Travel – Page 8 – Rant and Roll

Have laughs, will travel

Sometimes, you just need to act like a nutter.

I wouldn’t have it any other way.

In December of 2009, M and I spent a week in Geneva and five days in London before returning home to Canada.

We had been living in the UK while I was on research leave for my MA, and we really wanted to wrap up our trip in a special way.

We figured stops in two brilliant, bustling cities (in the weeks leading up to Christmas no less) would make for an excellent send off.

Now, suffice to say that I love my husband madly (emphasis on the mad) and when I state that we have a heck of a good time travelling together, this is not hyperbole.

This is fact.

During our time in Switzerland, we bopped about the place, our eyes semi-sprung from our sockets, incredulous at how expensive everything was (I mean, twelve francs for a happy meal!? How is that even possible?), attempting to take in all the jaw-dropping beauty offered up by our environs.

M is half-Swiss so we had the immense pleasure of staying with his amazing cousin Lisette, a woman whom I love dearly – so much so that I will be hard pressed not to name my first child after her.

(If luck should have it that it be born a boy, well, he’ll have to endure. Perhaps some hard living country songstress will write a rousing tune about him and his namesake. It would be a bona fide hit; a certified chart topper.)

Lisette’s sister Bea is another of my all time favourites – she is the epitome of chic. Her doggie Tisha is also the epitome of cute, with her eyes that melt your heart, and magical powers to make handfuls of biscuits materialize out of thin air.

On our first day in Geneva, we toured much of the old town and then visited St. Pierre Cathedral. Having climbed to the bell tower, we took full advantage of an empty observation deck to partake in some high tom foolery.

Exhibit A:

Magic!

On our trip to Bern, M kept asking me to take photos so “it looked like he was running to jump aboard the train while it was still moving.”

This is the best I could do:

It’s amazing the associated press hasn’t been blowing up my phone trying to get me to come and work for them.

Perhaps one of my most favourite laugh-until-you-cry-and-then-bloody-well-laugh-some-more moments came when we were in London.

It was our second day in the city. We sprung out of bed at an early hour, despite having walking some twelve-odd hours the day before, so eager we were for adventure.

Boy was it was cold as heck.

We arrived at Kensington Gardens and immediately were besieged by hoards of hungry, and as such, aggressive water fowl. They were absolutely insatiable! I managed to capture the madness (albeit all too briefly) in the following video.

P.S. THIS IS NOT HOW MY VOICE SOUNDS IN REAL LIFE GOOD GRIEF.

Finally, because I’m a silly, silly girl, and I’m always asking M to pose for inane photos, I requested that he pretend to tickle the giant, mummified hippopotamus that’s hanging two stories up in the Museum of Natural History:

And then pet the skeleton of some poor prehistoric beast that perished in some Jurassic tar pit and/or meteor shower:

Alas.

Just typing out these words – just looking at all of our many photos from this trip has got me feeling homesick. Yearning for our small, rubbish flat on Rotton Park Road, my running loop at the Edgbaston Reservoir, my young English students at Right Track School, the beautiful red brick at the University of Birmingham, and all the carefree nights and weekends M and I spent around the city, and different parts of the country.

So you’ll have to excuse me.

I’m off to take some photos. I’m off for a new adventure.

One fish, two fish

Dudes!

FISHING.

Holy mother of pearl.

M and I just returned from a three day salmon-catching extravaganza in the Barclay Sound with my father, and Mr. DM – alias Fish Whisperer extraordinaire.

Now, I don’t know if any of you cats have ever gone fishing before, but believe me when I saw that I was incredibly out of my element the entire time I found myself at sea.

This doesn’t mean I necessarily stunk up the boat or anything (both in my fishing skills or otherwise) – in fact, I’d like to think that I actually did quite well for a first timer – it’s just that sitting in a boat for long periods of time, at all hours of the day, in all kinds of weather isn’t exactly on par with my day job.

This is how I imagined the weekend would play itself out:

Arrive.

Hang out in a ridiculously beautiful area of Vancouver Island (please see photographic evidence of this very-true fact):

Fish for a couple of hours.

Arrive back at gorgeous hang-out spot.

Eat dinner.

Bed.

Oh brother was I ever off. First, I was ill-prepared, both mentally and clothing-wise for the length of time we would be on the water when we arrived on Friday afternoon.

We arrived at Port Alberni around 12:30, and after dropping our gear off at Green Cove (where we would be staying) we set out to begin hunting for the elusive salmon around 2 o’clock. If you had told me that we would be spending the next seven hours on a boat I would have thought you were kidding me.

SEVEN HOURS!

Good thing I was hanging out with folks that I happen to like. Like A LOT.

And when I say that Don (the Fish Whisperer) is one of the coolest, most skilled guys I have ever met IT IS NO LIE.

The guy is like a ninja on the water! First he sets everything up, then as soon as a rod gets a bite, he is on it like a fat kid on a smartie – turning off the outboard motor, reeling in the other reel, handing off the rod to whomever was next for a chance at the catch – and it all happens so fast if you blinked you might miss all the action.

All in all I had seven tries at the reel, and I caught six fish – three Coho and three Spring (although one of the Springs was just a baby so we had to throw it back.)

I also learned quite a bit. So in no particular order, here are some things I discovered about salmon fishing:

1.) Get prepared to spend a heck of a lot of time in that boat. As I referenced above, we were on the water for most of the day (something I had not expected) so dress warmly, because I can’t imagine anything worse than freezing your butt off on the high seas, while praying for a fish to chomp down on that anchovy. When you are warm and cozy wearing ten thousand layers of clothing nothing will be able to dampen your spirits! (See below photo for clues on what to wear to ensure your warmth.)

2.) If you are girl make sure you are okay with peeing in a bucket. I am very okay with peeing in a bucket so this was no problem. In fact, I felt as though it was pretty high falluting to have such amenities on board! I had full-on expected to be dangling off the edge of the boat, or running into the woods on either side of the inlet every time nature called.

3.) Get ready for some early mornings. On Saturday when the alarm went off at 4:45am the first two thoughts to enter my mind were: “No. I REFUSE.” Luckily after laying in bed for a few more minutes, listening to the strains of Jimmy Buffet’s XFM radio station (pretty much the best music out there for early morning wake-ups) I began to get pretty jazzed up about the start of the day. Oh yeah, drinking nineteen cups of coffee probably also helped.

4.) WATCH YOUR ROD TIP NOT THE SALMON. ALSO, KEEP THAT SUCKER AS HIGH AS YOU CAN GET IT.

5.) Coho salmon jump like Van bloody Halen.

6.) Fish are also strong! Those babies can get pretty big, and goodness knows they put up one hell of a fight as you try to reel them in. My dad actually did one of those classic falls when a fish pulled him off of his feet – otherwise known as “The Goofy.” It was insane! The best part of the whole thing? He still managed to get the fish into the boat. BOSS.

7.) The yummiest dinner ever? Garlic bread topped with fresh crab. ZOMG TASTE EXPLOSION.

8.) Learn how to keep a strong tack. Don’t know what that means? Neither did I! It means trying to keep the boat moving in the straightest line as possible so the bait isn’t zigzagging all over the place. This can been pretty difficult depending on the currents, wave size, and the number of other boats that happen to populate that same area. But do it right and you will feel very, very happy, as will your fellow shipmates.

9.) A really fun game to play while your biding your time between bites is the alphabet game – try to think of words that begin with the letters A – Z for different categories. A few groups M and I went through included European cities, American cities, and professional hockey players (double the points if you can think of someone that shares the same letter for both their first and last name.)

All it all it was really a tremendous weekend. I learned a lot, and like I said, experienced something new and totally outside of my every day routine.

I also had to laugh when a high school kid hit on me in the lineup for coffee when we were hanging out at the ferry terminal on the way home. I looked like an absolute hot mess so tack (har har) that on to my previous list of tips on how to get yourself asked out by the youngsters.

And there’s nothing fishy about that.

Just one second, I’ll draw you a picture

Hey friends,

M and I have just arrived home from four days spent out and about, bopping along the BC coast.

Here are some snaps from our travels:

Sunflowers.

Woods.

Ferry.

Docks.

Sunset.

Pond.

JUMP.

So there you have it kidlets, a brief look at the last four days spent running, hiking, boating, cooking, and building (woodsheds!).

I got some pretty serious sun on my face (M told me that I should probably stop wearing those sunglasses for the next while because it’s starting to look like I have a wicked goggle tan!), watched the meteor shower – so amazingly beautiful, and learned that a cow has six teats and that the UN General Secretary during the Cuban Missile Crisis was was U Thant (oh Trivial Pursuit…)

Now we’re watching Star Wars and eating blizzards after a simple, delicious dinner of garden grown beans, squash, and local Island gruyere cheese.

Sublime.

What did you cats get up to for the weekend? I want to hear all about it.

I get by with a little help

From my friends.

Today I spent my lunch hour with my beautiful, brilliant friend and colleague J, walking the streets of downtown Vancouver and trying on pretty things from the various clothiers that lined our route.

We hadn’t seen each other for almost six days, which is an exorbitant length of time what with how closely we work and how much of our work days are spent communicating with one another.

It was really grand to catch up and find out what has been swimming around in her neck of the pond.

I recently purged my closet of a number of pieces that no longer grace the length of my body, and were instead just clogging up my wardrobe and dresser drawers.

Lucky me that my two fabitty-fab sisters are in town visiting (or should I say lucky them?) and they got first pick all of the items that otherwise will be heading over to the nearest Sally Ann.

It is so great to have them here, as becomes increasingly more apparent, as the years press on, that the times when the three of us find ourselves in a room together grow ever more few and far between.

Very difficult to have those much needed late-night gab fests when one of us lives in Vancouver, one lives in Halifax, and one lives in New York.

Tonight I ate dinner with the younger of the two (I hold the much coveted position of middle sister) – at Guu, a Japanese izakaya restaurant I had yet to try out.

My sis is a professionally trained chef who owns a butcher shop and as such has a much more discerning palette than I (I assure you that, unlike yours truly, she doesn’t EVER drink diet coke or eat five cent candy on a regular basis) and as such, was the one making the gastronomic decisions for the both of us.

My other sis will be back on Friday and we – along with our two partners – will enjoy a weekend of Kids in the Hall, beaching, spies, Star Wars references, singing, dancing, and of course an over-arching theme of general bonkerdom.

Just the way we like it.

Summer just seems right with sisters.

I’d like to share with you some pictures from our adventures of late:

Lattes night snacks.

Booksbooksbooks.

Otter.

See food.

Umbrella.

Wedding reception.

Happy Wednesday to you all. I’ll help you get by anyway that I can.

Once more unto the beach, dear friends

Hi loves.

Yesterday I returned from our road trip down the Oregon Coast and Ashland Shakespeare extravaganza.

We left late Thursday afternoon and chronicled much of our journey our brand-spanking new “adventure log” about which we were most excited.

Check it!

Day 1

“His name was Visser. He is an Animorph killer.” This was Marc’s conclusion as we pulled away from our unblinking boarder guard and entered the United States.

Even with the gods spitting on our windshield, our spirits soared, along to the sweet, sweet tunes of Spoon (and other musical greats), recently turned into a travelling CD.

With one hundred miles to Seattle we would be comfortably ensconced in the Sheraton by 6:30. Then whiskey and bitters (definitely), would be enjoyed, but first, and most imminent: McDonalds.

Upon our arrival, Marc got us upgraded to a superior room, however we will have to re-mortgage our home to pay off the blasted valet parking.

For forty-four dollars I half expected them to wash and detail the car, or at the very least gift us with a free bottle of eight dollar gummi bears.

After settling in, it was time to don our fancy duds and head to the hills for dinner.

Mental note: bringing up rum running with a rather clueless concierge will not make your question regarding speakeasys come across any clearer. However, we are now equipped with the knowledge that it is illegal in the state of Washington to operate an establishment that serves only alcohol in the absence of food stuffs.

The more you know kids.

In the end delicious food and drink were enjoyed at the Zig Zag Cafe and Sushi Cucina.

To protect ourselves from the fat raindrops littering the downtown core we purchased a small umbrella before traipsing about like two love sick teenagers in our spit-shined finery, stopping at every street light to clasp hands and kiss.

Day 2

The day broke as so many previous – Marc up ages before myself, passing the time lost in the familiar and comforting pages of a book on magic (or is it of magic?). Let’s say both.

Once my lazy bones jones arose from my bed of rest, we ventured out in search of sustenance and a map of Oregon.

We found both.

After a brief tour of a number of different Seattle neighbourhoods, we reconnected with the I-5 and learned the increasingly obvious lesson that in this part of the world it doesn’t matter where you are headed, or what time of day it is, you will probably encounter massive highway congestion.

Do not try to fight this, or understand why it happens – just embrace it as a fact of life and move on.

To pass the time we tried to name as many states as possible. We got to 47.

At the I-5 exit to get to highway 30 (our route to meet up with the Oregon coast), it started to become clear that I had not really thought through just how far the two of us would be driving to get to our intended destination – South Beach Provincial Park.

Marc, frustrated by the slow pace of his fellow drivers, super speedwayed his way to a one hundred and sixty dollar fine.

It was all going so well until the state trooper (who may just be the nicest law enforcement official to exist ever) saw my bruised body and immediately began to ask questions.

I quickly assured that I was one tough mudder (copyright) and that we were actually celebrating our four year wedding anniversary (in hopes that she might write off the ticket).

She didn’t.

And then it started to rain. A LOT.

By the time we arrived at our campground, the mosquitoes were out in force, sucking the life force right out of us (and through two layers of pants at that!) However, it was nothing that some five dollar wine and marshmallows couldn’t fix.

The ocean there was beautiful and brilliant in its majesty, but also frightening in its ferocity.

We respect but fear the waves.

And that night you could hear Poseidon’s song.

Day 3

This day must be changed in the way that it is described from ordinary language into one of superlatives. It was epic on many extraordinary levels.

First, followed by swarms of Jurassic-sized mosquitoes, we managed to break camp in the most expedited of fashions and be on our merry.

However, this meant we skipped the usual “morning prepper” for Sergeant Ethel, namely a cup of joe, so we then had to attempt to locate an “Espresso Shack” that accepted plastic or non-specific currency; this all happened on our way to the aptly named and hugely disappointing Little Switzerland – big on pastoral beauty, low on amenities.

Anyway, following a quick pit stop just off of Seal Rock, the Sargeant settled down to do some hardcore driving (approximately 500 clicks – metric wise) whilst we jabbered about politics, upbringings, and the identity of our missing states – Missouri, New Hampshire and Colorado, natch.

Much, much later we managed to out-drive the monsoon conditions and found ourselves at the hospitable Emigrant Lake, where we victualed and had a bathe in preparation for our evening out with the Bard.

Day 4

An azure blue has replaced the downtrodden grey that marked the worst of yesterday’s weather.

We woke to dry skies – I made tea and Marc quickly set about drying our thoroughly soaked camping chairs.

More java was procured in town (and with a smoothie – Marc’s summer drink of choice) and we joined up with an actor’s Q & A session, where he spoke about his time with the festival and answered our question’s on a myriad of topics.

I wanted to know more about the tricky balance of delivering a show that pleases the audience, but also breathes new life into much love, and much interpreted productions.

(What I really wanted to ask was why, in Henry V, was the French envoy dresses as an extra in a Paula Abdul music video.)

After our walk about town, we returned to the campsite and swan, sunned, and shimmied to our heart’s content.

Day 5

I can pick apart the rotten red rock with my fingertips; if I sat here long enough maybe I could erode it down to the level of the sand.

Looking Northwest, I see that the peninsula is falling back into the sea in such a way that a humped needle eye of this same rock is looking back at me.

As soon as I characterize or anthropomorphize the earth in this way I can’t help thinking how there have always been people here, probably longer than the needle’s eye.

I wonder, how many of them, sitting here facing the endless gray lullabye that kills and feeds, washes and deforms, endures – how many thought simply – “okay” – and didn’t build higher or travel further, or settle deeper.

They just crumbled the rock and imagined a face in the sea.

Day 6

Laughs. Love. Happiness.

Home.