[PHOTO] Keep off the tracks
Jul. 20th, 2009 09:06 amThis is the standard sign used by the TTC to warn the people waiting on the platform not to mention into the area of the tracks via the maintenance steps.
The Gran Chaco desert in Paraguay has for centuries been known as L'Inferno Verde, or "the Green Hell." With the temperature routinely reaching 42 C in the summer, no sources of water and gusts of dusty wind through the flat nothingness, it is no surprise that only 3% of Paraguay's population occupies an area that makes up 60% of the country. A Paraguayan diplomat once famously told a British traveller, "Doan go there, ees only esnakes an espiders."
Yet, this inhospitable terrain is home to a vibrant community of 30,000 Mennonites, around 9,000 of them Canadian citizens. Their story is one of endless wanderings, from Germany and Switzerland through Russia to Canada and finally to this desolate patch of terrain, where they were granted a special arrangement by the Paraguayan government to self-rule their land in relative isolation.
[. . .]
At that time, the Paraguayan government was desperate to settle the Chaco, and had already tried buying ships, all-expenses paid, to woo people from England, France and Australia.
"Few came, and those who did soon left," said Peter Dyck, author of Up from the Rubble, an account of Mennonite experiences trying to found new settlements in South America and Canada. "They were ready to give up, but then Canadian Mennonites needed a new home."
More than 70 years later, the Mennonites out-earn indigenous Paraguayans tenfold, supplying 80% of the country's milk and dairy products -- so successful that they now face the challenge of being employers, without being regarded as colonizers.
When the days in the refugee camp seemed to last forever, Bhim Lal Kattel prayed to the gods to let his family return home to Bhutan.
Nearly two decades passed. His children grew and his mother aged. Mr. Kattel gave up his dream of reclaiming his family's farm in southern Bhutan. The grinding boredom at the Goldhap refugee camp in the nearby Himalayan country of Nepal sapped his spirit.
So, at age 37, with an anxious heart, he decided to take his family to a strange, cold land on the other side of the globe.
Mr. Kattel arrived at Vancouver International Airport on Thursday afternoon, his eyes shining with excitement and fatigue. Despite the warm July weather, his wife, Bishnu Maya, and three children, Prakash, 14, Menuka, 12, and Ganesh, 8, were clad in thick sweaters. His 73-year-old mother was pushed through the international gates in a wheelchair.
This week, as Ottawa issued strict visa requirements for Czech and Mexican visitors, citing a raft of bogus refugee claimants from the two countries, the Kattels were part of another unfolding Canadian refugee saga. Five thousand Bhutanese refugees will be arriving in Canada over the next five years – one of the largest government-sponsored resettlement efforts in recent years.
The gleaming 80-storey condominium tower that was to lead the revitalization of the Yonge-Bloor intersection in Toronto is teetering on the edge of extinction.
On Monday, the Toronto lender that advanced a $46 million loan is going to ask a court to put the Kazakhstan-backed project into receivership and sell off the now-vacant land its international developer boasts is the "best address in the world."
The lender, a consortium of Toronto businessmen, alleges in court documents that Kazakh developer Bazis International has defaulted on its land loan and the Kazakh bank backing the tower portion of the project is involved in a "massive financial scandal involving fake loans, racketeering and money laundering activities."
"The (land) loan has been in an almost constant state of default since December of 2008," said Toronto consortium leader Gary Berman, in a court affidavit supporting his group's bid to appoint receiver Ernst &Young.
[. . .]
Yesterday, the presentation suite at the southeast corner of Yonge and Bloor St. was locked tight. A sign noting its hours indicated it should have been open. The sign encouraged interested buyers – condo unit prices start at $500,000 to "over $8 million" – to book an appointment. The Star left a message, but did not get a call back.
When the world marks the 40th anniversary Monday of man's first landing on the moon, it will be paying tribute to American ingenuity and what arguably is one of that country's finest moments. But it was one of Canada's proudest moments, too.
Many Canadians are unaware that a group of their countrymen working at NASA was instrumental in delivering the Apollo 11 astronauts to the lunar surface on July 20, 1969 - and getting them safely back home to Earth.
In fact, even before Neil Armstrong's booted feet stepped onto the rocky, crater-pocked surface of the moon, Canadian-made legs on the lunar landing module had settled into the satellite's dust first. The splayed legs were produced from light-weight aluminum using a compressible honeycomb design by Quebec's Heroux-DEVTEK, which won the NASA contract.
The landing module was primarily designed by Sarnia, Ont.-born Owen Maynard, an engineer who worked on the famed Avro Arrow before the federal government under Diefenbaker abruptly canceled the supersonic jet program in February 1959.
Maynard and about 25 others laid off from Toronto's A.V. Roe aircraft on what was dubbed Black Friday were quickly snapped up by the Americans to help them fulfill President John F. Kennedy's 1961 edict that the country land a man on the moon within the decade.
"Canadians contributed a massive amount to the space race and Apollo," says Robert Godwin, a curator for the Canadian Air and Space Museum in Toronto that houses a full-scale replica of the Arrow.
"Not meaning it to be a derogatory remark, but the Americans benefited greatly from the demise of the Arrow," he says. "All of these genius engineers ended up going to help put men on the moon."