qu’on arrivera au bonheur. Le bonheur ne se trouve pas, Elle se crée avec sagesse et ardeur. ¯ Windshell Vilma, Le Train #1 Du Metro de Montreal En Direction Est A La Station Radisson 2, photo

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THE KEY TO HAPPINESS BY

WINDSHELL VILMA

The key to happiness is to search for oneself Way before we search for real happiness. And it’s only after we’ve found ourselves That we’ll finally reach the door to happiness. Searching for oneself is a long trip deep into the inner self, Through a path we must travel on to find genuine happiness. We came into the world Totally naked and homeless, And totally poor and helpless, With nothing as possession But our soul and our mind, Our body and our health. Anything else that we acquire Is a plus, and anything else That is given to us is bliss. Our simplest self is enough To reach true happiness, Without any other wealth. The good and the wicked look for Happiness in their own way. The good look for happiness In the welfare of others. The wicked look for happiness In the misery of others. We’re all on a quest for happiness. But it’s by searching for oneself, And exploring our inner self, That we’ll get to happiness. Happiness cannot be found. It’s created with wisdom and hard work. ¯

Windshell Vilma, Le Train #1 Du Metro de Montreal En Direction Est A La Station Radisson 2, photo

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EMMA YUEN

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ADS

MORE BUOY

You can find all previous copies of Buoy on the Internet on the Issuu website (go to the Issuu website and type in ‘Buoy’). For more information about Buoy e-mail us at forwardhouse.education@gmail.com, call 514.488.9119, or go to our website www.buoymagazine.ca.

THANK-YOUS

˜ The Buoy Editorial team wishes to thank Forward House for its unflagging support of Buoy with special thanks to Forward House Director Chris MacFadden. Also, a big thank you to the wonderful Forward House workers who encourage their clients to submit work and who have volunteered their time and talents in support of Buoy. ˜ A BIG THANK-YOU to MIR+ for hosting the Buoy Launch party each year (thank-you for allowing us into your space) and for all the work the staff does to help make it happen. You guys are awesome! ˜ Also a huge thank you for the support we have received from the Mental Health Community, especially the Montreal Walks For Mental Health Board. ˜ Our thanks also to the team at Rubiks who always make our printing process go sooo smoothly. ˜ Kudos to all our contributors, you all create wonderful stuff and make putting together an arts journal a real pleasure; we love getting your work, keep it coming. ˜ A special thanks to our readers who continue to ‘read’ us, your guys rock. ˜ Nearly lastly a huge thank you to Nick Serjeantson, for his wonderful layout work, and unflagging creative energy. The magazine wouldn’t happen without you. ˜ Finally, thank you to Francis Marchildon-Cropas to whom Buoy owes its existence; he woke up one day and said “we should make a magazine!” ˜ & ESPECIALLY TO YOU VANESSA FROM US ALL, for making Buoy fun and gluing us together so Buoy could happen over the last 6 years, we will miss you! Thank You!

WHO’S WHO

The Buoy Editorial Team consists of Barbie Marshall, Marie-Lou Riberdy, Simon Pauzé, Judy Minderman, Windshell Vilma, Noel Neil Marlon Evans, and Nick Serjeantson. Buoy Editorial Advisor is Vanessa Sparks. Graphic design by Nick Serjeantson using PagePlus with input from the editorial team. Fonts used in this edition of Buoy were Constantia & Trebuchet MS for content, and Zurich Xblk BT for headings and such.

SUBMISSIONS

SOUMISSIONS

Stay tuned for information in October 2016 on submissions for the next Buoy. 50 Voyageñ2016

Restez attentif pour obentir des l‘information en Octobre 2016 les soumissions pour le prochain Buoy.

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Travel with us, its going to be a sweet ride!

Joignez-vous à notre voyage fantastique!

A Literary Arts Journal • Un journal artistique et littéraire Volume 7, Issue 1 • volume 7, numéro 1

TRAVEL

Paris, Montreal, planes, poetry, paintings, all in this issue! 52

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VOYAGE

Paris, Montréal, avions, la poésie, la peinture, inclus dans ce numéro!