Holiday Melancholy

"...and this is how I see you
in the snow on Christmas morning
love and happiness surround you.
I throw my arms up to the sky
I keep this moment by and by..."

- Sarah McLachlan


Christmas was mum's favourite time of year and her enthusiasm was contagious. Of course, as a child it was easy to get excited about presents and candy but the real lasting memories I have of Christmas growing up centre around me and mum.
There was a closet in the hallway on the main floor of the house where all manner of things were stored, extra towels and bed sheets, the coffee tin full of buttons, and the several winter boot boxes that contained our little and precious trove of Christmas decorations. In those days before Martha Stewart and HGTV, an entire home's worth of ornaments could easily be stored on a single shelf in any similar closet in any lower-middle class bungalow. A few weeks before Christmas we would take the boxes out and tape tinsel garlands in every window except the bathroom (and we skipped that room only because the shower steam caused the tape to fail). I recall some gold garland in particular that had lost so much of its fluff from repetitive use that it looked positively anorexic. One year, it was finally replaced by some new silver and blue garland that looked impossibly lush to my eye. What riches!
Some years, if my parents expected company during the holidays, we would put up red and green crepe paper streamers from one corner of the living room to another, and hang those paper bells from the centre of the 'x', like some kind of kitschy chandelier.
The tree of course was always the centrepiece and it was always real. Year after year the same three strings of lights, one of which had a white cord, were uncurled and wrapped around the tree. These lights were multicoloured and would look huge now compared to the mini lights we are used to these days. It was not until the late '80s or early '90s that mum finally bought three strings of mini lights (one red, two blue if I recall correctly). She would have used some of the allowance from dad for such an expenditure. The tinsel garland would follow, some it threadbare from many years of use, some it sort of new, some it in short pieces because it had been cut to use in a window one year, some of it full-length...it was a motley collection to be sure. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity we would open the boxes of the glass ornaments. We all had our favourites that we would try to hang in prime viewing spots on the tree and it was quite usual for turf wars of sorts to erupt. Once the ornaments were on, it was mum's time to take the reins and handle the application of the tinsel. Mum always thought that the epitome of holiday cheer was defined by a well-tinselled tree, and she spent tons of time methodically draping, one strand at a time, hundreds of strings on the tree every year. I didn't have the requisite patience for this and invariably gave up after a few minutes of half-hearted participation.
Even as a married adult, I always made sure I found out what night the tree was going up at home and never missed a year of decorating it with mum. Those memories are so precious to me now, glasses of eggnog and chatting and laughing as we went...
It amazes me now to look at my walk-in closet with its bins and bins of what I affectionately refer to as my 'Christmas crap' and compare it to mum's meagre collection that would easily fit into just one of my storage containers. Maybe I'm really buying them for her. Maybe I think that every ornament I buy is a way of getting just a little piece of her back.

Mum didn't do a lot of holiday baking really, but there were certain treats that we always had on hand. Vinaterta, butter tarts, Christmas cake and shortbread. For as long as I can remember I helped in some degree with the preparation of these goodies. I remember holding the egg beater with small and clumsy child's hands while attempting to make eggs 'light and fluffy' per the recipe. I remember furtively sticking my finger in the raw butter tart filling and being amazed at how sweet and wonderful the taste was. I remember soaking nuts and dried fruit in water overnight and then laying out tea towels on the counter to blot everything after draining and before dumping it all into the most wonderful molasses-ey cake batter ever. I would pinch a few of the water-logged walnuts and bland morsels of peel. I remember mum's aggravation as she tried to lift cut shortbread dough off the counter and on to the cookie sheets without tearing it. I remember trying in vain to get an equal amount of green or red sugar on the tops of the cookies before they were slipped into the oven. And I remember Christmas Eve when all of these things would reappear from the freezer and on to a plate and we were finally allowed to eat them!
Losing mum during the holidays makes them just that much more fraught with emotion. Many people dread the start of December for the dark days and cold. For me it will always remind me of the start of the last holiday season I got to share with my mum.
I miss my mum's kitchen at 355 Drake and I miss those innocent childhood hours spent there at her side. And I miss that spindly gold garland and those gigantic Christmas tree lights. But mostly I just miss her.
And when that song comes on the CD player and I'm singing along, my voice always breaks and my eyes well up because that is how I like to remember her, on Christmas morning with love and happiness surrounding her. And I keep that memory by and by.

A list of overused words - a mini rant

'Whimsical' - The most grievous overusers of this word are decorating magazines and hosts of decorating programs on television. Phrases such as "The pierced-tin luminary in the shape of a tuba will lend a whimsical touch to the décor of your orangerie" seem to abound. Groan.

'Foodie' - Seriously people get a grip. The fact that you've eaten chèvre/swordfish/pho does not entitle you to describe yourself this way. Example: After her weekly trip to Costco and M&M Meat Shop where she indulged in samples of frozen fig and prosciutto hors d'œuvre and chicken cordon blue (sic) Kathleen feels herself a satiated foodie.
Call yourself a foodie when you've been to the ends of the earth in search of truffles (not the chocolate ones you moron), Filipino lechon, and Icelandic skyr. Or when you've eaten seal heart with Michaëlle Jean.


'Diva' - It bothers me that an entire generation is using the VH1 definition of this word.
Strictly speaking a diva is a prima donna, a distinguished female opera singer. More popularly a diva is an accomplished female singer of any genre who often has a tumultuous/well-publicized personal life and a presence that is larger than life. Loosely speaking and in the current lexicon a diva is a woman who sings loudly, has an ablility to chart popular hits regularly and who performs in ridiculous clothes.
While the first crop of divas as featured on the VH1 special were closest to my own definition (Céline Dion, Aretha Franklin, Mariah Carey) the inclusion of Miley Cyrus in the 2009 line up was utterly laughable. Somewhere, Maria Callas is weeping.

What I Did On My Summer Vacation 2009 Edition pt VII

le 27 Septembre

Sitting at Charles de Gaulle airport awaiting the boarding call for our flight to Frankfurt. We managed to get this far with only a minimum of complications. Our luggage is checked through to Winnipeg so at least we don't have to worry about carting the bags around Frankfurt airport. The Air France staff have all been extremely helpful and friendly and it has been much appreciated. CDG is gigantic and is a complex of terminals, some connected and some seemingly not. I'm sure the layout makes sense if you're familiar with it, but it's kinda daunting if you're not.
Just settling in at Frankfurt airport after a good deal of wandering. The flight from Paris was very quick; the beverage and snack cart barely had time to reach us before the descent began. We were lucky to need a visit to passport control in order to reach our departure gate, so now I have 3 whole stamps! Woo hoo!! All this airport confusion is caused by the fact that no two airports seem to do things the same way. Oh well. By the way, I got patted down twice in the course of an afternoon. Frankfurt airport security was especially tight as the elections were taking place that day.

Anyhow, things I've learned on this trip:
1) cl is the abbreviation for centilitre
2) a millilitre is a cubic centimetre
3) when you see a sign for the toilets, GO!
4) sometimes, even if you order a crepe, you will still get a sandwiche
5) Parisian sidewalk cafés do not need to put salt and pepper on the table because you don't need it - everything is perfectly seasoned
7) autumn really is the ideal time to travel
8) if you're a tourist and you love Paris, let it show - Parisians will love you for loving their city!
9) there aren't as many poodles on the street as you might expect
10) it never hurts to throw a coin in a fountain and make a wish
11) pousseyquatts are cute no matter what country you're in
12) Parisian women will descend like vultures when they see a kiosk with a sign advertising foulards - 1€

Paris is famous for a reason - it is everything I had ever imagined and hoped it would be, and the dream of returning one day is as closely held to my heart as the original dream of going for the first time.

J'adore Paris!!!

p.s.
I reserve the right to revisit the subject matter of this trip on any future blog post.

What I Did On My Summer Vacation 2009 Edition pt VI

le 26 Septembre

Last day : (

The plan for today had been evolving over the week, starting out being reserved for shopping and souvenirs then becoming the 'make up' day to do stuff we hadn't gotten to on previous days to finally ending up as a 'bonus' day to do all of that and new stuff.
After croissants and café creme just down the street from the hotel, we took the métro to the Bastille station where we began a walk around the Marais. We emerged from the station right in front of the Opéra Bastille, scene of Il Barbiere earlier in the week. I remarked to Reyn that had we been more organized it would have made a lot of sense to have taken the métro to the opera that night and spared ourselves the expense of the cab and the nightmare of the traffic crush. Live and learn.
We started walking at the Place de la Bastille, and proceeded down to rue Beautreillis to see the apartment building where Jim Morrison actually died. Although described as nondescript in the guidebook, I thought it was rather nice. On to Place des Vosges where we sat a short while on a bench and looked around the square, took several pictures in front of the one fountain that was actually spouting. Then to rue Francois Miron to try to find the house where Mozart lived in 1763. After passing it initially we doubled back and found that the plaque marking the building was actually on a wall inside the courtyard, not immediately visible to a pedestrian unless you were really looking for it. Luckily the courtyard was open so we wandered in and took a look at the exterior of the building. Very impressive, although it seems that the Mozarts were staying as guests of the people who actually lived in the building. Afterward we stopped for pastry and then continued strolling up to a fountain outside one of the gates to the Luxembourg Gardens. We sat down at a café and had a nice lunch of omelette (me) and crepe (Reyn) while watching the people of the city walk by. We went through the enchanting park, seeing a jazz band, children riding ponies, children sailing boats in the pond, palm trees, tennis courts and any number of chestnuts. Quite a combination of sights I would say. We took the métro from near there to Concorde station so we could do the rue Cambon Chanel photo opportunity. Did a bit more strolling, a little bit of shopping and then stopped for a quick drink before heading back to the hotel to rest. Right now Reyn is napping and I am catching up on my journal. Not sure yet what the evening has in store.
Reyn awoke from his nap and we decided to go for something to eat near the Eiffel Tower. We got on the métro and took it to Ecole Militaire where we emerged pretty much right at a café. I had vin rouge, quiche Lorraine with salad and finally was able to sample some Berthillon ice cream - pistachio. Tres yummy. After a side trip to get some juice and other essentials for breakfast in the morning, we made our way to Champ de Mars for the tower's 9:00 pm show. We sat down near a bunch of rowdies playing Michael Jackson really loud and dancing in a circle. We were further back than on Tuesday evening and there were a lot more people milling about having pique-niques and beaucoup vin et biere. As we sat and the twinkling began I became very sad at the thought of leaving in the morning. I realized that if I had made it to Paris as planned all those years ago there was a fairly good chance I would have found some way to stay. Eh bien...
Walked back to the métro and went back to the hotel where we checked in for our flights, packed, and said our goodbyes to the tres comfortable lit.

What I Did On My Summer Vacation 2009 Edition pt V

le 25 Septembre

BONNE FETE!!!

What can I say? Today was a feast for the senses.
This morning Reyn gave me my birthday presents: a sapphire and diamond and white gold 'demi-parure' of earrings, necklace and pendant. I'm over the moon!
It's actually Saturday now and I'm playing catch up because yesterday (Friday) was so jam-packed. We got on the RER train to Versailles in decent time. A busking accordion player began playing right near us so Reyn asked if he knew 'Happy Birthday', which he did, and he proceeded to play it for me. That is not something that happens everyday!
Versailles the town appeared quite quickly out of the suburbs of Paris, the train being fast and not crowded at all. The Chateau itself came into view after a short walk. From the front it looked kind of oddly placed and kind of scrunched but after getting closer I realized why: the place is GARGANTUAN!
We passed through security and were able to enter without too much waiting - our museum passes covered admission so we bypassed the ticket buyers' line, which was very long. The tour through the chateau was interesting. We chose to follow the tour in Rick Steve's book rather than get an audioguide. The chateau gardens, like everything else in Paris are monumental in scale. Strolling the garden came as a relief after the crush of people inside. We stopped for lunch at one of the numerous little tucked away snack stands where we had pizza that came with an egg cracked in the middle of it (?) (!), Orangina, and where we encountered some very cute pousseyquatts.
After lunch we continued down through the gardens to the Apollo basin where we sat and finished our ice cream cones and considered our next move. We decided to rent bikes to explore the Petit Trianon and the Domaine de Marie Antoinette. It was a very wise decision as it would have taken forever to walk that far and it was also a lot of fun. I felt very French, being on a bike with a little basket and bell, pedaling through the magnificent countryside on a stunning sunny day. After walking through the Petit Trianon, we biked to the Hamlet, which was rather like Aunt Sally's Farm. We rode back to the central station to drop off the bikes and start the long trek back (uphill naturally) to the chateau and the train station.
After impersonating a sardine quite convincingly on the train ride back, I arrived back at the hotel to find a huge bouquet of flowers and a note from the office wishing me a happy birthday. They are absolutely gorgeous and I'm bummed that I have such a short time to enjoy them.
Philip had made us a reservation for the 8:30 show at the Crazy Horse Saloon so we needed to freshen up and have a bite before heading back out. We left in what seemed like plenty of time but had absolutely no luck in getting a taxi. We ended up walking up to the Crillon Hotel before finally finding a car free. We arrived with only moments to spare and then there was some confusion about the reservations and tickets. We were shown to our seats, which were fantastic- right near the front and almost dead centre - and the waiter just had time to pop the cork on our bottle of champagne (compris) before the show began. The spectacle that ensued was by turns cheesy, funny, entertaining, edgy, naughty, and amusing. In the second half there was an act comprised of two tap dancers - twins - and male. It seemed a bit out of place but they were really good.
After the show we decided we would walk home (another one of my bright ideas) because it was a beautiful night and also because I had drank about half a bottle of champagne.
We took some pictures of the Eiffel Tower and walked and gawked at the displays in the store windows along Avenue Montaigne - Christian Dior, Chanel (which seems to be on every corner around this city, kind of like Timmy's at home), Ungaro, Prada...My feet were aching by the time we neared the hotel and I was thrilled when Reyn volunteered to go further up the road to get some McDonald's to have in the room. Collapsed into bed, exhausted.

What I Did On My Summer Vacation 2009 Edition pt IV

le 24 Septembre

After a not bad but not great sleep I arose shortly after 8:00 this morning. There were definitely a few cobwebs to shake out as we boarded the métro holding onto our Starbucks' for dear life. We had quite a long ride to the site of Les Catacombes in Montparnasse; unfortunately, once we arrived we saw a sign announcing that due to acts of vandalism the catacombs were closed indefinitely. Bummer. But on the bright side, we were able to double-back to a lovely little patisserie where we purchased some madeleines and millefeuille. Sitting on a park bench we plotted our next move - the Musée Cluny. Situated on the site of a Roman bathhouse, the museum holds treasures from before the dawn of the Renaissance. The much touted 'Lady and the Unicorn' series of tapestries is the centrepiece of the collection and it lived up to the publicity. We passed through numerous rooms devoted to various aspects of Middle Ages art and artisanship -stained glass, metal work, weapons, jewels and then we entered the dimly lit room where the Lady holds court. I found it absolutely stunning that so many hours and so much human effort would have been expended on such a work of art, and was thankful that it had been. We sat on one of the benches and discussed the meaning of the final tapestry - whether she is putting her jewels away or taking them out - and the meaning of the phrase 'my one true desire'.
Next on the menu was the Musée Rodin. Having seen many of the sculptures previously at the WAG exhibition last year, many of the major works were familiar. I did however adore 'The Cathedral', a marble of two right hands. The gardens were lovely as well and after a cloudy and very cool start to the day, the sun broke through shortly after we sat down to lunch at the Cafe de Musée right on the corner near the Hotel Biron. A delicious meal followed.
To Les Invalides to see Napoleon's tomb afterward and the feet were already beginning to scream. The building and tomb were out of this world - marble everywhere and very grand, again the scale was huge. We exited and walked along the side of the complex on our way to rue Bourgogne, finding a nice little patisserie/tea room where we purchased Parisian macaroons (pistache, framboise, et citron), a chocolate pistachio pyramid-shaped cake, and a strawberry millefeuille sandwich thingy as well as some Orangina. We made our way along the street and found ourselves behind and on the side of the Assemblée Nationale, quite by accident. We were also in between a long line of gendarmes and some people staging some kind of demonstration/sit-in. So there we were trying to blend in to the scenery with our little bag of pastries and Orangina walking behind a long line of riot police and it was very disquieting. As we neared the corner, several unmarked police cars disgorged their plainclothes officers, sirens blaring, but then inexplicably sped off again after the agents loaded themselves back in.
It was with great relief that we crossed the street, took up a spot by the wall overlooking the Seine and began eating our sweeties. After a duo of Italian tourists walked by and asked us if it was too far to walk to the Eiffel Tower from that spot, we knew we were back in blissful tourist-land. Funny thing - on Tuesday evening when we were at the Eiffel Tower, a different duo of Italian tourists asked us for directions to the métro and I have now drawn several possible conclusions:
1) We look Italian.
2) Italians like the Eiffel Tower but don't really know how to get there (beyond going to Paris) and do not know how to leave.
3) You cannot buy maps of Paris in Italy.

And so, on to the Musée d'Orsay. Did I mention that my feet were screaming? By the end of our tour I was so saturated with Impressionists that I was really about to scream. We weren't yet ready for dinner so we decided on a glass of wine at the Café de Deux Musées and played car spotting. Peugeot, Renault, Citroen, le Beemer.
Took the métro home and found a Franprix where we were able to stock up on supplies. Wine, cheese, bread, ham, cornichons, juice, milk, brioche buns for breakfast all for less than 27€!! We had a nice, light dinner in the room and we were in bed by 9:30.
J'adore Paris!

What I Did On My Summer Vacation 2009 Edition pt III

le 23 Septembre

Oh dear, I've missed yesterday!
Somehow it was easier writing the account of the London trip - probably because we didn't have much of a nightlife there.
Il Barbieri di Siviglia on Monday was terrific. We left our room at 7:00pm - got a taxi almost immediately but just made curtain - arriving at about 7:25. Luckily it was easy to find our seats, which although quite high up we were pretty much in the centre. The building - the Opéra Bastille, was very modern but beautifully designed for watching and listening to opera. Afterward we got another taxi back to our neighbourhood and ended up having a late bite near the hotel and then strolled home. I had a great sleep and we got up yesterday at about 9:30. We took the métro to Gambetta where we got off and toured Pere La Chaise cemetery. It was a a beautiful and serene place full of picturesquely decrepit family vaults. Somehow I expected more funeral art on the tombs, but there were some very beautiful marbles in various stages of extravagant mourning, head in hands.
The light was especially beautiful as we stood at Edith Piaf's grave. The sun warmed the granite and illuminated the profusion of flowers left by those who had visited before us.
Jim Morrison's marker was kind of tucked away behind a jumble of memorials and was actually fairly nondescript and somewhat anticlimactic.
Chopin's grave was most remarkable, a profusion of flowers spilled out onto the walkway before it and memorial candles flickered in the feeble sun of midday. The sorrowing muse atop the grave was a fitting accent to mark the resting place of such a sensitive, artistic soul.
After lunch (croque monsieur, café creme, eau ordinaire) we were off to the Ile de la Cité and the wonders of Notre Dame. Aside from the rose windows, the church itself I found to be unremarkable compared to the wondrous Westminster Abbey. However, having said that, the wait in the line to go up to the towers (at least 2 hours) was definitely worth it. I actually left Reyn in line by himself twice - once to go into the cathedral which he had no interest in doing, and once to find 'kilometre zéro' in the parvis. I had a very kind Spanish man snap a picture of me there and then I returned the favour for him and his girlfriend.
The view from the towers was terrific, the day being much clearer than Monday when we were atop Montmartre at Sacre Coeur. We got many great pics of the gargoyles and the rest of Paris was laid out before us in all her astonishing fabulousness.
From Notre Dame we went on the Monument de la Déportation, which is a monument to the French victims of the Holocaust. It is a beautifully designed and realized space that memorializes the ugliest and most brutal of crimes against humanity. Standing before the long allée of quartz pebbles set into the wall, each one marking the snuffing out of one French life, I felt very sombre and reverent. And then I just felt very sad as I viewed the numerous triangle-shaped niches that contain ashes and soil from each of the Nazi death camps.
Exiting the memorial, we walked to the other end of the island and had a plate of ham, camembert, and cornichons at the Taverne Henri IV. Red wine was also consumed and savoured and on the way out we got ice cream to enjoy as we made our way to the park at the very tip of the island, the Square de Vert Galant. We watched the cruise boats amble by and enjoyed the sun as it started to slowly descend.
Onward to Sainte Chapelle where we were lucky enough to find a concert of Vivaldi, Bach and Pachelbel was just about to begin. We purchased tickets and were treated to a stellar and masterful performance of several works for strings and harpsichord. One piece - the first movement of a viola concerto - moved me to tears. The setting, Ste. Chapelle, was like a jewel box made of stained glass with a ceiling painted with stars. Anyone with an ounce of poetry in their soul could not help but be torn between closing one's eyes to concentrate on the glorious music, opening one's eyes to take in the breathtaking, lit from behind stained glass, or trying to do both. It was total sensory overload!
If that wasn't enough for one day, we then had a glass of wine at a café opposite the Palais de Justice, and then hopped on the métro to the Champs de Mars for the 10:00 'show' of the Eiffel Tower all lit up and twinkling. Took the métro home, had a bath, slathered on peppermint foot creme, and collapsed into bed. Slept for one hour, then tossed for three.
Up at 8:15.
Today the first item up for bids was the Musée Nissim du Camondo, an Hotel Particulier filled with 18th and 19th century treasures. The art, china, silver, and furniture were absolutely stunning; it was hard to grasp that this was all in the collection of a single family. Very sad also to see that the family tree stops abruptly in 1944.
On to the Louvre!
The sculptures and the Boticelli frescoes were the highlights for me. Only explored the Denon wing as the sunshine made it too hard to be indoors being jostled by the throngs. Went for lunch nearby and then sat and enjoyed the Jardin du Palais Royal. Once in a while a slight breeze carried a scent of the lovely roses still in bloom in the off-limits and fenced-off lawns. The original plan had been to return to the Louvre after lunch but the day was just too beautiful. We decided to walk through the Tuileries (where we took another break by another fountain) and on to the Place de la Concorde for the guillotine site photo op.
By the time this was completed we really had to hoof it to get back to the other side of the Louvre to make it to the wine tasting. This was a lot of fun and very informative. Among other things, we now know that the beaujolais nouveau "is sheet". We had just enough time to get the métro back to the hotel and quickly freshen up before joining Philip, Mark and a number of other La Bio people for dinner at 8:00 pm.
Dinner was fan frickin tastic! Duck breast with cherry sauce, gratin of potatoes and poached apple. mmmmmmmmmmmmmm...Then we strolled to a bar\eatery called Bound, where I drank a so-so mojito and soaked up the uber cool ambience.
It's now 1:30 am and we have another jam-packed day tomorrow. Sadly, it's already going to be Thursday and our time here is beginning to diminish. I love it here - surrounded by such beauty and culture and love of all the finer things. I really think I was born French and somehow got switched at birth or something. It would explain a lot!

What I Did On My Summer Vacation 2009 Edition pt II

le 20 Septembre

Dawn is breaking outside my window.
I was not successful on the sleep assignment but did get some rest. About an hour ago I noticed Orion the Hunter outside in the pitch black sky, now he is slowly fading as the horizon begins to glow orange in the east. Still a bit too dark to see what is beneath the puffy bits of cloud below- not sure if it is Ireland or still Atlantic Ocean.
Dinner was a chicken breast in a creamy mustardy sauce, salad of tomato and cucumber in vinaigrette, a surprisingly good bread roll, and for dessert some chocolate mousse with a small brownie in the middle. Washed down with some decent French Chardonnay. But that was probably 3 hours ago by now and I am beginning to get gnarly again for the promised continental breakfast and some tea.
Cloud covered London and the Channel and before I knew it after breakfast the plane was descending throught clouds and then 'voila' we were on the ground in France.

le 21 Septembre

Sitting at a café on the corner of rue Bergere and rue de Fauborg Montmartre, 9th arr., Paris.
Ah oui, this is the life. I have just come from a sparkle-soaked adventure walking the Champs Elysées, rue de Rivoli and Place Vendome. More about all that later. First a recap of Dimanche as I was way too tired to write yesterday by the time we got to bed.
After getting through passport control very quickly (at least compared to Heathrow last year) we passed through the doors only to realize we had overlooked the signage telling us where to find our bowling balls. Merde. Had to go in reverse and present our credentials to a very matter-of-fact border services agent to verify we were bonafide. At that point the luggage was just coming and for once our bags were not the last ones to appear. Abandoning the original plan of taking the métro into the city, we hopped on a Roissy bus which was still a bargain at 8 € each compared to 50 € for a taxi.
The ride was quite interesting as we sped along the highway. I noticed that almost every car was shiny and new looking - Peugeot, Renault, Citroen, Mercedes - almost no 'big 3' cars and the few Fords I did see looked nothing like anything at home. We drove through the area where the St.Ouen marché aux puces is located but I could see no actual evidence of it. Also through Montmartre and right past the Moulin Rouge. The bus stopped right on the side of the Opéra Garnier, so it was just a short walk to the hotel for us, checked in with no problems even though it was still quite early (maybe 12:30?). We considered a nap but decided to attempt my ambitious first day plan.
We walked up the boul Haussman through Place Vendome and up the Champs Elysées all the way to the Arc de Triomphe, which we climbed. It was a marvelous, warm (hot) sunny day and the stairs going up were stifling and a little claustrophobia-inducing, but it was worth it just to see that view. I got my first glimpse of Tour Eiffel and it was magical.
After the descent, we meandered our way to the Tour Eiffel where we took pictures (stoopeed toureests), had ice cream (me pistache, Reyn vanille, both delicieux et cremeux), and decided to take a Seine cruise.
The late afternoon sun cast everything in a lovely glow as the boat gurgled its way under bridges, past the Louvre, the Ile de la Cité and almost everything else. 11 € each, it was an hour long but will last for always in my memories of this glorious city. We navigated the métro for the first time to get back to the hotel as we had strayed fairly far from home, and we had neither the will nor the foot power to get back on our own steam. Took a walk to McD's for nuggets, bought some juices and milk for the small fridge in the room, and went to bed. Took some Advil and slopped on some peppermint foot creme to try to soothe the blister that had already manifested itself on my right foot. We were in bed until 9:18 this morning from about 8:30 last night. I was so pleased to get some much-needed sleep.
This morning we dressed and took a taxi to Place des Abbesses where we found the Mur de Je t'aime in the Jardin des Abbesses. It was a wondrous start to the day except for the fact that the jardin smelled more like a latrine. We stolled Montmartre - Sacre Coeur, Place du Tertre, and each corner we rounded revealed some new exquisite picturesque wonder. I would live here in a heartbeat.
After lunch (jambon et fromage sandwiche et café creme), we almost completed the Rick Steve's Montmartre walk before jumping in a cab to get Reyn to La Biosthetique for 2:00. We parted ways there at 7, rue Tilsitt - he to the trend collection launch and me to reverse the walk from the previous day - going back down the Champs, rue de Rivoli to go to Gagliani, and to Place Vendome to ogle the jewellery store windows. The Place Vendome did not disappoint and gave me a glittering overdose of all things gem-encrusted and pearl-studded. There were many collier resille in the windows, and some absolutely heart-stopping gigantic pearls at Mikimoto. I almost needed a cigarette.
On my way back to the hotel some people asked me for directions - to Chanel, rue Cambon of all places. I am laughing wryly to myself as I write this.
After dropping off the two small watercolours that we bought this morning at Place du Tertre, I am now enjoying a delicious meal of salade Parisienne (lettuce, tomatoes, Emmental cheese, ham, hard-boiled egg) and a glass of vin rouge. Must return to the room soon and get ready for Il Barbiere di Seviglia tonight.

J'adore Paris!!! (Plus de Londres!)

What I Did On My Summer Vacation 2009 Edition pt I

le 19 Septembre

4:00 PM flight to Toronto en route to Paris, thoughts from seat 21F

It's been a dream - held closely and tightly to my heart for so many years that even now I can scarcely believe it is about to come true. Hot, happy, unbelieving and grateful tears well up as I think about seeing and being a part of a place that is, I am sure, without equal in the world.

Pt II The Second Flight - le vol deuxieme (?)

On the Airbus 777 on our way to Charles de Gaulle. Awaiting dindin which should arrive shortly. Feeling surprsingly drowsy and thinking a meal may help me get some sleep, after not-so-much sleep last night it would be a good thing! Hoping that a little vino will be gratis as well, but with Air Canada, you never can tell!
The captain said we will be flying over Ireland and then over London and the English Channel. I'm hoping it will be clear and that I can catch a glimpse of Dover and the beaches of Normandy. Unfortunately, the 'map' feature on the entertainment system is not working and so I have no real idea of where we actually are.

Why I Hate Public Transport*

*this will not be politically correct.

You've been jerked out of peaceful slumber by the screech of the alarm clock. You've scarfed down some breakfast and prepared your lunch. Somehow you've managed to put together an outfit that is incredibly chic and accessorized it perfectly. You've lumbered in a stupor of not-quite-completely-awake semi-consciousness to the bus stop.
That's when it starts to go downhill. There is a woman in a Cookies by George t-shirt standing there with two children approximately 84 months and 60 months old. They are clinging to her thighs like staticky socks fresh from the dryer. They are whining and being bratty. You fumble in a vain panic for the MP3 player that could tune them out and transport you via Bach to your happy place, but it's not there. It's laughing at you from the kitchen table where it sits beside your increasingly tepid and equally forgotten yogurt.
That was a true story.
The reasons to hate public transport begin right at the beginning - the bus stop itself can be a cesspool of expectorating degenerates, squawking rugrats and vacant-eyed clueless 'mothers'.
It comes as no surprise to me that almost anyone who has the means to drive to a destination would choose to eschew this proletarian utopia, rubbing shoulders and sometimes more personal places with the often literally unwashed masses.
After a long day at work the last thing I want to deal with is a crowded bus and that is one reason why I often walk home instead. Sometimes though despite one's best efforts it may be low-energy day or it might be pouring rain and so Transit Tom and I will have a date.
So here is a list of reasons why I hate public transit!

1) The welfare moms who despite being at their liberty, choose to go home from a day at the mall during rush hour. Their SUV-sized strollers demand the flipping up of at least three seats and often the kid isn't even in the thing. The cavity is filled instead by various shopping bags - usually from Dollarama, Giant Tiger and/or The Bargain Shop. The moms proceed to ignore aforementioned offspring by texting/talking on the cell phone or listening to tunes on their iPod. Passengers have the privilege of a running commentary on the journey from the prattling pre-verbal progeny or worse yet- the crying fit. Strangely, despite the shopping odyssey earlier, a soother seems to be the one thing nobody sells anymore.
I have seriously considered buying a half dozen of these things and keeping them in my bag. They could be plugged into gaping pieholes with or without permission where necessary.
2) Lack of personal hygiene - people who have had too much garlic at lunch, adult diaper wearers, and toters of colostomy bags included. There should be a body odour detector at the door of the bus. If you're too smelly, the doors close, an alarm sounds and the bus speeds away.
3) People who are not aware that wearing a huge backpack increases the amount of space they occupy, and other spatially-challenged individuals. When you are sitting in the aisle seat on a bus, your head is at exactly backpack and shoulder bag height. I can't count how many times I have been doofed by some stoned university or high school student who just happily breezes by me completely clueless.
4) Crazy people. a) Some of them talk to you. They don't make sense and they're scary.
b) Others try to get on the bus without paying a fare; they get into an argument with the driver and because he can't or won't argue and drive at the same time, you just sit there as the traffic signal goes from red to green to yellow to red to green to yellow to red...The kicker is that the driver almost always knuckles under in the end, so it's all for nothing.
5) Tards with or without attendant. See 4 a).
6) Lack of ventilation. Despite the bus being an extremely stinky place at the best of times, I seem to be one of the few passengers who have figured out how to open the window. Je ne comprends pas.

The powers that be are so far removed from us plebs that they can't understand why ridership continues to decline. I wonder when the last time a city councillor much less the mayor, rode a city bus - apart from a campaign photo-op publicity stunt that is.
Oy vey.

Bitch pleeze.

Random thoughts

Stainless steel is the avocado green of the late 20th and early 21st centuries.

If the world had its head on straight the status and salaries of teachers and movie stars would be reversed.

Fancy schmancy packaged and designed gum is the new cigarette.


That's all for now.

Bitch pleeze.

Coco, a.k.a. Puffin, 1991 -2009

She fought. Maybe she wasn't ready. Maybe I wasn't ready. But it had to be done.

She had been ill with thyroid problems for several years and while she was on meds there had been a decline as of late.
She was old.
I had brought her home from the Humane Society in September 1991. She was a birthday present. We had played with some string that first afternoon and gotten to know each other a bit.
The years passed and after we moved to Carlton Street, we got Huey. At first they got along like a house on fire - Huey was a small, just-weaned kitten and her mothering instincts kicked in big time.
We moved to Hart Avenue and both got to be outside cats for several years, but after Huey went missing for a few days, then got sick with kidney problems and had to be put down, she became an only cat.
After about 3 years in our present home, by which time we already had Stanzi, she began to lose weight and became terribly thin and rather wobbly on her feet. Reyn took her to the vet and that's when we got the thyroid diagnosis. Once we started the pills she gained some weight and seemed happier for a while, maybe two years or so. But these last six months at least she was not very happy. She didn't want to be held or petted. Sleep was paramount. She became obsessed with food, following me to the kitchen literally every time I went in, and meowed for food even if she had just eaten. She became obsessed with water, but wouldn't drink it from her bowl, begging at the side of the bath tub or the bathroom sink instead. She began treating the litter box as optional. She would rouse out of sleep suddenly and begin walking out of the room only to stop in her tracks and look around as though unsure of where she was going or why.
So we found ourselves at the vet. She tried to get back into the carrier. She struggled to get up and get away from the table after the initial injection of sedative that was meant to calm her enough so that a catheter could be placed. Instead she lunged and attacked the vet's assistant. In the end it wasn't serene and peaceful, it was heart wrenching. She looked at me without seeing me as she got woozy and stoned and weaker. I stroked her head between the ears and spoke to her so she would know she was not alone, that there was nothing to be scared of. They carried her away, eyes droopy and crossed, but body still tense with life and administered a dose a anesthetic so that the lethal injection could be given. We heard screeching meows from the back room. The vet carried her back in and explained that she had defecated during the injection and that the meows came as they cleaned her up a bit before bringing her back in to us. She must have been stressed and terrified in those last moments of consciousness if that happened, which brings me so much sorrow to think about - like I let her down right at the end. So they set her down on the table once more, this time wrapped in a blue and white checked blanket, shaved a spot on her right forepaw, and at last gave her the drug. She slipped away from us as I whispered to her and stroked her head. I closed her blank and empty eyes and sobbed. She had gone, but not gently, into that good night.

Public Displays of Uncouthness

As almost anyone who knows me would probably tell you, in the words of DH, I am extremely sensitive to uncouthness. It is for this reason that I have to lament the increasing public displays of all things gross and liquid, in particular spitting and public urination.
During my three to five walks home from the office weekly, I have to regularly do an adapted hopscotch walk as I negotiate small, bubbly puddles of saliva. Now, here is where I have to disagree with Bono, not everyone really does need to cry or need to spit. In fact very few people need to spit. I can see it if a bug landed on your tongue or if you need to get rid of some phlegm, but really, it seems to be more a sport than anything else. Or something you can do with your mouth while walking down the street when your cell phone has died. A couple of weeks ago I was walking behind some young hooligan with pants belted to stay put about halfway down his thighs, and he turned his head as if to look both ways before crossing the street; in actuality he was preparing to spew a massive spit bomb. It very nearly ended up in my face due to inertia and some unfortunate wind conditions. So to all of you out there who are considering it, please don't.
Public urination is another cause for distress. I can think of two instances and one attempt in the last 10 months or so. That may not sound like a big number at first, but really isn't even one way too many? Anyway, incident number one took place last fall when the son of some neighbours had a huge party to celebrate going off to university. Some doughhead was wobbling to his car along with some cohorts when he shouted out, "I'm just gonna take a leak." He stops on our boulevard next to a stately elm tree and proceeds to unzip. Because of the party noise we were sitting on our porch in the dark and DH interjected, "Not against our tree, you're not." Imagine the surprise and hasty retreat.
Incident number two occurred a couple of months ago. I was walking home from work through the Exchange District minding my own business and from out of a backlane saw a trickle of liquid streaming down across the sidewalk and into the street. Of course I looked to ascertain the source, and that's when I saw a young woman arise from a squat position and zip up her jeans. Classy, non?
The third and final act was witnessed from my kitchen window. I saw a young homey dart behind my neighbour's lovely lilac tree on his way to the bus stop. After a furtive glance around he proceeded to relieve himself and finished just in time to catch his bus. Call me a cynic but something tells me he wasn't carrying any Purel either.
Just another reason that I believe evolution works forward and in reverse.

Bitch pleeze.

Giving Thanks

There's a lot that we all take for granted in our day to day lives.
Last night I was sitting in my living room listening to JS Bach's Goldberg Variations, sipping a lovely Grenache Shiraz and reading, and it hit me as it does from time to time - I am very lucky.
But who or what to thank in this instance? Being an atheist, I don't look skyward and heap praise, instead I look inward and reflect.
I'm lucky that I live in a country where I am not in danger for what I do or do not believe.
I'm lucky that I live in a modern age where so many things are accomplished with so little effort.
I'm lucky that I am able to use my senses to experience the world around me.
I'm lucky that I have my health.
I'm lucky that I have a partner who loves me despite my numerous flaws.
I'm lucky that I have a home to go to at the end of the day.
I'm lucky that I have a job.
But perhaps most importantly, I'm lucky that I realize all of these things are the results of chance and not the result of prayer.
So who to thank? My ancestors who gave me the ability to appreciate music and food and the scent of summer rain. And what to thank? The genes that made their way into a couple of gametes nearly 4 decades ago.
It's not holy. It makes sense.


Bitch pleeze.

London Trip Journal - September 2008

What I Did on My Summer Vacation

Day 1
Reflections

Got into Heathrow very early in the morning - around 7:40-ish. Passport control was an ordeal and we were in line for nearly an hour before getting our stamp. After initially going to the wrong area we were steered in the right direction to get the tube to Russell Square but that plan had to be amended to the stop right before (Holborn) as the Russell Square was closed on the weekend of our arrival for upgrades and maintenance. After a fairly long tube ride, we emerged from the depths of Holborn station and into the heart of London and had to navigate towards the hotel. It was still quite early in the morning so I wasn't optimistic about being able to check into our room yet, but was happily surprised when told that our room was indeed ready. So up to the 5th floor we went and into room 527 we disappeared to bathe and nap before our London Eye flight scheduled for 5:00 pm. We walked over the Hungerford Bridge and along a part of Jubilee Walkway along the Thames and took the flight. The day was overcast but we still got a pretty impressive view of the city, the Palace of Westminster aka the Houses of Parliament were the first recognizable buildings, and then Westminster Abbey, and Buckingham Palace came into view. Afterward we continued our stroll past the London Aquarium and some Dali sculptures, had soft ice cream cones with an inch or two of Flakie thrust into it and crossed Westminster Bridge. On the opposite bank we saw the famous statue of Boadicea and her chariot, further along I was furiously snapping pictures of the clock tower as Big Ben chimed 5:30. We reached the corner, seeing but not exploring Parliament Square and turned right to walk up whatever street that was and ended up at The Red Lion, a pub mentioned in one of my guidebooks as being so popular with parliamentarians that they actually have a bell installed to herd them back when it is nearly time for a vote. We continued up the street to Trafalgar Square - a police car came screeching and screaming through the roundabout as were about to cross - and made our way past Canada House and on to Leicester Square. We stopped at the Mermaid's Tale for fish and chips and a drink, walked to the area of Covent Garden and got a bit lost before finally navigating our way back to Russell Square. Now I'm lounging and anticipating Buckingham Palace, the Queen's Gallery and Kensington Palace tomorrow.

Day 2
The Queen's Gallery, Buckingham Palace, Hyde Park, Kensington Palace

Got up around 8:30 - Andy Murray beat Rafael Nadal to reach the finals of the U.S. Open in New York. SkySport News was all over the story as we got ready for the day. Walked down the street to Costa for coffee continued on to Aldwych then up the Mall to Buckingham Palace just making our timed ticket to the Queen's Gallery for 10:30. The Queen's Gallery is on the site of the chapel of the palace that was damaged by German bombs during the war. We spent a great deal of time in the gallery fascinated by the Leondardo da Vinci drawings and the other items in the Amazing Rare Things exhibition. One item in particular, a paper with numerous small studies of cats in different positions caught my attention, all the more so when it was revealed by the audio guide that there was also one drawing of a dragon on the page. The highlight was probably the huge malachite vase and the jewels (Oriental circlet, Cullinan 3&4 brooch, Dagmar necklace, etc), the Mosaic Faberge Egg. I lingered at the case a long time, trying to see the brooch from every possible angle and the fire of the stones was transfixing. The Timur ruby necklace was much more beautiful in person than in the pictures I've seen.
The tour of Buckingham Palace was amazing and the White Drawing Room was so beautiful that it brought tears to my eyes. The music room was also lovely. Afterward we walked to Hyde Park and had a hot dog for lunch, made the mistake of feeding one pigeon and soon ended up beseiged and having a rather Hitchcockian moment as we were swarmed by birds. Walked all the way through Hyde Park, past the Serpentine, the Serpentine Gallery, the Diana Memorial Fountain, and the Round Pond to the back of Kensington Palace. The tour was interesting as there is a great deal of history in that building. Stood in the bedroom where Queen Victoria learned of her accession to the throne. A lovely portrait of Princess Mary Adelaide (mother of Queen Mary) was in the entry.
As in Buckingham Palace many paintings were familiar to me from the time I've spent on various royal-related blogs and forums and it was a real thrill to actually see them for real.
Diana's dresses on somewhat permanent display at Kensington Palace were interesting but most seemed very dated and of their era - many beasties in the bunch if you ask me!
Walked to Kensington Palace Green afterward where many embassies are located. This was totally unexpected and I snapped some pictures of some of the very stately mansions before realizing later that it was actually verboten. Oops. We went past the Rumanian, Russian, French and Dutch embassies and we saw the statue of Queen Maud outside the Norwegian embassy; the unveiling and dedication of that statue had been a major highlight of the recent Norwegian royal visit to Great Britian.
My feet were on fire at this point so it was with a great deal of relief that we found the underground station and headed for home. Rested, changed footwear and went in search of the Queen's Larder for supper only to find out they only serve food at lunch. Stayed for a drink regardless and then went two or three doors down to The Swan, another pub whose kitchen was still open. I had roast beef with Yorkshire pudding and various veg, Reyn had shepherd's pie.
Bathed and collapsed into bed, but did not sleep until about 3:00 a.m. feet burning and sore the whole time.

Day 3
Clarence House, Cabinet War Rooms, Westminster Abbey

Up at 8:45 got ready and took the tube to Green Park. Arrived at Clarence House 10 minutes late for our timed ticket at 10:00 a.m. but we were allowed to join the group as they hadn't actually started the tour yet. Clarence House is an amazing home, it feels very warm and very much someplace you would love to live. Again, many familiar paintings - a de Laszlo of a 7 year old Princess Elizabeth for example. Sumptuous furnishings. Many books in the library I recognized as titles that I own as well - good taste! A Steinway piano in the garden room was the one that the Princesses Elizabeth and Margaret Rose learned on, and has also been played by Noel Coward and more recently by Elton John. Afterward up to Buckingham Palace to take pics out front as there had been no time yesterday. Lots of people milling about although there was no changing of the guard today. Reyn and I both made wishes and threw coins into the fountain of the Victoria Memorial.
Next up was the Cabinet War Rooms. Very interesting to see the place where so much of WWII was planned. Had lunch there in the cafe - actually it was more of a brunch. Afterward saw Horse Guards Parade and the back of 10 Downing Street, then on to Westminster Abbey. The highlight there would have to have been the tombs of Elizabeth I, Mary Queen of Scots, G.F. Handel, Jane Austen, Charles Darwin and Isaac Newton. The building itself is a feat of architecture and the floors have been worn incredibly smooth by the centuries of feet that have trod upon them. Truly astonishing.
Took a taxi to Leicester Square and had a drink and a sandwich, then walked around Covent Garden, finding the opera house and popping in to many shops. Stumbled across Mercer Street and took the requisite pics of the sign. Walked back to our neighbourhood and stopped at the Ivy for dual purposes of getting a drink and getting out of the rain. Unfortunately Reyn had lost his umbrella somewhere along the way and sharing one was getting a bit difficult. Had G&T and 'crisps'. Walked back to the hotel stopping at Tesco's Express to stock up on fruit juice, bananas, water and crisps for evening snacking and the coach ride tomorrow morning.
The bus will pick us up @7:45 tomorrow morning for our day trip to Bath, Stonehenge and Salisbury Cathedral.
Hope I get some sleep tonight!

Day 4
Stonehenge, Bath, Salisbury Cathedral

...but not necessarily in that order. Actually it was Salisbury Cathedral, Stonehenge, Bath.
The day began rather ominously as we waited to be assigned to a coach for our tour. The bus that picked us up from the hotel ended up being only the first bus that we would be passengers on. We waited for close to an hour before finally setting off on our jpurney. It seemed to take forever to get out of London as the city and suburbs are very sprawling. Went past Harrod's, the V&A, and the Natural History Museum so at least now I have a sense of where those things are located. So off we went into the countryside. The motorway afforded some nice views of rolling farmland and some very picturesque homes. The bus driver (Dave) was not a regular on this route fromwhat I could gather - both he and the tour guide (our fearless leader Lawrence) were back and forth with each other and some unseen guiding voice on the mobile phone getting directions to Salisbury Cathedral. I was ready to suggest,"Just go in the direction of the steeple - it's the tallest in England." lol. Too easy I suppose and we ended up cirlcing twice around a particular loop. At any rate we managed to arrive eventually. We passed through a gateway/arch that contained the room where G.F. Handel played The Messiah for the first time and the side/rear view of the cathedral opened before us. A beautiful building with many stained glass windows. Fortunately, photography was allowed inside, so I snapped away. There were only 45 minutes allotted for our visit, so it was a bit rushed to get the Magna Carta in and there was no time to peek into the shop! Quelle catastrophe!! Afterwards it was off to The Cloisters pub for lunch; but first I should mention that the cloisters of the cathedral was absolutely amazing. A quadrangle bordered on all sides bt arcades/walkways and there was even a bit of sun that shone through the stonework for a lovely effect. At lunch we sat with an American couple from Florida, the husband works at the space centre. Neat who you meet when you travel... Ate free-range pork sausages with mashed potatoes, gravy and bread with tea and water to drink and a small piece of chocolate cake to finish. Back to the pick-up point where we waited about 20 minutes for Dave to show up with the bus. So we loaded up once more and we were off to Stonehenge. Short drive later we got out first glimpse of the monument. Incredible to see it in reality after seeing it everywhere else! We had only 45 minutes which was not a lot of time to stand and marvel and reflect, so it was a pretty quick pic snapping go around the first time -and the camera battery was beginning to die as well - pressure! It was really windy out there on the plain and that was completely unexpected for some reason. There were many sheep grazing in the field just beyond the rope but they didn't seem to mind all the people milling about. We managed to go around again in good time and even managed a visit to the shop! Back on the bus and on to Bath; this was a lovely drive through beautiful countryside with sweeping views of farmland and hills and postcard-worthy homes. Our first views of Bath revealed it as nested within a valley - very unexpected. We alighted the bus near Bath Abbey and the Roman Baths. This part of the city was simply the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. The architecture - Georgian I would think is fairly uniform and the stone of the buildings has aged very nicley. The baths themselves were interesting although the water was quite smelly. After the tour there was time to have a delicious ice cream (me - raspberry pavlova, Reyn - vanilla) and strolled a bit. Again, did not have nearly enough time but maybe I'll see the Royal Crescent next time(!). Driving though narrow streets we left BAth after 1 1/2 hours. I could probably have spent 2 days truly exploring - the Jane Austen Festival is next week.
To continue the adventure, the coach was pulled over tothe side of the motorway because of a leaky/flat tire. The good news was that due to the need to reduce our speed, we were afforded a really nice view of Windsor Castle in the (near) distance as we passed. We pulled in to a service station and had to wait about 40 minutes for a replacement bus to come out from London to pick us up; we were dropped quite unceremoniously at Gloucester Road tube station and left to our own devices. Having passed a pub/restaurant twice now that was called Salieri, we decided to try to fine it and ended up finding many other things instead, i.e. the Natural History Museum and the V&A. Salieri never did materialise somehow so it's possible that it does not actually exist. Hailed a taxi and got to Guilford Street in the hope of eating once more at The Swan but the kitchen was closed by the time we arrived. After much indecision we ended up at a place called Night&Day and had some truly yucky food inflicted upon us - will not be going back there although the Old Speckled Hen was really good.
Managed to make it back to the room after picking up some water, juice (no bits) and a sweetie. To bed around 11-ish and I managed a full night's sleep. At last.

Day 5
Victoria & Albert Museum, Natural History Museum, Piccadilly Circus, Harrod's

...but not necessarily in that order.
NHM, V&A, Harrod's, Piccadilly Circus actually.
We started out rather later than hoped for, getting out at 10:45 or thereabouts. We got day tickets for the tube as the plan was rather ambitious - the Tower of London, St. Paul's Cathedral, the V&A, and the NHM. It was a liquid plan however, and that was a good thing as we swapped some things around. Got off the tube and headed to the NHM. In the front doors and we were greeted by a massive hall with a gallery on the second floor. Incredible stonework along the arches leading to small display anterooms located all along the sides of the centre hall - leaves carved with birds perching 3D style in regular intervals of about 18 inches or so. Anyway, the focal point of the hall is this ginormous dinosaur skeleton; of course the highlights for me were located in the side niches - one a huge boulder of jade and the other a substantial piece of gold that was surprisingly delicate-looking, the surrounding quartz having been dissolved away by 'strong acid'. A side exhibition devoted to dinosaurs was interesting although clearly geared toward children; there were several examples of Albertasaurus and Edmontosaurus represented. I commented to Reyn that we had come all this way just to see stuff from home. lol. Up to the second floor and some evolution/origin of humans stuff. Very interesting, but the second floor held a surprise for me - 'The Vault' in the gems and minerals gallery. Somehow 'natural history' just didn't rigger and recognition in my head that rocks might be involved, so this was a great bonus. The vault held impressive specimens including a Mars rock. Also beautiful Alexandrite under two types of light to demonstrate its dual nature and a collection representing every colour of diamond known, also dual lit to show the fluorescing ability of the stones. The diamonds glowed eerily as the stones were exposed to ultraviolet light. I had no idea that they did that.
After lunch at 'Paul' a patisserie/boulangerie nearby (me - spicy chicken on ciabatta with a 'frasier' genoise cake filled with strawberried and iced with marzipan; DH poulet-pavot sandwich and apricot slice) we headed to the V&A and the Bollinger jewellery galleries. At first it looks like a kind of small cave but there was a lot of stuff in there...highlights were definitely the Marchioness of Londonderry's stuff (as seen in Ancestral Jewels by Diana Scarisbrick), the Manchester tiara (with a notation that it had been accepted by HM's government in lieu of inheritance tax and assigned to the V&A in 2007), Edwina Mountbatten's Tutti Frutti bandeau (very small in actuality) and a sapphire necklace and earrings whose stated provenance meant nothing to me. In the shop I purchased the exhibition catalogue as not photography was allowed. : (
The plan had morphed from the Tower of London and St. Paul's (not nearly enough time) to Harrod's. This is one massive place let me tell you! Thank dog we found the Harrod's gift shop of else we may still be there wandering the food halls looking for prezzies for the girls and the shop and my girls at MFG. After much indecision we settled on sparkly black changepurses. We proceeded to amble aimlessly while being sorely tempted by outrageously expensive goods. The proof, to me at least, that we were in another world completely compared to home was that this store ws humming with customers and I don't mean just tourists buying the kitschy crap. The ladies accessories department was a hive of activity especially Louis Vuitton. A woman came out of a fitting room fussing about the fit of short-sleeved cotton blouse that surely must have been priced at several hundred pounds. A television in the audio/video department was stickered at an unbelievable 23,000 pounds!! We also took a quick of tour of Christmas World but even I couldn't stand it for very long - not that many nice things although there was a mountain of boxes of Christmas crackers described as 'luxury'; for only 499 pounds (yes, you read that correctly) you could purchase 6 (yes you read that correctly) Christmas crackers for your family gathering. Goodness knows what could be inside those things to warrant such a price.
After Harrod's we got on the tube with the intention of heading back home but Reyn realised that there was a stop at Piccadilly Circus so we got off there, took a few snaps and had a drink. Then back home for dinner at The Swan where thankfully the kitchen was still open. Yay!! I had steak and ale pie with chips and peas (I actually ate them) and Reyn had bangers and mash. Stopped at Tesco's Express for provisions and went back home. Had a decent although not stellar slumber. On to day 6!

Day 6
Tower of London, Tower Bridge, St. Paul's Cathedral, Royal Opera

Up at 8:45 or so and out in the a.m. to the Tower of London. We got all-day tube passes like yesterday as they really are an unbelievable bargain (one of the few...).
The Tower really is a complex of many buildings that have served a variety of purposes throughout history. We saw the remains of the wall the Romans built around London in addition to Tudor and Victorian architecture and likely everything in between and after. Many things had the cypher of the monarch on them, like the downspouts (of all things) that had EIIR on them. Of course, Tower Green, the execution site of Queen Anne Boleyn, and Lady Jane Grey was a huge highlight. I paused a moment and looked around me and tried to take in what it must have been like standing there waiting to go up the stairs to the scaffold where the swordsman or axeman was waiting. I tried to take in the view as they might have seen it before their eyes were covered with the blindfold. It was very moving and exhilerating at the same time; a huge sense of history washed over me. We were then shown into the chapel of St. Peter ad Vincula where the bodies of Anne, Queen Catherine Howard and Lady Jane lie. Another wild sense of the centuries of history around me.
On the the Crown Jewels. There are several anterooms where archival footage of the coronation and footage of the jewels themselves were being projected, complete with ceremonial music in the background. The coronation footage actually made me tear up. Of course this is all meant to increase the anticipation as you are herded through curly-queues into the actual room where the jewels are displayed. You pass through some very impressively thick steel doors and then, there they are. You step onto moving sidewalks and are conveyed past many individual cases where the various crowns, sceptres, and orbs are lit beautifully to emphasize the sparkle. My favourite was Queen Mary's crown (duh). We went past the front side first and then took the stairs back around and went to see everything's reverse. Most items were just as impressive from either viewing angle and I daresay the average person wouldn't be able to tell the difference. Just out of this main room was another display case that held an enormous gilt punch bowl and huge ladle. Oddly, the ladle was listed as having been made some 100 or 150 years after the punchbowl...also nearby was George V's crown that was made for the Delhi Durbar. Most impressive. Off to the shop! Amazingly expensive kitschy crap for the most part but there some nice things. I got a fleur de lys trinket box as well as the 'official guide' to the Tower. Explored the White Tower which was pretty much given over to arms and militaria. It was interesting to a point but after a while it got a bit much. The highlights for me were the axe and block used in Tudor times (for the beheadings that is) and the armour of King Henry VIII which featured a rather ahem, impressive (although I have a feeling wishful) and excessive codpiece. Some things never change.
We exited the Tower complex and turned left walking along the Thames to see Tower Bridge. A massive structure and surprisingly beautiful. Reyn dug up a tiny piece of cobblestone from the walkway that I plan to smuggle into my luggage. Really, cobblestone from London, that's a crazy thing to have! There were many joggers along this stretch of walkway but personally I found walking hazardous enough on the very uneven surface - if I tried running I would have to either keep my eyes on the ground to avoid breaking an ankle or keep my eyes forward to avoid breaking another person.
We turned back and got back on the Tube to go to St. Paul's Cathedral. We stopped for lunch at Costa on Bread Street along the way and sat counting the number of pinstripe suits walking past. St. Paul's is a very beautiful place, very serene and less cluttered with tombs than Westminster Abbey. I pictured Lady Diana Spencer entering through the enormous doors and hearing the fanfare that would have announced her arrival. How truly momentous that must have been; I wouldn't have blamed her for running. The mosaics on the ceiling were amazing although much later than the building itself, being added in Victorian times. We did take the stairs up to the Whispering Gallery and had a brief sitdown.
At this point we exited the cathedral and sat on the steps to plot our next move; I puctures horses and carriages at the bottom of the steps while Reyn plotted our way back to the tube.
Back to the hotel to rest a bit and get prepared for the opera. Wore my geometric print Mexx dress and taupe patent shoes. Took the tube to Covent Garden station and then realised I had forgotten to pack the map into my bag. Luckily a newspaper seller was kind enough to provide succinct directions. After an attempt to exchange our tickets for better seats we headed up to our level ("...take the escalator, turn right, go past the restaurant, turn right again, go down the hallway...") we sat down with a glass of wine and a plate of smoked-salmon sandwiches. Only cost just over 20 pounds for the lot! So we find our nose-bleed section seats and although very high up were actually not that bad (we could see most of the stage and all of the cellos in the pit) and I began looking around at the people. Across from us but a couple of levels lower I saw a man wearing a black bow-tie and was trying to figure out if he was wearing a tux. As I pointed the man out to Reyn my gaze was drawn to the front row of the box where I recognised immediately Prince and Princess Michael of Kent. My powers of deduction thus lead me to believe the young man with the bow-tie was probably their son Lord Frederick Windsor of the dubious reputation. Lord Freddy is most well-known for a brief flirtation with a modeling career and rather less brief flirtation with cocaine.
The opera itself was glorious - music and singing were top-notch as expected and there were even pyrotechnics in the final scene when the Commendatore takes Don Giovanni down to hell. Applause was loud and long with many shouts of approbation, including a 'brava' from me for Zerlina.
Took the tube back to Russell Square and had a drink at Friend at Hand, then back to the room for a night's sleep.

Day 7
Last full day - earmarked for British Museum and Shopping

Got up before Reyn and went around the corner to procure lattes and pastries. Yummy.
After looking bright and sunny early on it did cloud over a bit but remained dry. We walked through Russell Square and zig-zagged a bit until we came to the British Museum - yet another massive place filled with all manner of things from everywhere. We strolled through the hall and looked on the directory for the whereabouts of the Rosetta Stone, finding it to be on the main floor just beyond the entrance to the Egypt Galleries. Masses of people clustered around the front of the display case - many taking flash-assisted photos that will not turn out due to the reflection from the glass (self-satisfied smug guffaw here). I turned off my flash and got a decent snap. I could liken the throng to the entrance to a beehive; disorderly and humming. The rest of the gallery contains an incredible array of statuary and reliefs including a small portion of the beard of the Sphinx.
Continuing on we found a lot of Assyrian stuff from Nimrud. Astounding stonework and detailed carving on representations of wings and in the hair of the 'people'.
We then went to the Parthenon Galleries a.k.a. Elgin Marbles. Considering the amount of stuff in there, no wonder the Greece wants it back!! Seriously, it's a surprise anything is left to see in Athens. There were a couple of statues that particularly caught my attention - a Venus and a nymph or a Diana.
Managed to escape without spending anything at the ubiquitous 'shop'. After a pause during which Reyn had a hotdog while leaning against the museum gates we strolled to the Covent Garden area to try to get some duds. We became sidetracked after a while and ended up nearing Trafalgar Square. As we approached there were some people handing out flyers for a concert that evening at St. Martin in the Fields. As luck (O Fortuna) would have it, Bach, Mozart and Vivaldi were all on the program. Needless to say, we beat a pretty hasty path to the box office and purchased tickets straightaway. After that we went to Trafalgar Square and noticed there was an event taking place there - the London Week for Peace. A DJ was spinning and it was agreed that I could go into the National Gallery and Reyn would sit and take it all in. I had a time limit of 30 minutes so I took a quick spin (still managed to see a handful of Monets, Gauguins like crazy, Titians a-plenty and a Chagall among many others). The building itself was also beautiful. Managed to escape the shop without incident.
Back to shopping. It took a while to make the first purchase but some shoes (big surprise) and a nice shirt (Reyn) and some hosiery (me) are coming home with us. We would also have a pair of Boss jeans if they would have accepted our credit card. Apparently unless it has a 'chip' in it, they have to call the bank and as luck (O Fortuna) would have it, our bank wasn't picking up the phone. So that was the end of that.
Went back home to have a cup of tea and our 'sweetie' purchased earlier in the afternoon at 'Valerie Patisserie' in Covent Garden. Changed and walked (and walked) to the church for the concert, barely making it in time. As the chandeliers dimmed and the first strains of Bach's concerto for two violins filled the air, I was brought nearly to tears with the beauty of it all. Mozart, Purcell, etc. and following a short intermission Handel and then the full Four Seasons. The violin soloist was very dynamic and moved around a lot; when the viola and cello joined the harpsichord the music whirled and rose around me in a sublime hurricane. To hear such familiar music done live was a dream come true and I will never forget it.
And then, on to dinner! Not sure where to start with this tale...we had finally Googled 'Salieri' and made a plan to go after the concert. So we leave the church and amble our way down (or was it up?) The Strand, we arrive and are seated at a table for two along a window and all is going well...alas things did not continue thusly.
Through contempt barely masked by the thinnest veil of civility the waiter deigned to take our order and brought us our 1/2 bottle of George DuBeouf red. Appetizers arrived and mine, a gorgonzola and leek tart was passable with the addition of pepper, but Reyn's chicken parfait with foie gras was not as successful. This is where it begins to unravel. After a substantial amount of time with no entrees making their appearance, I beckoned the waiter over to ask how much longer it would be. His reply? "For food, you mean?" Taking a quizzical expression with him he went to the back of the resto, flipping the pages of his order book as he went. More time elapses and the next person who comes to the table asks, "So how was everything, all right?", while reaching across the table to clear cutlery that had not yet been used. I said that we were still waiting for our main courses, which produced a look of disbelief and he scurried off and returned moments later with a rather optimistic pronouncement, "Just two more minutes." There was an offer of more wine (no charge) which I declined but I requested a coke in its place. The coke never did appear but a glass of wine did find its way to DH(?). Another interval elapses and I ended up asking for the bill just so that we can be rescued from our misery, but we were assured once again it would only be another two minutes...Finally we get our steaks, luckily nice and hot and it is passable food although not great and certainly not worth the interminable wait. We left without having dessert and without leaving one solitary pence over the 50 pound tab. After such hope that it would be a wonderful way to end our trip it was a posulute nightmare and nothing could induce me to go back there. 'To Salieri' now faces the prospect of entering my lexicon as a verb meaning 'to completely screw up/ fail to meet expectations/ inspire contempt/ show contempt, etc. So I guess it wasn't a total loss as it's always nice to add to your lexicon.
Jumped into a taxi (only the third time all week) back to Russell Square and went to Tesco's for juice, water, milk and Krispy Kreme doughnuts (an astonishingly evil indulgence at over a pound each). Back to the hotel for some telly before turning in around midnight or thereabouts.

Day 8
Going Home

Awoke early to a sun-filled blue sky but turned over and went back to sleep a couple of times, finally getting up around 9:30 to go out to get the lattes and pastries. Unfortunately the coffee shop around the corner was closed so I had to trek all the way down to Costa.
Returned to the room where DH was still enjoying his 'long goodbye' to the very comfy bed and duvet. Managed to pack up without too much cramming and after settling up the internet bill (30 pounds) we rolled our way to Holborn underground station, Russell Square being closed again this weekend (O Fortuna) for maintenance and upgrades. Managed to make it on to the tube to Heathrow T4 after only a handful of tantrums on my part (fear of losing husband in the underground). Arrived at the gate with loads of time to explore the seemingly never-ending duty-free Harrod's. Purchased the peacock tote I had been coveting since Thursday and a Wedgwood blue jasperware covered box as a special memento. Went back to the gate with my last 20 pounds burning a hole in my pocket so I told DH to take it along with the remaining coinage and get something in the shops. As the minutes ticked by and boarding began I was beginning to get nervous that he would not return in time and that we might miss the flight. Thankfully however he did come down the corridor just as I was on the brink of totally freaking out. I had already been considering asking the staff to have him paged.
In the plane now writing and enjoying some Cabernet Sauvignon - just had my snack of salt and vinegar pretzel bites and the meal is coming my way in a very few moments. Lunch is over and I've just opened the blind - below me through the spaces between the clouds I can see the Atlantic Ocean rolling as a mass of bluish black. The thought that it takes 4-5 hours to cross completely blows my mind and reminds me how miniscule I am in the whole scheme of things. My interactive screen shows me we're well past Ireland and that Iceland is somewhere to the north. 36000 feet. 506 mph. 2670 miles to T-dot.

What a waste

Alrighty then.
Went to see 'Transformers' tonight at the local multiplex and all I can say is...nothing...I was sitting there and thinking to myself what a waste of money, resources and time (but strangely enough, not a waste of talent).
I don't think it's any secret at this point that the vast majority of movies that get made, especially out of Hollywood, are nothing but crap and this was certainly no exception. What mystifies me is that the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences has somehow deemed it necessary to increase the number of nominees for its best picture award to 10 from 5. If I was a cynic, which of course I am, I could only conclude that this is being done to capitalize on the attendant increase in ticket sales that an Oscar nomination can provide to a film so honoured.
Having firsthand experience of the amount of money that gets thrown into making a movie I must truly lament the exorbitant sums that are almost literally burned during production. I do however offer a solution.
I propose that Hollywood shut down for a year and that the budgets for all the movies that would have been made should be given to charity. No one would miss the majority of productions that would be delayed, and with any luck some of them might actually die on the table before any member of the public is afflicted by exposure. The really good scripts might still ultimately find a way to get made, and the world just might benefit. Instead of sitting in theatres consuming grossly overpriced snacks that will contribute to our death, we could take part in life, maybe walk the dog, talk with our friends, or maybe even do a good deed. The money could be used to buy mosquito nets for Africans to prevent malaria, or to supply AIDS drugs to those countries who cannot afford to buy them, or maybe those American dollars could go to supplying health care to those who have fallen through the gaping holes in the social safety net.
Of course there would be job losses and economic fallout for the industry, but if it means that I don't get my intelligence insulted by seeing yet another dog-humping-a-leg gag, juvenile jokes about testicles, or robots talking like homeys from the hood, then I would be okay with that. And I suspect I might not be the only one.

Bitch pleeze.

Welcome

Well here I am. And there you (possibly) are. Welcome to my little corner of cyberspace.

I am going to blog here whenever I get the urge to share something. The subjects may reflect my wide range of interests (jewels, royalty, fashion, the arts), my less-wide travels (London, UK last year, various places in Canada over the years, Jamaica too many years ago, and Paris, France this year in September- 78 sleeps but who's counting?), or my narrow mind (as circumstances dictate).
Proceed at your own risk of encountering banal observations and trite remarks.

Bitch pleeze.