Hamar, Norway in Winter
THE OLD COUNTRY
The differences between Europe and Canada never stand out so much as when I return home. Of course, there are the obvious ones like architecture and general fashion of the people (unless one flies into Montreal), but what I am talking about here is lifestyle. Perhaps it’s because I have just spent the past two weeks in first, a small city in Norway, and second, an even smaller village on the southern slopes of the Dolomites in Italy. In places like these, everything moves at such a slower pace, and it’s startling to return to even a city like Calgary.
What I notice most are the habits and lifestyles of the elderly. Hamar, Norway, remains covered in a sheet of ice the entire winter season. Gravel makes a futile attempt at increasing traction. When a pack of speed skaters slip and slide instead of walk, I marvel at the elderly people commuting by foot. No wonder the Norwegians have a skating history. What both impressed and intrigued me was seeing countless elderly people out and about, some with walkers or canes, some merely taking their time to get around, with better agility than most of the athletes. There was no question of potential falls and the resulting injuries- for me, a bruised knee; for an elderly person, a hip replacement. It’s just how people get around and I swear, although they were creeping, they were smiling, too.
Baselga de Pine
In Italy, with so many church bells ringing, surely there were more than the two grand cathedrals poking up from the clusters of old, shuttered homes. Baselga de Pine, perched on the slope twisting up from the metropolis of Trento, showed signs of its age with an ancient mill and intricate pave so exquisite it felt sacrilege to trample it when taking walks around the village. Each time I ventured out, I would see elderly couples doing the same. They would cruise the back streets at their own pace, traversing the steep grades with great patience and rosy cheeks. I even saw a ninety- year old woman out cruising the strip.
The rink in Baselga de Pine
In Canada, I think about the old-folks home I drive by, and the residents I see sitting outside in the summer; staring out from the windows within in the winter. I even helped an elderly lady earlier this year after she fell in the middle of the road close to my condo, unable to get up. People screeched to a halt in respective vehicles to help her. There she sat, patiently waiting for the helping hand. She accepted my offer to walk her to the condo she called home. Returning from her knitting class, after visiting her husband in a home not too far away (by bus), she caught her foot in a crack in the road and plopped down. Patiently, she told me her struggles with Parkinson’s disease and that sometimes, she just can’t get her muscles firing to do something as simple as stand up. “I knew eventually someone would help me”.
I felt awful leaving her at the door to the condo, an empty place, and I wondered how long she would be able to stay living independently. Yes, there is always someone who will come and help, but in a big city, it seems fair to say that people get lost in the shuffle far easier. Especially in our society where we dispose of pople all too easily. It makes me appreciate life in these small cities and towns, where everyone is looked after and not tucked away by society. It makes me think of my own Mother, and how she spends her days caring for my 92-year old Grandmother, in that small house I grew up within in Winnipeg.
Maybe it’s not all bad here in Canada. It just seems that way when I’m in the big cities. I suspect in small towns everywhere, things are just done differently, and everyone in a sense looks out for everyone else. From what I’ve seen in Europe and Latin America, this definitely leads to a more healthy society. It connects the old with the young, and allows for wisdom and love to be passed from one generation to many, many others.
