Hamilton Spectator

It's daybreak and we're again travelling the dusty roads of Sanaa, Yemen's capital. After two days of travel, Jean and I are nearing home, a ground-level apartment on a street with no name. Thank you U-2.

So the poor Tories, $5 billion in the red, say they might clobber Ontario's smokers with higher taxes to bankroll new spending. An ex- smoker, I can relate to the pain. Too bad there's not another easy target. Like qat.

Thank you for your wishes for "peace and quiet" and "safety and peace." It seems one can't keep anything secret any more. The Internet shows newspapers from China to Switzerland to Australia have reported the recent racket in Yemen.

Isaiah must have been crazy. The ancient prophet, a Shakespeare of Hebrew literature, predicted that someday the wolf would lay down with the lamb, and men would beat their swords into ploughshares. He wrote that almost 3,000 years ago.

I'm sitting in a small, dirty room, on the floor, swigging a cola and chatting with a Yemeni I see for Arabic lessons. It's my first visit to his place, and he's given the pop -- in one of those old, glass bottles from the '70s -- to make me feel welcome.

So where were you on the Sunday when Canada took back a piece of its soul? I heard you danced on that bright afternoon when our boys struck hockey gold for the first time in 50 years. Coast to snowy coast, 10 million of you including Parliament itself, waltzed in the afterglow.

One has to admire Pontius Pilot, the Roman procurator who may share responsibility for history's biggest execution, but who also wouldn't budge when pressured by his editors wanting him to change his headline.

Today is Day 8 of my life as a foreigner in Yemen. I'm in a dilapidated cargo office at the international airport in Sanaa, a capital city that sits on a mountain plateau 2,000 metres above sea level. Almost one million souls live here in what is one of the oldest inhabited regions of the world. I think I'm the only one wearing a Team Canada cap.