Overheard in Passing

In Which the Gift Shop gets on my Vegas Nerve and We Lose Sandy (Hangover Remake Part 2)

2011-11-28T22:43:00.001-08:00

As is typical in Las Vegas, you can often find exactly what you need by only walking a few steps forward or backwards. Stores and restaurants abound in any direction and they all seem to carry everything. On our last night, we found ourselves wandering the hotel looking for nothing in particular and finding all sorts of weird thing instead. Like Easy Cheese! Seriously the gift shop at the Bellagio carries Easy Cheese! Why! I’m not actually sure what you do with it. I guess it can be spread on your wonder bread or smeared on your Doritos or whatever. You could probably do a nice acid peel on your face with it too. Or patch the rust spots on your vehicle with it. It buffs up nicely I bet.

And someone should tell Dean and Deluca that spicy and chocolate are pretty good together, and mint and chocolate are awesome, but that the three together are gross. What next? Olive and Caramel wafers? Wasabi Banana truffles?

And guess what I don’t want to eat your little chub no thank you very much no I don’t!

And for your next wine tasting party, here is an assortment of cookies to go along with the wine. Cuz when you have a really nice glass of wine, naturally, you want a cookie to go with it. Probably the peanut butter chocolate cookie. And maybe some Easy Cheese too. Yeah, that’s it, I’ll have a Wine and Easy Cheese party with some cookies on the side.

But perhaps you want more than just wine and easy cheese. Maybe you need a balanced meal featuring a turkey snack stick, some BBQ chips, fruit gummies, trail mix and some more cookies. Yep that’s right.

And how about some gum for dessert. Apple Pie Gum. Why not squirt some Easy Cheese into your mouth at the same time! They like cheese with their apple pie in the states. Probably not this though. yuck.

I don’t know if any of you watch Breaking Bad but ever since the scene in the RV where Jesse and Walt are stranded in the desert with no battery, and no food except for a few bags of Funyuns, I’ve been curious. What were Funyuns? What did one do with Funyuns? Were they perhaps a type of treatment to be placed in your shoe to make the experience of having bunions better? You mock me but here in the US of A anything is possible.

While I was shopping, one of the British tourists was wondering out loud what ‘Hello Panda’ might be. I told her it was the lesser known cousin of ‘Hello Kitty’. She didn’t know what that was either. She also looked at me like I had three heads.

Speaking of Hello, say HELLO to these un-smarties courtesy of the black market and foisted upon an unsuspecting buyer for the Bellagio. Actually I made that up. I have no idea how these non-smarties made it on to the shelf but there they were.

Trust me there was a lot more but I will spare you the details and move on to our last morning. Which came all too soon as it meant we had to leave.

We reluctantly packed up and piled in our limo to the airport. Limos are cheap in Las Vegas! Things went smoothly at the airport and we killed some time on the penny slots that can be found in each gate area. We had about 20 minutes until loading and Joanne, Heather and I were sitting at our gate waiting. Sandy remarked that she was going to go ‘walk around’ for awhile. What this actually meant, we learned later, was that she was going to go walk around, come back, sit down somewhere else, and then get on the plane when general boarding was announced and wait for us. In retrospect, it would have been great to know this, as we wouldn’t have then spent several anxious minutes scouring the airport, having her paged, and generally worrying about where she might be and did this mean we didn’t have to leave Las Vegas after all. Finally, the flight attendant told us this was final call and we had to get on the plane as it would leave without us otherwise. It was at this point that Joanne thought to ask if Sandy had actually already gotten on the plane. Lists were consulted and Yes! She had already boarded and we were the final three to get on the plane. We grabbed our stuff and headed down to the plane full of feelings of relief, albeit tainted slightly with a sprinkling of annoyance and some, I will admit here, disappointment that we did not have a reason to stay in Las Vegas. I was the last to board and as I came on to the plane, I looked down the aisle. Poor Sandy – there she was smiling and waving to us and instead of a relieved smile and refrains of “oh thank God she’s safe!” or “I see her it’s Ok!”, she got me mouthing WHAT THE FUCK! to her. Nice. Sorry about that, Sandy! As we moved down the aisle, various passengers were quick to reassure us that our friend was already on the plane. Good to know that everyone was looking out for us! Sandy good-naturedly endured the comments of what seemed like most of the plane as they agreed with my slightly shrill insistence that, no, I had not considered the fact that she was a grown woman and could get on a plane all by herself.

Things got even funnier when we got off the plane in Victoria and one of the flight attendants made a comment as we passed by to ‘keep an eye on our friend’ or something like that. As we moved toward the baggage claim area, Sandy remarked that she felt like everyone on the plane knew about her getting ‘lost’. Not 5 seconds later a fellow passenger from the front of the plane turned around and said “Oh! I see you’ve found your friend!”

At least we didn’t leave her on the hotel rooftop.

After a short grilling from the customs officer on why it was that I had claimed exactly $400 and that next time I should just claim everything, we were back in Victoria.

It’s amazing how quickly we all had to adjust to the grind again. I had a bit of a hard landing and couldn’t quite get used to the idea that I had to make meals and do laundry so if I snapped at you in the two or three days following my return, please accept my apologies here.

I will definitely go back to Vegas again and indulge in some full-on people-watching. And perhaps a bit of shopping. And maybe a show. Oh and some pool time with the girls. And a few rounds at the gun store, maybe brunch with Mike again. Ahhh. Vegas. You are hope at its worst, and unexpected randomness at its very best. Maybe it’s best not to plan too much next time I think. Just take it as it comes.

Thanks for reading-

Cheers,

Jane

In Which we Laze by the Pool, and then I Blow-Off a Zombie’s Head with my Glock

2011-11-22T23:23:00.001-08:00

Monday mornings at home are typically spent running around the house like a mad woman trying to get everyone up and fed and clothed and out the door before I stick forks in my eyes.

Monday mornings in Vegas are spent by the pool, drink in hand, laughing at the waitress as she scurries by clothed in a hoodie and heavy jacket, looking for a fork so I can eat my fresh fruit and granola and yogourt. I think this is a much better approach to Mondays. Everyone is generally happier by the pool, except for the waitress who claimed she was ‘freezing’. It was probably 20degrees out by 10am which is definitely sunbathing weather if you are from the frozen North, like we Canadians.

The pool was lovely, if overrun with tourists from the UK (several 747s worth had arrived the day before, it seemed, including these two, who really cracked me up with their crosswords and copies of Wuthering Heights.

The hotel has cabanas poolside that you can rent out for the day for a small fortune. Or, if you are us, you can just occupy one and ask for forgiveness, not permission. This is what we did and enjoyed a couple of lovely hours in the sun before heading out for some shopping.

View from the cabana.

It was tough to get up and go shopping but someone had to do it and so it may as well be us.

The hotel had given us $200 worth of gift certificates to be spent at a certain shopping mall just down the strip. Wow! we thought, How generous! we gushed. However, when we got to said mall, we found it was the highest of high end and consisted entirely of stores like Tiffany's, Fendi, Versace etc. Turns out we couldn’t even blow our noses in these stores without having to go into a back room to have your arm or leg or, if it was really fancy, both, removed before being allowed to purchase anything. Hell, we couldn’t even buy a keychain for $200 bucks and I kid you not. After about 45 minutes of wandering in and out past be-suited salespersons who looked like they would really prefer it if I would just take my flip-flopped feet and slap on out of there before I made them look any worse in front of the Asian and European tourists who were blowing their noses on $100 bills before dropping several thou on a matching tam and kilt-blanket set or whatever it was, I tried to put on my best ‘secretly I have lots of money face’ and casually meandered past the $8000 dresses, holding them out in front of me for just a little too long as if to say “really, I’m considering whether or not I could stand this shoddy piece of work or if I’m used to much better than this…”. The salesman was a piece of work too.

Salesman (looking like he really hoped I would find the back door and quickly): “Can I put that in a dressing suite for you?”

Me (holding on to a garment with a curious type of dyed wool stuck randomly all over it): “I’m not really sure what it is'…”

Salesman: “It’s a new piece featuring batwing sleeves with an empire waist, peplum detailing, and a system of hidden darts. The fabric is detailed with alpaca tail and sheep’s wool puffs. I think you’ll find it to be extremely comfortable the fabric really drapes you know.” (At least it was something like that. I lost interest at ‘Batwing sleeves’)

Me: “so it’s a pair of pyjamas”

Salesman: “Yes it is”

Me: “No thanks”

Salesman (with an audible sigh): “Let me know if I can be of assistance in any other way”

I think what he really meant was could you please fuck off now.

And so I did.

It was much better outside and we set off back to the hotel. On the way we encountered this lovely musician who was a breath of fresh air after the Mall from Hell. He made my day:

One of the things I had most wanted to do in Vegas was shoot a gun. I never have, and really what better place is there than in the good old US of A where everyone is god-fearing and gun-toting or god toting and gun-fearing or gone-fearing and gut-toting or whatever it is. There is a place on the strip where unsuspecting tourists go to shoot a machine gun but I had heard that they hold the gun for you and charge you your first-born and it’s all over in 30 seconds. So we didn't go there but instead took the recommendation of our friend Mark who told us to visit Discount Firearms. ‘It’s a little off the strip” he said, “but it’s worth it”.

So we hopped in a cab and, after some convincing of the driver, got him to take us there. I admit to becoming a little concerned when he actually said “it’s on the other side of the tracks”, and when we turned sharply away from the strip and headed off into an industrial wasteland replete with ‘Gentleman’s Clubs’ I did feel a bit wary.

When we finally pulled into a dark parking lot with a warehouse-like building and a dude sitting on the front steps drinking a beer, I think I said something like “I’m gonna kill him” (Mark. not the dude on the steps).

But there was light inside and I ran up and opened the door to find a whole slew of friendly looking types and a respectable looking gun store and so we stayed.

There ensued much laughing and excitedness, and choosing of weapons, and a bit of hesitation, and lots of listening to our dear ‘guide’ John without whom we would never have been able to do any of it. Finally, we all had our weapons of choice: Heather had a Beretta .22, Sandy a Smith and Wesson revolver .22, Joanne an Walther .22 and I had my Glock 9mil. We picked our targets, (mine was a zombie!) put on our ear and eye protection, and went in to the shooting range.

The fabulous John who at one point, rested his head against the wall and said “I’m just trying to keep everyone safe”.

This guy doubles as an Elvis impersonator and sang me a few bars of Love me Tender. Awesome!

My target.

Joanne with her shirt on backwards to avoid burning shrapnel down the cleavage…

Sandy taking aim.

Heather and her Beretta

Me and my Glock, Baby. I’m happy to report that I finished off my box of bullets and that that Zombie won’t be bothering anyone again. I am now ready for a real zombie apocalypse.

We were all on a high when we came out an hour and a half later into the cool night air. We were starving and went for some dinner, before spending the rest of our last evening roaming the hotel and casino. It was a it hard to face the fact that this was our last day and so we dragged it out as long as possible before finally returning to our rooms and reluctantly packing up for our morning departure.

But not before spending some time in the hotel gift shops which was way more entertaining than I had anticipated. Stay tuned!

Thanks for reading

Cheers,

Jane

In Which I Meet Mike Tyson and see Drew Carey, and go Clubbing: Hangover Remake Part 1

2011-11-21T22:07:00.001-08:00

I’d always heard about the Vegas Buffet but had never actually been in one before until this trip. I had planned for us to visit the Sunday morning breakfast buffet where one can eat all one wants, plus, for an additional $5, as much champagne as possible as well. I assumed that one could also eat as many pancakes, or have as much bacon, or fruit, or toast as one wanted as well at the buffet. Well, I was right about that. It’s just that I hadn’t considered the fact that I could also enjoy an entire turkey dinner (or 3) or a complete roast beef dinner (or 4 or 5) as well as choose from a wide range of Chinese food, Japanese food, salads, soup, dessert, pizza, whatever I wanted (but not necessarily what I needed). The breakfast pizza was perhaps the most disconcerting. Why would you want breakfast pizza? It seems to me that the only time pizza is good for breakfast is when you ordered it for dinner the night before and it’s been sitting in the box overnight. ‘Assorted Breakfast Pizzas’ just grossed me out.

This one had scrambled eggs and spinach on it. Another one had bacon and I swear to god what looked like bits of pancake torn up and stuck on it. Yuck. It did however, go with the general feel of the place which I can only describe as a combination of Denny’s and that place your parents used to take you to for brunch when you were a kid where they brought you free Shirley Temples and you ate too much bread. It’s a 5 star hotel that feeds several thousand people every day. Go figure.

And, there’s no spoons on the tables either….

However, despite its shortcomings, we still enjoyed a lengthy meal and chat in the restaurant and had been there for nearly 2 hours when I decided to grab some dessert. I made my way through the throngs and had to pass by the bar where a knot of people were standing in my way. I shouldered through them and as I did so, noticed a women having her photo taken with a dude in a wool hat. “I’m having breakfast with Mike” she twanged in my ear. I turned again and observed that she was, indeed, having her photo taken with Mike Tyson. The next few minutes consisted of the following thoughts and actions:

Holy shit it IS Mike Tyson!
Must not be a spaz
Wow he’s really short
Plan to slowly approach dessert table and calmly select dessert
Holy shit why is it taking me soo long to get back to our table
Charge the dessert table and grab random dessert
Sprint back to table while trying not to
Wonder what he had on his face
Alert entire restaurant to presence of Mike Tyson by banging hands on the table and whisper-yelling “Celebrity Alert!! MIKE TYSON AT THE BAR”
Scramble around wildly at the table looking for paper and pen while my boxer friend Sandy does same.
Spazz our way back to the bar where Mike’s handler is fielding off start struck tourists.
Try to get into position to take picture of Sandy with Mike when Handler intervenes and tells me to “GET IN THE PICTURE TOO”
Hand camera to Handler while following conversation occurs:

Sandy, to Mike Tyson: ‘I’m a boxer’

Me, to Mike Tyson, about my friend Sandy: ‘She’s a Boxer!”

Mike Tyson, to me (with a smile): “I heard dat”

Sandy, to Mike Tyson: ‘But I’m not as good as you’

Mike Tyson: ‘I’m not that good anymore’

You can’t see it in this picture but I’m actually trying to get my hand up between me and Mike to cover my ear…

At this point, the handler moves us on and we calmly and quietly walk back to the table. Not.

The next little while is a black out as I don’t remember much except that we kept freaking out that we had just had our picture with Mike Tyson, looking at the picture, being horrified with myself for looking so star struck, and then wondering who else I can tell that I had just met Mike Tyson. Man if you haven’t seen The Hangover yet, I recommend it as it takes place in Las Vegas and Mike Tyson is in it. It just makes the whole story funnier.

We even accosted a nice man on the pool deck after he took our picture and made him look at the picture of us and Mike. ‘Well, I’ll be darned” he drawled. “You damn well did get your pickchure tak’n with Mike!”

Here we are in our post-Mike euphoria. You will notice we are all wearing celebratory white. No, we were not part of a bridal party, it just seemed like a fun thing to all wear white to Brunch. It was made even more fun by the revelation that Sandy and Joanne both thought that my suggestion to wear white meant that EVERYONE in the buffet would be wearing white, not just us. The story then gets even funnier still when you throw in the Mike factor as that meant that he too would have been wearing white. Then we really would have looked like a bridal party. And that is where it starts to get weird if you think about it too much so lets just leave it there. Alright.

We spent the rest of the day by the pool until it was time to get ready to go for dinner at the MGM Grand before the Drew Carey show. Joanne had made us reservations at Emeril's and we had heard great things about it. We were not disappointed, although it is a bit odd to be able to buy an $10000 bottle of champagne in a place that has a Starbucks beside it and a McDonalds just down the hall. But this is Vegas, Baby! Expect the banal right beside the outrageous and you’ll be fine.

After dinner we navigated the casino labyrinth to the theatre. I had only vaguely heard of Drew Carey but everyone else seemed excited. I was not disappointed. The show was 100% improv and the team he had assembled was absolutely brilliant. They picked on audience members for ideas, then turned those ideas in to games, skits and songs. We laughed and cried from laughing so hard, and then laughed some more. It was a great choice of show, and especially nice to see something so unscripted, and so un-Cirque. I’m pretty sure that Cirque du Soleil is actually taking over LAs Vegas and that there are a bunch of people in a theatre in Dubai or somewhere, all watching a version of the Truman Show in which unsuspecting tourists such as myself are manipulated into entertaining sequences of events in Las Vegas. Like meeting Mike Tyson in the Buffet. Hmmm…

Anyway. I digress.

We left in high spirits and headed back to the Bellagio where we had more tickets to The Bank, a club located in the casino.

Let me just say right here that I have not been to a club in a loooong while. I can't actually remember the last time, although I know it has to have been later than the times when I was 17 and 6’5” Erik Kidd stuck me under his arm and told the bouncer at Luv Affair “she’s with me and we are coming in now”. At least, that’s the last club I remember with any clarity. Having children has deleted any memories since then I guess…

Apparently, however, we did not need Erik Kidd as I am now over 40 and, as such, was placed in the appropriate line at the entrance to the club. I was slightly disconcerted by this but then noticed that everyone was being placed in a line according to demographics so I just went with it.

We also noticed this sign:

Like as in The Industry. Like as in The Entertainment Industry. Yes this meant escorts and dancers and waitresses etc. This was their night! Great! Not only was in the over 40 line, I was going to share the club with a bunch of booty-shaking 20yr olds clad in a couple of ribbons and some saran wrap, by the looks of it.

I briefly considered bolting out the door and back to the room where I would have a cup of tea and do a crossword or maybe some knitting, but it was too late as we were being ushered up the escalator (why walk, this is the USA) and then blam! we were in the thick of it.

The techno was blasting, the place was thick with cleavage, bottles of Grey Goose were everywhere, and the go-go dancers were givin’er up on their platforms.

I couldn't stop watching this one. She was amazing.

But the strange thing was that I was just about the only one who was watching her. There she was, in all her glory, and not much else, dancing up a storm and NOONE was even looking her way! And then I started looking around and noticed that, actually, no one was looking at ANYONE else at all. The entire club was somehow managing to both search intensely through the sea of faces, and completely ignore each other. It was remarkable. In the whole place, I could see only toe or three actual connections where two people were engaging each other. Everyone else had perfected the art of looking right through or past everyone else. Talk about not being able to find what you are looking for. I found it disheartening and alarming and after a while, couldn’t wait to get out.

I will miss the dancer though. She was awesome.

We lost some more money on the way back to our rooms, but it’s worth it for the laughs and occasional shriek of delight.

Another awesome day with the girls in Vegas. Oh and did I mention I met Mike Tyson?

Thanks for reading. Stay tuned for my next story in which I blow away a zombie with my Glock 9mil. Yeah BABY!

Cheers,

Jane

In Which We Haven’t the Vegas Idea What to do Next.

2011-11-20T21:51:00.001-08:00

Our first full day in Vegas was typical in that we all wanted to do everything and couldn’t really decide what when or where. This wasn’t actually a bad thing and it all worked out in the end.

You may or may not know or care, but while we were there, a major fight, or ‘the fights’ (which is how you say it if you are in the know, like we were, having a boxer in our midst) was happening on the Saturday night between Pacquiao and Marquez just down the road at the MGM Grand. Sandy was keen to go if the price was right (which is wasn’t) but the rest of us were in a wandering frame of mind and spent most of the day cruising the hotel or the strip. We ventured into the casinos, stared at the slot machines until we figured them out (put in your money, press a button, lose all your money, lather, rinse, repeat), ate, walked, shopped, ate, lost more money, and stared at all the crazy people. I swear I could spend days just watching the endless stream of crazy characters that populate this place.

The last time we were all here, you put quarters in them and pulled a handle…

Benefits to travelling with an Opera Star

Because Vegas isn’t weird enough, there is a talking tree in the hotel lobby. Really it’s only the first 20 seconds that are worth watching but I’m no good with the video editing…

We ran into a teacher from our kids’ school (who shall remain nameless. The teacher. Not the school). It was her last day and this was her breakfast. Nutella and Bacon! I love it! This is possible only in Vegas and maybe France, which is ironic as we were having breakfast at the Paris hotel across the street from the Bellagio. This hotel has a half-size model of the Eiffel Tower right in the middle of the hotel. Who does that!

Another couple of Elvises shaking their Pelvises. And I just noticed Barney in the background…

A random Batman. In Las Vegas, if you have nothing else to do, you put on a cartoon or superhero costume and wait for some sucker to come along and pay for the opportunity to have their picture taken with you.

We ended another great day in Vegas by watching the fountains do their fountainy watery thing. Quite lovely although I still think there should also be dolphins.

These guys also had a good day, it looks like. Note the bottle of Malibu…

And this picture, my friends, pretty much sums up Las Vegas. WTF will I see next. (Hint: Mike Tyson).

Thanks for reading!

Cheers,

Jane

In Which we Arrive in Vegas, and I refuse the Oath

2011-11-19T12:02:00.001-08:00

Back in October, a group of us girls were sitting around a fountain taking a break outside from a cocktail lounge party when one of us, fuelled by wine and, possibly, joy, announced that we should “all go to Vegas”. A chorus of ‘Yeah Baby’ and ‘Woohoo’s ensued, a bazillion emails, much inviting of other people, and finally, the handing over of the credit card, and we were on our way.

And so it was that we found ourselves at the Airport in Las Vegas, on the auspicious date of 11-11-11, standing under the banner, right hand raised, agreeing that what goes in Vegas, stays in Vegas.

Well most of us anyway. Those of you who know me will notice that I am not in this picture. That’s right. So for me, what goes in Vegas, goes on the blog.

Sorry girls.

Anyway. We did have transfers with our package but we were all quite sure that they would definitely not stop the bus at a liquor store so we opted for a limo instead. Needless to say we finished the entire bottle in the 15minutes between the airport and the hotel.

I tried to get Heather to stick her head out the window and yell something like “VEGAS BABY VEGAAAAAAS”.

She opted for the queen wave instead.

We were staying at the Bellagio, which meant nothing to me until I arrived and was instantly blown away by the outrageousness of it all. I’ll get to the talking tree later but for now we were hoping for an upgrade to our room situation which was a triple and a single. Brandy tried her best to sort us out and I was amused to note that while we were in line, every single person around us in the other lines was also asking for an upgrade. If you visit the website frontdesktip.com they will advise you to include a sandwich with your credit card. By this, they mean you must bribe the front desk staff with a $20 or $50 or whatever between your credit card and ID. This will ensure an upgrade to a beautiful suite complete with resident pool boy and a video of someone back home doing all the laundry, cleaning your house top to bottom, and preparing a week’s worth of healthy meals for your family so you don’t have to think about it upon your return.

I will just say here that it is not advisable to discuss the sandwich plan with the hotel in advance. And don’t drop any smart comments about paninis or subs. I’m pretty sure that frontdesktips.com is actually run by the staff at the Bellagio who use it as comedic relief to dull the monotony of having to deal with everyone and their dog asking for an upgrade all the time. I can just see it now:

Brenda, reception manager at the Bellagio: Hey can someone update the website today and change it from ‘sandwich’ to ‘donut’. That was soo funny last time when people were trying to give us $20 bucks and a honey crueller.

Randy, website manager at the Bellagio: OK or maybe we should tell them to stuff it in a Ding Dong. Remember that one old guy last time we did that who stuck $20 bucks inside a bell and just sat there ringing it and winking? Yeah lets do that!

Brenda: OK sure. Hey come check out the webcam. There’s 2 chicks who look like they have a panini or something. They’re trying to give it to Brandy. Man look at that stash of sandwiches Brandy’s got under the desk. God I love this job.

So we didn’t get the suite with the video and pool boy, but we did get two lovely adjoining rooms which we then referred to as our 2bedroom, 2bathroom suite. We just kept the doors open between the two rooms, and it was all good.

And the view was good too.

But the real bonus of the day was the knock on the door shortly after we got to our rooms. We all looked worriedly at each other as if it might be Brandy come to tell us we had to move to the basement, but to our delight it was a lovely lady with a lovely cart with a lovely bottle of bubbly from our lovely friend Lisa who was sad that she couldn’t be with us. And San Pellegrino for me too! Such a great thing to do. Love you, Lisa!

By this time is was getting late and we were in a daze. We wandered back to the lobby looking for who knows what, stumbled into a restaurant, ordered food, and then stared at it, then got lost in the casino looking for the guest elevators, and finally fell into bed.

What we found when looking for who knows what…Seriously people walk around in these. Can you imagine ANYONE in Victoria wearing these shorts? An Ad Hoc organization would be formed, sub committees struck, a special session of council would be called and The Friends of Beacon Hill Park would issue a press release. Hmm…

More tomorrow!

Cheers,

Jane

In which I visit the Saltspring Island Farmer’s Market, encounter the Cheese Twins, and chat with Raffi.

2011-09-29T14:24:00.001-07:00

We really are so blessed to live in such close proximity to the Gulf Islands. Why I don’t visit these beauties more often, or indeed why I don’t live there, is sometimes beyond me. It seems like Island life would somehow be smaller and more manageable, more relaxing, less frenetic than city life, with time for an extra cup of tea in the morning. And idyllic, too. This felt especially true as we drove off the ferry at Fulford Harbour last weekend. It was a perfect September day all golden with trees full of ripe apples and a slight nip in the air. As we drove the Fulford-Ganges road I found myself paying close attention to the For Sale signs out front of the old farmhouses and country properties in this beautiful valley. I’m not exactly sure what I was thinking though. It’s not like I’m really the farming type, with my city sensibilities. But for a few brief moments I pictured myself out collecting eggs or wearing dungarees and riding a tractor, or helping the local vet with a difficult delivery. Fortunately, my All Creatures Great and Small moment passed and I was back to enjoying the moment.

We pulled into Ganges, along with everyone else in the world, it seemed, and spent the better part of 15 minutes trying to find somewhere to park. I must admit the shear number of vehicles in Ganges did briefly interfere with my preconceived notions of bucolic bliss, but this, too, passed as I happily reminded myself that we were on island time now and it didn’t really matter anyway.

It didn’t matter to this person either, who couldn’t think straight anyway.

The Saltspring Farmer’s Market is one of the great all-time markets, possibly in the world. And those of you who know me will remember that I do love my markets. I am happy to say that this visit did not disappoint and in fact only served to further deepen my respect for this awesome island and the people who live on it. Ok that’s enough of that.

First up was a delicious little rice ball ensemble filled with roast Burdock Root. It came with strict instructions on how to open it, which Kent ignored and for which he received an admonishing, and a demonstration.

Just beside the Rice Balls was this awesome bowl of felted fruit and veggies, and these super cute owls. See, this is what you have time for when you live on a Gulf Island. When was the last time you felted a piece of fruit? I thought so.

The great thing about Markets is that usually you just have to think of something you desperately need, and there it is! Case in point, these baby watermelons. I was just thinking to myself that a baby watermelon would really hit the spot when Hey Presto! there was a basket of them! When, I ask you, does this sort of thing happen? Never. At least is doesn’t for me when I have a sudden urgent need for, say, $62000.00, or a night out with Daniel Craig. But I digress.

Anyway I’m sorry they aren’t baby watermelons after all, but no less than the fabled Mexican Sour Gherkin. I kid you not. Let’s just say I don’t think Jolly Rancher will feature Mexican Sour Gherkin as a new flavour any time soon.

By this time I was working up a thirst and happily downed some of this delicious fresh-pressed apple juice from Laughing Apple Farm.

Saltspring is Apple Heaven. There are many folks here who devote their entire lives to growing apples and I was sorry to have been a week early for the Saltspring Island Apple Festival, although this Apple Pie Fudge helped me get over my disappointment.

The produce stalls were at their prime and could barely hold the bounty. I sampled delicious little orange cherry tomatoes, fresh cantaloupe and juicy yellow watermelon and my bag was soon full off tiny little purple runner beans, ground cherries that grow in their own little papery bag, and sweet red strawberries picked that morning.

Nice!

While the produce and goods on offer are usually the main reason for a visit to the market, often the farmers and vendors behind the stall are just as enticing. They run the gamut from opinionated to passionate about their product, bored or grumpy, funny, chatty, engaging, or sometimes, as in the case of the Saltspring Island Cheese Co, all of the above! With one of the more popular (if not the most popular) stalls at the market, I guess the two twin brothers who work the counter can afford to be any way they want. My first impression of them was that they looked remarkably similar to the chefs in Maurice Sendak’s In the Night Kitchen and I kept expecting them to start demanding things. However, this was clearly not going to happen as they were much too busy slicing samples, chopping off chunks for demanding customers, and explaining the various cheeses on offer. The fact that they both had quite strong lisps and spoke in a quiet singsong voice only added to the fascination. I loved them!

The Cheese Twins…

The samples. They went fast and they had to replace several of them while I was waiting my turn. I appreciate this about these guys. They weren’t cheap with their samples and there were two types of crackers as well. These things are important.

We tried the one on the left – Montana, I believe, and it was delish. It’s a sheep’s milk cheese – mild and hard but sweet. So good.

These Romelias, a surface ripened soft goat cheese, were flying off the shelves. I am partial to the Juliette, similar to Camembert, and also the Blue Juliette. I would post a picture but the combination of delicious cheese and crusty bread on a sunny September day has precluded the possibility of there being anything of which to take a picture…

Never one to neglect dessert, I finished buying up the cheese counter and moved on to the sweets. I meant to buy one of these brownies,

but got distracted by these instead

We went a bit crazy at this stall, home to many yummy French pastries baked by a bona fide Frenchman. Pear and Almond tart (if i must) and Raspberry Vanilla Somethings (oh alright) went down just fine.

By now our friends Mel and Pepi and Silas along with Mel’s parents were arriving at the harbour to take part in the Working Boats Rendezvous. This required us to spend time on their beautiful converted fishing boat lolling around in the harbour, drinking tea and lying in the hammock, while boats came and went, stories were told, and beers drunk. It’s tough life for these boaters. I feel for them. :) Actually, it is a tough life and the number of days of bliss seems usually to be greatly outnumbered by the days spent sweating over a whining engine, or mopping up hydraulic fluid, or writing out yet another cheque. That’s why these rendezvous are so great. Boaters really help each other out and the camaraderie is in the air. I think it makes it all worthwhile. Mel and Pepi may feel differently but that’s how it seems to those of us on the ground.

You can just see Silas to the right. He offered to ‘push’ me on the hammock and climbed up, got into position, and then said ‘oh you’re heavy’ and got down again. Hilarious.

We al headed back to the market where I encountered Raffi, well known children’s singer, sitting at a table promoting his latest gift to children everywhere, a non-profit society that he has set up devoted to honouring children and childhood around the world. I’ve always loved Raffi even when I had heard Baby Beluga or I Think I must Be Growing (Hey! I can reach the tap now!) so many times I wanted to stick forks in my ears, and this just proved that the guy really is amazing. Like I said, people on Islands have time for the stuff that matters in life.

We wandered the market a bit longer, then headed into the village to check out the shops where there were many great finds, and many not so great finds that would probably be Ok if they didn’t have a bird on them. As Pepi pointed out, it’s hip to “Put a Bird on it”. There is even a skit on Portlandia dedicated to this fact that I have yet to watch, but which sounds hilarious.

Case in point.

One of my first visits to Saltspring Market was about 20 years ago (when I was 5, that’s right). One of the things I remember was this dude with a didgeridoo, and some sort of spinning tube with holes drilled through it. The guy would wander the crowd asking if anyone wanted a psychedelic experience without the drugs. Unsuspecting types such as myself would say yes whereupon the dude would wind up the spinning tube, hold it before your eyes, and have you look toward the sun with your eyes closed while this kaleidoscope-like tube would spin, allowing the sunlight to assail your eyelids in a crazy pattern. All the while, he would play his didgeridoo in your ears. The effect was interesting, if not psychedelic, although that is three minutes I’ll never get back and could well have been spent on, say, world peace, or learning how to silkscreen birds.

Anyway, imagine my surprise when I saw the same dude, with the same didgeridoo, and the same little spinny tube, still hitting people up 20 years later. My point that people here have more time is again substantiated!

Looks like he has finally discovered a way to control Zombies.

Before dinner we decided to take a drive round the island which was uneventful in itself other than finding a nice little bit of yarn-bombing on a sign at the side of the road. So thoughtful.

We took the last ferry home laden down with cheese and bread, pies and produce. I could happily have stayed for longer.

If I find some time, I’m going to figure out how I can spend more time on Saltspring Island. Perhaps the Cheese Twins need an assistant…

Thanks for reading-

Cheers,

Jane

In Which we all Dine Al Fresco and Wear White, and it was Amazing

2011-08-01T21:12:00.001-07:00

I may have mentioned before that I live on an amazing street. Clare St, located in that undefined neighbourhood between Rockland, Oak Bay, Jubilee and Gonzales, is a gem. We moved here when Zoe was just 1 year old,and Jacob was starting grade 1. She’ll be 10 next month and Jacob starts grade 10 in September; we wouldn’t dream of moving off this fabulous little street for all the world.

There are many things that make the street great – it’s short, the houses range from cute to grand, there are dogs and cats, flowers and blackberries, leafy yards and old cars. There’s always something going on. Babies learn to walk on Clare St, toddling up and down past roses and scooters. Kids play on their bikes or build imaginary worlds out of cardboard boxes. Teenagers hang out on the tire swing or shoot hoops while the adults solve the problems of the world, discuss home-made bread, or debate the best way to stain new shingles. We are truly blessed with some of the finest folk you’ll ever have the chance to meet. It’s a mystery to me how they all ended up on my street, but I’ll take it.

One of my favourite things about Clare St is our collective propensity for gatherings; whether impromptu or organized, haphazard or orderly, we really love to hang out together. Every June we all pile into a series of connected backyards for a potluck dinner and sooner or later the discussion turns to the organization of the September Fall Fair/block party with its pie contest and ‘best carrot’ competitions, games and BBQ. Early December sees us all out caroling with our lanterns, flasks in hands, followed by hot chocolate and a viewing of The Grinch for the kids. New Years Eve and we’re setting up the chiminea again and pulling out the deck chairs at Cafe Clare, as we like to call it, in Janet and Kent’s driveway, while the kids tear up and down the street on bikes and everyone sings Auld Lang Syne whether we know the words or not (more often, not)

It does help having a street full of City Planners (we have four on our one little street) as they regularly come across fascinating events and projects that have occurred in other cities across our country and around the world, which they then want to try out on our street. While many people contribute ideas, many of them come from our wonderful neighbour, Angela. The funky little communal book box that sits jauntily on the street was her idea as are the regular ‘office parties’ for all the self-employed Clare St folks who miss out on seasonal office parties. I think we might be the only street around that does that!

Her latest project for our street, the Al Fresco ‘White Dinner’ is another keeper. This idea started in Paris some time ago and it has since become an annual tradition to hold a White Dinner outside somewhere in the city. Not to be outdone by Paris, we recently held our own White Dinner here on Clare St. We set up tables, brought out our white tablecloths and silverware, picked bouquets of flowers, dressed in white, and brought our dinners outside onto the street.

It was a magical night.

The kids got right into it

The band was great – we were all up and dancing as the night progressed.

One of the ‘off-Clare’ invitees took this awesome picture of Zoe with her parapluie looking like she would fit right in in Paris. And while it did rain (more of a sprinkle, really) everyone quickly mobilized an assortment of tents and umbrellas and we carried on as if it rains all the time on our white dinners…

There is something very special about a community gathering like this one. It brings people together in a way that is seldom found anywhere else. As far as organizing, everyone take a little piece and runs with it and it all comes together wonderfully. There are no subcommittees to discuss whether or not stakeholders’ interests are being considered. No soul-sucking meetings where everyone has opposing agendas. No bickering email streams discussing whether or not it’s a good idea (duh) or whether it shouldn’t be the ‘grey dinner’ just to ensure that people who don’t like white don’t feel left out…

But I digress. My point is that none of that happened, and none of that ever happens on Clare St, and instead we all left the street at the end of the night feeling the love.

And so to you, Angela, I send all my love and thanks for the amazing things you do for our street. We look forward to carrying on this new Clare St. tradition for many years to come.

And we are definitely looking forward to your next brilliant idea.

Thanks for reading-

Cheers,

Jane

In Which we Spend our Last Day in Stockholm

2011-07-07T21:27:00.001-07:00

I often find that I waste the last day of a trip wishing that I didn’t have to go home, or worrying about what time I need to get up in the morning, or how I will be able to fit everything in my suitcase.

This time, I did worry about getting up early (4am yuck), and I did manage to fit everything in my suitcase (the packing fairy didn’t come), but I was ready to head for home. We all missed Kent and wanted to sleep in our own beds in a city that didn’t have 62 sets of bells within 8 square blocks. Have I mentioned the bells? But before we came home, we had some shopping to do.

We stepped outside the door to our place to a swarm of huge bumblebees buzzing around. There was a tiny hole down by the ground and these bees had, apparently, taken up residence here over night. They were enormous, and kind of cute in a large fuzzy insect kind of way. Jacob said he wanted one as a pet.

You can see it one of them here, albeit a bit blurred. But you get the idea. It seems that the theme of this trip has been Bells and Bees. What is with that? I guess it’s better than, say, tornadoes and Mosquitoes. Or Gunshots and Cocaine. Or Dead Kittens and Spam.

Anyway, we stared at the Mega Bees for awhile, then headed out into the fray.

Sweden is really crazy about their royal family. Perhaps almost as crazy as the Brits are about theirs. Last summer the Crown Princess got married to her personal trainer who looks a bit, as Jacob observed, like Gollum from Lord of the Rings before he turned into Gollum. Anyway, their wedding was a huge deal and you can still buy any number of trinkety items with their faces emblazoned on them.

We wandered through the Royal Palace and came out one of the entrances where the Royal Guards are posted. The two in the picture were having a very formal conversation, standing straight, eyes forward the entire time. It was of course in Swedish so we could only guess what they were saying:

Lieutenant: Larssen, will you have a pickled herring sandwich for your lunch?

Larssen: Yes sir. With tomatoes please sir!

Lieutenant: Multigrain, white or pumpernickel?

Larssen: Ummmm Sir!

Lieutenant: Come on, Larssen, I don’t have all day!

Larssen: What was the second choice sir!

Lieutenant: White!

Larssen: Is there oat bread, Sir!

Lieutenant: I think so.

Larssen: I’ll have it on oat bread with Jarlsberg slices Sir!

Lieutenant: Very good. I’ll have that ready for you in 5 minutes when Magnusson comes to relieve you

Larssen: Don’t forget the pickles Sir!

Or perhaps:

Lieutenant: Larssen, have you seen my hand cream?

Larssen: The rose or the white lily Sir!

Lieutenant: actually it was the Mandarin and tuberose

Larssen: Ummmm Sir!

Lieutenant: Come on, Larssen, I don’t have all day!

Larssen: Magnusson had it last I saw it. He was taking it into the bathroom with him Sir!

Lieutenant: How inconvenient. What am I to do now?

Larssen: You could borrow mine, Sir!

Lieutenant: What fragrance is it, Larssen? Is it that Freesia and vanilla because I’ve tried that and it wasn’t to my liking…

Larssen: No it’s banana coconut Sir!

Lieutenant: That should be Fine. I’ll return it to you later today

Larssen: Don’t forget the pickles Sir!

Lieutenant: What was that last comment, Larssen?

Larssen: Nothing Sir! Have a nice day Sir!

We moved on and hit a few stores running until we came to the Swedish department store, NK. It was a cross between Ikea and Harrods, except better. We spent forever in there wandering the paper shop, or trying on clothes, or sampling the wares in the food hall.

I loved the fabric store, even though I have never sewed a single thing in my life except for the world’s ugliest pantsuit in Grade 8 home ec class which has hopefully since been burned or torn up into rags.

There was an entire wall of buttons in little tubes like these but I couldn’t get to the other colours as a gay couple was trying to match a missing button from a shirt and weren’t moving out the way.

The bolts of fabrics were very appealing. I kept picking them up and holding out yards of them like Mrs Olson from Little House on the Prairie, until the saleswoman came over and asked if I needed anything.

And how about this stool? Is that not the cutest thing ever? Jacob says he is going to make one for me…

Next up was the toy department which featured rows and rows of smurfs, fabulous fabric toy houses that nested inside each other and were actually storage boxes, a high chair that looked like it was trying to get Baby ready for their first visit to the dentist, and of course, trolls. They are big on trolls here.

I won’t bore you with the bazillion other shops we visited. but suffice to say, it was a good day. As we walked home, we passed through the square in the middle of the old town close to our apartment, and happened upon a protest, of sorts, against US involvement in pretty much everything. A Columbian band was playing, and they were pretty good, but the real highlight was the fact that we got to see the Man with the World’s Largest/Bushiest Eyebrows. Amazing! Check those babies out!

We tried to get to bed early as we had to get up at 4am, but here in the land of the midnight sun, when it is light out at 2:15 am and fully light by 3:30am, those pesky Circadian Rhythms get all mucked up. And so I was pretty much up at 3am and stayed up for the next 24hrs. Somehow we manoeuvred our way from the apartment, to the train station dragging our suitcases along the cobbled streets at 4:45am. Fortunately the residents of the Old town are well used to rackets and clatter all night as most of the streets and alleys are too narrow for delivery trucks to make it down them so deliveries are brought in on huge carts that, as far as I could tell, do not enjoy the benefits of big fat tires. We passed a few of these carts, some were heading for restaurants and cafes, the smell of cinnamon buns and cardamom cake filling the morning air. Gonna miss those…

As per our luck for this trip, the Airport train was practically waiting for us and rolled out about a minute after we got on board.

Our first flight to Heathrow was uneventful although I was so tired I could not figure out which coast I was looking at out the window. We were flying south, and I was looking out the right side of the plane and that should have been enough information for me but I was still baffled. Was it Denmark? How far West were we? Germany? Scotland? Perhaps it was Holland? I finally figured it out (it was Scotland) and realized that that section of the North Sea isn’t really that big and when you are up 40000ft, you can see a good deal. I have since learned that the German and Dutch governments have both installed these wind farms in sections of the North Sea. I didn’t take this picture, but it gives you a good idea of the scale of them. It was a bit surreal to see them scattered around out in the middle of the ocean.

We landed at Heathrow and whiled away the two hour wait in the less than charming terminal 3 waiting lounge. This place is huge, and crowded, and full of expensive stores such as a Harrods outlet, Burberry, etc. Places where you can pick up a leather wallet for 1700 pounds if you happen to have left yours at home. These places just irk me. Perhaps they might notice that there is actually nobody in them (except the Harrods outlet which, FYI, actually has many of same items that are in the main London Knightsbridge store except they are cheaper) and they are a waste of space, and that if they would just go away, there would be more room for sitting down, and people we wouldn’t all be taking each other out each time you so much as turn your head to look for an empty seat. It’s the bookstores and candy stores that have all the people in them. Duh. Plus, (no, I’m not done yet) the place is permanently under construction, it seems, and half of it is all boarded up so it seems very incongruous to have all these fancy stores next to construction zones, and surrounded by the dishevelled masses waiting for their next flight. Ah well. I guess it’s better than Gatwick. Don’t get me started on that low-ceilinged pit of despair.

Guess who was at the airport? June and Tony! And also, Carol and Geoff (bit younger than June and Tony), Cliff and Barbara (sportier, Barbara has short, red brown died hair and Cliff has his keys on a lanyard around his neck), Sandy and Derek (more refined, Derek has loafers on, shorts and knee socks, Sandy has a tan, and is talking on her phone) and a few other archetypal English couples. I love them!

ANYWAY. Next was the flight to Toronto. Before we got on, the kids were taking bets on how long a flight it would be to Toronto given that it was close to 9 hours from Vancouver to London, and so it must be waaaaay less than that to Toronto from London. I started to explain the whole flying ‘up and over’ close to the pole thing but they weren’t listening. Zoe figured it would be 5 and Jacob said MAYBE 6. So you can imagine how thrilled they were when the Captain broke the bad news that it would actually be closer to 8 hours. WTF? It actually wasn’t a bad flight although we did have a few more brushes with adult movies, and the woman behind me appeared to be having some sort of issue with her tray table. Up, down, up, down, up, down. I finally turned around and gave her the kind of smile which I have used before when disciplining other peoples children to make it look like I’m really friendly, but am actually explaining that if they don’t stop the offending behaviour, I will stop it for them. This look is typically accompanied by some sort of death grip on the arm, which unfortunately I was unable to administer in this setting.

What I said: “Everything Ok with the tray table?”

What I meant: “Are you going to do that for the rest of the trip because if you are, I’m going to have to hog tie you and put you in one of the bathrooms. OK? Great. Thanks.”

What she said: “It’s fine”

What she meant: “Go back under your rock and leave me alone I’ll obsessively open and close the tray if I damn well want to to!”

She then went to sleep for the rest of the trip thank god.

We landed in Toronto where they have the annoying requirement for those who are connecting to another flight, to collect all your baggage from the carousel, and then recheck it back into the system. It doesn’t matter that it has already been checked all the way through to Victoria, you still must do this or your bags will sit there unclaimed. Tons of people didn’t know this, and no one tells you. It’s only because I’ve done it before that I knew about it. I’m sure many people just go on to their final destination without knowing to do this, only to discover that their luggage is still in Toronto going round on the carousel.

By this time we had been up since last week or something like that and the prospect of another 5 hours across the country was daunting. We somehow struggled through although it felt like we were up there for days. They have those maps on the tvs that show your alleged ‘progress’ on the flight; we seemed to be flying over Bismarck North Dakota for so long that Jacob and I wondered if we had been stuck in the equivalent of one of those lap pools that has a jet of water that you can swim against and stay in one place.

When we finally landed in Victoria, it was sunny and crisp and clear and the air smelled amazing. We were all so happy to see Kent, and everyone was full of stories and yawns, and more stories and more yawning. We were all asleep by 9pm and that night, there were no bells although I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t have noticed them at all. Really.

Thanks for reading. Until next time…

Cheers,

Jane

Stockholm I Think I Love you Part 2: Vikings!

2011-07-04T12:57:00.001-07:00

We needed to get out of the city and escape the heat, so I planned a trip by boat into Lake Malaran to visit the Island of Bjorko. The site of the UNESCO World Heritage Site Birka, this island lies about 1hr and 45 minutes from Stockholm by boat, and was, in the 700s, a trading hub, and centre of Viking life.

Today, there is an excellent little museum, thousands of Viking burial mounds, recreated homes and some beautiful views.

The trip itself was great – this is Swedish Cottage Country and we passed some lovely spots, including this one with the best ever home-made water slide – it looked like someone had taken a bunch of your basic silver playground slides and welded them together.

When we arrived, we went for a look around at the museum. They had lots of neat things found at Birka but the best part was a model of the original town of which, unfortunately, there is nothing remaining as it was built entirely out of wood and has completely disappeared. Guess I’ll just have to take their word for it!

I was especially interested to see that there were zombies at Birka. This may explain why the place suddenly ceased to exist in 975 AD.

We then had a great lunch in the cafe. Of course, we had Swedish Meatballs:

Those are lingonberries.

It was then time for our tour which was given by a qualified archeologist who really knew her stuff.

She started by quashing many of the long standing myths around Vikings, including the one that they wore horned helmets! Can you believe it? WTF? What about all those helmets for sale in the gift shops in Stockholm? Shouldn’t someone tell the tourist trade? Then, to make matters worse, she told us that by no means did they put their dead in those Viking boats, set fire to the boats and send them out to sea! They just cremated them and buried the urns. I was starting to feel a bit ripped off until she cheered us up by telling us that they were still mighty warriors with axes and clubs with spiked balls on the end etc. We felt slightly better.

The remains of a Viking Hill Fort

Viking burial mounds

A Standing Stone. Clearly. Aren’t you glad you have me to point out the obvious?

The views were lovely – this is a shot of the only farm on the island, which has approximately 10 full time residents.

You may have noticed from the pictures that the weather was very different than the day before. It hovered around 20 all day and was very grey and even chilly at times near the water.

We stayed inside on the way back and drank tea, and were soon back in Stockholm.

I was so tired that I swear I did not hear the bells at all. Well maybe once.

Thanks for reading -

Skal!

Jane

In Which we Swelter one Minute, and Freeze the Next, and I Discuss Hotdogs with Europe.

2011-07-04T11:44:00.001-07:00

The weather has been as crazy here as it has been everywhere else, it seems, fluctuating wildly between cloudy and 20 and burning hot and 33. Yesterday was a 33 day. We had plans to visit Skansen, an open air museum on the island of Djurgarden and it turned out to be a pretty good idea as it was probably one of the cooler spots in Stockholm with large leafy trees, and enough of a hill to catch the only breeze around for miles.

Still, it was exceedingly hot. The museum is a great concept – they have either recreated, or brought in the original, buildings from all over Sweden to show how life used to be lived. Sweden used to include most of what is currently Finland and Norway, so there were original Sami settlement huts, Finnish huts, a recreated town with baker, stores, post office, craftspeople etc. There is also a ‘zoo’ with so called Scandinavian wild animals including Reindeer (OK I’ll give them that one) Bison, Elk, Moose, Brown Bears, etc.

It was an informative, well-presented way to spend a few hours.

I took this shot from the top of the hill – in front is a Sami settlement hut from the North, behind it is a Cathedral in Stockholm, and behind that you can see Stockholm’s attempt at becoming a so-called ‘modern city’ – a folly of the 70s where city planners decided all the original buildings in part of the downtown core should be demolished to make way for modern office buildings. These five ‘skyscrapers’ are one of the results. They are spectacularly ugly from a distance and even worse, in my humble opinion, up close.

This was my favourite building – a 14 Century storehouse from Telemark in Norway. It reminded me of one my favourite children’s books, Trouble with Trolls by Jan Brett.

Speaking of trolls, this rarely seen Lesser Ginchy Bumshow was wandering loose in the zoo…

Dude, your underwear…they’re not even boxers.

On our way out, we could see the crazy rollercoaster next door at Grona-Lund theme park. These people are strapped in and spin around as the ‘car’ zips around the outside of the track. Why.

We also stopped for hot dogs.

Me: Hey, Europe: FYI, this is not a hotdog. WTF? You are usually really good in the bakery department, Europe. Think of the amazing breads, cakes, cookies, and pastries that you make. And especially those really long baguettes! So why so short in the hot dog bun department? I don’t get it. Don’t you think it looks weird?

Europe: You are crasy! Ve LOVE our hotdog buns like zat. Zey are ze bun equivalent of ze short skinny jeans and ze europop! Zey are like zose long cigarettes ve like! Zey look like ze…

Me: Yeah Ok, Europe, Whatever. I’m just sayin. You might not want to take those anywhere else in the world. You will be laughed at.

Europe: Ok fine. Don’t vorry ve won’t! And aren’t you leaving soon?

Me: Yes, in two days.

Europe: Vell zen you can go home and eat zose huge big hotdogs as much as u vant!

Me: Hey don’t take it the wrong way. We love you, Europe! It’s just the tiny buns. And the washing machines. Oh and those bells that ring all night. Otherwise you are fabulous! Really! I love you!

Europe: Veally?

Me: Yes really!

Europe: Ok vell actually ve like you too. Sorry about ze buns.

Me: No problem. Catch you next time:)

We also spotted this awesome giraffe crane from the boat on the way back to the Old Town.

By this time, we were all melting it was so hot and humid. We decided to head to the Absolut Ice Bar. It’s not exactly cheap, but it’s original, and it was also minus 5 in there so we couldn’t get inside fast enough. They give you these huge hooded fur-lined coats with mitts attached, kids are allowed, and those of us who don’t drink are served these lovely fruity concoctions, in ice glasses of course. We loved it. After our body temperatures had dropped to a more reasonable level, we were ready to go although it felt like a furnace again when we stepped outside.

The entire place is made of ice that is cut in the winter from a river 200km north of Stockholm. You can see evidence of this in pieces of river weed stuck in the ice.

Glasses made from blocks of ice. Bit chilly on the lips.

The ice counter.

Jacob’s first time in a ‘bar’ and probably the first and last time he will even allow himself to be in a bar with his mother.

My little ice princess.

We walked home to the Old Town and saw this Gold Guy along the way. (I checked to see if it was Eric from True Blood – nope) and Zoe entertained us all by not understanding that he wasn’t real until the last second…

We stopped at the grocery store and I was delighted to see that they have pic-n-mix muesli bars here!

We slept well, despite the bells. That rang all night. Have I mentioned the bells?

Thanks for reading -

Cheers,

Jane

Stockholm – I Think I Love you: Part 1, the Apartment

2011-07-02T15:04:00.001-07:00

When you arrive somewhere late at night after travelling all day, who really cares what the place looks like. As long as there is a bed and I can make a cup of tea, I don’t care where I am. In the morning, however, I get a bit fussier. Waking up in Stockholm on the first morning was a rather drawn out affair owing to the bells which insist on ringing every fifteen minutes (did I mention that already? 62 times?) and the daycare. But once I was up and could take a good look around the apartment, I fell in love with its funky charm.

My bed. The duvet is a huge sheepskin. Big sheep they have here…

Love this spice cabinet with little glass drawers…haven’t seen this at IKEA.

Freezer on the bottom, Fridge in the middle, and Vodka up top!

The view out the kitchen window across the courtyard.

Looking down into the courtyard. I can’t believe I took this picture. Some of you may recall I have a bit of a fear of heights. So even looking out from the 3rd floor I feel like I’m going to toss myself over the edge.I did envision myself bleeding on the flagstones, and I did have to stretch my arm out and take the picture without knowing what I was taking a picture of, but I still did it! I will not, however, let Zoe go anywhere near the windows, even though the sill is a foot thick, without snapping at her to Stay Back! and Be Careful! and Don’t Hurl Yourself out the Window! like she was going to but won’t now that I have told her not to. She just sighs and Jacob tells me to settle down.

The window sill.

How about this for a fireplace! I can’t imagine getting this up the stairs…

Scenes from the kitchen.

This is the washer, which, like all washers over here, takes forever and a day to finish a cycle. What is going on in there? Just fill the thing up with water, swish it around for a while, drain rinse spin and let’s all move on. Civilisations could rise and fall while I’m waiting for my underwear to come out of the wash.

Anyway – this one doesn’t actually have a dryer in it, instead you must hang your clothes on the heated rack above the washer. So today it was 33 degrees in Stockholm, and as I don’t know how to turn this rack off, it is approximately 52 degrees in the bathroom. At least the clothes will dry quickly.

Once we were able to drag ourselves out the door, we went for a walk through the old town.

The daycare on our ‘street'. Such great toys for the kids – so those must have been screams of joy.

It didn’t take long for us to find the ice cream. Love this picture.

Or a fishing store, for that matter. This one was founded in 1862 or something like that. Jacob loved it.

Next was the most wonderfully bizarre store I have ever been in. The owner is obviously a collector, although one is hard pressed to determine exactly what he collects. One whole wall of the store was divided into little shelves, each shelf filled with some random article.

Did you need a couch? Book about Shirley Temple?

Then there was the huge box of eggcups…

And the Abba record…

Jacob preferred Bruce Springsteen.

We then happened upon a lovely little chocolate store (how do these things happen?)

Stanger, you ask? Yes, I answer!

I have not learned one single word of Swedish since I’ve been here and this is because EVERYONE here speaks impeccable English. Seriously they are better than most Canadians. And possibly better than the Welsh. In fact, the only Swedish I do know, I have learned from the Swedish Chef on the muppets and sounds something like “hurnch ty berndy boop de booby do, hurnch shmerndy bunder be do smork smork smork!” This is entirely phonetic, of course. If it was written in Swedish, there would be lots of those letters with lines through them and ‘sm’ and ‘ss’ and everything would end in ‘ham’ or ‘fenker’ or something like that.

Anyway. We spent the rest of the day on the hop-on hop-off bus which would, I am sure, have been much more interesting if we weren’t all falling asleep, and also stuck in a traffic jam in the burning heat. I wanted to hop-off alright. Right off the top deck of the bus and into the closest fountain would have been preferable.

I did, however, spend my time looking for Eric from True Blood but nothing yet. Disappointing, but there are many many people here who look a lot like Eric from True Blood and so that’s Ok too. Yep. Sure is fine.

I don’t even really remember the bells that night. Ok that’s not true. I did hear them once or twice. Or 62 times. But it was a good sleep.

Thanks for reading - more tomorrow.

Cheers,

Jane

Which Took a VERY Long Time

2011-07-01T14:56:00.001-07:00

I had been dreading the day of travel between Hay-on-Wye and Stockholm as it depended upon meeting a series of connections. There is always tons of room for error in these types of situations and so I was imagining various catastrophes like flat tires, train derailments, strikes, this sort of thing.

We left the Nethouse in Hay at 8:30am, drove to Newport, dropped off the rental car, got a ride back to the station, took our time getting to the platform as we thought we would have to wait, had a chat with June in the lift after Tony had dropped her and a friend (Margery) off (they were going to Nottingham, of course) and walked right on to the Paddington train as if we had planned the whole thing.

The train ride was uneventful except for Raj and his friend Rhys who would talk about the lack of demand for computer engineers like themselves who are more trained in C++ than anyone else around, don’t you know. I will observe here that there is a charming similarity between the Indian and Welsh cadence. At times, it was difficult to tell them apart, except that Rhys was a lot louder than Raj and kept punctuating his side of the conversation with a loud bellowing laugh. I wanted to tell him that there was nothing amusing about C++ and in fact, one might go so far as to say that it is the opposite of amusing. But I didn’t.

We had more luck at Paddington and walked off the train and straight onto the Heathrow Express which left about 3 minutes later. 30 minutes and we were at Heathrow.

By this time it was only 1:30pm and our flight didn’t go until 5:30pm. I really hadn’t expected to be so efficient. I had been stressing about strikes, but apparently it was the either the lamest strike ever, or it was somewhere else in the airport. You really wouldn’t have even known there was strike at all. In fact, it all seemed to be running much more smoothly than usual. Weird.

Anyway, our luck continued when we found our Scandinavian Airlines check-in counter, and there was NO LINE. Nothing! I expected the dude to tell us to go away and come back in 3 hours or something but he said we could check in everything right there. So nice to do that without 300 sets of eyes boring into your back willing you to hurry the fuck up as you drop your passport and fumble with your papers or have to repack your suitcase because you brought too much stuff.

We then zipped through Security, which is a feat unheard of at Heathrow. Our only hold up was Zoe who set off the alarms and had to be searched. Never know what a 9yr old girl could be hiding. The woman seemed fixated on the rivets in Zoe’s jeans, passing her tri-corder, or whatever it is, over and over them. Finally I had to say that I was pretty sure the metal rivets were setting off the alarms and could we all move on. Duh.

We had nothing to do now except wait for 3 hours in the crammed ‘airline lounge’. We wandered and shopped and napped and then it was time to board our flight to Oslo where we were connecting to Stockholm.

The flight was uneventful and soon we were approaching Oslo airport. The landscape out the window was stunning – rolling green hills, forests, little red farmhouses, blue lakes, pink hearts, orange stars, yellow moons, and purple horseshoes:

I was kidding about the purple horseshoes.

Oslo airport is fabulous – all glass and light. And everyone was drop-dead gorgeous too. We also had the World’s Nicest Customs Officer who actually looked a little bit like Eric from True Blood (who is actually Swedish, but who cares – these are minor minor details)

The Aquavit bar….perfect! you could get pickled herring here too!

My tired traveller

Salte Rockers anyone? No? You sure?

We didn’t have long to wait before the flight to Sweden which was all of about 30 minutes. We picked up our luggage on the other side – it was all there waiting, nothing lost, and just walked out. I had forgotten that once you are in the EU, you don’t need to be harassed by a border guard every time you so much as think about going to another country. Eric back in Oslo had checked us in to Europe and we were good to go! They don’t care! Hi Welcome to Europe! Go wherever you like, and guess what, we trust you! Hello, North America are you listening?? No need to be assholes anymore – you could do this too!

Anyway – more smoothness as the Arlanda Express appeared to be waiting for us as it pulled in just as we walked onto the platform, and quietly pulled away just after we sat down. And they don’t charge for kids under 17. Hello!

We got a taxi to our apartment, and fell into bed a short while later.

It was a good, but very long day, and even the incessant hourly, quarter hourly and half-hourly ringing of the church bells all night didn’t bother me. Well, ok maybe a little. Ok well actually it did bother me. A lot. WTF? There is NO CHANCE of not knowing the time here. It is sonically imprinted on your head every fifteen minutes. Dear Gamla Stan: Enough with the Bells. We get it.

I was also overjoyed to discover a daycare under our window. Yep. Drop off starts at 7am. That is the joy of these old towns with their narrow little alleys and amazing acoustics. You can hear everything.

At least they were cute. The kids, that is. Not the bells.

Thanks for reading – more tomorrow.

Cheers,

Jane

In Which We Fret about Strikes, and Get Excited about Sweden.

2011-07-01T11:07:00.001-07:00

The UK has long been known for their spectacular strikes. There has been periods of labour unrest on and off for years but things have been heating up lately and it looks like right now is “on”. The government has been threatening to do something with pensions – I’m not exactly sure what but apparently, it is unacceptable to the hundreds of thousands of civil servants in the UK.

And so they chose June 30th to cause a fuss about it.

Normally I wouldn’t care too much – just do your thing and have your say and then get on with it. But this time, they have decided to involve the UK Passport Control people, and we are flying tomorrow from Heathrow to Stockholm. You know who they are – there’s a row of them when you come off your 23 hr red-eye flight and they are there to make sure you are not a threat to the hedgerows. Trouble is, there’s only ever a few of them, and, as Heathrow is one of the busiest airports in the world, there always seems to be about a bazillion people in line waiting to have their passports stamped or their DNA taken or whatever it is. The line is always atrocious and I’m pretty sure you could translate the Lord of the Rings into Klingon in the time it takes to reach the counter. And by the time you reach the counter,you are so disoriented and dehydrated that you have no idea what is going on, and you have invariably lost your passport while in the line:

Agent: Passports please

Me: Sorry just a minute…what?

Agent: May I see your passport please

Me: Are you speaking to me?

Agent (looking over my shoulder at the huge line): I’ll need to see your passport now.

Me: I’m sorry but I’ve forgotten who I am…

Agent: Are you having a lark? Are you taking the mick? Winding me up are you?

Me: Am I having a lark? No I don’t think so…Who’s mick? Am I mIck? …where am I?

Agent (into his radio) "We’ve got anufva one ‘ere, Ted, can you bring the bleach to booth #3”

Me: Who are all these people?

Agent (into his radio) “and hurry up, Ted, this one’s looking right bleary eyed. Gone all funny, she has.”

Me: Is this the way to the Underground?

Ted (holding the bleach under my nose): Just give it a moment, Lufv, and you’ll feel right as rain. We’ve had a lot like you today. Must be the wehva.

Me (indignantly, with bleach splashed down the front of me): What are you doing? Don’t you want to see my passport?

Agent (all steely-voiced again): What is the purpose of your visit to the UK?

So really, I am hard pressed to understand exactly how the progression of the line could possibly get any slower, but I guess I will find out tomorrow. I’ll let you know how it goes.

We spent our last day in Hay-On-Wye shopping – it is well known for having some very unique shops and I have not been disappointed. No H&M or M&S here.

I fuelled up for shopping with a delicious Ploughman’s Lunch. You can’t see them but there are two pickled onions beside the huge slices of Stilton, Brie, and smoked Applewood Cheddar. What else does one need?

I have never heard of Barry Trotter before. Apparently, he’s famous.

Then I found the best toy store ever. Love these rabbits.

And this wooden Noah’s Ark and all the animals.

But the Princess and the Pea was the best.

I bought a few things that I won’t bore you with but suffice to say we had to buy another bag to fit everything in.

Long day of travel tomorrow and not sure about internet access, so I will post next from Sweden. Or possibly the passport line at Heathrow.

Thanks for reading

Cheers,

Jane

In Which We Climb a Hill fort, and Enjoy the Welsh Accent

2011-06-29T06:41:00.001-07:00

Like most of the UK, this area is rich in history. There are more castles here than you could shake a Great Day Out brochure at, as well as any number of pre and post industrial revolution sites like old mills, mines, brickworks, and factories. If your tastes run to the more ancient, you don’t have to go far to find an old Roman encampment, a standing stone, or an iron age hill fort. As a child, I remember my dad taking me on walks up hills that looked like any other hill to me, until he would point out the ditches that ran around the top of the hill and show me where old fortifications would have stood. I find it fascinating to see evidence of these ancient tribes living out their lives: hunting, travelling, marauding, calling each other on their rune-phones. Nah, I’m only joking about that last bit. They didn’t have phones then. Just the runes.

Anyway – there are some great hill forts near here and so we set out for Brecon Beacons National Park to climb up Pen-Y-Crug.

Brecon is a great little town. The River Usk runs through it and there is a beautiful cathedral.

Not sure about the Witch, but I liked it.

The visitor centre gave us a map which looked easy enough, but, as with most directions over here, is not. We got the first part right (‘Climb the stairs beside this building”) and then managed to turn left then right at the appropriate intersections, and then ran into a spot of trouble locating the bridge, even though we were practically standing on it. I asked a man walking by and he said it was just up ‘past his car’ without bothering to say where his car was. And so it went like that for awhile until we finally broke free of the town and found ourselves on a footpath heading up.

This hill was the site of an old brick and tile works in the 1800s. The red mud was dug up in the winter and left to dry out over the winter. In the spring it was fashioned into bricks and tiles, fired in kilns that were built right up on the hillside, and then taken by horse and cart into town.

But now it is just a breathtakingly beautiful spot with the added bonus of having one of the best examples of an iron-age hill fort around.

Here you can see one of the rows of trenching that surrounds the hill-top. There are about 4 rows of these ditches before you get to the top of the hill.

When we go to the top, the kids collapsed

It was beautiful up there and we could see for miles

Those are the Beacons in the background. This is Tolkien country and much of the setting of Lord of the Rings and the Hobbit is taken from this area. I can see the Black Mountains out of my bedroom window and it is said that they were his inspiration for Mordor. At any point in the countryside, you could be in the Shire, and on our drive home we passed through the town of Crickhowell, which sounds a lot like Crickhollow.

We had a picnic, watched and listened to the world’s cutest Skylark, then made our way back down the hill.

There was, of course, a herd of sheep on the hill with us. One of the lambs still had its tail:

Jacob (looking at the lamb with amazement): What’s that!?

Me: A lamb…what do you mean? It’s a lamb, honey.

Jacob: It has a tail!

Me: Sheep have tails but the farmers take them off when they are little as they tend to get in the way

Jacob (his entire world shifting slightly) Sheep have tails????

Hilarious.

We walked back to town and left Brecon for Merthyr (Sounds a bit like Mordor) where we wanted to take the Brecon Mountain Railway Narrow Gauge Steam Train. It was a short little trip through what seemed to be mostly bracken (causing me to rename it the Bracken Mountain Railway) with a few wild Welsh Mountain Ponies thrown in for variety. The real highlight, though, was the brilliant Welsh accent of the conductor and engineer. I could have listened to them for hours. I had a conversation with the engineer who wanted to know where I was from, and then remarked that he had friends who had just moved back to Wales from Canada. I asked where they had lived and he said, with great delight, “Moosejaw!!! When they first told me they was living in Moosejaw, I thought they were winding me up!”

The conductor and engineer discussing tea.

The Hogwarts Express Lite pulling into the station

The kids got the jump seats on the way back and we listened to the conductor sing his way through various conversations.

On the drive home, we were behind an ‘Ambiwlans’ for awhile. The Welsh language laws would put the Quebec Sign laws to shame.

Although some of the signs are perhaps not necessary…

The day ended with more monopoly, and some fishing, which was more like ‘snagging’ but who cares.

Last day in the cottage tomorrow.

Thanks for reading-

Cheers,

Jane

In Which I Take on the ‘Rapids’, and Lose.

2011-06-29T06:12:00.001-07:00

Today was one of those irritating days when the air feels cool when the sun is behind a cloud, but turns into a sweltering hot furnace the minute it comes out. I do not do well in this kind of weather and it seems I have passed this gene to my kids who turned into scowling, sweaty, whining excuses for children for most of the morning.

We spent the better part of an hour seeing how much annoyance we could dish out to one another, an endeavour that was helped along by a malfunctioning internet hotspot in the village. I decided to get home and see if we could chill out in the river.

There is a rocky ‘beach’ across from us that is tantalizingly close , but might as well be 100 miles away when you are trying to get your 70 yr old mother and 9 yr old daughter across through the surprisingly fast moving water. Plus there is the picnic issue and how do you get your stuff across etc etc. And so we packed up and drove across the bridge and down what I think was actually a drainage ditch, but is referred to here as a ‘lane’, to get to the beach. We have walked here before but tempers were running high so I decided that the sooner everyone was immersed in cold water, the better.

The area is called ‘The Warren’ (which I keep mistakenly calling ‘The Burrow’) and is home to a herd of sheep and a large colony of moles. it’s a great place for kids, and dogs, and other creatures who don’t mind cold water. Within seconds, Jacob and Zoe had stripped and were in the water. The lifeguard in me reared its head and I was tempted to start barking out commands and orders like “No Splashing!”, “Take your shoes off, “No Diving!” and “please stay off the lane ropes” but I’m pleased to say I didn’t. This is the problem with having been a lifeguard for 15 years or however long it was. I can no longer enjoy bringing my kids to any kind of water without envisioning their watery death, which could come about in any number of ways. In this particular situation, I was sure they were about to be swept away down stream, never to be seen again. To be fair, the water level was much higher than usual, and it was moving at quite a clip, but still the risk was low and clearly I also needed to stop fussing and chill out.

Anyway, to make a long story longer, The kids soon took to wading upstream 25 metres or so, and then speed-floating downstream to a point just above the ‘rapids’. This they did over and over, laughing hysterically, and grabbing at what or whoever was close by, usually me. This soon led to attempts at navigating the rapids, and then much laughter as they slipped and swam over the rocks and into the pools on the other side where they would drag themselves out giggling and coughing.

It all looked like so much fun that at some point I grew tired of being No-Fun Mum and thought I should probably have a go at the rapids myself. How hard could it be? They look like baby-rapids from the shore and besides the kids were doing it just fine. I had seen many people do exactly this many times and none of them had been taken out on a stretcher so really, just get on with it. Even June and Tony were just up stream and they were fine, June’s sensible shoes sitting at the edge of the river, Tony sitting in a deck chair sipping tea from a thermos.

I waded out to the ‘starting’ point and tried to take a few graceful strokes into the water. I realized, after about .5 of a second, that there was going to be nothing graceful about this at all. I tried to bring my legs around behind me thinking that I could use my arms and hands to manoeuvre through the rocks, which were coming up much more quickly that I had planned. Another .5 of a second passed by during which time I was swept up onto the first rock, arms and legs going every which way. I vaguely heard Jacob yell something about a ‘sliding rock’ but the words took too long to register and anyway it didn’t matter as a dead octopus would have had more control than I did. I slid off the first rock, into a small whirlpool, felt my legs turn 90degrees away from me to the right, which left only my ass between me and the next set of rocks. As the river merrily splashed along I careened off rocks left and right, much like a pinball but with less style. With one final bounce, I slammed into the wretched ‘sliding rock’ (which I will here re-name the ‘ass-smashing rock), and shot into the recovery pool where sometime later, clutching at my left hip, I could be observed struggling out of the water, bits of river-weed stuck to my face. The kids were of course, screaming with laughter, and I tried to keep my game face on while the side of my leg turned blue as I watched.

Needless to say I then declared it to be picnic time (diversion) which provided an excuse for me to sit and recover and reflect on exactly HOW pathetic I was. It is clearly time to hit the Gym, or pool or whatever, and get some muscle control. I’ve never seen an octopus with rigor mortis before but I’m pretty sure that’s what I looked like. A wooden chair would have handled that better than I did.

I’m sure you get the picture so I will leave it there. I decided it was time to get out my new bubble wand and spent the rest of the afternoon sending huge bubbles across the water, which the kids used as target practice.

At this point, the sheep showed up for a drink.

Yes, those are the so-called ‘rapids’. I know what you are thinking: the blind baby from that maze at Hampton Court could probably manage these just fine…

The rest of the evening was spent with dinner, fishing, and then a ruthless game of Monopoly in which Zoe emerged as an early leader, scooping up properties with a keen eye. I managed to get Old Kent Road for which I was able to demand 2 pounds rent. Whitechapel eluded me and I was soon in serious trouble as Zoe loaded up Regent, Oxford and Bond Streets with houses and then hotels.

I retired with the fishing rod and watched as dogs, geese, and stumps floated evenly over the rapids without so much as a bored look in their eyes. Huh.

But the swallows were swooping above the river, and the hills were a lovely colour as the sun went down, and there were more wild strawberries, and life is good here.

Thanks for reading

Cheers,

Jane

In Which I see my Lovely Cousins and Play Pooh Sticks

2011-06-27T05:15:00.001-07:00

My cousin Julie and I are only a year apart in age but we live thousands of miles apart so it’s tough keeping in touch in any kind of a meaningful way. I did get to see her here in the UK four years ago when her little boy was only four months old, but that feels like such a long time ago. So it was great to spend today with her and her husband Simon, and their son Oliver, who is now 4 years old.

We met halfway between Preston, where she lives, and Hay, at a National Trust site called Attingham Park near Shrewsbury. It is one of those lovely old homes that you see in movies with the sweeping grounds and rivers running through. It was actually a nice day today so there was no need to huddle under umbrellas while running from one building to another. We could actually be outside and not freeze. In fact, it felt a bit warm at times. It was probably only 21 or 22 but we are all so used to feeling cold and wet that it was a bit of a shock to the system. We looked like a pack of vampires, white-faced, throwing our arms up in the sunshine to shield ourselves from the burning rays.

Anyway. We had a great visit and some laughs, and Oliver was as cute as a button and seemed to love meeting his cousins too.

And of course, there were things like this, as well

Ummm. Did you say ‘Wigloo’? And who exactly is going to sit in this?

Tony: June? Juune? JUNE? Where are you, June?

June: I’m just here, Tony, in the Wigloo

Tony: The whot?

June: You know, the Wigloo. In the middle of the labyrinth. It’s just the perfect shape and size for sitting in…

Tony: Well can you get a move on. I want to pop down and see the Eel Underpass.

June: The whot?

And so we follow Tony and June out of the labyrinth and down the river where we see this:

How thoughtful. And did you know baby eels are called ‘Elvers’? Neither did I until I came across this helpful poster which goes to great lengths to explain exactly how, when and why, this eel underpass will be built. Fascinating. North Atlantic Oscillation clearly has a great deal of explaining to do.

I could go on and on about it but I will instead encourage you to pursue this topic on your own should you so desire. Otherwise, you can come and join us on the bridge for a game of Pooh Sticks.

If you are not familiar with Pooh Sticks then you must go and read some Winnie the Pooh stories.

I am pleased to say that I won.

Pooh sticks was followed by a new version of the game invented by Jacob which he called Pooh Rocks which, I will venture to say, may not hold the same universal appeal that Pooh Sticks enjoys. I suspect Tony and June will have an opinion on this.

Interesting thing about Tony and June is that I keep seeing them all over the UK. June is about 60, with a striped bias-cut skirt, blouse, oversize glasses, and raincoat, and Tony is a few years older, a few inches taller, wearing a short sleeved shirt, cardigan, beige slacks, balding and carrying an umbrella. He usually has a slight hunch, and June wears sensible shoes. I’ve seen them in the airport waiting to get on a plane, I’ve seen them waiting for a train, They are always having tea and biscuits wherever we go, and I often see them discussing the price of a cooked ham, or a head of cabbage, in the grocery store. Weird.

Anyway. Can’t wait for the cousins to make a trip to Canada, which they promise me they will do.

We drove the two hours back to Beatrix Potter world and went for a swim in the river. It was a bit muddy. and cold, and fast moving. But we tried our best.

Zoe and Jacob spent the rest of the evening torturing small minnows by swooping them up by the hundreds in dip nets, marvelling at them while they squirmed and gasped, before being returned, at high speed, to the river.

The evening was complete with a trip to the wild strawberry patch.

Nice.

Thanks for reading. More tomorrow-

Cheers,

Jane

In Which I Discover the Miracle that is Welsh Cheese. And Bread. Also Fudge. Oh and Cider. Strawberries, too. Did I Mention the Ice Cream?

2011-06-27T05:11:00.001-07:00

Hay-On-Wye hosts a Food Festival twice a year and today was my lucky day. The festival is meant to be an opportunity for local food producers to showcase their wares but it feels more like a really really good farmers market. And if you know me, you know that I have a bit of a thing for Farmer’s Markets.

I had heard a rumour that the strawberry season had been a poor one this year in England due to an early spring, lots of rain and a non-existent sun. Well if these strawberries are considered ‘poor’, I’d like to see the good ones. I can’t eat enough of these. They are amazing.

That’s Zoe going in for another sample…

The baker at this stall told me he was looking for a way to “keep things interesting in the bakery”. I’d say he has been successful.

I spent a rather long time at the first cheese counter I came to. This may not surprise some of you. I sampled everything in sight but my favourite was the Welsh Perl Las. The sign says ‘Lovely’ and it really is. Perfect texture and flavour.

Love the logo…

I also liked the Bishop’s Tump although it does sound a bit like something the choirmaster has come down with.

Anne: “No I’m sorry Nigel can’t come to the concert tonight. He has come down with a nasty case of Bishop’s Tump”

Sharon: “Oh, what a shame. My Brian had one of those a few years back. Right terrible it was. Couldn’t get his hat on for months”

I also came away with some smoked Caerphilly and no, I did not make that word up, although I could have!

Next was a short stop for ice cream from a local creamery. Zoe chose Blackberry and Apple crumble and it was to die for.

Then, as luck would have it again, there was another cheese counter. The Gods were smiling on me today.

I thought this was bread, and then I thought it was mouldy bread, and then I realized it was a huge round of cheese. Fabulous!

Equally amazing were these creamy little rounds of goat’s cheese

and these charcoal dusted logs of sheep’s milk cheese. One of these came home with us. Delicious.

In his spare time, this cheesemaker also bakes Pasties and pies.

These are traditional famers food and were meant to be taken out into the fields for lunch. One half has meat and potatoes, and then there would be a baked apple of something sweet in the other half.

All this sampling was making me thirsty so good thing Ralph was on hand with samples of his Welsh Perry, a sweet cider made from pears. Amazing. I had a couple samples, just to make sure it was as good as I thought.

Zoe tried the Perry but did not enjoy it. The local apple juice was more to her liking

This guy was selling all sorts of old-recipe drinks like Dandelion and Burdock, ginger beer, and Sarsaparilla.

Charcuterie is alive and well in Wales, and looks delicious, if a little puzzling. What, for instance, do you suppose is a Smoked Bath Chap? What is a Bath Chap smoked or otherwise? The imagination takes over in situations like this and I’m afraid it might be bad for business. Anyway, I’m sure the locals know what it is and I'll just stay out of it.

Also on offer in the meat department was Welsh Black Beef, sold here by this fellow, who proudly showed me a picture of his Welsh Black Cattle. Apparently, it is the best beef anywhere. I will report back after I have some.

I could also have bought Duck, lamb, or scotch eggs had I so desired.

Actually, I have no idea what a Scotch Egg is. What is it? Apparently there is an egg in there somewhere but I don’t get the ‘Wrapped in …” part. Does the egg have a shell on it? How do you wrap an egg in cheese? And why bother?

How about the Home-reared duck leg. Sounds to me like it was a pet…And I’m not sure I want just the leg. Sounds a bit…boney.

Fortunately, we had come upon the baking and desserts and they looked amazing

Say no more …

Zoe’s favourite. Make my teeth ache to look at them.

These were both outstanding and I think the caramel ripple marshmallow would be fabulous in S’more. Unfortunately I will never know if this is true or not as I have eaten it already.

As we came out of the tent our bags were full and our wallets empty. And as if on cue, there was a group of Welsh Singers doing their thing. Perfect!

We made one more stop at the fudge shop…

We had planned to take a trip to the so-called ‘Black and White villages (or, as my mother calls them, the Dark Villages) but I ended up getting spectacularly lost on some remote country back-roads and as my navigator (Jacob) didn’t seem to have a clue, I decided to head home and go for a walk instead.

As in most of England, there are posted walks all through the country-side and this is the case near our house as well. This time, we walked back to town, and then under the bridge and back across the other side of the river to the meadow that we can see across the river from our house.

On the way I found The Secret Garden…enchanting.

Our house from the other side of the river, which is quite high right now due to so much rain.

The kids involved in a bit of mole-hill vandalism.

And home for the night.

Thanks for reading-

Cheers,

Jane

Top 10 Things I Like about Hay-on-Wye

2011-06-25T09:04:00.001-07:00

10. The name is pretty cute. Not as cute as, say, Bigglesbury, or Tootle, or Snooting Bogford, but pretty cute. And the town is devoted to books – must be 25 bookstores here.

9 . They have milk delivered (there’s even a glass bottle or two!) to your back door:

8. They sell fascinators at the local store. No sign of anything as fascinating as the complete set of women’s reproductive organs that Princess Beatrice’s wore to the Royal Wedding, but still…

7. You can buy gooseberries at the grocers. But here you must pronounce them ‘Guzbreeies’. I like to call them ‘grossberries’ myself but that won’t fly here.

6. There is a bookstore called ‘Murder and Mayhem’

5. You can actually buy beef dripping at the store. and guess what, it’s ‘Ideal for roasting and chips!’

4. There are several little tea rooms like this one, but this was the cutest.

3. There are random cute things like this brick:

2. There are lots of really great farms in the area and a huge emphasis on organic sustainable production.

And the Number One thing I like about this village? It has chosen to twin itself with Timbuktu! Isn’t that awesome? How random! How odd! How delightfully useless!

Zoe could not get her head around the concept of ‘twinned cities’ and asked repeatedly if they looked similar. I suspect not, but I admire their tenacity.

We are off today to a food festival in Hay, and then to an area that is known as ‘The Black and White Villages’. More on that later.

Thanks for reading,

Cheers,

Jane

In Which we Leave London, Arrive in Wales, and find Paradise

2011-06-24T06:42:00.001-07:00

Today was a long travel day that began with packing up and leaving our beloved London apartment, taking the tube to Paddington station and catching a train to Newport in Wales. It all went very smoothly except for a minor annoyance which was the handle on my suitcase breaking off. Makes it hard to carry your suitcase up and down the 862 steps that are involved in every trip on the tube. Ah well. Can’t all be sweetness and light I guess.

But speaking of light, Paddington station is quite beautiful. I love these big airy European train stations full of rafters and light and pigeons and lots of people all going in different directions. It makes for an air of anticipation which is much better than an air of, say, drudgery, or resignation that one might find at the greyhound bus depot in Surrey, for example.

We had a moment trying to find the right platform which resulted in a rather difficult conversation between myself and a conductor:

Me: Excuse me which platform is it for the 11:45 to Newport?

Conductor: It’s at 11:45

Me: Yes I know I wondered which platform. It’s not up on the board yet.

Conductor: It will come in at 11:30

Me Ok thanks but to which platform

Conductor: Which platform?

Me (getting a bit ticked by now): Yes. Which platform will the 11:45 to Newport be leaving from?

Conductor: Well you have to check the departures board

Me (in my head) Well here’s a bright one.

Me: It’s not there. There is a blank space next to the word ‘platform’.

Conductor: Oh. Well just go and wait on the main platform and watch the board. Then you’ll be alrigh ya?

Me (in my head) I’ll be more ‘alrigh’ than I am talking to you who clearly knows nothing.

Me: Thanks that was super helpful.

Why do English people always ask you if you’ll be ‘alrigh ya?’ when you are asking them for help?? I don’t know! Will I be alright? That’s kinda what I am asking you.

Anyhoo. We made it onto the train just fine despite having a few extra bags owing to a bit of shopping that was done in the days previous. We also had a bag of food brought from the apartment that my mother had itemised for me several times during the course of her blow-by-blow account of what she had managed to fit where while packing. Don’t get me wrong – she’s very good and very efficient. But it was a bit funny:

My mum: I’ve done all my packing and closed my case and I don’t have room for anything else so could you pack this one Kleenex in your case?

Me: Umm sure if you think you really need…”

My mum: And I’ve managed to fit the Weetabix in this part of this bag and my biscuits are over here and

Me That’s great I’m actually just….

My mum: And I didn’t bring the salad because it’s a bit awkward and

Me: Yes…very awkward I should think

My Mum: but the carrot sticks are here with the fruit. Shall we go now?

Me: Sure yes I’ll just get my things…

The ride was uneventful except for a rewarding trip to the Snack Car for some English treats that we only ever eat on the train, in England.

We arrived in Wales, and had to wait in the station while it rained the entire Atlantic Ocean outside in about 3 minutes. But it was Ok as Jacob was there to entertain us:

We picked up our rental car from the most helpful customer service agent ever at the Europcar location in Newport. This guy was a gem and dealt with an administrative error with amazing efficiency. I actually heard him say, on the phone to head office, “And what exactly are we going to do to solve this problem for our customer?” Brilliant.

So off we went in our Vauxhall Insiginia, which is my new favourite car. After a slight diversion down the M4 in the wrong direction, we soon found our way.

Wales is fiercely independent and insists on being completely bilingual in both English and Welsh so you can’t find a sign, anywhere, no matter how small, that is not in both Welsh and English. It’s all very interesting and would probably mean a lot more if I could pronounce it. But I’m pretty sure that I could spend the rest of my life in Wales and still not be able to pronounce a single word correctly. The closest I can get is to repeat the phrase ‘Szechuan is a dog, Ellen?’ over and over with different cadence and intonation each time. That’ll fool them for sure.

Basically, Welsh consists of what seems to be a random string of consonants, and vowels (mostly a and e) but which upon closer inspection, I have determined must contain at least one ‘c’, one ‘y’, two ‘f’s and must start with two ‘L’s and end with ‘gog’ or ‘lyn’. So without having a pinhead of Welsh in me, I feel confident in saying that “Llaencryffgog” is most certainly a word in Welsh. It’s quite fun making up Welsh words. Go ahead. Try it. See?

Our drive was about an hour and a half and it was late afternoon before we arrived at our home for the next week: Nethouse near Hay-on-Wye, just on the Welsh side of the border. As we approached the house, which is on the Wye river, we all of us were speechless. It must be one of the most beautiful spots in this part of the world. I’ll not try very hard with words but will rely instead on the pictures.

My room…sigh.

Requisite patch of wild strawberries

Jacob’s room

Zoe’s little patch of Heaven

Not a TV, but rather the view of the River Wye out the window…

Zoe has taken up calligraphy in her little window seat.

Living room

Boots as needed…

The scullery

Fabulous kitchen. Love the sink.

The view across the river

The garden and the wheat field out back. I may try and make a crop circle one night…

I’m pretty sure I have landed in Wind and the Willows-land and will not be surprised if I see a toad walk by in a waistcoat. The house comes with fishing rods, and dip nets, and a little box full of flies for fly-fishing, a fireplace and stacks of wood, chintz curtains, whitewashed walls, flagstone floors, rambling roses, and clawfoot tubs. Moles are in evidence everywhere, herbs in abundance, and you can walk everywhere. I may move here.

Not internet though so I have to walk along the river into the lovely little town of Hay-on-Wye where I am forced to sit at a tea shop where they have free wifi. Well, someone has to do it. It may as well be me.

Thanks for reading – more tomorrow :)

Caerlladogalwn! (I’m pretty sure that’s Welsh for “Cheers” and if it isn’t, well, it is now!)

Jane

In Which we Shop til we Drop, and Discover many Variations on a KFC Theme.

2011-06-22T15:57:00.001-07:00

Today was devoted almost entirely to the God of Shopping. All of us prayed at the altar of consumption and some of us left some fairly substantial offerings behind. It all started with a trip to Spitalfields Market a few blocks away in Shoreditch.

This place has gone through many incarnations over several hundred years and finally settled into a funky destination market where one can purchase almost anything.

Me: Is that Chucky?

Cockney Vendor: Is it wot?

Me: Chucky

Vendor: Chunky?

Me: The doll. Is it Chucky. Like from the Movie

Vendor: Wot you on about lufv?

Me: Forget it. Just wondered if the Doll has a name

Vendor: Not wot I know of lufv. Wouldn’t want to name that would you.

Me: Nope

Vendor: Do you want it then lufv?

Me: Oh no. Just thought it was a bit odd.

Vendor: you can hafv it for 20 quid

Me: Twenty for that you must be mad!

Vendor: Wot?

Me: Nothing. Have a nice day!

Much more to our liking were these Lucky’s fabulous little chocolate-covered cakes presented by the lovely Rosa from Espana. They are handmade in a little kitchen a few blocks away. Killer. I sampled a bunch then bought three.

Next to be found were some fabulous felted animals that were stuffed with wool and lavender, and sand bags. Loved the chickens, but they were a bit heavy for the suitcase.

There are some great stores, sorry “Shoppes”, around the outside of the market with some great finds including:

Fridge magnet battle bugs

and a London underground map shower curtain which I thought was funny as I have yet to see a shower with a curtain here in the UK as everyone seems to prefer to use these moveable glass walls that slide and swing as necessary from the edge of the bath to keep the water in.

We had a reviving cuppa and then left for the other side of town, and the other end of the spectrum, Harrods, with a stop at the Victoria and Albert Museum for lunch which, I might add, was fabulous.

Zoe and the world’s largest meringue. She loves these things. they make my teeth hurt just to think about them. And yes, she is wearing a raincoat as it was bloody miserable here all morning.

Thankfully after we finished lunch, the sun came out

Love this Courtyard at the V & A museum.

Not so crazy about this ‘fixture’ hanging in the entrance to the museum. It looks a bit like something Dr Seuss might come up with after a bad acid trip. Anyway. I am clearly not the curator at this museum and so what do I know about decorative arts.

Next was a walk down the road to Harrods

where I did not purchase this tea (which you are advised to drink without milk – whatever. If I’m paying 5000 pounds a kilo, I’ll put whatever I bloody well like in it thank you very much).

nor this horse

but I did buy these

Then it was back on the bus to the ‘hood where we had another delicious dinner in Brick Lane this time at Jungle Braii, which calls itself an African BBQ joint. Hmmm. Whatever. It was delicious.

The kids and I decided a walk was in order before retiring for the night so we went for a stroll down Whitechapel High Street where, to our delight, we discovered that while KFC itself is notably absent, there were many knockoffs:

Kinda Like Finger Licking Good but not quite….

Halal Fried Chicken!

Stands for Perfect Fried Chicken.

LFC for short…

Kinda like Kentucky Fried Chicken…but not.

And we are in London, so everything has to be Royal…

We have had a great time staying in the East End and I highly recommend it. There is a vibrancy and diversity here that isn’t always as visible in other more touristy areas of London.

Tomorrow we leave London for Wales. I feel like I need about another 10 days to get all the things done that I wanted to see but as my friend Lila says, she has lived here for 14 years and still hasn’t seen everything. So I guess I will have to come back. Maybe the weather will be better next time…

Thanks for reading-

Cheers,

Jane

In Which I Meet Henry the 8th and Encounter a Flock of Parakeets

2011-06-21T15:44:00.001-07:00

Jacob and Zoe walking to the tube station in Whitechapel. And that’s my mum in the black hoodie behind them. No it’s not, actually. Just kidding.

Right. Today.

Those of you who know me will recall that I have a bit of a thing for Henry VIII. Not that kind of thing – the man is disgusting! – but I do find him completely intriguing. And apparently I am not alone in this as it seems that here in the UK one need only mention the slightest connection to Henry VIII and people like me come rushing from far and wide in the hopes of, oh I don’t know, standing in the same place that some long-dead historian may have once suggested that Henry VIII had possibly considered or may have mentioned in passing.

Some of the connections really are very remote, like the pub that I once visited in England that proclaimed that the original pub that once stood on the same grounds as this pub, had used the same supplier of horse feed that one of Henry VIII courtiers had used. Now that’s weak. I mean come on. What a stretch. And how did I know this, you ask? Well I was reading about the village and got to the part about the pub and saw “Henry VIII” on the write-up and that was enough for me! I was there! Of course when I got there, after loudly telling everyone that we would be eating at an establishment frequented by Henry VIII, I actually finished reading the write-up on the wall and learned the pathetic truth (about the pub and also, apparently, about myself. Sucker. There’s one born every minute, as my dad likes to say.)

So you will, I am sure, be thrilled to hear that today’s efforts at Hampton Court Palace were entirely rewarding. I even had the pleasure of meeting Henry VIII in person. More on that later.

Hampton Court was a favourite place of Henry’s and he spent a great deal of time there with his various wives. Much of the Palace is open and has been restored museum-style to reflect the Tudor lifestyle.

Most impressive was the Tudor Kitchen replete with blood splattered walls, and, as Zoë called them, “smell effects” (gross), as well as a roaring fire with spit racks.

But the best part was Henry VIII’s apartments. An amazing carved ceiling, ancient tapestries, and Henry himself, in full regalia, taking petitions from his subjects. I, of course, was first in line and Jacob filmed the whole thing which luckily for you, dear reader, I will not subject you to just now. Let me just say I was grateful that Jacob was there not only to record my brush with fame, but mostly because he knew the answer to the question asked of me by his Royal Largeness, which English explorer first “discovered” the New World? (John Cabot, of course).

Kinda looks like him even.

We spent the rest of the visit in the grounds which included a much-touted but really rather lame maze. I have a suggestion for the Maze-keepers, or whatever you are called, this sort of thing defeats the purpose of a maze:

After this stimulating experience, which a blind baby could probably solve in about 2 minutes, we came out into a park. Birds were squawking in the trees and I stopped and said to Jacob that they sounded like a bunch of parrots. He looked at me like I had no clue , shook his head slightly, and explained that they were, of course, blackbirds. At this point three green and blue parakeets swooped out of the trees. I said nothing and merely pointed and he conceded defeat graciously.

Apparently southern England has been invaded by parakeets who overwintered here one year by mistake and liked it so much they decided to set-up shop.

It was quite beautiful lying under the trees watching the parakeets flying against the blue sky. Another surprising and delightful moment.

There are actually two parakeets in this picture but good luck with that :)

We headed back to the train station and into London. The train stopped at Wimbledon on the way back to Waterloo station and I was tempted to take a detour, but Zoe was starting to spiral out of control and her hysterical laughter was garnering looks of disapproval and a few comments from the couple, Douglas and ?? (I’ll name her Helen), behind us on the train:

Helen (while Zoe was singing): I don’t remember singing on the train do you, Douglas?”

Douglas “I don’t remember you singing much at all”

Helen “Bit loud isn’t it. And that baby is joining in too”.

Me (Under my breath) That’s it, Helen, have a go at the baby.

Douglas “Mmm yes”

Helen “I suppose times have changed. Shall we get off here?”

Douglas “It’s not our stop…”

Helen “Come on”

And so Helen and Douglas went back to their semi-detached in Vauxhall and we made our way back to Whitechapel. Jacob and I went in search of dinner and located an amazing Indian Grill where an entire chicken could be seasoned and grilled on the massive flame grill, street-side, to your specifications for 4 pounds. We added a few curries and sauces and took it home to devour. Completely delicious.

Jacob and I sometimes laugh mercilessly, but with great affection, at the eccentricities of the English and one of our favourites is the British “Great Day Out!” Cobble together any number of tourist attractions and the English will package it all up into a Great Day Out! Hilarious. To our delight, we found a pamphlet proclaiming Hampton Court a “Jolly Day Out” Even better!!

I might even agree with them.

More tomorrow!

Cheers,

Day 2: Bells, Bees, and other Unexpected Delights

2011-06-20T16:27:00.001-07:00

London is full of surprises. Sometimes it’s the unexpected kindness of strangers who always seem willing to offer unsolicited advice (I must look either a) lost or b) confused, or c) both as advice seems to come my way frequently – more on that later), or maybe its the unwelcome discovery that the museum you really were looking forward to is actually 25 pounds per person to get into, or a store that you thought might suck, was actually quite good. Or perhaps it’s surprising how many times your mother stops complete strangers on the street to ask them directions all the while ignoring you as you wave the map around and try to drag her off in the right direction. That last one is actually not that surprising anymore. Anyway. I digress.

And so it was with an air of expecting the unexpected that we set off this morning to do some shopping and general exploration around London. We are staying in Whitechapel in the East End, which I had previously known only as a less desirable property from Monopoly, but which I have since learned to be an area rich in history and intrigue and home to such characters as Jack the Ripper and the real Elephant Man. It is now highly ethnic with Bengalis holding the majority. This makes for some delicious food and I am looking forward to following my nose into some of these yummy-smelling if teeny tiny restaurants.

Whitechapel is also home to the Whitechapel Bell Foundry which has been making bells for hundreds of years including the Liberty Bell and Big Ben. An unexpected surprise was how close this foundry is to our apartment – a few steps past our door. So I was surprised and delighted to walk past the open doors this morning where the making of bells was in full swing, so to speak:

After the kids dragged me away from the bells, we headed off across town to Regent Street to visit Hamley’s Toy Store.

We fumbled our way through the Underground and emerged close to our destination. The crowds were thick and the going a little tough with all the dodging of buses and London Cabs and Take-No-Prisoners Londoners on both their cell phones and a mission. On one corner, the crowds were particularly thick and we stopped to see what the attraction was, only to discover that a wild swarm of honeybees had landed on a traffic light and was being tended to by a couple of beekeepers. It was fascinating stuff to watch and I kept expecting David Attenborough to appear behind a lamppost and narrate the scene for me. This didn’t happen however, but I soon learned that they were trying to isolate the Queen and move her to a box so that the rest of the gang would follow.

I suggested that perhaps it was Public Art, and how inpresive that would be, but the guy next to me looked at me like I had three heads so I didn’t say that again.

We pressed on past the buzz and made it to Hamley’s. I have made this trek several times now over the past few visits and each time I have been underwhelmed by the surplus of cheap plastic schlock that they try to pass off as “toys” in this most famous of toy stores. And there are five floors to endure which doesn’t help. The place has a carnival-type air to it due to the staff who stand behind tables flogging a particular item which they each claim to be the top seller in the store, the only difference being that at least these guys have all their teeth.

So I was expecting it to be terrible and it was as I remembered it until I got to the fourth floor where I was thrilled to see the addition of an awesome collectibles area based on popular films like Harry Potter and The Lord of the Rings. We spent a long time searching through the boxed reproductions of all the various wands from Harry Potter, with Zoe finally purchasing Neville Longbottom’s wand. I almost bought myself a Marauders Map but decided against it when I couldn’t get it to work.

That’s Voldemort’s on the far right.

On our way back, we passed the bees again and it looked like the beekeepers had been mostly successful:

The new “hive”.

After a bit more shopping, it was back on the tube and back to the ‘Hood’. I do find the tube fascinating:

I love how the woman in the middle-left actually smiled for me when I took this picture from across the tracks at Liverpool Street Station.

Another welcome surprise in this amazing city.

Thanks for reading, more tomorrow.

Jane

Day 1: In Which I Pose a Few Questions to Air Canada…

2011-06-19T15:59:00.001-07:00

As I am in a severely sleep-deprived state of mind, I won’t make this a long post as I am likely to look back later and wonder WTF I was going on about. I would, however, like to leave you with the list of questions/observations about the airline industry that my wandering mind generated at some point into the 9hr flight from Vancouver to Heathrow London:

1. There is a region in Chile known as the Atacama Desert which has earned the title of Driest Place on Earth. Apparently it never rains there, and there is next to no moisture to be found anywhere. Well I’m sorry, Chile, but Air Canada has blown you out of your little hot dry boots on this one. It was soo dry on that plane, passengers could be observed holding plastic cups of water to their noses in an attempt to save their nasal passages from complete destruction. And if you did manage to find a droplet somewhere, it would soon be zapped by the stream of hot dry particles emitted through the “fresh” air vents. Why, when we can practically grow a dinosaur from nothing, send people into space and back, and build mile-high buildings, can we not work out how to include a little moisture in the air on a plane. This I wonder.

2. Note to Air Canada Customer Service agents working at the boarding gate: I am going to go out on a limb and suggest that next time a plane’s departure is delayed due to mechanical issues, that you don’t actually announce to all the passengers that there is “some kind of oil leak from one of the engines”. Why would you do that? I think you should keep that information to yourself. I actually don’t want to know that there is “some kind of an oil leak”. Just tell us that we can’t fly on that plane and you are getting us another one. Or make something up! Like “it’s taking us a little longer than usual to remove all traces of fresh air from the cabin so please be patient”. Trust me no one needs to know about the oil leak. We tend to remember stuff like that later in the flight when we hit turbulence…

3. I appreciated the video systems in the seat backs in front of us on the plane. I could have watched any one of dozens of featured movies, TV shows and documentaries. Very nice – good for the kids etc. But here’s the thing, Air Canada, I’m used to you guys editing out the naughty bits from the movies you play on your planes. And I guess I just assumed you would continue to do this with this new system cuz lets face it, we’re still all packed in there like eggs in a carton and it’s not like I am the ONLY one who can see what’s on my screen. So when the two characters on my screen started having sex, it was a bit awkward, especially with my 15yr old son on one side and 9yr old daughter on the other. And fast forward didn’t really help either. I was a little perturbed. Just sayin’. Perhaps the warning at the beginning of the movie could say something about that.

But so as not to be a completely Negative Nelly, I will say that overall, apart from the desert-like conditions, the oil-leak, and the porn-surprise, it was a great flight. Oh and we had to circle Heathrow for 30 mins while they found us a parking spot, and it was a bit bumpy up there in the clouds which caused both the woman behind me and also Zoe to barf, but APART from all that, we did make it safe and sound and it was great to see my Mum, and there was no train strike (yet) here in London, and it wasn’t pouring and freezing, and our apartment is great, and the east end is interesting and I’m going exploring tomorrow so, as Shakespeare would say, All’s Well that Ends Well.

Thanks for reading, see you tomorrow.

In Which Pepi Busts His Stitches, and I Bust my Boot.

2011-01-10T11:59:00.001-08:00

We were a rather glum group of travellers who packed up and drove away from our fabulous house for the last time on Sunday morning. All I can say is that I hope to be back soon.

Things picked up a little as we made our way north to Hanalei. Pepi and Mel are staying two nights longer than us and so had found a place in Princeville, which is just beside Hanalei, for the rest of their stay.

Princeville is not my favourite place on Kauai. I’m sure there is a nice little village that I just haven't seen yet, but most of it is acres and acres of condos all built around golf courses. Retired men and women can be seen walking around wearing visors and carrying golf clubs, and signs are posted with directions to the the ‘lounge’ or ‘shuffleboard’. However, Mel and Pepi’s condo was clean and nice and the pool was great and it was good that we could crash there for the day until our flight late that evening.

We wanted one more splash in the waves at Hanalei before we left so we all piled in to the van for one last time with all our gear and drove down to the beach. No sooner had we all taken a few steps on to the sand when Pepi stubbed his toe, and blew all his stitches. 6 days later and it looked as fresh as the day he did it. We all stood there dumbfounded for a few moments as Pepi bled all over the beach. Fortunately the lifeguard station was right beside us and he was able to butterfly the cut closed and bandage Pepi’s toe up. What a drag for Pepi. The rest of us went in and took some abuse from the giant waves for a while but soon it was time to head back to their condo and get ready to drive to the airport. Mel dropped Pepi off at the ER room on the way to dropping us off at the airport – I hope everything went OK for him.

Packing up was a nightmare – I dare say we had enough stuff between us to withstand any kind of siege. Each time I swear I will pack lighter next time and then next time rolls around and I’m that person who has to drag her bags off to the side at the check in counter and re-distribute everything in her suitcases.

Our flight was a red-eye Lihue to LA and I wasn’t looking forward to it. Fortunately Jacob and Zoe and I slept the whole time and the only glitch was that I managed to blow out my boot zipper going through the security check point. And so I had to hobble around with one boot done up and the other one flapping around my ankle like some sort of injured crow. I then made the mistake of taking them off on the plane. I should have known better as my feet always get puffy on planes and this was no exception. I must have struggled with my boot for a good 10 mins before I finally got it on my foot. If the German girl who was sitting next to me is reading this: I’m very sorry for repeatedly elbowing your knees. I then had to fumble around with some safety pins to try and stop the boot from flapping around. I was marginally successful with this but it did look ridiculous.

When we finally landed in Vancouver several hours later we were all exhausted. Our friend Andre was there with our van to meet us and come back to Victoria with us for a few days. Everything did look very grey and as we stepped outside the airport doors, snow flakes began falling.

But now I’m waiting for the ferry and the sun has come out amongst the storm clouds and it is wildly beautiful out on the water.

Kauai I love you but it’s good to be home.

In Which we do Very Little but Enjoy Ourselves Greatly

2011-01-09T00:25:00.001-08:00

We had plans today to fit in all the things we hadn’t quite got to yet, like all the great beaches we were going to visit, and the shopping we didn’t quite get to, and the restaurants we had planned to eat at. But somehow, instead, we ended up having a great day doing hardly anything at all.

We did manage to make it to a great market in Lihue this morning. It was an appealing mix of local food producers and we found everything from fruit & vegetables to cupcakes & pies, jam & honey, goat’s cheese, Korean food, gourmet salt, cookies etc etc.

It was an enjoyable way to spend an hour:

That’s a pomelo – a kind of giant grapefruit. Yes, it is bigger than Zoe’s head…

No egg board here, or whatever they are called. You want to sell your eggs you just go ahead.

One lady was selling sweet potato leaves. They were floating in a bowl of water and you just helped yourself.

A surfer dude tried to tell me these were cherries. I tried to tell him they weren’t, but he was insistent. Anyone recognize then? They have a very unique taste: sweetish but with a tartness as well. Not my favourite. By the time I got there he was giving them away. “No one is buying them anyway” he grumbled.

We left with our bags full even though we had made a pact not to buy anymore food. Oh well too bad.

Back at home, a Royal Palm had just burst into flower. I spotted the flower pod cover (I think it is called a sepal? Where is David Attenborough when you need him) on the ground under the tree and at first I thought it was some kind of giant seed pod. Closer inspection proved me wrong however and we all stared in wonder for a few minutes as clouds of pollen filled the air, and dozens of bees moved in. Very cool.

The rest of the day was spent fishing at a local pond:

and playing in the pool

Gonna miss this place…

Last day tomorrow!

In Which I Stay Home, and Everyone Else Sees Dolphins (Among other things. Like, their lunch.)

2011-01-07T23:53:00.001-08:00

Last time we visited Kauai, we spent a day at sea on a boat tour of the Na Pali Coast. Encompassing a 26km or so stretch of the northwest coast of the island, this State Park is inaccessible by road as the cliffs are sheer and rise straight up from the ocean reaching heights of 4000 ft. There is a trail that energetic types can hike, but otherwise it’s helicopter or boat.

The boat tours head out from the south and make their way north along the west coast of the island stopping for snorkelling, whale watching, dolphins etc. It’s all very lovely and beautiful and scenic. The brochure pictures are particularly lovely, depicting calm seas and sunny skies, with happy people frolicking in what looks to be the mill pond it’s so calm.

What the brochures fail to show or mention (and can you blame them, really) is that it’s only that calm on one day of the year in, like, august or something, between the hours of 4 – 6pm, when the wind is at the bar for happy hour. The rest of the time it is a tempest. A beautiful tempest, but still a tempest. The boat, which looks like a normal size in the picture, suddenly seems to shrink into a tiny little thing that your kids play with in the bath. The ocean feels huge, and the cliffs rise menacingly above you. The waves are relentless and soon, approximately 5 seconds after leaving the dock, you are wishing you had never heard of the Na Pali coast and you don’t care if you never see another dolphin as long as you live.

After some time, the feeling may or may not pass slightly, and you may or may not lift your ashen face when a passing humpback whale stops to see if you are ok.

What feels like several years later, you make it back to the dock where you fall to your knees in a prone position and stay there for what feels like the rest of your life and no amount of anything can get you to stand up for a long time.

You go home, embrace religion, pray to the Gods that you are very sorry for angering them and that you will never go on a boat again. You don’t sleep that well that night due to the fact that your poor tortured body still feels like it’s on the wretched boat.

At least, that is what happened to me last time.

So you won’t be surprised to hear that this time, everyone else went on the boat trip, and I stayed home.

I know this to have been a good idea because the first thing Zoe said to me when she came home was “Mummy I was sick and slept for an hour and a half and Mel threw up and so did almost everyone else including a man who threw up twice.”

It wasn’t all bad however as Zoe took some killer dolphin shots. Nice camera work, Zoe!

And the coastline is beautiful too:

After everyone had sufficiently recovered, which involved naps, a swim in the pool, cups of tea and some lazing around, we headed to Brenneke’s Beach Broiler for some dinner. I first ate dinner here when I was 9 and was thrilled to come back three years ago. It was just as I remembered. So I got a bit bossy (I know – how unlike her, you are thinking) and demanded that we go to Brenneke’s for dinner on this trip too.

It’s a bit of an institution here in Poipu and while the food is nothing to write home about (so I won’t) the vibe is great and the view killer and I just love it.

The sunset was beautiful tonight. Ok, Ok it’s beautiful EVERY night but tonight I took a picture.

And the night skies are amazing here – I swear you can see every star in the milky way. The new moon is also lovely, even if it is “upside down” as Zoe observed. I tried to take a picture…

Good night :)

In Which I Ride The World’s Slowest Horse, and Have a Great Idea.

2011-01-06T23:19:00.001-08:00

It’s been awhile since I have been on a horse so when Mel suggested we go for a ride, I was all for it. The three of us, Mel, Zoe and myself, were dropped off at a beautiful ranch called Silver Falls Ranch in the north of the island close to Hanalei. We were a bit late as we hadn’t factored in rush hour when planning how long it would take us to get there from Koloa. I didn’t think there could be a rush hour either but as there is really only one road for 64 000 people, it has become a problem. They even turn one of the lanes in to a counter flow at certain times of the day to try and keep people moving.

Anyway we were a bit late. 35 mins actually. We were supposed to be there at 8:30am for a 9pm ride but by the time we rolled in it was after 9. We had called a couple of times to report on our progress so they knew we would be late, but that didn’t stop the three other riders (Sandy, Keith, and Michelle from Michigan) from giving us the stink-eye when we arrived. We cheerfully ignored them and were soon up on our horses. The dude (and he was a dude!) who brought out my horse, “Kid”, warned me that he could be a ‘bit lazy’. Understatement. If Kid was a ‘bit lazy’ then I would hate to see what ‘really lazy’ was like. I could have dragged myself by my lips faster than Kid walked. As a result I spent 99% of the trail ride bringing up the rear. I only pulled ahead by one near the end of the ride because Kid found a shortcut.

Regardless, the terrain was beautiful and the ride relaxing and it was great to see Zoe enjoying her first ride.

That’s Zoe on Mee-Wah.

That’s the back of Kid’s head.

That’s me trying to look like Nature Queen or something when really I am booting Kid as hard as I can but to no avail.

After we finished our ride, we were too close to Hanalei not to stop for a swim. The waves were perfect for learning so Kent rented a surfboard and sent the kids out.

That’s Jacob sitting up on the board.

After Hanalei, we continued north-west along the coast. There is a string of beautiful beaches along this coast but at this time of the year they are too dangerous for swimming. We stopped to look at a couple, and finally made our way to the dry cave at Ha’ena Beach, which is just about as far as you can go on this road.

The view from inside the cave looking out. Pretty cool, but very damp and drippy too. Not to mention the fact that I spent the whole time envisioning the 50 quabillion tonnes of rock overhead crashing down and crushing us all to death.

Anyhoo that didn’t happen.

I always enjoy finding silly signs when I’m travelling and there were two beauties at Ha’ena beach park:

This modification occurred on one of the many signs up at Kauai’s beaches warning you not to go out in the surf as you will end up like the dude in the picture. But that’s not the funny part. I’ll let you find it. I can hardly say it. Thankfully Zoe just thought is was random and didn’t ask what it meant. Google it.

Needless to say it has provided some material for us in the van. (I’m a bit short so sorry but part of it was cut off…)

This next sign was obviously put up by the lifeguard who got tired of answering the same questions over and over.

Here’s the thing: it got me thinking that I could make up a series of small signs – flashcards, even – that I could just hold up when appropriate. I can see them now:

THIS IS THE KITCHEN

YOU SHOULD BE IN YOUR BED BY NOW

WRONG ROOM

NO I DON’T KNOW WHERE THE BUTTER IT

NO I DON’T KNOW WHERE IT IS

I WOULD CHECK THE CUPBOARD WHERE WE ALWAYS KEEP IT

DID YOU PUT YOUR SHOES ON

GET YOUR SHOES ON

GET THEM ON

Yeah! I’m going to make millions! Don’t steal my idea!

I really love this part of the Island. Sigh. Another day in paradise. Only 4 days left!

In Which We Enjoy Perfect Cocktails at a Delightful Organic Plantation, and Meet a Herd of Wild Boar…

2011-01-06T00:55:00.001-08:00

Most of Kauai was, at one point, given over to sugar plantations. There are none in operation anymore, but many of the original plantations still exist, some with the sugar mills still standing. As the sugar and workers needed transporting around the island, there was once an extensive rail system. It’s hard to find any evidence of this anymore (which is a shame – I love a good train ride!) but there is one plantation that has remained open to the public with a variety of ‘attractions’ which include a train ride around the plantation which still grows sugar, as well as many fruit and vegetable crops, a rum distillery (and tasting room!) and a fabulous organic ‘farm to table’ restaurant.

We decided a visit was in order and so we arrived just in time to board the open air cars. The tour was tame (I could probably have crawled faster), but we did get to see an astounding display of fruits, many of which I had never heard of or seen before. The announcer was amusing and reminded me of the ‘safari guides’ on the Jungle Cruise at Disneyland, but he was hard to hear over the yabbering of the Hawaiian family sitting in front of us. I am not sure why they were even there as they seemed completely bored with the whole thing. When I could hear him, he was listing off various combinations of fruit that they had managed to produce – what sounded like tangerines and rambutan or lychees and some sort of plum something or other, and pears and grapefruit or whatever. I’m pretty sure they make some of that shit up. I would. I mean who is going to know the difference if you tell them those little brownish-red nut-like clusters are a cross between a Korean Longoyongo and a Tahitian Boralora plum, when actually they are just crab-apples? Not me, my friends. Bring it on I say.

Anyway – the highlight of the trip came when we stopped by a field of “pet” wild boars. The population of people in Kauai in 64000, and the boar population is 333000! It’s open season all the time for hunters in an attempt to keep the population down. I don’t think it’s working.

These boars are, well, boorish, with faces only a mother could love. They all rushed over toward us as the train pulled up, and it was a sight to remember.

After the boar episode, we wandered the grounds and, surprisingly, the boys found their way to the rum tasting session. We all convened at 22 North, a beautiful ‘Farm to Table’ restaurant offering only local organic food. We sadly were in between meals and were forced to endure a sampling, instead, of local cocktails and mocktails. Mine, a Ginger Orange Julep, was amazing and consisted of ginger syrup in soda water with muddled blood orange with a bit of fresh mint. So delicious.

Kent had a mojito with local grapefruit, mint, lime and Koloa dark rum made on site. Also delicious.

Pepi had a similar concoction but with African blue basil and something else that escapes me now…

Mel ordered a variation on a pina colada but with lavender essence and local rum. Totally unique and amazing.

All these drinks were created for us by the incredible Laurie who really know her stuff, and took pleasure in telling us all about the farm and the produce grown on site that she uses in her specialty drinks, right down to the ginger syrup. One in a million – I’m glad we found her.

While we adults enjoyed our drinks, Jacob entertained us with small red prickly fruit similar to lychees known as Rambutan.

Meet Rambutan man:

More tomorrow!

Shoppers Trample Each Other at Kauai Farmers Market! Mother Screams Revenge!

2011-01-05T00:17:00.001-08:00

Ok so I have a thing for Farmers Markets. I admit it. I just LOVE the bounty all laid out, I love the way the vendors know the best way to prepare their produce, the way everyone wanders amiably, baskets over their arms. I love the relaxed happy feeling.

And so it was that with all these joyful thoughts in mind that we headed out to the local Kauai Sunshine Market (as they are known here) at the Koloa Ball Park which just happens to be a block away from our house.

The market starts at 12noon sharp and we were advised to be there at 11:30am. I wasn’t clear exactly why we had to be there so early but we dutifully showed up at 11:40am. I was a bit surprised to see that quite a crowd had already gathered. I could see a grouping of umbrellas 100m or so down the driveway but there was some kind of barricade stopping us from proceeding. We all milled around in the scorching heat until a man appeared waving a banana leaf like some kind of Jesus character bidding us all to heed him. I could hear him going on about something – it sounded like a huge list of rules and regulations about shopping at the market and so I tuned him out fairly quickly.

It was about a bazillion degrees by then and the natives were getting restless. People had started edging toward the front of the crowd. At this point, dude with the banana leaf had invited “any invalids, or pregnant women, or those over the age of 90” to have a “head start”. A head start at what? What was going on? Had I showed up at some sort of Farmers Market Reality show? Was this a contest? Who are these people? A few seconds later a whistle sounded and so began the farmers market equivalent of the the Running of the Bulls, Kauai style. The crowd surged forward toward the 20 or so market stalls. I was caught up in the crowd and carried into the fray and before I knew it I had purchased 4 avocados, and a bunch of bananas from a 4ft high Filipino lady who alternated between shrieking at her 3ft high elderly mother who was apparently having difficulty figuring out the correct change, and shrieking “ONE DOLLA ONE BUNCH A BANANA” at the madding crowd.

I was finally able to break free from the banana stall only to find myself at a stall selling fresh greens and lettuce. I quickly found myself with 3 small lettuce and, somehow, a bunch of oregano. I had the bad luck to have also placed myself between Deb from Somewhere Small in the midwest and her husband, whom I will call Paul, as that must be his name. There conversation went like this:

Deb(to Paul, who was holding a red loose-leaf lettuce) will you be able to make slaw outta that?

Paul: I don’t think so. It’s a bit floppier than most cabbage I’m used to

Vendor: That no cabbage that lettuce

Deb: I told you.

Paul: No you didn’t. You said get one of those cabbages there and you pointed to this one.

Vendor: I have cabbage over here. That no cabbage.

Paul: (to the vendor) what do we do with this one?

Vendor: you eat it in a salad.

Deb: just put it back, Paul.

Paul: Maybe we should go back to Safeway

Yes, Deb and Paul, you should definitely go back to Safeway, preferably in the small town where you live. And if you are reading this, please do some research before you go to another farmers market.

Fortunately, I looked up at this point, and spotted some other members of our group. This was enough to shake me out of my crazed state of mind. I broke free and stumbled into the open area in the middle of the market. Unfortunately, though, it was too late for Kent and he had succumbed badly to the mania. He started barking out orders like “WHAT ABOUT STARFRUIT?” and “WE’LL NEED AT LEAST 42 ORANGES” and “WILL THOSE MUSHROOMS LAST US ALL WEEK?”

The crowd seemed to reach a frenzy of buying and within about 10 minutes, many stalls were nearly bare. I did notice, however, that after all the tourists thinned out, many of the vendors pulled out fresh stock and also lowered their prices. Next time I’m going to skip the pre-market lecture, and the frenzied crowd, and show up at 12:15, rebel that I am.

After the dust had settled, we took stock. We were all hot and a bit cranky, but lunch was super good!

Jesus leading his disciples.

That’s Deb and Paul across the table.

Macadamia Nuts. I was surprised to learn that they don’t grow naturally covered in chocolate. What kind of place is this??

Zoe trying a Rambutan. Not so much on the Rambutan…

Did you know it takes a pineapple plant two years to grow a pineapple? It took us about 5 minutes to eat this one….

Poor Silas got a bit hot…

After recovering from the market, lunch was especially good. That’s fresh greens, homemade pasta salad, pollock strips prepared with some kind of delicious vinegar sauce, and octopus salad. Nice!

Later, I tried to play some golf but I really am so terrible that it’s not worth discussing.

Jacob hunted down a Durian Fruit from the property and massacred it on the lawn. Yuck.

We rounded out the day with some kite flying, a spot of ping pong and anther fabulous dinner. Yes, that is Kent with a cabbage leaf on his head.

Another tough day. At least there were no frogs involved.

In which Pepi almost Cuts off his Big Toe, and we Have Some Delicious Chicken…

2011-01-03T23:29:00.001-08:00

Our intention today was to drive north up and around the island to one of the best places on earth (in my humble opinion) Hanalei Bay. This huge bay of beautiful blue water is fringed with golden sand and a backdrop of green mountains that fold up and around the bay and town of Hanalei. Serious surfers head out to the eastern point of the bay where epic waves rear up out of the water then crash down, shooting tiny little people out the end of the tunnel. Amazing to watch but way out of my league.

I have found my bliss here on past visits with a boogie board and some 6ft walls of blue green ocean that appear out of nowhere before crashing over your head. If you are lucky and time it right, you can harness the power and go for a ride all the way to the beach, If you are not so lucky, you can easily end up ass over tea kettle without a clue which way is up, sinuses full of salt water, a mouth full of sand and with or without various parts of your bathing attire. Both versions have happened to me, but really, it’s all so exhilarating that I couldn’t wait to get back out there.

And so it was with great anticipation that we loaded up the Van and headed out for the day. Our first stop was a grocery store for lunch items. All went well until we dropped some beer in the parking lot. Fortunately there was only one broken bottle but it was a bit of foreshadowing for the day.

We carried on, driving through the most excellent town of Kapaa. I love these Hawaiian towns with their unassuming airs and funky low-key vibe. Just north of town I spotted a hand-painted sign advertising Mango Bread. Another sign right after it said ‘Farmer’s Market’. Those of you who know me know that I have a bit of a thing for farmer’s markets and so one hard-left later and there we were parked at the side of the road. Mel had bought some Mango bread before the rest of us were barely out of the car. It was delicious – just like banana bread but made with mangos instead. Across the street was the farmers market but what really caught my attention was the BBQ. A sign advertised Huli Huli chicken, local boar, roast potatoes and fresh corn. Jacob tried the boar and declared it the most amazing thing EVER but I only had eyes for the chickens:

That’s what I’m talking about!

I ordered two of everything and was just bringing it back to the table when Pepi, on his way back from the car with a load of drinks, quietly asked if anyone had any first-aid supplies as he had cut his foot. Well. Suffice to say I actually wondered for a few moments if he had sliced his big toe off at the first knuckle, such was the size of the slice and quantity of blood. A bottle of lemonade had fallen out of the back of the van, broken, and a shard had sliced in to his toe. We bandaged him up as best we could, ate some chicken and then high-tailed it back to Kapaa to the ER room.

Several internal stitches, 6 external stitches, and two hours later (which we spent frolicking in the waves at the local beach) we were back on the road. Pepi’s foot was still bleeding and we were all feeling bad for him as it meant he couldn’t go in the water for a few days (12 actually, according to the doctor but whatever…)

However, Pepi’s not one to let a near amputation slow him down and he insisted we carry on and I didn’t need to hear it twice so off we went again.

The trip was uneventful except for one moment when, approaching a one lane bridge, we noticed a truck pulled over against a rock face by a police car. As we drove by, the cop dropped his baton as he was getting out of the car, the truck reversed and backed into the police car, and then took off, a line-up of several cars formed coming off the bridge, and several large rocks fell to the road. We drove past with our heads turned practically all the way round. As we drove on, we saw several police cars heading back, sirens blaring. High times on Kauai. Not sure exactly where dude in the truck thought he was going to go though. Dude, you’re on an island. A small island. With one main road. I think they are going to find you! Hello! And the cop probably knows your cousin or is your cousin or something!

Anyway. There is a beautiful valley just before you reach Hanalei where they have grown Taro root for generations. It really is spectacular.

At least I thought so. Zoe was more interested in the flowers…

By the time we got to the beach I was happy to see that nothing had changed since my last visit. The waves were still rolling in, the water was irresistible, and the sun shining. I was in the water in record time and soon Zoë and I were being thrashed about by the waves. This beach is notorious for rip currents, however, and so I spent a good deal of my time trying to stop Zoe from being sucked out to sea. I finally ditched her back at the beach and spent some joy-filled moments out with the bigger waves.

Back at the beach, Silas had found a hole…

The sun was setting and so we reluctantly packed up and went in search of dinner which was a rather lukewarm affair, but thankfully uneventful, as was the ride home unless you are a frog of which I managed to drive over two. I couldn’t help it and would advise the frogs not to sit in the middle of the road after dark.

I was glad to climb into my super comfy bed and let the trade winds lull me to sleep.

Top 5 great things about New Year’s Day 2011

2011-01-03T11:34:00.001-08:00

Today we made the decision to stay at home and spend the day by the pool. It was tough, but someone has to do it and it may as well be me.

Unfortunately, the bug that had been giving Zoe grief over the past couple days with vomiting and general unpleasantness, made an appearance at 3:26am in the form of an extreme earache. I dosed her up with Tylenol and we were able to get back to sleep. She seemed better in the morning but Mean Mum told her she couldn’t get her head wet for 24hours. This made for an interesting day poolside. All in all it went fairly well and I only had to bark at Jacob 65 times to not splash his sister’s head, and he listened about 39 of those times. Not a bad average if you know Jacob.

Top 5 great things about New Year’s Day:

1. Jacob picked fresh coconuts and hacked away at them with his machete (which he carries everywhere these days) until we all had glasses of fresh coconut water and chunks of fresh coconut. Nicely done!

2. Watching Silas become more and more confident in the water to the point where he would just randomly jump in which would send all the grown-ups running from wherever to rescue him. Then we would breathlessly tell him that next time he needed to tell a grown up BEFORE he jumped in. He would just dance off and say something like “no I don’t” or “I’m not going to do that”. Good thing he’s so cute…

3. After a day by the pool, we have discovered that it is much too much work to actually make dinner and that the thing to do is to go out. So we jumped in the van and headed out to find some yummy takeout which we planned to take to the beach. Well, nothing with yummy takeout was open, it being after 6 on New Year’s Day, which if we had thought about our smug little plan for more than 30 seconds, we probably would have figured out. So we ended up at the Hawaiian equivalent of a touristy strip mall replete with tiki torches and the requisite smell of BBQd meat wafting through the air. We found something to eat and settled ourselves in front of a small outdoor stage where some Hawaiian men wearing sarongs (hello!)were setting up their drums. They entertained us for a few minutes and then abruptly left. We all hung around waiting to see what would happen and were soon rewarded with the arrival of a Hawaiian dance troupe. Now I don’t know about you but my exposure to Hawaiian Hula dancers has been limited to a lunch hour concert outside city hall featuring the local Polynesian Dancers, which usually consists of 5 or 6 middle-aged woman who mean well and I’ll stop there.

I have seen the odd Hula show here in Hawaii but I can only recall school groups with ukuleles with a few authentic Hawaiians swaying along.

This show at the strip mall, however, was not the local Polynesian Dance club. These girls were great. They came out bedecked in feathers and flowers and pretty much nothing else. The drums started up and they started doing something outrageous with their hips. I cannot explain what exactly they were doing except to say that I think many of the world’s problems could be solved if these girls were involved. We all of us sat slack-jawed as the gyrations gained momentum, finally reaching a fever-pitch of lower body mobility and coordination. When they finally left the stage, I felt like I had aged about 50 years. If the human body was capable of such flexibility, then I had two choices: to realize there is no hope for me and to quit now and just go straight to a walker, preferably one with a fold-down chair, or to get seriously busy and try and save my body before it is too late. Don’t be surprised if you see me up on stage with the Polynesian Dancers at the next Beacon Hill Band Shell lunch time concert. Just sayin’.

2. Zoe’s Freckle Farm :)

1. Falling asleep with just a sheet on the bed, and the sound of the trade winds blowing gently through the house. Ahhhh. Hawaii.

Road trip: Enter Minivan (with apologies to Metallica although there are definitely some similarities…)

2011-01-02T00:52:00.001-08:00

Kauai isn’t a huge island. You can drive from the southern tip to the northern point in under 2 hours. and as there is really only 1 road, it makes it pretty easy to get from stunning location to stunning location. As there is 7 of us, we decided we couldn’t do without some sort of vehicle. Enter the minivan. Not really the hang-loose mobile we were thinking of, but beggars can’t be choosers and we ended up as beggars due to a small misunderstanding in which the vehicle we thought we had rented was actually on a different island. whoops. Anyway, Mel and Pepi saved the day and found another van and picked us up at the airport and all was well.

For its first job, the van took us to Costco for a shopping trip to end all shopping trips. Let me just say here that Costco is exactly the same in Kauai as it is in Victoria which is to say it nauseates me just as much the only difference being that here in Kauai you can purchase a 20 pound vat of Spam and I don’t think I have seen that in Victoria. This is in addition to all the other useless items that can be purchased at any Costco such as the 24 pack of spatulas or the 98-piece ratchet set that has been dipped in molten plastic and good luck getting at anything without slitting your wrists in the process.

Anyway, I digress. Costco served its purpose and hopefully we don’t have to go back anytime soon.

Yesterday, we all piled in again, kids in the back, boys in the middle, girls up front, and headed west to check out some great little Hawaiian towns on our way to the Waimea Canyon.

First stop was Hanapepe, known as the home of Lilo and Stitch (who irritate the hell out of me FYI. Somebody shut that thing up!) but more interestingly for its old west feel. All the buildings have false fronts including the boarded up old theatre. The dusty streets have a deserted feel but if you pay attention you’ll see great little art galleries and sleepy cafes. It was smoking hot the day we drove through, however, so we didn’t stick around long.

Next up was Waimea. Apparently it has some sort of cowboy (known as paniolos in Hawaii) history which I didn’t really pay attention to so I can’t tell you much except to say that it is also home to the best shave ice around. What is shave ice, you say? Well it’s a snow cone drizzled with high-fructose corn syrup mixed with red dye # 6, 12, and 14 with Blue Lake #2 on the side. But it’s pretty delicious on a hot day. Jo Jo’s is the place to get it on Kauai as they have no less than 60 flavours. We all lined up, got our shave ices from the dude with the sweater vest and black horn-rims, and hung out listening to the Beatles. It was great.

We all squished back in to the van and headed up the 10 miles to Waimea Canyon. The first time I saw this canyon it blew my mind. Where, exactly, had it been hiding? It’s huge, first of all, and absolutely spectacular. You climb to about 3000ft, park the car, walk up a short trail, and then suddenly there is this huge, unexpected, beautiful canyon. It wasn’t any different the second time. I think 3yr old Silas summed it up nicely when, upon seeing the canyon, asked “who painted that"?

I lasted fairly well watching the kids run around with what looked to me like only a few wires separating them from their death, but soon I began having visions of Jacob’s 6ft frame toppling over the flimsy rail, sliding down the red dirt, and disappearing off the edge and into the canyon followed closely by Zoe and Silas, who both do whatever Jacob does. Those of you who know me, will recall that I’m not that great with any heights over about 6 inches so while this is technically not a height, per se, it wasn’t working for me so I wandered off back down the trail and feigned interest in watching a Lesser Spotted Hawaiian Red-Nosed Booby or whatever it was as it puttered around in the dirt.

We bought some fresh fruit and then headed back down the road to Poipu. A brief stop for coffee/tea along the way revealed a dried up, flattened frog at the side of the road. Boys will be boys, it seems, even when they are 40yrs old, as the ex-frog was soon resting comfortably between the hood and windshield of the van where it stayed for some time until we realized that it was blocking the fresh-air intake. Yuck.

The rest of the day was spent at Poipu beach snorkelling and swimming. Or rather, I should clarify, I spent some time either holding a leaky mask to my face, attempting to put on my flippers while the surf knocked me about, trying fruitlessly to adjust Zoe’s mask so that her nose was not sitting in water, or trying desperately not to lose my patience while she repeatedly pulled off her flippers or snorkel complaining that a grain of sand was rubbing the wrong way. I did see some awesome fish, though, including the native Hawaiian Humuhumunukunukuapua’a which is a lovely little fish with purple lips and what appears to be a Zulu flag on its side. So cute!

Jacob made friends with a couple of local fishermen and before I knew it he was helping them set-up their lines.

Another amazing day for which I am grateful :)

More tomorrow…

Vacation Rental from HEAVEN

2010-12-31T23:40:00.001-08:00

I’ve experienced a few vacation rentals in my time. Some places exceed expectations, some are exactly how they look on the website, and some look like something someone stepped in.

We’ve done the condo thing and the hotel thing before and really when your kids are little and you’re just hanging by the pool or out at the beach all day, they are just fine. However, since Jacob has turned into a 6ft tall giant, and Zoe has taken to talking in her sleep, the hotel room doesn’t really cut it anymore. In fact, some of you will recall that I have had less than exceptional experiences in hotel rooms with my kids and family and have sworn on a stack of Bibles Placed by the Gideon's never to do it again. Why can’t they just go to sleep? What exactly is the issue?

Anyway. I digress.

So this time, as there is seven of us including a 3yr old, 9yr old and 14yrs old, we decided to find a house. And let me just say here that we found the most AMAZING house ever.

If you know Kauai then you will know that Poipu, which sounds like it might be something you would find in a healthfood store, is actually one of the most fabulous beaches around. It is very close to the funky town of Koloa and our house is just a hop skip and shuffle from it all.

Built in 1922, the house is originally a plantation manager’s home and so is located on 3 acres. It has been beautifully restored and comes with a pool, a games room, a 4-hole golf course, various fruit trees, a playground, bikes, and did I mention the pool?

I just love this Hawaiian aesthetic and the owners of this house have done a fantastic job of keeping the original character of the home -beautiful wide-plank fir floors, high ceilings, wainscoting, double hung sash windows that all open perfectly, school-house lighting – while adding all sorts of luxurious touches like fluffy white towels, huge comfy beds, all the dishes you need, wifi, etc.

Oh, and there is a pool, too.

The back veranda

Amazing master bedroom

Fruit picked on-site (it’s a pomegranate)

When we arrived, all the fallen Plumeria flowers had been arranged into a heart…

Did I mention the pool?

The back forty with holes 2 & 3.

As I write this, the New Year’s eve fireworks are going off over the beach at Poipu, and Zoe has passed out in my bed. Jacob is taking a dip in the pool under the stars and Silas is giving us all a running commentary of life as he knows it.

Life is good, right now, and I am thankful for everything I have.

Happy New Year!

Top 9 comments overheard in passing on the trip to Kauai (in no particular order…)

2010-12-31T11:12:00.001-08:00

9. On the plane:

Me (to the flight attendant): Will we be arriving at 12:30?

Flight attendant: Nope. In about 1hour and 30 mins

Me: Wasn’t there an announcement saying we would arrive at 12:30?

Flight attendant: Yes but I was wrong.

Me: Oh…an hour and a half wrong?

Flight attendant: Would you like a drink or not?

8. In the hotel room:

Me, to Zoe, at 3:45am after the alarm had just gone off:

“Did you have a good sleep?”

Zoe: Pretty good, but it would have been better if Dad hadn’t been breathing like Darth Vader

7. In the restaurant at Ikea (killing time in Vancouver)

Woman: Do you want a grilled cheese, Kevin?

Kevin: I thought this was supposed to be Swedish Food

Woman: It is. It’s a Swedish Grilled Cheese. It’s the type of bread they use. It’s probably Swedish. Do you want it or not?

Kevin: Fine.

6. In the ferry line-up for breakfast

Me: Yes I’ll have toast with a side of bacon

Ferry employee: Would you like any eggs?

Me: No, just the bacon and toast thanks.

Ferry employee: They’re really good today.

Me: Uhh…yeah thanks but I’m good with the toast and ba…

Ferry employee (interrupting): Does you daughter want eggs?

Me: I think she’s good with her oatmeal. But thanks.

Ferry employee: Ok just checking.

Me: Great.

5. On the phone with HSBC bank as to why they were not open anywhere in Canada:

Kent: So you’re not open at all?

HSBC: No we are closed, sir, due to the holidays

Kent: That’s ridiculous! Why are you closed on a Wednesday?

Me (whispering loudly): It’s Tuesday today!

Kent: I’m just saying that your bank should be open on a weekday during business hours! How am I going to get any money from my USD account?

HSBC: I am sorry sir but you will be able to access your account tomorrow. We are closed today due to the holidays falling on a Saturday and Sunday and…

Kent: I’m driving around on a Wednesday needing my bank and…

Me (whispering very loudly): Kent it’s Tuesday. IT’s not Wednesday today! Quit saying Wednesday! IT’S TUESDAY!!!

Kent (to me with a confused look): Whaa ?

Me: IT’S TUESDAY!!!!!!

Kent (to HSBC) I’m sorry I’ve just learned that it is Tuesday today….

4. On the phone with HSBC inquiring as to whether or not there is an HSBC branch on Kauai. No word of a lie, this is how it went:

Me: Yes hello I’m wondering if you can tell me if there is an HSBC branch on the island of Kauai in Haw….

HSBC: Where?

Me: The island of Kauai in Hawaii

HSBC: Can you spell that?

Me: Yes it’s K-A-U-A-I

HSBC: Hold please

HSBC five minutes later: Where did you say you needed a branch?

Me: Have you heard of Hawaii?

HSBC: Can you spell that please? (I am NOT KIDDING!)

Me: H-A-W-A-I-I

HSBC: Hold please

Me: Wait!….

HSBC three minutes later: I am sorry I will need more information to see if there is a branch in your requested location

Me: Can't you just google it? What’s going on?? I just want to know if there is a branch of YOUR bank, in Hawaii.

HSBC: I am sorry maam but I will need more information before I can complete that request..

Me: Ok let’s move on.

3. Name of a tile store in Richmond: Many Tile

Well, I guess that’s what they sell. No point in trying to be cute.

2. At Costco in Kauai with our lovely friends Mel and Pepi and Silas, buying some food for our stay:

Mel to Pepi: Do we need to buy those pineapples here? We should get some at a farmer’s market

Pepi, with a fake flower lei around his neck, holding two pineapples, one in each hand: “Oh come on! They’re good! I even saw Hawaiian people buying them!”

(Hawaiian person ahead of us in line smothers a laugh)

Mel: Oh alright then. If Hawaiian people are buying them…

Silas (3yrs old): Hey everyone quit arguing about Hawaiian People.

1. Observed on a HUGE sign, as you pass through the final check of US Customs at Vancouver Airport into the gates for departures to US destinations:

"WELCOME TO THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA”

Have they not figured out that they are still in Vancouver Airport and that Vancouver Airport is actually still in CANADA??? Hello? Hello?? Who has the brain today? Apparently not the Department of Homeland Security. It’s actually so ridiculous that it’s kind of cute.

Kauai, I Think I Love you

2010-12-30T23:32:00.001-08:00

Kauai, for those of you who haven’t made it here yet, is a jewel. I have always loved Hawaii and would stay on any of the islands, but Kauai holds a special place in my heart.

I first came here when I was 10yrs old. My family had just finished a huge trip around the world for a year and Hawaii was our last stop(except for Disneyland). We stayed here for a month. My dad’s mum, known affectionately as Nanny, arrived shortly after we did, and we all stayed in a beautiful little house right on the ocean for a month. During those weeks, we played in the waves, visited remote beaches, stumbled onto a movie set, snorkelled, and generally relaxed. Believe it or not, we actually needed to relax after 12 months of packing and repacking, cramming ourselves into tiny accommodations, running for flights, being delayed, eating strange and wonderful food, and seeing the sights of the bigger world

So when it finally came time to leave, I was actually sad to go. I vowed to come back but it was almost 30yrs before I made it. Three years ago, Kent and I and the kids along with my Dad and my Uncle Pete, stayed here on the island for 10 days just before Christmas. My dad and I had a great time re-visiting all the places we had seen 30yrs before. And while there had been a couple of huge hurricanes in the intervening time that had managed to do some serious damage, things were much as we remembered them. In fact, I think some things were exactly the same, including the rusty bolt on the bathroom cubicle door, in the bathroom block at Poipu Beach, that I had been unable to open as a child. More on that later. And also the smell in Brenneke’s Beach Broiler. Yep that was definitely the same. Time to change the filter in the fan! Oh and also that Monk seal that spends all day in exactly the same spot on the beach – I’m pretty sure that is the same one that was there 30yrs ago too. But the tropical fish were the same vibrant colours and the sky the same brilliant blue and the green folds of the mountains were just as I remembered them.

We had a great trip and once again I was sad to leave.

And so I am unbelievably happy to be here, three years later, sitting in the most amazing house, 5 minutes from Poipu Beach listening to the trade winds blow through the palm trees outside my window.

And that Monk Seal was still there.

Up next: You won’t believe this house.

Lavender Loveliness Cheesecake

2010-08-30T16:16:00.001-07:00

I love lavender and anything to do with it and I also love cheesecake so combining the two can only be good. Lavender season is just coming to an end but you can still find it blooming in gardens. I find it irresistible and grab handfuls of it while out walking. If your lavender bush is one I have massacred, I’m sorry about that I just can’t help myself.

This is one of those recipes that you need to start the day before if you want the full effect of the sugared lavender adorning the cheesecake. So if you have people coming over tonight and you need something quick, better keep looking cuz this isn’t going to work for you unless you want to just go with non-sugared lavender. This dessert also needs to set in the fridge for a few hours.

You will need:

ladyfingers (one packet should be enough unless you are like me and keep crumbling them when you meant to break them instead…)
250ml whipping cream
1 and 1/2 boxes of cream cheese (and none of this ‘lite’ cream cheese please. yuck!)
3/4 cup good honey like fireweed or blackberry. If you are really keen, you can infuse your honey with rose petals for 24hrs but they have to be from fragrant roses or nothing will happen and you will wonder what I was on about. It’s not necessary to do this but I LOVE the subtle scent of roses in my honey.
a handful of lavender buds that you have just picked from the garden. Unpicking the lavender sachet that has been in your underwear drawer for the past 10 years and trying to use that lavender will not work nearly as well and, frankly, is just plain wrong. And kind of gross. Anyway.
Some longer lavender sprigs that look pretty
about 1 and 1/2 cups of white sugar
A springform pan. Google it. Yes you need it.

OK here we go.

The night before, you are going to sugar the lavender. Kinda like the sugared rose petals but not really.

1. Make a simple sugar syrup. Put 2 cups of water in a saucepan, turn heat to medium, when it is warmish, dissolve 1 cup of sugar in the water. Keep heating it until it boils and then remove from heat. Let it cool.

2. Sort out the best of the lavender springs (you might need 7 or 8 for the final finishing touch on the cake)

3. One at a time, dip the sprigs in the sugar water and hold them there for a minute or so then remove and sprinkle lightly with sugar. Put them on a sheet of tinfoil to dry overnight.

They should look sort of like this. And really, who cares if they look completely different. It’s your cheesecake!

Alright now go and finish the laundry and clean up the bathroom and put all the shoes away and the kids to bed and I’ll meet you back here tomorrow.

Good morning :)

Ok first things first. Check your sugared lavender. Should look exactly the same as it did last night when you finally made it to bed except that now it will have hardened-up. Good job!

Now, get your springform pan and tighten it up. I’ve made the mistake before of not tightening it before making a dessert and that pretty much defeated the purpose of the whole thing so don’t get offended, just make sure it’s locked up.

Put the kettle on. Trust me.

Crack open the ladyfingers and lay a layer of them on the bottom of the pan. Yes, you will need to break them into smaller pieces so that they fit. Go crazy! I don’t recommend sampling them. They are kind of gross on their own and are much better when they have soaked up whatever it is they are meant to soak up.

Keep enough ladyfingers so that you can line the sides of the pan with them later. You will need to use a sharp knife to cut them in half (crossways).

Now you need to make the lavender infusion. You will need about 3 or 4 tablespoons of lavender buds. Using a mortar and pestle, crush them so that they just start to turn brown.

Put the crushed buds in a small bowl and add about 6 tablespoons of hot water (that you have previously boiled and allowed to cool slightly– see I told you to put the kettle on).

The water should just cover the lavender. Allow the buds to soak for about 15 minutes. The buds will be a nasty brown colour and the water will be tea-coloured.

While the lavender infusion is infusing, find a big mixing bowl and whip up your whipped cream. Set it aside.

Find another bowl. I don’t know how else to tell you to mix the honey and cream cheese together other than to say “mix the cream cheese and honey together now or you will mess up the timing”. Timing is everything people. Stay with me here!

cream cheese and honey is a match made in heaven.

Ok so by now your infusion will be ready. Less is more when it comes to lavender so go easy and spoon in about a tablespoon of the lavender water (the liquid only) into the cream cheese/honey mixture. Try it for taste and add a LITTLE bit more if you like. We are going for subtle here, people, not overwhelming. Lavender can be overpowering if you use too much.

Ok now whip that all together and admire for a moment.

Now get the bowl of whipped cream

add about 1 and 1/2 cups of whipped cream to the cream cheese/honey/lavender mixture. You can use beaters if you like to whip everything together, but don’t overwhip or too much air will get into everything and we don’t want that.

It should look like this.

Now take your bowl of whipped loveliness over to the springform pan and spoon it onto the ladyfingers so that it completely covers the ladyfingers on the bottom of the pan.

Then slide in the ladyfinger halves (that you cut earlier) all around the inside of the pan

Nice!

Now put the whole thing in the fridge and come back in a few hours (minimum 2) when it has set.

Now the fun part! Take your sugared lavender sprigs and arrange on top of your masterpiece. Remove the springform just before serving. Tip: loosen the springform slowly and gently ease it up over the ladyfingers, using your fingers to hold them in place while doing so. I find this keeps everything together nicely.

And if I had been organized, I would have taken a picture of my own finished masterpiece before it was consumed at a birthday party but alas I did not so you will have to enjoy your own instead :)

Yum!

Everything’s Coming Up Roses! Jane’s Rose Petal Cake (with apologies to Persian Love Cake)

2010-07-26T11:30:00.001-07:00

I love this time of year for many reasons but a fragrant rose has to be one of my most favourite things. I recently came across a bottle of rose water for sale at a local deli and couldn’t resist it. When I found a recipe for Persian Love Cake featuring rose water and candied rose petals, well I figured it was all just meant to be. I will admit here that I modified it slightly. So for those of you who are Persian and feel like I may have committed a crime, well, I’m sorry.

*You need to plan ahead to make this cake because the rose petals need a day and night to cure or set or candy or whatever it is they do.

This is a great recipe to make with little girls:)

You will need:

Candied rose petals

2 large egg whites
1/2 cup sugar
A bunch of rose petals that have not been sprayed with something evil. Make sure they smell good too– not all roses are fragrant, people.

Cake

1 cup flour (No, you shouldn’t use whole wheat. It’s a cake)
14 tablespoons sugar, divided
1 1/2 teaspoons baking powder
1/4 teaspoon coarse kosher salt
3 large eggs, separated
6 tablespoons water
1/4 cup canola oil
1 teaspoon grated lemon peel
1/4 teaspoon ground whole cardamom seeds (removed from about 5 green cardamom pods). And if, by some chance, you can’t actually find whole green cardamom pods because we don’t live in Sri Lanka or wherever whole green cardamom pods are from, just grind up whatever you can find at Safeway or wherever. It’s OK. Relax.

Icing

2/3 cup icing sugar or more…
as much water as you need so that it’s not too thick and not too runny- start with a couple of tablespoons.
1 teaspoon rose water (that’s right – only 1 teaspoon. Trust me. It’s freakin’ strong stuff. Well. Ok – you could use a little more if you want but I’d say NO MORE that 2 teaspoons or you will wish you hadn’t)
2 tablespoons natural unsalted pistachios (Or not. We were fresh out of natural unsalted pistachios at our house and judging by the number of people who asked, “hey! Where are the natural unsalted pistachios?” (which was exactly None) I think you’re good to go without them).

Ok First you have to make the candied rose petals. Choose the best petals. Spray a drying rack with olive oil. Whip up the egg whites. Spread half a cup of sugar out on a plate or in a shallow bowl. OK ready? Dip a rose petal in the foamy egg whites (you’ll need to keep going crazy on those egg whites with a fork to keep them foamy), then either dip it in the sugar (easier if you are 8yrs old), or put the petal down on a plate and sprinkle evenly with sugar on both sides (easier if you are older than 8)

When you are done they will look sort of like this. Now go do something else for the rest of the day and come back tomorrow.

Alright feeling refreshed?

Cake:

Preheat to 325. Find two round pans that are approx. the same size and grease them however you like to grease your pans (go crazy).

Mix up the flour, 7 TBSP sugar, baking powder and salt. Find another bowl and mix up the yolks, water, oil, lemon zest, and the ground cardamom. I always forget if you’re supposed to add the wet to the dry or the dry to the wet and I know my Grade 7 Home Ec. teacher is rolling in her grave (her name escapes me…anyone?) but really, people, I don’t think it matters. Mix them together however you like. I hate preachy recipes. It will look like this:

Ok now you need to beat the crap out of the egg whites, while periodically adding a tbsp of sugar, until the egg whites stand up on their own and you have added 7 tbsp total.

Add them into the other bowl of batter.

Resist the urge to eat the raw batter.

Pour the batter into the two cake pans and bake ‘em up! About 25 mins, don’t overcook or tomorrow, you will lock your keys in your car. Or something.

And…take them out when they are done (you will know they are done because when you stab them with a knife, the knife is clean when it comes out). Let them cool for a bit and then turn them out on to racks to cool completely. Your daughter will want to rush this next part but I’m telling you now, it you don't let them cool completely, the icing will run off the cakes and you will have two soggy cakes, no icing, and will feel bad. Just sayin’.

Icing – mix water and icing sugar together. I’m sure you have done this before. If not, well, just mix them together. Add the rose water. and add a little more icing sugar. If you are doing this with little girls, you may want to add a drop of red food colouring or squeeze a beet or whatever it is you do to make it a nice shade of pink. Boys will want it to be green. I know this to be true. Whatever, people, whatever. Make sure you can still pour the icing because that’s what you are going to do next.

If you like, you can either ice between the cakes, or spread a layer of jam (yum) or whatever. Then stick one cake on top of the other and admire your work.

Then pour the icing all over the two cakes. Keep going until it is covered and who cares if it's not perfect. It should look something like this:

Now the fun part! Get your beautiful candied rose petals from yesterday (they are just over there on the counter behind you) and have your daughter artfully arrange them on the cake. She will likely overdo it, but who cares.

Then stand back together and admire your beautiful cake.

And if perhaps, you have a 14yr old son like I do, you can wait for him to say “Hey it’s a pepperoni cake” like mine did :)

Cheers and happy baking!

Island Hopping Part 2 – Sunshine Coast, Neil Diamond and Smitty’s Oyster House. Sigh…

2010-07-24T12:21:00.001-07:00

I’m on my back staring at the deep blue summer sky. Tiny waves lap and splash under the dock and my world rocks gently back and forth. While it’s probably carcinogenic, the smell of the creosote and tar that coat the pilings, the salty ocean and the sun baked wood of the dock combine forces and take me back years and years to when I was a girl and lay on this exact spot.

Gambier Island is an annual pilgrimage for me and I look forward to my next visit the very second I have left for this year. I could go on and on but instead I’ll give you my top-10 reasons (in no particular order) why I love this particular part of the BC coast:

10. The waters of Howe Sound are actually warm enough to swim in without causing complete paralysis. There’s no sand, but there are docks and pier and the jumping and swimming is endless.

Witness Jacob in mid-leap off the pier at Gambier Harbour.

9. BC Ferries always figures prominently in the trip to Gambier as it requires three ferries. It’s usually a beautiful trip and the kids are always in a good mood which slightly counteracts the fact that I did miss three ferries on the way there. So, to be clear, I don’t actually LIKE BC ferries, but I do find they offer significant blog material. For example, I’m pretty sure the 20 or so cars that made it as far as the on-ramp on to the Langdale Ferry at Horseshoe Bay also do not like BC Ferries. How exactly the ferry workers mis-judged that one I do not know. All I know is that nobody was happy at the prospect of having to back off the ramp, which is what all the cars and motorcycles had to do. As the lower deck was also full, they missed the ferry. Whoops!

8. Signage on BC Ferries.

Jacob and I also spent most of the 40 minute trip from Horseshoe Bay (or Horse-Poo Bay as the kids refer to it, based on the absolute lack of anything interesting or stimulating to be found there) laughing hysterically at the sign below. WTF.

We were very unclear on what exactly the message was here but came up with several suggestions:

Caution: Assemble here for Human/Dwarf merging
Caution: Human/Giant Merging station
Caution: Angry Elves may appear from any direction – protect your children at all times

Any more suggestions? I’m going to send them to BC Ferries.

7. Lunch at Smitty’s Oyster House in Gibson’s. Once an marine shop, this funky building has undergone extensive renos and did they ever do an amazing job. Loved the bright blue brick walls, the black woodwork, the amazing old windows that seem to open 10 different ways, as well as the original boom that reaches out over the boardwalk and was used to bring engines right into the shop to be worked on. My cousin Mel, her husband Stuart, and Jacob and I came for lunch but would happily have stayed for dinner if we hadn’t had to catch a ferry. We were seated outside on the patio at a huge long table where we were instructed by our slightly offensive, but hysterically funny server, to sit in twos opposite each other. Other people joined us and it soon felt like one big lunch party. The wine and conversation flowed, oysters arrived, delicious crab cakes were devoured, halibut fritters (cooked to perfection) consumed in vast quantities, and all the while boats came and went from the marina, waves lapped under the pier, and happiness reigned. I will definitely be back at the next opportunity, if not sooner :)

6. Commotion by the Ocean. This was my second time attending this annual event on Gambier Island. Held as a fundraiser for the Island’s Community Centre, the concert features Island native Bobby Bruce who is perhaps better known as Nearly Neil as in Nearly Neil Diamond. I have never been a huge Neil Diamond fan, except in a ironic sort of way but can say that I am now a huge Bobby Bruce fan. In my humble opinion, this guy is BETTER than Neil Diamond. The concert consisted of a set of Nearly Neil (excellent) followed by an appearance by Abba Kid Abra, an Abba tribute band that I could have skipped, another set by the Gambier Band who were just awesome, and then another set by Bobby Bruce singing some tunes written by Gambier Island songwriters, some of his own work and a bunch of covers. This guy can sing with the best of them. Throw in a beer garden, pulled pork sandwiches and corn on the cob, and it was a great night. Slightly surreal, but great none-the-less.

Nice shirt, Neil.

5. My Aunt and Uncle’s house. I may have gone off about this before but it really is a little slice of heaven. The garden is idyllic, the house so cool and comfortable, and the company is always wonderful.

4. Cousins.

3. Potter Organics (AKA my uncles garden)

2. My Aunt Louise’s Kitchen.

While she claims it’s all in the reading of the recipe, I beg to differ. Every last thing that comes out of this kitchen is delicious. Jacob will attest to this – he ate three full plates of Turkey dinner, followed by pie, as will Zoe who starts talking about my aunt’s strawberry shortcake about 11 months before we are due to go.

1. It really is sunny on the sunshine coast and it makes everyone smile. Just look at this blue sky:

Can’t wait to go back!

Island Hopping Part 1 Stuart Island – Camping, I Don't Think I Hate You Anymore

2010-07-22T22:04:00.001-07:00

I’m sitting beside the campfire, smoke and ash drift pass my face. The sun has set, and the sky is a clear deep inky blue so it’s only by the light of the flames that I can check on the progress of my S’more. My marshmallow, roasted to perfection, sits waiting while the chocolate melts on its graham cracker base. I lick the chocolate off my fingers from the last S’more and take a sip of tea.

This little scene is acting itself out in various ways all round this campfire. To my left, several kids inspect the charred remains of their marshmallows while to the right, a couple of dads alternate between swilling beer, inhaling s’mores, and solving the problems of the world. It’s 10pm on Saturday night on Stuart Island and the Baldwin Family Campground and all is well in our world.

I must admit that if all aspects of camping were this enjoyable, I probably wouldn’t object so much to the general prospect of trying to live outdoors for several days in a row. I’ve never been a great camper, but before I had kids, I could at least tolerate it. We would grab a few things, throw the tent in the car, stop at the grocery store and then spend a few days lazing around the lake or wherever before heading back to work or school. Then I had kids and all hell broke loose. I have effectively blocked out most memories of a four-day camping trip spent with other families when Jacob was 8 and Zoe 3. All I can remember is being extremely sleep deprived due to a 5yr old boy to whom I shall refer as Bobby for friendship’s sake, who decided that 4:45am would be the perfect time to wake up each morning. More’s the pity that Bobby and his long-suffering dad’s tent was only a few metres from our own. Mornings went something like this:

Bobby: (forcing a whisper) “Daaaaaaaad”

Bobby’s Dad: “smurgsch”

Bobby: (whining now) “Daaaaaaaad I’m hungry”

Bobby’s Dad: “Bobbygobacktoslee….”

Bobby: “But Daaaaad I’m hungry and I’m uncomfortable”

Bobby’s Dad: (Trying to whisper) “Bobby! I’m SLEEPING!

Me: (In my head) “Yeah, Bobby, we’re all sleeping don’t you know?”

Bobby: (At full volume and starting to cry) “BUT I’M HUNGRY AND I DON’T WANT TO BE IN THE TENT ANYMORE AND I HAVE TO GO PEE AND WAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH WAHHHHHH”

Me: (In my head) “Bobby, none of us want you to be in your tent anymore. I’m thinking Nanaimo actually”

Bobby’s Dad: (yelling through clenched teeth. At 4:45am) “BOBBY JUST BE QUIET AND GO BACK TO SLEEP YOU ARE DISTURBING EVERYONE AND I’M STARTING TO LOSE MY TEMPER”

Me: (In my head) “starting?”

Bobby: “I HATE CAMPING IT’S STUPID AND I’M HUNGRY AND I HATE YOU YOU ARE STUPID AND YOU ARE GOING TO WAKE EVERYONE UP NOT ME AND EVERYONE IS STUPID HERE WHY DO THEY ALL HAVE TO BE SLEEPING STILL I WANT TO GET UP”

Me: (in my head) “Don’t go there, Bobby”

Bobby’s Dad: “FINE! I’LL JUST GET UP THEN AND I’M WARNING YOU I’LL BE GRUMPY ALL DAY”

Me: (in my head) “You don’t even know what grumpy is, Bobby’s Dad. I’ll show you grumpy”.

At this point, the antics of Bobby and his Dad had woken up half the campsite, the half that were under the age of 8 that is, and so began another very long day full of sleep-deprived adults, and cranky kids. Throw into the mix meal preparation for 62 people or however many it was, and a general cacophony of screaming and demands for snacks and toys that had been left behind at home, and it was a nightmare I swore never to repeat.

And so I swore off camping for several years. Friends would suggest a camping trip. “This” I would respond, pointing to myself “Does not camp”. They would roll their eyes but I didn’t care.

Then a couple of years ago, friends conspired against me and planned a joint family camping trip to Stuart Island, which is a lovely little island in the San Juan Islands, only a few miles by boat away from Victoria. Friends owned land there and held an annual camping trip. I was my usual difficult self proclaiming that I would go camping when I was dead and not before. To make matters even less appealing to me, this ‘campground’ was boat access only, and had no bathroom. Nothing. No cabin, no outhouse, just a hole in the ground. And not a very deep hole at that.

Well I’ll save you the details but somehow, I found myself packing camping gear, then I found myself on the boat, and then there I was at the campsite. And I’m here to say that, apart from the hole in the ground, and in spite of myself, I actually had a good time.

And so it is two years later that I find myself here again at the Baldwin family campground eating too many s’mores, meeting interesting people, and actually enjoying being outside, hiking, swimming, and cooking communally. There were a few minor glitches like when the boat hit a rock and severely damaged the motor so that we could no longer use it and had to rely on our 15horse kicker instead. It was a long trip back. And also the fact that Kent managed to fall onto a Douglas Fir branch and embed a piece of it in his leg. Nonce, the token Doctor on site, and I tried to remove the rather large ‘splinter’ that was protruding from his shin, but couldn’t budge it. After feeding Kent several glasses of whiskey, and bandaging it up for the night, we decided we would have to find a clinic the next day in Friday Harbour. $180, a few hours, and a few stitches later, Kent was good to go.

But in spite of these events, there’s something about being outside early in the morning, or sitting around the campfire with a cup of tea, vaguely wondering, but not worrying, where the kids are that is just so relaxing and calming, it almost makes me want to do it again.

I think I’ll wait a year.

Camp Kitchen

Kent on the post-surgical unit. Note the cup of Fire Whiskey in his hand…

Jacob at any given point except for when he is sleeping (see below)

The trip over when the motor still worked. Note the sleeping Jacob.

Roche Harbour

The Crew

Kent about to provide his opinion on topic x

This yacht had an open house and we were COMPLETELY ignored by the salesman. And I was going to write a cheque, too, but the bathroom was too small.

Kent sleeping off the effects of his anaesthetic…

Cemetery Island

The campground from the water. It helps when it is soo beautiful everywhere.

The lovely and hospitable Penelope and Eric, who so kindly have us all to stay on their land.

4th of July festivities on Stuart Island

Boat ride home and two sleeping 8yr olds.