The Creative Kat

What I did on Family Day

2012-02-20T19:02:00.000-05:00

I did something that has been on my "to do" list for a very long time, and can now check it off. I went through my Dad's family slide collection. I have been the custodian of it since his death, and it has nagged me that I should do something with it, before they fade away.

My Dad was a camera buff, both movie and still, and had hundreds of those little yellow boxes from Kodak stored away, with an index as to what was in each box, in the basement rec room. Today, I finally went through them. Now I'm not saying I went through them all, but picked a smattering of pre-me era photos, while my parents were even dating era photos, up until just before his death.

Where to start? How to edit out? Unfortunately a lot of the editng had been done for me, as many had faded to clear, or black, depending on the colour fixative that was used at the time.

I got very nostalgic. It was neat to see my parents so young, wide eyed, and very innocent. I enjoyed seeing my grandparents, younger than I remember them and many of my cousins when they were just toddlers. I saw the infamous crab apple tree in front of my house grow over the years, plus the birch tree my Dad insisted we, my brother and I, pose in front of each year. I noticed how there were oodles of boxes of baby Leo, and less of baby Kathi. I guess the excitement of the second child, and recording her every movement wore off when I came along.

While I was going through the photos I phoned my Mom and asked her if she wore a green dress, as her "going away" dress at her wedding, because I saw a lovely photo of my parents with confetti all over them, and my Mom in this lovely dress. I had to describe the neckline to her and the colour, and she said it was her wedding shower dress, and that she had had it made for the occasion. I found pictures of my brother and I in front of many family Christmas trees, along with family landmark occasions, trips to Niagara Falls, family vacations and just every day things, like cutting the lawn in front of the house. These seemingly innocent pictures, in a way, captured my interest more. I love to look at all the details — the cars everyone was driving, the lack of trees on the boulevards, the clothes, the hairstyles and the expressions on faces. I was reminded of my first red CCM two wheeler, how little girls dressed up for parties, how adults dressed up for house parties and how this bygone time should be cherished & family should not be taken for granted.

Sadly I have no children to pass these on to, but perhaps one day, my nephews may be interested in what went on before them.

Me ice skating at our local rink circa 1968

The best laid plans...

2012-02-19T10:39:00.000-05:00

Have you ever had one of those days, when everything you started, ended not at all how you thought it would? Yesterday was one of those days for me.

I was to meet the über runners for a walk in High Park, and join them at runner Mary Ellen's house for a pot-luck brunch post walk/run. I had made my contribution the night before, four mason jars full of yummy strawberry/banana smoothies made with my Manitoba clover honey. They were delish. I had heard snow was in the forecast overnight for Friday, but, when I opened my living room shutters yesterday at 6:30, to discover a heavy wet blanket of snow, my enthusiasm for meeting everyone waned very quickly. I didn't feel like getting soaking wet feet trudging through un-shoveled sidewalks. As I've gotten older, I've turned into a weather wussy, particularly when I'm not training for anything, and don't have that same motivation to push me out the door — even though I knew a marvelous brunch would be involved. Whenever the running ladies have gathered for dinners/lunches and brunches, the generosity and quality of food has always been top notch. We love our good food. Ok, so, my first plan of the day was nixed.

Well, I decided to at least be productive and finish braiding a bracelet I started the night before, only, I didn't like it so much the next day, and ended up pulling it all a part. Why waste good material? Second plan foiled.

I knew I had to go into the office at some point, so that I could utilize my jumbo tron monitor, while I put together a story/photo book to order on line. Before Christmas I had taken advantage of a "travelzoo deal" which was going to expire yesterday. It was for the cost of the story/photo book at 60% off — so totally worth me going into the office, on our long weekend, to get it done, and take advantage of the savings. After four and a half hours of plugging in photos and copy, I was checking out and typing in my voucher code, only to have it red flagged, and told I couldn't use it. What? All this work, on my long weekend, and I can't get my savings? I was exhausted and frustrated. Of course the people I had to phone only worked Monday to Friday, 9-5, so was out of luck for any answers yesterday. I proceeded to check out, paying the full price, knowing, both phone calls and emails were in my future for queries as to what happened.

Once home I decided to make a lush and thick royal aubergine necklace adorned with a pretty oval purple agate pendant. Again, the best laid plans — the necklace is now a double wrap bracelet with a focal toggle. Alas, the braiding was too lush and thick, to pass through the pendant's bail. Glad I thought how else I could use the braiding, and not have to take that piece a part too.

At that point, I thought it was best I just read the paper and relax, as everything I started, was not meant to be — at least not yesterday.

Double wrap braided bracelet tossed a top my earring tray in frustration.

Cross border beading

2012-02-11T12:48:00.000-05:00

"And what is the purpose of your visit to the U.S.?"
"I'm taking a beading course."
"A what?"
"I'm taking a beading course — jewellery making course."
"Oh, go on through."

And with those few words, armed with my google map instructions, I was driving on the 190 towards Tonowanda New York, to Toronto Bead Society member Sue Wise's Bead Gallery, to take a class taught by fellow bead society member Cindy Goldrick.

The day started with great deliberation, as snow was predicted, our first real snow for the winter — finally. Knowing how Buffalo gets walloped by snow, I was checking all the weather reports from Toronto, Hamilton, Niagara Falls and in to Buffalo, looking to see when the snow was to hit. Well, as good as they could predict it would hit. I gave Sue a call to get her take on the weather there, and she said if worse came to worse, she had an extra room in her house I could use. Armed with that information, I thought I could squeak through the imminent storm, and decided to go.

I left work and drove straight down, as the traffic was light, I think due to the snow predictions, and made good time to the border and on through. I even had enough time to hit a Targé before the class. Bonus.

The class was filled with locals, mostly rookies, but all very keen and enthusiastic about their new found addiction. Though I had not taken a course with Cindy before, I had an inkling she would be a good instructor, and I was not let down. It was a simple project — a beaded bangle. Something that could look very delicate and perfect for those type A's, or something more organic and lush, for my type — I could see the future possibilities.

Sue was just back from the Tucson gem show and I was chomping to see what she had brought back with her. While she was still processing most of it, I did manage to snag some lovely sterling cones that she brought out, after I made an inquiry.

"You want all of them?," asked the sales girl.
"Yes, why, is that unusual?"
"Yeah, nobody buys bags of them."

Looking outside and seeing a dusting of snow on my car, I knew I had to make a dash, to beat the storm. It was snowing as I left, dry on Grand Island, and snowing as I approached the Queenston-Lewiston border.

Again, the traffic was very light on the QEW. I made it home, before the big snow, to admire my new bangle and start to make more.

Thank you Cindy and Sue for a fun afternoon.

The first of many bangles, I'm sure.

The Dentist and Miss Lily

2012-02-09T20:23:00.002-05:00

Ok, maybe I mean the vet and the cat, my cat, Lily. Lily had a broken tooth that had to come out. Where I don't think it was really bothering her, my vet lead me to believe that it was. I'm no cat dentist, so I listened.

"That tooth needs to come out, and soon."
"Really? How much is that going to cost?"

Well, my jaw hit the stainless steel examining table Lily was sitting on, while I did nothing to hide my udder shock at the cost.

"But I just had a crown done, and it only cost me $800, and my dentist gave me a 10% discount, plus I left with a beautiful new porcelain tooth!"

Unbelievable what my vet was asking. Being a good cat Mom, we did the initial blood work up to make sure she was healthy in every other way, and planned for extraction. But first, I was going to shop around. I suspected I was paying a bit of a premium at my vet's, because the office edges a tony neighborhood. The care there has been excellent, but would it be any less, somewhere else, maybe somewhere less tony?

My Mom's vet is a one man shop plus techies, and is a mere 20 minute drive due south, and $400-$500 cheaper. Lily had a wonderful new doctor, for her dental work. He was caring, wondered if her broken tooth was tied in to my initial reason for my taking Lily in to the tony vet in the first place. Hmm. It was a good theory, and time will tell.

Lesson learned. Yes, I want my darling kitties to have good health care, but, I don't want to feel fleeced in the process.

Lily is freshly home from the vet, with a bandage around one leg from her IV drip, with a cross between a cranky and a dopey disposition, and she is nursing her wounds. Oh, and the pheromone spray was used in bulk, again.

Dental surgery patient, Lily, recovering.

Woosh

2012-01-28T17:55:00.000-05:00

What a wind it was this morning.

Yesterday, Barb, Marilyn and I had tentativley made plans to meet at High Park for our usual constitutional this morning, until we heard the weather forecast for today. Yesterday was a miserable morning, with wet snow & slippery roads, and that was what we had heard was in the forecast for this morning. We agreed to check email this morning to reconfirm.

Well Marilyn's poor dog Lucca got sprayed by a skunk last night, so she wouldn't be joining us. I saw slight precipitation at my house, but thought it was ok, so Barb and I agreed to meet at High Park.

We walked south through the park, crossed the cordoroy road they call Lakeshore Blvd., to walk along the boardwalk that runs parallel to Lake Ontario. Wooosh. Walking west, we had a driving wind in our face, and rain, or wet stuff hitting our faces. Neither one of us were cold, so we persued this nutty habit of ours. As the km's went on, we saw very few people out there this morning. Approaching the big bridge that crosses the Humber river, the winds opened up with avengence. Barb said, "only the hardy are out here today. Them and the dog walkers." And that was as true a statement as it comes.

Where there wasn't necessarily the cold, or snow, the winds were incredible. The lake was churned up, even inside the break wall, and the swells were huge that were crashing against it. As we got to the more sheltered Humber bay marine area, it calmed down, and at least we would have the wind at our back on our return walk, something I remember you always wanted, from my early marathon training days.

Well the wind didn't lift us, and float us home, but it was indeed one of the briskest days I can remember being out there. We saw a hand full of serious runners training for something, and the odd dog walker, and then there was the hardy twosome of Barb and Kathi.

Donned with windblown cheeks, we thought a hardy breakfast was in order.

Today made me long for the calm & warmth of summer on the lake.

82 + 1...

2012-01-27T20:19:00.001-05:00

... the number of blogs I have written in the last year, including today's. Today marks my first anniversary as "the reluctant blogger." I find that incredible. As I never considered myself a writer in any way — merely an observer of life, armed with a camera.

My desk in the bunkie in Tucson, where it all started.

I can't believe a year has already past, since I sat around Kate McKinnon's large dining room table in her Atomic Ranch in Tucson Arizona. I was armed with a borrowed PC, rather proudly stated that I wasn't into blogging, but loved being in Tucson for the big gem show, antiquing and exploring the beautiful deserts around us, and being with like minded individuals.

Some places I visited in Tucson + beads I bought.

Who knew I would embrace this thing called blogging. I've had fun with it. Andrew challenged me with it. And I will continue to do it. I get to share my thoughts about current events, jewellery design, my travels, the weather, friends, outings and all the things that fill my life.

Thank you to those loyal followers. I always enjoy when I get your feedback. It's always good to find out that someone is out there, and reading my blog.

While I may not be in Tucson on this anniversary, I am thinking about the Clinton's who started me on this journey, as they flew down today, and Kate and Andrew who will be at the gem shows and pine for when I can return to Tucson.

Kumihimo

2012-01-23T20:29:00.000-05:00

This is my new beading obsession — the art of Japanese braiding, with the aid of a disc.

This past weekend I experimented with different lengths of cord, different gauges of materials, creating different patterns, using different textures, all the while, spurring on more ideas. I have tried Chinese knotting in the past, and I just don't have what it takes to do it proficiently. It's not my thing and that's ok, because when something is my thing, I get excited, and want to keep on doing it. Kumihimo is my thing.

It has so many possibilities just in colours alone. Soon as I throw different materials into the scenerio, and decide on whether I want a flat look or rounded look, depending on whether I use a square or round disc, the possibilities are, really endless.

The Tucson three , aka Laurie Anne and Beth Clinton and me, spent an afternoon together recently, where they showed me the basics of kumihimo using wire. Where wire wasn't necessarily my thing, cord, rattail, leather, and such are. I still haven't advanced yet to mixing beads into the braid, but I know that can't be far off.

The simplicity of the leather braid
is set off by beautiful sterling findings.

The power of the pheromone!

2012-01-19T22:34:00.000-05:00

One stressed cat, made two stress cats and one big stressed Kat, me.

What seemed like a simple visit to my vet's over a slight concern I had with my Lily, turned into one lost night's sleep for the three of us, Lily, Gretel and me. Without getting into all the mundane details of my concern, to say the least, I saw a side of Lily I've never seen before — Damien, devil cat. Normally, Lily is the most placid cat with a great disposition, super friendly and not demanding.

As I took her out of her cage in the patient's room, one look at a sketch of a tabby cat on the wall, and Lily was a bundle of hisses. I didn't know she knew how. I've never heard her before. Well, she hadn't even seen the vet yet, what was to come?

The vet did the usual prodding and poking, and dare I saw a rectal exam, not fun for anyone, blood tests, all the while growling and hissing. She was a neurotic mess by the end of it. Thirty minutes at the vet's turned into 24 hours of a hissing Damien cat. Lily was so stressed by the entire adventure, that she took it out on poor quiet and tiny Gretel. Gretel unfortunately got the wrath of Lily's vile behavior — though I got the odd hiss too. Lily made these low toned growls, that made the hair on the back on my neck stand up. I wasn't going to mess with her, and you could be sure Gretel wasn't either.

I thought after an hour or two, all would be well. Not.

Lily wouldn't allow Gretel to be anywhere near her. I gave Lily time-outs, locked her in a room to cool down. I think that only stressed her more. When it came time for bed, they both normally sleep on my bed. Well, that was not to be. One came, then the other, then the hissing, then the running. I swear I didn't get more than 15 minute blocks of sleep that night. I got out of bed in frustration at 3:00 am, to check my email and surf a bit and ended up watching a movie on TVO. I was wide awake at this point.

Would I ever have my Ying Yang cats back?

Concerned by the about face behavior, I locked Lily in her own room while I went to work, concerned for poor Gretel's safety, and I visited the vet's first thing that morning. "Highly unusual behaviour," I was told. No kidding. My Mom had suggested I get a Feline Pheromone spray, that she had heard had good results for calming down cats. What did I have to lose?

Off to my local pet store, $40 later, and one tiny little spray bottle of French Feline Pheromones, & I was armed to meet Lily head on. After I got home from work I let Lily out of her room — she was still hissing at Gretel.

I walked through the house and & must have sprayed half of the bottle of pheromones everywhere I thought they would be, and within 30 minutes, calm had settled on our home.

Ah, the power of the pheromone.
Take that Pépe Le Pew.

Mariachis!

2012-01-08T18:58:00.000-05:00

What can I say, I LOVE a good Mariachi band. They are lively, passionate, soulful and you can't help but want to tap your toe.

I recently went to the Maya Exhibit at the Royal Ontario Museum in Toronto, and one of the luring enticements, was that during the holiday period, they had a Mariachi band performing. I heard the last show of their stay here. It was fun, it was moving, it made me tap my feet, made me smile, made me misty and made me want to hear more. I love their flying hands on all the strings, the yodeling and hooting in the songs, the melodic sounds of a specific region, the look of the big round base, their black uniforms with the silver embellishments running down their legs with their perfect posture and the memories it brings back for me.

Mariachi music is the sound of my childhood Christmases. My parents would put on their Mariachi records on the turntable during the Christmas season, when I still believed in Santa. It was a special time. An innocent time. A time when our pink flocked pine tree was the most gorgeous thing I ever saw, and I had it in my basement rec room to enjoy and remember fondly to this day.

Well of course I had to buy the CD, for my next Christmas.

Adieu 2011

2011-12-31T22:31:00.002-05:00

It's been a fine year.
New challenges tackled - new places explored - new faces encountered.
I always feel I'm on the cusp of change(s) with the dawning of each new year, and of course I am, as we all are.
What they may be, what they may bring - ah, patience.
The following show a few of my favorite moments from this past year.
Happy New Year one and all!


Doc Holliday & me in Tombstone Arizona.

The Tucson three - my fellow bloggers who encouraged me on this journey.

Kitti & I in Patan Durbar Square, Nepal

Going to see Everest.

Devendra

Singhe - I loved his smile.

Strawberry social.

Peach lady.

Holy Crow.

Wasaga.

Artist & patron.

The Venice four.

Artisans.

Busman's holiday.

Festive Special

2011-12-23T14:31:00.000-05:00

My Mom, me and Di at the Swiss Restaurant.

Christmas just wouldn't be the same without an annual visit to the Swiss Restaurant for the Festive Special. My Mom, Di (a former neighbor) and I have been celebrating this tradition for at least twenty years now. Every year there is great debate as to what to order — it's been the same request for the past twenty years — quarter chicken of white meat with fries for two, plus one veggie burger for yours truly, as the token veggie. Great discussion occurs over the dessert menu, and it is always the lemon meringue pie with three forks that wins. The chocolates arrive for the two who ordered the Festive Special, and they generously share them with me. As much as the visit to the Swiss restaurant is tradition, so too is the ritual of discussing the meal selection. We exchange pressies over the table and bid adieu for another season. Merry Christmas.

Smile

2011-12-20T17:55:00.000-05:00

Nothing makes me smile faster than a plastic snowman lighting up a front yard at this time of the year.

I have watched this menagerie grow over the years. What once was a semi-circle of plastic plug-in snowmen, has morphed into an army of snowmen in every shape, size, construction and noteworthiness.

They are now safely tucked behind a tall wrought iron fence,
for their own protection.

I particularly like the smaller ones huddled around their campfire.

Surprisingly, they don't melt. ;-)

Was it a Gherkin or was it a tree?

2011-12-15T19:58:00.000-05:00

London's Gherkin.

While in London last year, my Mom and I became fascinated by a building known as the Gherkin. Gherkin in shape, and unique in design, inside and out, it stands a part in London's skyline. Once you see it, you know you have never seen a building like it before, and it helps identify London's skyline.

Last night driving home from downtown, out of the corner of my eye I saw Christmas lights that reminded me of the Gherkin. I did a U turn, and went back to look more closely at my Gherkin. It was a tall conical shaped tree, with lights placed on it, in the same pattern as London's Gherkin. I had to take a picture. I then drove slowly through the neighborhood, taking in all the Christmas lights. It reminded me of when I was a kid, and my Dad would pile the family into our 1967 Pontiac Parisienne, and we would go downtown to see all the wonderful Christmas lights along University Avenue.

For a few minutes last night, as I was driving slowing down side streets, I felt like I was back in 1967, when Christmas truly was magical.

My Christmas Gherkin.

Traditions - my word of the week

2011-12-05T20:43:00.000-05:00

During this time of the year, there are many traditions I like to observe. Traditions can allow for a continuity of certain feelings at certain times.

Christmas is one of those times that takes me back to my childhood, as far as when certain traditions were given their impetus for me. When I was a small girl, I would go downtown during December, with my Babcia, and we would visit Simpson's and Eaton's. It was a big event, where we were both dressed in our Sunday best, including hat and gloves. We would take the street car from her house, which was a thrill all its own — as there were no street cars where I lived.

In those days, Simpson's and Eaton's were two massive department stores, that were across the street from one another on Queen street in downtown Toronto. My Babcia would price something in Eaton's, and inevitably, we would buy it in Simpson's. We would hold on to the rickety wooden escalator in Eaton's and climb up to the Toy Department - Mecca - to any child - and I was no different. Where to start? The line-up to see Santa Clause was forever, so opted to just dream about all the toys I wanted under my tree that year - Barbie, Operation, Kiddles, Kerplunk & Barrel of Monkeys.

We would cross the street and have a wander through Simpson's. The notions department for my Babcia, and the toy department again for me.We always stopped for lunch in the basement cafeteria, where we sat at stools at the counter, and where they had pieces of pie under the glass in front of you. It was so exciting and fun. I loved how I could just swing my feet, as I was too small to touch the foot rests. I was allowed a pot of tea, a habit, I've carried on to this day. My Babcia allowed me get a taste for tea at a young age, and it stuck.

No trip was complete without checking out the department store windows for Christmas. Some years had Santa and his elves working in his toyshop, some years were covered in tinsel and silver, after all, this was the age of Aquarius.

As my Babica got older, and wasn't up for the big Simpson's adventure, my Mom and I took up the charge. No longer did we hit the toy department, but the fashion department. Lunch was upgraded to the Arcadian court, and my feet were firmly placed under my seat now. Over time, Simpson's became The Bay, but still in the same Queen street location. Each December my Mom and I make the pilgrimage to The Bay Queen Street, to have a wander through the fashion department, note the decor section. Sadly, the Arcadian court was no longer a lunch option this year, as it was closed for renovations. There isn't even a toy department in the store any more, and we were too pooped to check out the Christmas windows this year.

Having said that, I still enjoyed my tradition of hitting Simpson's/The Bay Queen street this December, in the midst of all the Christmas madness. What would Christmas be, without a trip to the big Queen street department store. Ho ho ho!

Quirk - my word of the week.

2011-11-30T20:20:00.000-05:00

We all have our own quirks and can observe different quirks — everyday.

I raise my left eyebrow, without even thinking about it, when my curiosity is peaked, be it good or bad — the subject of my curiosity that is. I tap my spoon two times into the sink after I have stirred my tea — but only when I'm at work. On weekends, I drink my tea from my giant Starbucks mug I bought in Beijing — I never use that mug during the week. Why do we have these quirks? Habit? Learned behavior? Is that the reason why we are all unique? I'm not really sure.

Now here is a quirky sign — which is clearly not habit, nor learned behavior, but perhaps a non committal outlook on things. The sign is in Macy's on 34th Street in New York City.

Autumn

2011-11-23T20:45:00.000-05:00

Autumn - my word of the week.

I've never been a fan of autumn, probably my least favorite season, for many reasons. I hear friends tout its praises about the fresh fall air, the changing of the leaves, the hunkering down for what is approaching and the nesting instinct. Me - I love spring.

However, this autumn has passed so quickly, that I barely had time to notice the shorter days, the greyer days & the need to wear a jacket again. Why? Simply because I've been so busy preparing for different jewellery shows, participating in the shows and looking forward to December, when the calm of no shows arrives. And December always has its own frenzied qualities, with the onslaught of Christmas festivities — which I do enjoy.

So dare I say, this autumn is passing quickly, as an unfavored season should.

Finish - say it isn't so Andrew.

2011-11-14T21:35:00.001-05:00

Andrew has just assigned my last word of the week assignment. I will be very sorry not to see my word assignment each Monday.

Very appropriate that the last word should be finish. When I first read the word, I thought of kinds of finishes, as in shiny, pewter, brass, matte, and so on, not that the word of the week assignments are finished. So sad. I really did come to enjoy them, be frustrated by them, be challenged by them and took it for granted that they would just be there, waiting for me on a Monday, in perpetuity. I guess nothing lasts forever.

Yes, I was one of those original seven women that gathered in the Arizona desert in January, to take on this challenge. I still have my piece of paper with my first word challenge passed to me from either Ellen or Doriot, in my journal, I bought special for the "Capturing the Moment" workshop. The word was "clear". I was told to take a photo that captures "clear", since I smugly stated that I was not interested in blogging, but was interested in photography.

I've always been a fan of blue & I loved how Mother Nature,
made this incredible clear blue interpretation,
in stone, in the desert.

I loved the clear blue sky
that greeted us each day in the desert.

How interesting that my first word should be clear, and that my last word would be finish. Blogging and the push to think outside the box creatively has spawned many new ideas for me, and made things clearer if you will. The fact that Andrew chose to finish this assignment on the word finish, ties things up very neatly.

Andrew said that it has been 42 weeks since this project began. So, so much for a matte finish, I think this is a shiny, high gloss finish to a wonderful life course for me. Thank you Andrew.

In front of some of my work November 5, 2011.

My love of colour...

2011-11-09T21:26:00.000-05:00

Just cracked my November Style at Home magazine, and saw the following quote by Carleton Varney, one of America's top interior designers, " I honestly believe that if you're a happy person, you have to live with colour."

Nuff said.

My word of the week catch-up

2011-11-08T20:01:00.000-05:00

October 3 - Strength

October 10 - Sanctuary

October 17 - Written

October 24 - Soft

October 31 - Shiver

November 7 - Cherish

Yes, it has been six weeks, since I've dealt with my word of the week challenge from Andrew. I've noted them, thought about them and concluded the following:

My Mom gives me strength.

My home provides me with sanctuary.

I get more pleasure out of keeping a written blog than I would ever have imagined —thank you Andrew and Kate for pushing me initially.

My precious Gretel, is the softest creature I have felt.

The thought of our first snow fall of the season causes me to shiver — thank goodness for cashmere.

And cherish, would describe how I feel about my relationship with my Mom and my feline companions, Gretel and Lily.

There you go, six weeks of homework covered off.

And all very connected.

Strength

Sanctuary

Soft: Lily and Gretel & the armless teddy bear.

Arrivederci Venezia...

2011-10-20T19:15:00.002-04:00

• Lots of walking • Melt in your mouth gnocchi • Meals beside a canal • Tall beautiful men, with personalities to match, who knew how to accessorize • Endless canals • Gorgeous gloves • Vivaldi • Murano glass • Scarves worn by everyone • A church on every corner • Cappuccino's for breakfast • Gondolas • Vaportto's • Valpolicella • Prosecco • The colourful houses of Burano • Photo ops on every street • Sharing memories with good friends • Quality mother/daughter time • Love of Italy reconfirmed • Being with good friends at special times • Colour • Low rise buildings • Marble • Bridges • History • A sense of style • Water • Docks • Singing

It was a whirlwind trip — but those are my most favorite as I feel I get a lot of experiences in a short time.

When I saw a car for the first time in six days, it hit me, that I really had been a very different world. :)

Mom on the vaporetto back to Piazzale Roma,
to catch a cab to the airport.
There was no way, my Mom was doing another
crazy speedy water taxi back to the airport.
We even had a porter take our bags to the vaporetto.

One last pass under the Accedemia Bridge,
with skinny house and gondola in the background.

My big 50th!

2011-10-19T21:29:00.000-04:00

Up at 6:30 on my birthday? Yup, I signed up for a photography tour of the "other side " of Venice with Ian. I wanted to at least have a cappuccino before I met Ian, so reluctantly got out of bed. The morning was spent happily snapping away, in the Castello and Arsenale regions of Venice, along with Ian at my side. We had an intimate group of 5, including our guide. A couple from New Zealand were along for the tour as well. Off the typical tourist path, I got another side of Venice on this tour. I embraced the opportunity to capture as much of it as I could. The following speaks for itself.

Masks to be adorned, or not?

Ian and the Kiwis and our guide.

Sensible tourist shoes.

Canal hotel entrance.

Ian getting some photography guidance.

Endless bridges.

I hadn't had breakfast, and everything looked good.

Fresh picked pomegranates.

Local newsagent. Typical architecture.

Back doors of homes.

I liked the asymmetrical mail slot.

Bridge to front door. How convenient.

Like the crazy wires of Kathmandu,
I was fixated on the laundry lines of Venice.

A study in laundry.

More laundry.

Adornments on the gondolas.

The winged lion of Venice, atop the Arsenale.

I thought this looked like a character out of Gangs of New York.

The best known symbol of Venice.

After a happy two and a half hours of exploring and snapping, Ian and I met up with my Mom and Sue - where - in front of Florian's. Florian's was a great meeting spot. By now Ian and I were hungry, having sacrificed breakfast for the sake of our tour, and were keen to get somewhere. The lovely tiny northern island of Burano was our destination for lunch. Two vaporetto's and just under two hours later, we arrived in the most colourful island of Burano. Had we known it would take so long to get to Burano, I think we would have had a bite before leaving St. Mark's Square, alas.

One of our daily sites,
as his master sold his paintings by our hotel.

Waiting for the vaporeto to Burano from Murano.

I love colour, and Burano was full of colour. It was such a happy looking spot. These island dwellers embraced all colours and all combinations of colours. They were not shy. I loved it!

We had been told of a good restaurant in Burano, Al gatto nero, the black cat, by two people now — Mario, our tour guide in the Murano glass works factory and by the Contessa. Somehow going to a restaurant called The black cat on my birthday seemed very appropriate. So, we set our sites on finding this restaurant. It was located maybe ten minutes from the vaporetto dock. We had a slight line-up, but were each given a glass of prosecco as compensation, and the line moved quickly. Word got out that it was my birthday, and more special drinks came out. I was given the head of the table in this charming restaurant that was adorned with dozens of paintings, sketches and drawings of black cats, and local scenery. This was a happening spot. It was buzzing inside and out on the canal side patio. Their specialty was fish, so we all ordered fish dishes. We had two large platters of antipasto of all kinds of fish — shell fish, raw fish, squid, mussels, fish I didn't know, a mousse of a white fish, it was all yummy. What's a meal without pasta, but with crab added. More yumminess. When it came time for dessert, I was stuffed, but was brought out a lovely little panacotta with a candle. After making a wish and blowing it out, more indulgence.

Location of my birthday lunch.

A one...

A two...

three...
Note the Murano glass bead bracelet.
A birthday present from my Mom.

I think we were all ready for a walk around Burano after that very satisfying meal. We needed to move, or at least I needed to move.

Post lunch outside the restaurant.

Typical canal of colour.

Is this not sweet.

Bold and beautiful.

Embracing the many colours.

Side by side and bold.

Even the laundry was colourful.

Burano is known for its hand made lace.

Lovely reflections.

We had a glorious afternoon wandering around Burano. The weather was beautiful, the company splendid, the occasion was noteworthy — a day to remember.

Burano is small island, quite a way north of the action of Venice, but well worth it. Next stop Venice.

We took the vaporetto back towards Venice, changing vaporettos in Murano, and ending up on the opposite side of St. Mark's, at Fondemanta Nove. We were clearly, nowhere near where we wanted to end up. Not sure how that happened. When my Mom and I came back from Murano, we took a direct vaporetto. Oh well, more new neighborhoods to explore. I had been on the search for Pan Forte, a delicacy of the Florence region, but thought I could get it here, I mean, we were pretty close to Florence. I had gone into several Pasticcerie's, all with the same results. Finally, I saw one in a window, and two were purchased. Success. We were clearly walking through residential neighborhoods, with kids kicking a soccer ball around, moms and kids strolling and chatting before dinner and the end of a day's events were shared with neighbors.

We made it to the Rialto bridge and caught the vaporetto around the grand canal, back to St. Mark's. It was mostly full of people going home from work, or going out for the evening. Not many tourists like us on board. Again, the moon was full and bright and lead the way back to St. Mark's.

Vaporetto just going under the Accademia bridge with full moon.

One thing my Mom and I had on our list of things to do in Venice was to go to the original Harry's Bar. Now, Harry's is where Hemingway hung out in the 20's, and Bellini's originated. Yes, a total tourist trap, but one we wanted to experience, even though the Contessa told us they used frozen peach juice now. We knew it was around our hotel, but just didn't realize just how close, until we got off the vaporetto at St. Mark's. Harry's is an intimate little bar, full or little tables with little chairs occupied by tourists and locals alike. The menu asked that we refrain from taking photos, so as not to make other patrons uncomfortable. Wonder what, or who should or shouldn't be seen there. I resisted, but so wanted one last group shot of us with our 15 Euro Bellini's.

By now we were all getting weary, and my Mom and I still had to pack as we were leaving in the morning. I walked Ian and Sue back to their vaporetto stop, and had one last lovely walk through the evening quiet of St. Mark's square.

My 50th birthday was indeed a day to remember. My Mom suggested this whole trip, and from start to finish it was truly wonderful. Thanks Mom, for everything. I love you.

Dinner with the Contessa

2011-10-18T21:36:00.001-04:00

Dare I say, another gorgeous morning in Venice.

As I said earlier, this was the view from my room.

The vendors setting up their stall in front our our hotel,
in front of an old water well.

Tourists in St. Mark's.

This morning we had arranged to rendez-vous with friends, Ian & Sue, from England. Ian calls Venice one of his favorite city's , and when my Mom asked if they would like to join us in Venice, to help celebrate my 50th birthday, we were pretty confidant they would join us, if at all possible. Florian's house band was already playing at 11:00 am when we saw Ian and Sue standing by the band stand. Rather than pay 12 Euros for a coffee, we opted to chat over coffee, a five minute walk west of St. Mark's Square, beneath the splendor of Campo Santa Maria Zobenigo. Four Americano's later, and we were ready for lunch. We walked 2 minutes to a lovely little restaurant that sat on the edge of a canal, the Ristorante "da Raffaele". We were even serenaded by a gondolier as he passed under our table. Gnocchi, raviolo and 1/4 chicken later, we all felt ready for sight seeing.

Sue, Ian, my Mom and I in front of Santa Maria Zobenigo.

Looking up the facade of Santa Maria Zobenigo.

More colourful masks.

A quiet side canal.

Another lunch al fresco, alongside a canal.

The singing gondolier.

What to do today? My Mom and I had already made plans for tonight, to go to a wine pairing/cooking class. I had asked Ian and Sue to join us, but they declined. What with Ian's son being the executive chef at Nobu 57 in New York, he hardly needed to get personal cooking and wine advise from someone else when all he needed to do was hang around his son in the kitchen. We were due to meet the Contessa, or Enrica as she was commonly known, at 5:00 at her apartment. Not enough time to go up to Burano or Torcello, so opted for local sight seeing.

We took the vaporetto across to St. Giorgio. St. Georgio's is on an island directly across from St. Mark's square. We got the most amazing views of the city from the Bell Tower, which Ian insisted we must go up. Six people stepped into a tiny little elevator that rose up the bell tower, as we saw the steps winding around the tower. Marvelous views. Time for another Americano, or, was it Bellini hour?

View from the Bell Tower at St. Giorgio.

Took the vaporetto across to Zattere, and had drinks along the waterfront and caught up with Ian and Sue. Ian and my Mom and I have been good friends for over 25 years and shared many life milestones together, and were reminiscing over the many birthdays we had shared together. I remember celebrating Ian's 50th, a few years ago now, and here we were going to be celebrating mine together. Where has the time gone?

Ian and Sue walked us to the Ferrari Red door of Enrica's house. Ian and I had made plans to meet, early, the next morning, my birthday, to take a photography tour together. First, dinner with the Contessa.

Sunset out of the window at Enrica's.

My Mom and I weren't quite sure what to expect, but we did expect to be blown away by a wonderful meal, after all, we were assured a "meal to remember". Prosecco greeted us as we entered Enrica's loft style apartment. It was quite modern and sleek on the inside, and rustic old Venetian on the outside, minus the Ferrari red door. Lorenzo was our wine pairing expert, who showed up with a huge cooler pack, loaded down with wines from his store, Millevini Enoteca/1000 Wines. I lost track as to how many we tried. Let's see, prosecco of course, one with our bruschetta, one with our bean salad, one with our risotto & frittata, one with our eggplant parmasean, and of course a dessert wine with our caramelized apples. Enrica did indeed have a passion for food and all its enjoyments, but I think this dinner was geared towards the novice in the kitchen. Both my Mom and I are pretty savvy in the kitchen, so dare I say, were somewhat dissapointed in the course selection. We were told that the fish market was closed Mondays, so therefore fish couldn't be served? I don't eat meat, but my Mom was sure looking forward to at least one meat course. It was tasty, but, not out of the ordinary. It was a meal we could have easily have put together on our own, minus the contessa. Lorenzo did however give me a much better understanding about wine pairing, and the over all success of a meal because of it. Both had lively personalities, which made for a pleasant evening, but dare I say, overpriced evening. It was an experience, that's how you have to look at it.

Enrica and Lorenza discussing wine.

A break in the meal.

Lorenzo walked us to the Vaporetto stop, and made sure we were headed in the right direction back to St. Mark's. It was a gorgeous night. The moon was full. The boat back was dreamy, with a slight breeze, as the captain navigated what seemed were unmarked waters. I savored our walk through St. Mark's as I heard the different bands greet us. Collapsed in bed after 11, thinking what time I had to get up to meet Ian, under the arches, in front of the Correr museum in St. Mark's square (7:50 am).

Ciao.

A lazy Sunday in Venice

2011-10-17T20:52:00.000-04:00

Another perfect weather day in Venice.

We tried to get into a walking tour of Venice, but since we booked too late, couldn't get in, so created our own walking tour, which was probably better in the long run anyway. It allowed for cappuccino breaks, shopping breaks, photo ops and lazy moments, after all, we were on vacation.

Armed with my trusty hotel map, which now had key points marked on it, we set off. It was a quiet Sunday morning in St. Marco's Square, as the cruise ships had not landed yet, and there was just a dusting of tourists walking through. We set our sites on the Rialto Bridge. I tried to follow my snakey route which took me to the internet cafe, as I knew it was near the Rialto Bridge. Gondoliers asked us if we wanted a ride, as this was the best, and most quiet time on the canals, so they said. We resisted. Prior to going to Venice, I was convinced I had to do a gondola ride, regardless of price, and once we arrived, I just didn't feel the need. I got enough pleasure out of having them parked under my bedroom window each night.

A quiet Venetian Canal on Sunday morning.

Until 1854, the Rialto Bridge, was the only bridge that crossed the Grand Canal. To think that Michelangelo and his contemporaries walked across this same bridge that opened in 1591.And now here we were. Incredible. Looking up the Grand Canal, minus the speed boats, and vaporettos, it looks like a Canaletto painting. In some ways much has change, and in some ways nothing has changed. It looks like so many paintings I've seen of Venice over the years. For some reason I thought it would have changed, but it really hadn't. No skyscrapers here. I loved it.

Looking up the Rialto bridge.

Tourists on the Rialto

Does this not look like a scene from a Canaletto painting?

We crossed over and wandered around the Rialto market area. Being Sunday, there were no vendors, however, there were local antique dealers — selling their pieces of Murano glass, silver, paintings and general bric-a-brac. Unfortunately nothing caught my eye. That would be short lived. I swore I wouldn't buy a mask of any kind, and next thing I knew I was buying this simple black cat mask. How could I resist, after all, I am the kat.

The cat mask.

A bouquet of red hot peppers.

We booked tickets to another concert for tonight. I hesitated, knowing that it didn't start till 9, and that we would have to walk back here tonight, and then home after the concert. No cab to catch if your feet were tired, or swollen (in my Mom's case). But, my Mom was all excited about the selections, and it was in a beautiful little church, so tickets were purchased.

Location of evening concert.

We crossed back over the bridge and headed toward the Accademia galleries, to put a little culture in our day. Well, we stumbled across the most delightful little glove shop on route. They had every style of glove, in every shade of every colour. They were very proud of their colour prowess. Being from a country where I really do need to wear gloves half the year, I bought 4 pair and my Mom 3 - orange, wine, aubergine and apple green. They are like butta — so soft, with cashmere lining. We were properly fitted, with our gloves stretched first, raising our arms with elbows resting on the counter as they slid the gloves on. The orange gloves are the exact shade of a lovely orange purse I bought that morning too. I love when accessories all come together like this — after all, it is all about the accessories.

Continued to make our way through narrow streets, crossing canals, passing cute little cafes, witnessing a traffic boom of gondolas. We ascended the steps of the Accedemia bridge with yet another spectacular view of the Grand Canal. We lunched al fresco beside the Accedemia before heading inside to get our fill of Belllini's and Tintoretto's. Many of my "must knows" from my high school art history classes were before my eyes.

So easy to have a cappuccino break.

Gondola rush hour in the canals.

Another scene from Canaletto, as seen from the Accedemia bridge.


Tourists on the Accedemia bridge.

Lunch break.

We opted for the vaporetto, one stop, back to St. Mark's. Set up along the dockside were artists of all skill levels - from the caricature artist to skilled artist. Simultaneously, my Mom and I both stopped in front of the same artist. We liked his simple, yet captivating scenes of Venice, and we each bought a charcoal drawing. Mine is of the Rialto bridge and my Mom's is of a Venetian canal. Making our way through the cruise ship hordes, we lined up to get in to St. Mark's Basilica. The line was moving quickly. Gorgeous Byzantine gold ceiling and precision mosaic floors like a patchwork quilt greeted us. Hey, it was Sunday, and I was in church. How novel.


My favorite picture of the trip. This is our artist. He wanted to give me his Leonardo profile, and my Mom just gave me one of her wonderful natural laughs.

Mosaics of St. Mark's.

Grabbed yet another pistachio gelato on our way home. In our room I hear more serenading, even accompanied by an accordion - just like in the movies. Even though I was listening to Italian, the banter sounded light and friendly, sprinkled with laughter and song, and church bells.

Time for dinner - VinoVino was our restaurant for tonight. A left at Ferragamo, a right at the furniture store, over the canal, and VinoVino was on our left. We dined al fresco next to bamboo plants & under a giant fig tree. Only in Italy can you find two restaurants combined in one setting, sort of. As we walked in, it was VinoVino's, the it changed names & menus and price points as we walked into another room, then back to VinoVino's as we went out to the garden. Capresse salad x 2, Valpolicelli x 2, Raviolo for me and Pork Scallops for my Mom. Dessert was panacotta for my Mom and lemoncello for me. Easy two minute walk back to our hotel with contented tummies.

VinoVino's for dinner, beside the bamboo and under the fig tree.

Ian & Sue phoned to say they had arrived in town and were just settling into their hotel, across on Giudecca. We made plans to meet in front of Florian's in the morning. As I had suspected earlier in the day, a 9:00 concert was just too late for this twosome, and we passed on tonight's concert.

Light's out.

Murano - where glass is art

2011-10-16T17:52:00.001-04:00

Peering out of our shutters I see a clear blue sky. A beautiful morning in Venice.

This was definitely a two cappuccino morning. Still adjusting to Venice time.

We decided to go to the island of Murano today. Since the thirteenth century, Murano has been known for its glass works factories and design studios. Walking under the arcade that surrounds St. Mark's Square, I was approached by someone, with somewhat of an official looking badge, it was laminated, asking if we were interested in a free trip to Murano. Now, I'm no rookie traveler, and know nothing is free, but, I bit (guide books even warned not to take the free trips). He was willing to take us in a water taxi to Murano, with a free tour of one of the glass factories. Much to my Mom's chagrin, I agreed to the deal, only because the water taxi was three times faster than the local vaporetto (local water bus service). I knew we would be given a big sales pitch and expected to purchase, but, we were still in control of how much we spent — right? Off we went to the water taxi dock, my Mom just looked at me in a way, that only a Mom can, knowing she hated the whole speedy water taxi experience, and that nothing is free.

Looking out the back of our water taxi.

Twenty minutes up to Murano, and we were greeted by Mario. Mario was your classic, tall, dark and handsome tour guide in his blue blazer, white shirt and dark trousers. So far, so good. Mario guided my Mom and I into the work area of the factory where we were given a demonstration & explanation of the how they made the glass. This factory was family apprenticed. The apprenticeship program took 8-10 years, and was passed down through the generations, with jobs assigned as to who had a better skill at what. We were shown how a piece of a chandelier goblet was made. Knowing that he would have to make several, exactly the same so that they would all fit together into the final product. He then showed us the making of a glass cat, from initial hot blob of glass & silica to final shaped cat, ready for cooling in cork for 3 days, before it went into the sale room. It really was quite fascinating to see just how fast and skilled he was. Next part of our free tour was up to the "high end" sales room which was filled with massive chandeliers and pieces of art. I was never a huge fan of the glass art before, but was converted, when I saw some of the stunning pieces in this room. I always had an appreciation as to what went in to making them, but now, truly was in awe. No sales there for Mario. Back downstairs to the "tourist room". I had fully intended to purchase a special piece of Murano glass anyway, so did not feel that this "free" tour forced my hand. I bought a stunning sugar and creamer set in multi-coloured Murano glass with a hint of gold layering, along with a 10% discount from Mario. Before bidding adieu, Mario suggested a restaurant, Trattoria al gatto nero or The black cat, in Burano, if we were still heading north on our travels. All in all, this free tour, was well worth it in my books.

Approaching the glass works factory by water taxi.
A regulation sized dock greeted us — my Mom was happy.

The making of the Murano cat.

It took all of 3 minutes from start to finish.

We took our time and strolled the canals of Murano, popping in and out of stores full of Murano glass in all shapes, sizes & budgets— jewellery, loose beads, chandeliers, vases, goblets & statues. Had a lovely gnochi with crab lunch on a dock cantilevered over the canal (Ristorante Ai Pianta Leoni). The sun was shining, I had my Murano souvenir, all was well in the world. Murano is a beautiful little island, with a mix of architecture and glass artwork on display. Walking along the canal, you would encounter a large glass statue, backed up by multifaceted ancient architecture.

Crossing one of two bridges on Murano.


My Mom, with somewhat of a glass headdress look and tower coming out of her head. I couldn't resist the crazy composition. She is a good sport.

Took the vaporetto back to St. Mark's square where I parted with my Mom, as I was in search of an internet cafe. I was told it was under the Bell Tower. Then straight along to the end. Remember, I said nothing was straight here. Turn left at the church. Which one? I encountered many. After several questions, in several stores, I found my way to this dingy little internet cafe, that made the one in Kathmandu look downright cutting edge. Before leaving Toronto, we had booked a cooking/wine pairing class that I needed to check details on.

Tonight we went to a Vivaldi concert, in the birth city of Vivaldi. The orchestra Virtuois di Venezia-San Marco Chamber Orchestra performed in the prestigious Ateneo de San Basso in San Marco square. They were performing the Four Seasons, in a room with the same dimensions, that Vivaldi had composed in. It was an intimate venue, with maybe 200 people. Absolutely wonderful. The music just sang.

Strolled back under the arcade and went in to Caffe Lavena for very over priced coffee and dessert on our way home. Hey, we were paying for the ambiance, and to listen to more Vivaldi playing by the house band outside. I had a Torta de Ricotta that was to die for.

My favorite time of the day in St. Mark's Square.

A room with a view in Venice...

2011-10-15T16:32:00.002-04:00

... in our case meant, Ferragamo, Versace and Prada here from our Violino D'oro hotel room.

Our view. Note the gondolier stand.

Took an exhilarating water taxi ride from the airport to our hotel. The water taxi was a beautiful sleek teak boat captained by a driver with no fear of hitting every wake head on. It had stormed that morning and the swells were noticeable. Splash. Crash. Woo Hoo! When I say we took it to our hotel, I actually mean the closest dock. Well, when I say dock, I actually mean a two plank wide structure that took us from the water taxi to the island of Venice. There was a good foot between the water taxi and the dock when I was swinging my suitcase across to our driver. Challenging as it was, I grabbed his hand and jumped. He kept telling my Mom, who does not like water, to not look down as she stepped across that gaping foot. Ah Venice.

The Murano glass chandelier in our room.

After a flight to London, with a slight delay and connecting on to Venice, I think that boat ride gave us both our second wind — by now we were both up for more than 26 hours. We dumped our bags in our room with a view, grabbed a map from the lobby, and set off in a straightish line to St. Mark's Square (there is nothing straight in Venice). We were a mere five minute walk away.

We had a lovely, sunny breezy initial walk into St. Mark's Square. It is as massive as I thought it would be. It is surrounded by expensive designer stores to tantalize as we walked by. Name a designer, and they were there, all beautifully appointed.

Two weary tourists in St. Mark's Square.

Pigeons abound.

Jewellery stores were full of eye candy.

Even the door knobs were beautiful Murano glass.

My Mom perusing the map, while waiting for dinner.

By this time we actually were getting peckish, and found a quiet little trattoria on a side street, with many Italian tourists inside, which we thought was a good sign, and had our first meal in Venice, a Margherita pizza, with wine of course. We had a leisurely stroll through the square, by this time many of the tourists had gone back to their cruise ships, and the square was quite lovely. Three bands were playing in front of three different cafés: Florian's, Caffe Lavenna and Quadri. Vivaldi could be heard at one, jazz at another, and believe it or not, the score to The Sound of Music at another. We booked tickets for a Vivaldi concert for the next night, grabbed gelatto for dessert as we walked back to our hotel — the end of a lovely first day in Venice.

Buona Sera Venezia.

Wander — AKA wanderlust

2011-10-02T11:17:00.000-04:00

Andrew finally assigned a word I felt an innate response to.

Wanderlust — I think it is in my DNA. When asked when I was in grade school what I wanted to be when I grew up, I proudly said a painter/stewardess and drew myself in a beautiful blue uniform with hat, remember this was the 1960's, & holding an artist's palette.

My parents drove from Toronto to Mexico in 1956 for their honeymoon — pretty cool in those days. Both wanted to travel. They researched and explored different cultures. My Mom had a fascination with the Mayan culture, and I can remember doing a grade 3 project on them because I developed an interest in the old culture. Our family explored Mexico, the way most families explored Florida.

My parents instilled a curiosity about the world around me, and the yearning to want to see other cultures. When I visited Expo '67 in Montreal, and was introduced to the world, so to speak, I was wide eyed about how they looked, what they wore, how they sounded and what they ate. My parents bought me a set of Russian dolls, that started large, and by opening them up, descending down to one tiny doll. I just thought that was so neat, and yet, so unique to Russia. I also got a doll from the China pavillion, which, I think for the first time showed me that Chinese people don't look or dress like me. China seemed so far away, so exotic, who knew I would one day visit there.

Growing up in the suburbs of Toronto, I had different cultures around me in school, but they all meshed into one, until I was shown the difference through a doll. My grandparents all came from Poland, and I was totally unaware they had an accent till my friends pointed it out to me when I was ten. Strange how it took outside sources, to show me the differences.

My grade four teacher was English, and through talking to her, I was convinced everyone ate fish n' chips everyday, and it permanently rained in in London. Well, according to Coronation Street, that stereotype holds true, however, it made me want to go to London in the biggest way.

My Dad and his sister, Jeannie, were very well traveled. I have taken up the reigns and want to see & experience as much as I can in this world around us.

Ahh, wanderlust...

Cycling the hills above Florence with friend Jolijn.

Anticipation

2011-09-30T15:31:00.000-04:00

My word of the week.

I'm a week away from traveling to Venice, Italy, to spend a milestone birthday with my Mom and dear friends Ian and Sue. I've never been to Venice, so there is always excitement about going somewhere new. For the past few years I've started going away to note my birthday. My birthday was always married to Thanksgiving celebrations growing up, and since I'm not a fan of turkey, but do love pasta and pizza, Italy is a great place to celebrate. Two years ago I walked the Brooklyn Bridge for my birthday, & last year, again with my Mom, Ian and Sue, we wandered the streets of London together.

I'm looking forward to traveling the canals of Venice, having a morning cappucino in St. Mark's Square, exploring the alleyways and getting lost, taking a massive amount of photos, searching out real Murano glass beads and just savoring the Italian lifestyle.

As Dr. Frank-N-Furter said in The Rock Horror Picture Show, Antici pation ....

October 2009

October 2010

Primal

2011-09-30T14:13:00.000-04:00

Andrew's word of the week.

Primal fears - I've scuba dived with manta rays, parachuted out of a plane, walked the edge of the CN Tower (decades before they had the safety of The edge walk attraction), rafted through white water, searched out rattlesnake pits (don't ask), zip lined through a tropical rain forest, walked on a glacier & looked a wild Buffalo in the eye at twelve feet.

Primal scream

Modern

2011-09-18T20:55:00.004-04:00

Andrew's word of the week at first had me think, what is modern? It is a relative term. Modern early twentieth century and the Arts & Crafts Movement in design? The modern mid twentieth century chrome and big fins on the cars of the 1950's? The modern space age design of the 1970's when reaching the moon was no longer a dream?

When I was a kid growing up in the 1960's, my brother thought is would be neat, if one day we could all have our own personal phones and see each other on them. Hey, it's happened. Who knew?

In this fast pace age, with modern technology changing almost as fast as you can blink, I choose to savor some fine old traditions.

I'm not knocking modern technology, but occasionally, and particularly at this time of the year, I hanker back for a kinder gentler time. A time when home made pies, really were, home made, and not picked up frozen and merely baked at home. A time when bakers got up at the crack of dawn to make their bread, from scratch.

My Mom, Babcia and Aunt Helen have all instilled the appreciation of home baking and preserving in me. I love baking pies with strawberries I've gone and picked. I stock pile them unbaked in my freezer, and pull them out mid-winter and am reminded of summer when I smell that sweet fruit baking.

Today my Mom preserved Ontario Bartlet pears in my kitchen. Last week it was Red Haven peaches. In this era, when simpler things are often overlooked, I took my Mom's photos on my digital camera to preserve the moment for posterity, downloaded them into my Mac and am now writing my blog. How modern!

Red Haven peaches.

My Mom & the fruits of her long day.

The pears being processed.

Happenstance

2011-09-16T20:57:00.000-04:00

We've all experienced happenstance at one time of another. My word of the week from Andrew has given me pause to remember how I started my blogging career.

In early January I attended a Toronto Bead Society meeting on a dark and cold Wednesday evening. I arrived early and did the usual perusal of sale tables, magazine and sign ups. Started talking to Laurie Anne Clinton about the upcoming Tucson gem show starting at the end of the month, as she was setting up her lovely Flirt display. I had chatted to Laurie Anne at many bead shows over the years, but didn't really know her. She wondered if I was going to Tucson. I've always heard about the show, about how massive it was, and how it was "the" show to go to for bead supplies of all kinds and all budgets. I just couldn't justify going to a bead show in Tucson, just for the sake of buying more beads. But then LA (Laurie Anne) told me about a blogging seminar she and her wife Beth were taking with Kate McKinnon and Andrew Thornton, two big names in the beading world. Still, I wasn't convinced I needed to go to Tucson. LA told me to check out Kate's blog and the information on the seminar to see if it interested me.

I checked it out within a couple of days of the meeting and while the blogging, per se, didn't interest me, the rest of the seminar did interest me. They would be going to the gem shows, there are dozens spread out across the city, exploring antique stores, the desert and the Tucson art scene. Hmm. I started looking into cheap flights to Tucson, contacted Kate about availability and before I knew it I was booking a flight and had accomadations in Kate's neighbour's bunkie in the back of the house.

LA mentioned the blogging seminar very casauly & here I was now signed up and travelling with LA and Beth Clinton, exploring Tucson. LA told me about the seminar when I guess I was just starting to get the winter blues, was looking for something new, and willing to explore different avenues.

Because I didn't go straight home from work that cold January evening, but ventured downtown to the meeting I am now a full fledged blogger, and my friendship with the Clintons has been established. I thoroughly enjoyed the blogging seminar in Tucson and hanging with the Clintons.

Happenstance — had I not gone to that January meeting I probably would not be blogging today.

Laurie Anne and Beth Clinton & moi • Tombstone, Arizona
January 2011

Shelter, as in "Gimme shelter"

2011-09-11T20:30:00.000-04:00

I couldn't help but think of the Rolling Stones' anthem to the the end of the 1960's, Gimme Shelter, when I heard Andrew's word of the week.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=R3rnxQBizoU

the images are very poignant in this video.

Yeah, I could have gone with the obvious, what really is shelter, besides 4 walls & a roof, how lucky I am to have my own 4 walls and a roof, but truth be known, I also think of the Three little pigs and their different shelters and the issues they had with the big bad wolf as he huffed and puffed.

• Brick house • Ice house • Tent • Tepee • Mud hut • Condo • Townhouse • Bungalow • Trailer • Cave • Tree house • Penthouse

Shelter whichever way you can get it.

Redeem...

2011-09-05T20:32:00.000-04:00

Andrew has stumped me again on this word of the week challenge. Challenge being the operative word.

Redeem — usually makes me think of religious connotations, those of atonement. The great redeemer and all that.

Having said that, I see last week, as my week of redemption for all the time I have not done any jewellery making during the summer. I found time for yard work, painting around the house, my long Saturday morning walks, going to the farmer's market, slothing and the likes, but not for producing any new pieces of jewellery. Well, last week I was on holidays from my day job, & I made up for that. I was motivated and produced interesting new pieces. I've continued to make pieces today, Labour Day, and continue to be inspired. I redeemed myself to myself.

A sampling of what I produced last week.
I haven't photographed today's work yet.

Holy Crow...

2011-09-04T20:19:00.000-04:00

Lucy, my official greeter at Holy Crow.

Each year I make a pilgrimage to Holy Crow Beads, nestled in the heart of Beaver Valley just south of Georgian Bay. I am greeted by Lucy as I get out of my car. The setting is calming and lovely. Beverley Smith's beautiful home/studio always inspires me. Beverley is a textile artist who transitioned into beading, and she puts together colours like no one I know. There is a wall full of her finished projects to inspire those that come, and want to learn different techniques, or just to take in all the eye candy and the plethora of colourful beads. I love it there. I feel rejuvenated when I go there. Beverley's easy manner, and great knowledge of colour and techniques disarm you, and you don't even realize you are learning as much as you are, until you have gone. I always pick up some little gem of knowledge, usually said in a matter of fact manner by Beverley, which continues to help me with my work.

Jenna and Beverley of Holy Crow Beads.

I popped in one afternoon last week, only for a quick purchase. Huh. There is no such thing as a quick purchase there. My Mom came along for the drive and now brings a book along, knowing I will be a while looking and sorting and deciding on what I really need, or really want. Mid way through my shopping, Beverley makes a lovely pot of herbal tea served with local honey. What a civilized way to shop for beading supplies. My first encounter with the studio was on a girl's weekend several years ago, and I've been going back ever since.

Last week, I had taken time off from my "day job" and was therefore a time for me to produce pieces for the upcoming fall/winter shows I'm involved in. And last week was one of my most prolific weeks for producing pieces. I felt inspired and motivated and kept producing.

A week's worth of beading by yours truly.
It was my holiday, so allowed for R & R too.

If you ever want a lovely drive in the country, a little off the beaten track, ok, a lot off the beaten track, but well worth the visit, stop by Holy Crow Beads. You won't be disappointed.

Who'd have thought...

2011-08-22T18:10:00.000-04:00

On Saturday I went to my local farmer's market, I pleasure I truly enjoy. I bought all my fresh fruits and veggies and plopped them at a picnic table along with my Mom. I went back for our reward, yummy Organic caffe Americanos. I got to chatting with the guy next to me in line, talking about the different coffee names, and then was on my way. When I returned to our picnic table, two ladies had joined us, and my Mom was chatting away to them.

Well, one woman and I started chatting while she waited for her husband to arrive. She thought he was side tracked because he tends to like to chat a lot. His nickname was "Jabber". Well, my eyes widened, as that was one of my nicknames in high school, partly because of my last name, and partly because, well, I liked to talk. I told this story to my picnic table companion, and said my last name is Jablonski. Her response, "Mine too." "No way." " Way."

What are the odds of two Jablonski's, unrelated, sitting beside each other at our local farmer's market? Her friend said, that her husband was just coming up. I saw the man she pointed to, only to notice that he was the "Jabber" I was jabbering with, while waiting for our coffees. Too funny. Just shows, that in a multicultural place like Toronto, a Jablonski is as common as a Smith or a Jones.

Who knew?

Vigor...

2011-08-21T20:15:00.000-04:00

Barb and I,
8:00 am Saturday August 20 2011 in High Park — pre-walk.
Full of vim and vigor — really!

As in vim and vigor!

My word of the week from Andrew.

Vigor would be me, Saturday morning, generally at 8:00 am, in High Park with my walking partner Barb. Barb and I started out as running partners and met at a marathon training group, Jeansmarines, and that was eight years ago. Neither of us had been runners, and took up the crazy idea of running a marathon - yeah, the whole enchillada, 26.2 miles. We did it. Barb had completed her marathon the year before I joined the group. Well, as the years have moved on, many races have been completed, and our bodies have spoken to us, we are now quite happy to be walking briskly together, rather than running.

Barb may complain about the 8 am start time, and I may dread the humidity, particularly this summer, but we ultimately feel full of vigor each Saturday. We meet in the parking lot of the Grenadier restaurant, look at each other bleary eyed, moan that it was hard to get up, and get moving, but know we will feel better for making the effort.

We both enjoy getting out, moving, and sharing our time together, and feeling healthy. We note the swans along the lake front, how quiet or ferocious the lake can be, have skirted the ice and sleet in the winter, dodged the puddles in spring, listened for the peacocks calling out from the High Park zoo, and savored a clear blue sky. We have spent many hours out on the paths, sidewalks, streets and trails together. Much has been shared about our lives, families, friends, work and travels — all while feeling full of vigor.

When I first started the whole running thing, I couldn't imagine running a marathon, then I couldn't imagine not running at all. I'm now content with walking each week on Saturday with Barb. I'm no whippet, and running never came naturally to me. I was always a fast walker, and have embraced it. I keep track of our distance and pace, and more importantly, calories burned, each week. I am happy to say that walking has allowed me to feel full of vim and vigor.

Voluminous...

2011-08-15T21:07:00.000-04:00

Ah, the word of the week assignment from Andrew - voluminous.

All my life I have dreamed of having voluminous hair. I grew up with those Breck Girl ads of the 1960's & 1970's where those brunettes had lots of big brown hair. I have tried perms & highlights, curlers and hot rollers. Alas, I have my Dad's fine skinny brown hair - never to be seen as voluminous. I tried so hard in the 80's having long hair, and perming it, trying to create the illusion of lots and lots of mane-like hair. Sadly, it was an illusion in my mind only - I've seen the pictures.

We never have what we want out of our hair. Those with curly hair want straight. Those with straight, want curly or voluminous in my case. At least I don't have frizzy hair, or dry hair or over processed split ends. My hair is very shiny and healthy looking, with no grey hairs at my age, another gene I owe my Dad for. My stylist insists there are a lot of skinny hairs though. Yeah right.

So, my lot in terms of my hair life, is fine, brown (well now caramel and honey toned highlights thanks to my colourist, I told you, I'm trying anything to give it body) straight hair. Could be worse...


My Mom has voluminous red hair. I have the skinny brown with voluminous hair envy.

Secret?

2011-08-07T15:18:00.001-04:00

My word of the week from Andrew - secret.

I'm not going with the obvious - Secret deodorant or The Secret (the recycled ideas in a book/DVD of the same name).

We all have secrets.
And we all can be seen as mysterious because we have them.
Some are very private hence the nature of the word secret.
But, how do we keep them and can we always keep them clandestine?

A secret wall, or secret passage?

My Dad once owned a building which had a false wall, revealing a staircase to a "secret" room. This room contained lovely old antiques, stored away for well over 80 years. Because it was next to an old railway line, everything was covered in black soot. The building was once a general store, and the owner was clearly a Freemason, a secretive order, if you will. He was clearly the secretary, as there were books and books on minutes of the meetings. But what I remember more, was a beautiful Eaton's brass headboard, with the sticker still on it. I still have that brass headboard.

So, from this secret room, hidden by a secretive man, who belonged to a secretive "club" all was revealed. Not sure why it needed to be a secret, but, proving, that sometimes it is hard to keep a secret forever.

Golden

2011-08-01T14:11:00.000-04:00

My word of the week from Andrew - golden.

Golden wedding anniversary? Witnessed my grandparents - even their diamond.

Golden jewellery? Not a huge fan - perhaps it was the overdosing of it in the 70's & 80's that did me in.

The golden rule - treat others, the way you would like to be treated. That's the ticket. That is my idea of golden. I think most religions have a version of this thought - as it is a universal outlook - or at least it should be...

Vanishing...

2011-07-25T19:22:00.000-04:00

My word of the week from Andrew — vanishing.

The vanishing farmlands, wetlands, ice caps? Or perhaps the vanishing flora and fauna?

I'm going with more of a personal note — the vanishing of the precious slide films from my childhood. My Dad was a slide film and movie film maniac. Slowing they are vanishing before my eyes. All those childhood memories are turning to clear film. The lack of a decent chemical stabilizing factor of the 1960's Ektachrome film has obliterated a good part my young life on film. I'm madly trying to preserve some slides before they too turn to containers of clear slides. The 8mm movies is another story. I have miles of film. We never made the conversion to VHS, when many were in the early 80's, and now that I want to go digital, it is a costly proposition.

I can't remember not going on a trip and have to stop for the family photo. Expo '67 in Montreal was all about photographing those wonderful international pavilions - the geodesic dome from the USA, the modern Habitat community and the red tented Ethiopian pavilion still stand out in my memory. Each year my Dad took a photo of my brother and I in front of the birch tree beside the house - getting taller and older with each photo. How many of those survive?

I'm sad that the slides are vanishing. It's not that I look at them often, but knowing they were safely tucked away in the cabinet, built especially to store them, was a comfort. My grainy films take me back to a gentler era. It used to be a big deal when the processed slide and movie films were picked up from the Kodak plant, which luckily was 10 minutes from our house, and we would all sit around in the rec room as a family after dinner to laugh and smile as we relived our moments together. We had a wall to wall screen and blackened all the lights to make it just like a movie theatre, popcorn and all.

Sadly my early personal film record is vanishing, but I will do all I can with the aid of modern technology to preserve, at least some of the slides. Perhaps one day my young nephews will appreciate them.

One of them many long line-ups at Expo '67 in Montreal.

Me at Wasaga Beach 1967.
I still like white sweatshirts at the beach.

My brother, on a father/son fishing day at the Forks of the Credit.
1967

Purpose...

2011-07-17T15:47:00.002-04:00


First photo with my new camera. My good Karma corner on the back deck.

Andrew's word of the week - purpose.

Are we talking about my purpose in life? My purpose in being? My purpose for the day? How esoteric. Or, am I reading too much into this word?

Is my purpose to be a good person? Create wonderful unique pieces of jewellery? Volunteer more to help those that could benefit from my help?

I tend to look at the big picture and get overwhelmed. I should just try to streamline, and look at my purpose for this weekend — get in my 10 km walk, explore another farmer's market (Wychwood Barns), sort through my roof quotes, start my new book, make Pesto, dismantle my table in my backyard that is being eaten by carpenter ants, hit Henry's tent sale to finally buy my new camera.

10 km walk: Yes.

Wychwood Barns: Yes.

Sort through quotes: No - there is always next weekend.

Start new book: read all the weekend papers instead.
Make Pesto: Yes.

Dismantle table in backyard: Yes.

Hit Henry's: Yes - and this gave me a who new purpose for my weekend.

I am now the new happy new owner of Nikon Coolpix P7000. Having said that, it actually came with a thick manual, which I have been reading cover to cover. I started the read last night, got frustrated and went to bed. Resumed reading this morning and decided to water the garden when I couldn't find a screen they said would be right there when I hit the "menu" button. Have now read most of the key salient points, and feel I have a basic handle of it, though have questions on the finer intricacies of how the manual functions operate. My lovely new compact camera, with quite a few bells & whistles, gave me great purpose on and off over the course of the weekend.

At the same time, purchased my Mom's first digital camera - a Sony Cybershot- so she can now enter the digital era. A belated birthday present, since she didn't know what she wanted. I chose the Cybershot for her, because I had one, and didn't want to go through two camera learning curves on one weekend. Too much purpose then.

Remember

2011-07-11T18:28:00.000-04:00

His fishing pole is long gone,
but he happily watches over my garden.

Now this word of the week challenge by Andrew, leads me to think in a zillion directions.

My senses help me retrieve so many memories, allowing me to remember...

I hear Mungo Jerry's In the summertime on the radio, and am instantly transplanted to the cottage we rented on top of Blue Mountain in the summer of 1970 — I got to sleep in the top bunk of what seemed like the tallest hand made bunk bed, my brother and I went swimming in a pool surrounded by wide open greenery, no fencing, I created paint by numbers masterpieces, ate banana marshmallow candies and sipped on Canada Dry Cream Soda. Life was good.

Every time I walk into a Canadian Tire store and smell the fertilizer, I know it's bad, it is sort of like the yummy smell of a good marker, but it makes me think again of the summer of my youth. I think it is because my brother and I were allowed to get a new water toy for our summer holidays, and Canadian Tire stores always had a massive selection, and where ever we were, there was a Canadian Tire not far away. I associate the chemical smell of fertilizers with the summer fun of my childhood. I know, strange as it sounds, it is a comforting smell to me.

The smell of sawdust makes me remember my Dad. I can recall him working in the garage with the big table saw screeching, cutting wood for his carpentry jobs. His hard hat was on, pencil poised behind his ear and sawdust was flying. Wood and my Dad were a natural marriage. I remember him leaving notes for my Mom on the seat of our Pontiac, written in pencil on small end cuts. What a nice smell.

I can touch my two cats in the night and know which is which by the softness of their fur. Gretel's fur is as soft as a chinchilla. I've never felt a cat so soft. My first cat, Tzi Ling, Poo for short, had a kink in his tail and I loved to try to straighten it. My friend Belinda has a dog, Coffee, with the pigiest curling tail, and I try to straighten that one too. I must have a tail thing.

I remember my Babcia made the most wonderful saffron bread. I can picture her having a table full of the Polish sized loaves. Each slice melted in your mouth. No butter was required, but it did enhance it. I have now discovered a bakery, a Brazilian bakery no less, that makes a bread, that comes pretty darn close to the way Babcia's bread tasted. Yumm.

Each day I wear both my feng shui jade bracelet and my good karma Buddhist prayer bead bracelet and remember where and how I got them. Again, comforting memories for me to remember.

I tend to remember trivial details — when my Mom bought the garden gnome at Eaton's Yorkdale when I was 6ish, that now happily sits under a hosta on my deck, what song we sang in the car when my friend Jeff took me to the high school prom, & especially the years the songs of my youth came out. Perhaps because it was a simpler more uncomplicated time in my life, that I remember this period so well? Ask me what I did last Wednesday, & I would have to look at my calender.

I try to remember the positive and push out the negative. Perhaps I don't want to remember the negative. What I remember as being good, far outweighs what I remember as being bad.

Andrew I am finally up to date with my weekly blogs.

Solid

2011-07-10T20:00:00.000-04:00

I can't help but think of the Ford ad for their trucks, "like a rock". That's what Andrew's word of the week, solid, makes me think of initially.

• Solid relationships • Solid friendships • Solid construction • Solid gold • Solid thoughts • Solid boundaries • Solid Ice • Solid wood • Solid line • Solid white • Solid black • Solid Plastic

Solid is a word you can throw in front of many nouns and make it, well stronger, better, having more substance. Whether rightly or wrongly it does give a word weight. No pun intended.

Can't get much more solid than Stonehenge.

Gather

2011-07-09T13:01:00.000-04:00

Again, my word of the week, gather, from Andrew stumped me.

This morning it all came to me as I was sitting at a picnic table overlooking the Family Drudge's stand at the local Farmer's market. Where do we gather? Around food. I love food and particularly the farmer's market at this time of the year. The sweet scent of local berries, the tastes from fresh strawberries, raspberries and wild blueberries. Even the field cucumbers were yummy. I enjoy the banter with the different farmers about who has the sweetest strawberries, how late the wild blueberries are, that this is the last week for Ontario asparagus and the hopes that the garlic crop will be better than last year.

It was great fun sipping on my organic coffee, skinny lady from Guatemala, as I watched families, singles, kids come and go through the market. I heard English, Polish, Ukrainian, Chinese, Korean, Hindi, Italian and some languages I didn't know being spoken. We all gathered around this great food fest. People had carrier bags, buggies, suitcases on wheels & wagons all to gather up their fresh produce. Is this not a great thing to do this time of the year? For me it is one of my pleasures. I love to gather at my local farmer's market.

But then I started thinking of other times I love to gather, and again, food is involved. Last night I gathered at our local Italian eatery with an old neighbor, Di, not that you are old Di, just a neighour I previously had, & my Mom. Tomorrow I will gather with friends Vicki & Barb, I used to work with at Canadian Living magazine a lifetime ago, over a lunch on my generous Polka deck. We all enjoy to gather round food. Food is the great glue of the "gather".

For me, the summer is about catching up with friends, we haven't seen since we hibernated last fall. And to do this, we gather around food. I love it.

Foundation

2011-06-27T20:34:00.000-04:00

Still catching up on Andrew's word of the week assignments. With any luck I will be back on track by next week.

Foundation:
• at this time of my life I think of foundation garments. No?
Ok, I'll get more serious.

• the base that holds my house up straight?

• the underpinnings of plantings in my garden?

• the wire in a piece of jewellery I'm creating?

• the core of who I am? Now that ones just seems so big - but - that would be my Mom and Dad of course, but also, my brother, my grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins and friends that have come and gone through the years, who have ultimately shaped who I have become.

This necklace is strung with heavy gauge wire. A strong foundation if you will.The pearls are quite light and the stones are quite heavy but the combination successfully hangs together to make it harmonious. Just as the foundation supports all pieces equally, so too is this an example of an overall cohesion of size, texture and colour making it a striking piece of jewellery.

The one thing I have learned is that a strong foundation makes for a strong individual. I may not have the biggest family, or the closest family but what I have, has given me great overall cohesion. My ying and yang have a strong foundation.

Bring

2011-06-23T22:13:00.000-04:00

My word of the week from Andrew is - bring. At first I thought of what I like to bring when I go to someone's for dinner — flowers, wine or a dessert — or what I like to receive when someone comes to my house for dinner — flowers, wine or dessert. And then, I thought, what do I like or always bring with me, whenever I travel, even if it's for the day - my camera.

I have my Dad to thank for the love of the camera. I got my first Kodak Instamatic when I was nine. I then graduated to the hip pocket camera with the size 110 film, for the sleek Kodak moments. By twelve I was ready for a full on 35mm camera, with all the lenses. I loved to shoot. I was the one at the party that always had the camera. As cumbersome as it was in those days, particularly with all the lenses, I took it with me on camping trips, weekend trips, backpacking trip through Europe, to my graduation at U of T, to friends weddings, christenings, anniveraries, parties, corn roasts and just a walk in the High Park. My camera and I were one. I shifted from Konica, which my Dad loved, to Nikon, which I loved. I bought film in bulk, and took up precious space in our kitchen's freezer, to always have it fresh and on hand.

I once considered pursuing photography as a profession, but decided to keep it merely as a hobby I enjoyed. I didn't want it to become work. I knew I was always a visual person, so bringing my camera, seemed quite natural. From age ten to thirty five, I shot photos like there was no tomorrow. Then, I put my camera down for a few years, and it all changed. Digital.

I must confess, it took me a long time to feel comfortable with a digital camera. Even now I only have a basic point and shoot Sony cybershot, which, has done me well. I know what my next camera is to be, but love the convenience of this little modern digital pocket camera. It fits in my pocket, my purse & even dangled from my zip line belt as I cruised the rain forest canopy of St. Lucia. What's not to love about its convenience?

I know it is just a matter of time before I graduate again, to a larger digital camera, as I have been frustrated with the lack of control & zoom that I have with my current camera. I always had my camera on manual, in the old days, now I just hit the shoot button, and occasionally adjust whether I want the flash on or not, and maybe use the baby zoom.

From the trivial, I have a photo of the pie plate that cracked while I was baking my Canada day strawberry pie, to the important, photos of my godson catching frogs when he was a couple years old, the visual history has always been important to me, so I record it all. And what I have discovered is that what seemed trivial, sometimes becomes very important. Bringing my camera along, has allowed me to discover that.

Wow, I really went on a tangent about bring, but to me, bringing my camera along, is a must.
Thanks Dad.

My cracked pyrex plate. Very sad.

CNE Air Show & me getting a burnt nose.

My friend Vicki making a snow angel - how classic is that!

Jolijn and I cycling the hills above Florence - a fun memory.

HBC Christmas Windows - a tradition.


Lunch with Margaret and my Mom at Ward's Island - annual summer treat.

Now this seemingly trivial photo, for me, reminds me
of all the wonderful times I've shared
when I've been with my Aunt & Uncle in their kitchen.
We all love good food, & in this photo, wondered
how we were going to save this poor burnt beer can chicken.

Glow

2011-06-17T20:27:00.001-04:00

Still working on my backlog of words from Andrew. Glow being the next in line. The glow of a fire — a traditional log fireplace, a gas fireplace, a campfire, a candle, perhaps a fireplace full of candles. I do enjoy all of these glows.

Now the glow from genuine neon lights always gets me glowing. I've always loved the iconic Sam the Record Man neon sign that hung on the facade of their flagship store on Yonge Street in Toronto. I can recall flying home from somewhere at night, and the flight would circle the city, and you could easily pick out Sam the Record Man downtown. Sadly, those lights are no more. It was the end of an era in many respects when the changing times closed Sam's, and they turned off their lights.

Love the glow of the lights of Times Square & Broadway, in the west end in London and any small town that happens to still have them fired up on restaurant or drugstore.

The glow of New York City.

The glow of good design. The Italians know how to do it.

My personal glow, when out of two busloads,
I was the only one who managed to find the man selling medals,
for managing to climb to the top of the Great Wall of China.
My friend Barb couldn't believe I found a medal man.
I was medal deprived as a child, and have since made up for it.

The glow of fun lighting.

A classic glow.

The glow from a Tucson staple.

The glow of Shanghai.

Glitter

2011-06-16T20:48:00.000-04:00

Where was Andrew finding these words? Glitter. It so didn't inspire me. I think because I am so not a glitter person, that I did not feel bonded or remotely interested in this word. I have dabbled in it, and have the odd yearning to wear something with a sequin or two, only to learn that in the long run, it is not me. It is merely a fleeting lust for the sparkle. I think of sequins, and loud clothing & a certain generation of women in Miami when I think of glitter. Glitter rock of the 70's? The big glittery disco ball hanging above the dance floor? I lived through the 80's glitter era, and don't have fond memories of the fashion. Big hair. Big shoulder pads. Sparkly things where they shouldn't be - not that I think they really should be in most places anyway. I remember walking down Yonge Street in Toronto when I was in university, and looking in the window at Master John's shoes, with the ginormous platform glitter rock boots à la Kiss and Elton John. I guess Liberace was the first Glitter star, and that was long before Gary Glitter. I remember an episode of "Here's Lucy" when Liberace wore a jacket that lit up in the dark. Now, his jackets did have a style all their own. So, glitter, despite the mixed connotations for me, did make me think, and commit, that I am not a glitter gal.

Alas, I did don these glittery ears, once, for a photo op.

Said photo op.

Fable

2011-06-15T21:29:00.000-04:00

Andrew stumped me on this word. The first thing I thought of was Aesop's Fables. And then I went blank. What about a fable? Where did he want me to go with this word? How did I photograph it? How did I design a piece of jewellery around it? Yikes. This was a tuffy for me, and it kept me from my blog for a while. I kept checking the weekly words, and they only continued to stump me, and I continued to avoid them. But then, Andrew, challenged me to write again. I knew I would, but thought I would just wait till a word came along that spoke to me. I'm guessing though, that the whole point of this exercise is to challenge myself, and think outside the box, or just to think, and express, instead of feeling blocked. Fable conjured up images of horses & mythical creatures, & giant man-eating plants.

Then it hit me — Pinocchio.

A fable. An Italian fable. What's not to like? This cute little wooden puppet who wants to be a boy, who had issues with his nose and the truth, and yet, a life lesson was learned. So, fable — Pinochio, presenting a succinct life lesson — as a fable should.

Curious...

2011-05-15T11:31:00.000-04:00

Curious as my cat Lily.
We are indeed good housemates.

as a Kat? Andrew's word of investigation for this week - curious. When I first learned of Andrew and Kate's blogging workshop in Tucson in January, I was so not interested in blogging. I liked all the other events they would be doing - antiquing, exploring the international gem show, going to the desert, so, I signed up for the blogging workshop, without a laptop of my own, fully intending not to blog. I even proudly stated at our first meeting, sitting around Kate's lovely family sized dining table, that I was just an observer, not a full-on participant in the blogging seminar. Kate seemed ok with that, but suggested I still keep a journal, which seemed fine to me, create a blog and to post photos, since I was interested in photography. Now that seemed like a commitment to blogging, but, I was curious. I listened to everyone's keen excitement about blogging and I thoroughly enjoyed all of our daily activities in Tucson. It was a sharing of ideas. Day one I fumbled with my friend Beth's borrowed PC, I'm a Mac, and finally managed to load & edit my first day of photos. Not necessarily cropped the way I wanted, nor in the order I intended and without any captions or text - but a blog posting none the less. Hmm, maybe there is something in this blogging business. The next day, I loaded more photos, and words, not sentences, but more a free flow of my daily thoughts. I wasn't ready for sentences yet. As the workshop went on, and I felt more comfortable with my borrowed PC, I think my curiosity got the better of me, and I found I enjoyed blogging. I enjoyed Andrew's challenges of thinking outside the box - that is why I still enjoy Andrew's words of the week - to see where they take me -I never know till I strike the keyboard. The challenge peaks my curiosity if you will. I've always been a curious individual, and with a little prompting, my curiosity got the better of me with the workshop and brought out my innate curious nature. So yes, I am as curious as a cat — you just never know where it may lead.

Mother's Day

2011-05-08T09:05:00.000-04:00


My Mom and I, on a day trip to Paris in October 2010. This was one of the most fun days I've had in recenet memory. We took the Eurostar from London, to Paris for the day, for a whirlwind tour of the city, doing the Seine cruise, the Eiffel Tower with a champagne lunch and running through the Louvre to see the Mona Lisa. It was fun at its best. If only I could carbon copy that day.

What do you say to the person who gave birth to you? The one who raised you, and instilled good self esteem in you. I come from a long line of strong women . My Babcia (grandmother), my Mom and my Aunt Helen are all ladies with a strong personality, who do not shy away from life and embrace as much as they are allowed to. I am happy to have come from such a gene pool. On this Mother's Day, I thank my Mom, for becoming a stronger influence on me as the years go on. Perhaps it is knowing that our days will be shorter ahead, rather than longer? Whatever the reason, I am thankful for having my Mom around - to skype with, to laugh with, to moan to, to question with, to pudder with, to travel with and to just be with. Happy Mother's Day Mom! I love you.

Feathered

2011-05-07T14:09:00.000-04:00

Andrew's word of discovery for this week stumped me at first. Feathered? To be feathered, and to be decorated with great plumes? To be a showpiece? A star? A unique something? And then it hit me. I saw this most amazing & at the same time, freakish, Albino, peacock in Hangzhou, China. I mean, peacocks are show stoppers with all their great multi coloured plumes, but, this Albino peacock was a stunner. The shear magic of white on white on white, with all that texture and showmanship, made this peacock a knock out to me — a step above your run of of the mill peacock. So Andrew, feathered, reminded me of my lovely white peacock.

Is this peacock not a thing of beauty?

The magnificence of it all.

Home

2011-05-06T20:34:00.000-04:00

Andrew's word of the week. Well actually his word from two weeks ago. I've wanted to write about Home, and only now have found the time to collect my thoughts to put them forth. Home is where I feel safe. Where I feel comfortable. Where there is a natural and fluid expression of myself. Home is where I love to spend time, relax, play, entertain, think, read, create, putter, and just, be. The shell is not important, but it is more a state of mind that I feel when I'm there. I have everything I need at my fingertips, or at least, not many steps away. My home is an expression of me, for all to see, from the red walls in the living room to the cottage look of my guest room. It is my haven from the world - that I am so lucky to have.

From the perennial garden, to the flying pig on my weather vein,
this is me, and my home.

Namaste

2011-04-23T20:16:00.001-04:00

• My last full day in Nepal • I'm up by 6:30 with the sun streaming in our windows & hitting my book - it looks like it will be a lovely day • The dogs have finally quieted down, the birds are chirping, horns honking and all is good in my little corner of Kathmandu - all but my stomach • I've taken another antibiotic, an off stomach is something I do not want to be dealing with as I travel home - my first flight, from Kathmandu to Hong Kong leaves tonight at 11:30 • Nepalese music is blasting from a neighbor's house & pigeons are cooing on a roof near by • Lucked in and had another hot shower - must be the lack of people in the hostel • I am going to savor my last day here • Kitti, Morgan & I decided to have a leisurely day in Thamel, after I packed up my gear in the morning • I thought purchasing some croissants from the Dutch bakery for the plane might help my stomach as I travel • I stood in the sun & beautiful weather, knowing it would be the last nice weather I would see for a while • I even managed to get a red nose • I wanted to check in with our seamstress to make sure she got the correct measurement for my pant length, and, much to my surprise, my outfits were done • Wow - yet again • I tried on the tops over my t-shirt, and one neckline was not as I requested, but, it was quite pretty so decided not to have it altered • Both Kitti and Morgan had gone off to get their pieces to have alterations done (Morgan a Sari top and Kitti had a pair of pants made) • I sat patiently on the stool in the tiny little sewing store while they ironed my outfits • All three of us were given a scarf from our seamstress, because we had given her some material we bought, which we didn't use in the end • See what I mean about generosity - it came when you least expected it - and it was very touching & humbling • This whole trip has in fact been very humbling - it has put things in check for me - what is important, who is important and what should be important • Sometimes, I think it takes living another lifestyle for you to note things with such clarity, at least it does for me • I never got culture shock - I've done a bit of traveling in my day - so didn't expect to - but at the same time, had no idea what to expect • This far away land, on the other side of the world, literally, has made me take stock of things • I've always been a hands on student, so this trip provided a great classroom for me • I passed on my last dinner of Daal Bhaat - no surprise there- and was whisked to the airport by Bagwan, the hostel's driver • Kathmandu Airport sure like there security checks - bags checked before going into the terminal, before checking in, I was frisked before entering the gates, my carry on were checked, but I was allowed to keep my 1 Litre bottle of water, and then frisked again before going on the plane • It was the last day of world cup cricket and televisions were in every corner turned on to the match • When the match was over there was joy throughout the airport - leaving on a high note is always a good thing • Namaste Nepal - when spoken to another person, it is commonly accompanied by a slight bow made with hands pressed together, palms touching and fingers pointed upwards, in front of the chest

Symphony of Dogs

2011-04-22T18:11:00.000-04:00

• The sounds of the hostel neighborhood welcomed me back - barking dogs, clanking gates & the laughter of the guys that worked in the hostel • Had my first hot shower in Nepal this morning - there was actually steam billowing over the divide of the washrooms - now that was a treat • With my stay in Nepal winding down, I have time for reflection • What a busy and full two weeks it has been • Short in terms of most volunteer missions, but rich in experiences, textures and effects it had on me • I will miss my young Monks - I grew fond of their welcoming faces each day • I will miss the camaraderie of traveling with someone who shared similar experiences - Kitti and I live half a country a part yet will be bonded by what we have shared - we both lived in the moment and did not dwell on anything • This was so the right thing to do for me - a tonic if you will • My eyes have been opened to looking at things from a whole new angle - I think a shake-up like this is needed every once in a while to put things in perspective • Kitti had wonderful traditional Nepalese outfits made while in Chitwan & Kathmandu, and suggested I had one made, today • The fact that I was leaving in 36 hours didn't seem a concern to Kitti • Off we went to our local neighborhood "Fabricland", and found some material for two tops and a pair of pants • I settled on a lovely turquoise material with gold paisley for one top, and a red and black print for the other • Kitti had dealt with alterations with a seamstress earlier in the trip, so back we went to get measured up for my outfit • The tiny little side street shop had three foot powered sewing machine stations, an ironing area and the main counter where our proprietor measured me up and drew out the pattern and did her cutting - it was all of 100 square feet • There was a side room with completed outfits and material, supplies & a full length mirror on the wall that hit my shoulders • There was discussion of neck line and arm length - well, when I say discussion, more hand gestures and drawings • The seamstress said the outfit wouldn't be ready till Sunday, but since Kitti was leaving on Sunday evening that was ok - Kitti would pick up the outfit and just mail it to me, once home • I was delighted with the idea of having a traditional outfit • My rupees had lasted the week, until I bought my material, I hadn't counted on that - the material and sewing of the outfit cost me $25 -a veritable bargoon in my eyes • What a great souvenir • We went into Thamel, to the Kathmandu Guest House, our usual drop off point • Because we had wandered this main drag of Thamel a few times, I guess our faces were familiar to a few, as we were getting a friendly "Nameste" as we walked by • I had seen lovely silk jackets when we were previously in town and decided that was to be my mission for today • I found a gorgeous turquoise based one that fit like it was meant for me - it was a true Nepal style jacket, that I just loved & knew I would get a lot of wear out of it • We hit our Internet cafe, that was truly high speed, for the first time in a week • We lunched at the Pumpernickel Bakery and had croissants and tea • Out of the blue a parade of cows came walking down the main drag, between cars, motorbikes and pedestrians • We were wandering without any particular pattern down the streets of Thamel when Chris, who was in the hostel with us our first week, came up to us and said hi • Even in Thamel, you never know who you are going to see • Chris and her daughter Shea, had been in Chitwan, and met up with Kitti's friend Barb, and were now doing volunteer work at an orphanage in Kathmandu • We made plans to all meet up at 5:30 on the rooftop of the Tibetan Tea House for drinks • What a fabulous view from the rooftop looking down on intimate neighboring private rooftop gardens • Had a wonderful sighting of snow capped peak in the far distance - it was a clear day • By 6:15 it was getting dark and we had to leave, in order to get home and down the long scary hill to the hostel before it was totally dark • Back in time for - Daal Bhaat • It was a pleasure watching Kitti enjoy her meals here - Kitti truly embraced Daal Bhaat - and loved it like a native • I on the other hand, will be happy to say goodbye to it • Morgan, an 18 year old volunteer from Vancouver was now in the house - we had met her our first week - she was now back to take up where we left off with the Monks • Morgan was young in years, but not experiences • We gave her an update as to what we did with the Monks and what to expect, since she is going there on Sunday, when they are back in class • Kitti and I lay in our beds, with our aroma therapy candle from home glowing, as the power went off during dinner, and talked till at least 10:30 - that was a first • It can be hard to be with someone 24/7 and we found we traveled really well together • Dozed off to my symphony of dogs

My seamstress, with my material for my outfits
on the counter.

Cows appearing in Thamel.
Where did they come from?

I just couldn't believe what I was seeing.

Not phased by the traffic.

This is ironic,
as this is the main sound you hear in town.
I guess no one read the sign.

Kitti on the rooftop of the Tibetan Tea House in Thamel.

The Rinpoche...

2011-04-21T17:20:00.000-04:00

• Our last day at D.T.s and our last day with our young Monks • Always good to leave on a high • Our core group of young monks were: Rinchin Tsering, Dargay, Nyiama Tsering, Rabi, Pema, Singhe, Nyima Setar (and Sindu the dog) • These boys have left their mark on me • Power was to be off till 3:00, so our morning ritual of hitting the Internet cafe was put on hold till after class • Walked the base of the steps of the Stupa after breakfast • A lovely older woman was sitting contentedly beading a necklace (I thought she was in her 80's, she was 71 - long hard lives here leave their mark) • Spoke with a couple of the women vendors, and they told us just how hard it was to sell one item a day here, approximately $8, and that they only had another month of good sales before the monsoon season hit - a really good day was $20, but they were rare • Women Buddhist monks were serving Daal with pitas to the street people at the base of the Stupa • After our Daal Bhaat we made our last trek up the stairs to the Monastery - this was our hottest day yet with the sun beaming down on us, & without the usual breeze • We were greeted by faithful Rabi - within 5 minutes all had shown up, all but, Pema • I guess Pema had to show me who is the alpha, as he didn't show up till we were leaving • Our last class, like most of our classes was a shot in the dark with a lot of improvising and changing on the fly • We thought we may go back up to the Stupa, but decided half way through the class, that why disturb things, and continue on with the word find books, drawing, reading fairy tales, singing songs and the review of the days of the week • The stranger from the day before came and walked through our class • The young Monks told us it was the Rinpoche • Rinpoche means “precious one” - in most cases, the title is bestowed upon one who has been recognized as the reincarnation of a great teacher • This Rinpoche was the head of this Monastery who visits here for one month, once a year - he lives at a university in India, where he is the head, for the rest of the year • All was good • Rabi thanked us at the end of the class, saying he learned from us - what a compliment, as he was the brightest in our bunch • We let them keep whatever supplies we had brought (crayons, pens, notebooks etc.) • Pema showed up as we were walking to the Monastery office - we had one last lesson with him, he earned his goodbye chocolate and off we started • We went looking for Karma, to give back the marker for the whiteboard, I knocked on the door to the office, only to be looked down on by someone on the roof, motioning us to come up • The Rinpoche • Pema looked impressed • We were honored that he invited us into his private quarters for tea • The stranger who was listening at the door the day before, was the Rinpoche • He told us that this Monastery was founded in the 1930's and that approximately 60 Monks lived here full time • Finally we had a chance to tell someone in authority, that his young Monks really should have a set curriculum for English, as they do for their other studies - and the Rinpoche seemed quite receptive to that • A lovely, lanky gentle man, with large beautiful almond shaped eyes, and all of 30ish, the Rinpoche asked us if we were interested in seeing his previous lives? • How do you say no to an offer like that? • We were guided through a door covered by a Holy Door Covering into a small room off his "living room", which housed photos, his private Stupa & a shrine with relics of the two previous Rinpoches of this Monastery - his two previous lives • Wow - now you don't get offers to see & experience this everyday • The Rinpoche couldn't be nicer, wanting to show us what he had and it seemed he couldn't give us enough • I had asked for the address of the Monastery so that I could send photos to the Monks, and he gave both Kitti and I his business card with private email & cell phone - how modern • He also gave us a calender with photos of him being honored on it • The whole event now seems almost surreal - I mean meeting the Rinpoche, in his private quarters and seeing his two previous lives - not on your basic tour guide of Kathmandu! • We left his quarters and started walking by the Monks living area - Pema came out to wave his last goodbye with a big smile • We both had connected and left our marks on each other • Hit the Internet cafe in Swayambhu for the last time at 10 rupees for 30 minutes - it has been great to stay in touch with home - some friends have lived each day with me • We had our final tea at D.T.'s while waiting to be taken back to the hostel for my last two nights • We did mention to D.T. as well, that both the Monks and volunteers would benefit from a set curriculum for their English studies • D.T. gave Kitti and I Holy Door cloths, like the Rinpoche had going into his room which contained his previous lives • The cloth contains the 8 signs of the mandala • A big hug goodbye from D.T. - even Gudu gave me a hug with his shy little smile, though I was afraid I was going to crush him • We really are lucky! • Back at the hostel it was pretty quiet and Kitti and I could have had our own rooms, but felt we didn't want to be separated yet, so put our luggage into one of the empty rooms & gave ourselves more space • All of a sudden these once thought of flattened mattresses felt down right plush, compared to what we had at D.T.'s house - strange how that works • Kitti and I said and did our usual sleep ritual, and I'm sure I was out within 5 minutes.

Our local garbage man at D.T.'s.
He whistles and you bring him your garbage.

Women Buddhist Monks handing out breakfast.

Always helping who they can.

This lovely lady beading happily posed for me.
When I showed her the photo, she took off her head scarf
& had me take the photo below.

Vanity at any age - in this case, 71 years.

Water wherever they can find it.

The veggie market always gave me great sources of photo ops.

Our local chip delivery man.
You can see one small bag coming out the front.

Another street tailor - the scenery is always changing.

Kitti giving Pema his last lesson
to win his Canadian chocolate loonie,
with Rabi in the background.

Singing bowls...

2011-04-20T20:31:00.001-04:00

My treatment with the singing bowl.

• Another early morning - up by 6:30 • We are very loosy goosy with today's plans • Used the Internet cafe at 9, since the power was on - love getting email from home - hey mail is mail • Helped D.T. with a business letter and looked over his new school brochure for any edits needed • Keep thinking how our Monks really needed a prescribed curriculum to follow • Gudu surprised us today, and served Daal Bhaat early, at 10:45 • Life is so different here, and so much the same at the same time • My volunteer teaching of the Monks has been great, but not without its challenges • Two students showed up at 1:00, and five more showed up at 2:00 and we left at 3:30, with all Monks in high spirits happy to show off their gymnastic skills • I worked on the alphabet for an our, one on one with Rinchin Tsering - he was only to happy to put the letters in order and tell me words for each letter of the alphabet and then spell them out with the punched out letters on the desk • Kitti had the "littlest angel" all to herself - writing out his ABC's • Suddenly at 2, five showed up, happy to do their word find books and draw flash cards • A senior Lama checked in on us, but kept hidden behind the door - only I saw him - I think he couldn't believe how quiet the young Monks could be - the young Monks are commonly known as the young monkeys • It was a really good afternoon at the Monastery • Pema gave me his pencil box for the night, I think, to make sure I come back tomorrow - our last day • By 3:30 the weather was gorgeous, sunny & breezy as we happily walked down our steps from the Monetary • Each day we passed a street lady, who was not in her usual spot (she probably suffered from Leprosy, as much of her face was missing) • Today we saw her sleeping on her side in one of the metal stations normally holding candles to be lit • Home for our 4:00 snack, go for a walk, and wait for dinner - a lot of waiting going on today • I have become lazy with my days here and so they can seem long - our walks help, as each walk, even though they are on the same streets, has new action, new scenery, new vignettes • By 6:15 Kitti and I had our evening constitutional - walking up and down the main road. • We walked into a storefront where an artisan was working on "singing bowls" - he told me they were also healing bowls • Never one to to not find out more, he demonstrated on me with a very large brass singing bowl • He asked if I had any ailments - I said my knees were sore - so he started there • He put the bowl over my knees, stomach, back, & head and hit the bowl with a large mallet and let the vibrations cure what ails me in those spots • Well, my knees were not that sore afterwords - you have to allow yourself to want to believe first I think • Saw Gudu shopping at the farmer's market • Monkeys were playing in the electrical wires • There was a garbage field where dogs and a cow slept together - the cow was curled up like a dog - learned behaviour? • Tibetan ladies are walking • Prayer beads being counted by men & women as they walk • We are living another world • Cricket match on D.T.'s television (Pakistan vs India) - men being men - while Anjou is away, D.T. has his cronies over • Every night Kitti asks me, "What am I grateful for today?" & "What may I need help with tomorrow?" - lately it has involved our Monks - last week it involved my stomach


I so wanted to buy these grapes, but resisted, bananas were the safest fruit to buy.

The entrance to our Monastery.
I think it took us till today to really notice this lovely gate.
Every other day we were too pooped after the hill climb.

Yes, this is how one teaches in Nepal. Get comfortable guys.

Dargay & Rinchin Tsering.
Rinchin Tsering made a makeshift watch out of a sticker.

Singhe concentrating.

Rabi proud of his drawing of the flag of Nepal.

Our littlest angel did lovely artwork.

Pema working hard.

Pema, Kitti and I at the end of class.

Tidying up the classroom.

Pema has left his mark on me. He is this teacher's favorite.

Nyiama Tsering with me & Sindu in our class.

Pema, Sindu & Nyiama Tsering, disrobed their outer robes
hoisted their bottoms and were preparing for more Kung Fu moves.

Preparing for action.

Honestly, they could have entertained us all afternoon.
We always liked to leave on a high, when things were good.

They followed us as we were walking away.
Still performing.

Monkeys alongside our stairs.

Beside the stairs.

Our friendly Tibetan neighbor, with the pretty garden fed the monkeys,
I guess rather than loose precious veggies to the monkeys.

Laundry hanging beside our house.

Gudu making a pesto for our Daal, stone on stone.

Hammering a pattern on the singing bowls.

Demonstrating the singing of the bowl.

Curing my headache.

The woman on the left was laughing, because the woman on the right was upset
I took her photo.The laughing woman explained,
"if you are going to take a picture, you need to leave her a picture."
How could I do that? Fair enough, I got her point.

Peering over a garden on our walk.

I saw this Unesco world heritage site block
hidden beside the market.

Motor bikes were the main source of transport.

The many Tibetan ladies.

Dog & cow curled up. I found this scene so funny.
I have never seen a cow curl up before.

Steaming momos.

The Temple, the dog & the rooster. Where else would you see this?

I just loved all the colours of the market.

Local veggies for sale.

Often veggies & fruit were carried this way.
Note the monkeys sitting on the roof in the background.

Monkey Wires!

Waiting for Gudu...

2011-04-19T20:01:00.000-04:00

Gudu

• Had my best sleep in Nepal last night - must have been the heavy rain, and lack of dogs outside barking • Kitti and I lay in bed discussing today's lessons • Dressed by 7:30, we were waiting for Gudu, but knew he wouldn't knock on our door till 8:00 - this morning bringing noodles with vegetables & black tea for breakfast • Gudu is D.T. and Anjou's cook • His age is guessed to be around 15, as D.T. took him out of the streets of India, and gave him a home when he was a small boy & he had no knowledge of his parents or his history • Gudu was a sweet shy boy, who carried far too much weight on his slight frame • He was a boy who had lived a thousand lives already, all in his young 15 years • At first I felt sorry for Gudu, just sitting patiently on a stool in the kitchen, waiting • But, because of D.T., Gudu has a roof over his head, 4 meals a day & a family • Who am I to feel sorry for him? • Kitti and I explored yet another new area, in the mud soaked back streets • Chickens were being seared with propane torches at the local butchers - we were both happy to be vegetarians on this leg of the trip • At home I sat on D.T.'s wide porch that ran the length of his house • The delicate scent of jasmine wafted up from the huge shrubs that surrounded the house • After Daal Bahat, D.T. had arranged for Kitti and I to meet his "ladies cooperative" • We had no idea we were the special guests for this special meeting • They formed three months ago, & had three foot pedal sewing machines donated and one instructor teaching about 30 women • Kitti was their first customer, purchasing a cute little Nepalese top for one of her grandchildren & made many good suggestions regarding pricing, sizing and that they should value their time • D.T. is indeed a good man bringing this group together, finding a place for them to meet & genuinely wanting them to have a better lot in life • From the meeting Kitti and I trekked up hill to the Monastery for day 3 of our volunteer teaching stint • We never know who will show up - we started with 12 and now seem to have a firm 6 or 7 that come and stay • I asked the Monks to draw a picture of what we saw at the Monkey Temple the day before - this totally stumped them • They are very good a copying pictures, but didn't know how to put one together • We compromised with them looking through the flash cards and finding images that we saw and to draw them - amazingly there was a monkey flash card • We also handed out word find books for the first time - silence fell upon our classroom - they loved them • Even Sindu, the resident dog, fell quiet • Had we found another success? • They asked for help when they needed it, but seemed to work independently quite well • They had a penchant for showing off their prowess with numbers - I would ask them a number & quickly they would arrange the punch out numbers in the proper sequence • Mid way through our class, out of the blue, Rin Tsering woke up & gave Kitti a prayer bead necklace • Well, not to be outdone, Pema disappeared and came back within a minute with a prayer bead necklace for me - "108 beads" he proudly told me • Well, you could have knocked the two of us over - we were speechless, and trust me, we are not two women that are easily lacking in vocabulary • As the boys were working I would quietly go around and put chocolates on their books for a job well done • More photos were taken and at the end of class, the boys made an effort piling up the workbooks, pens and even sweeping the floor - another wow from me • Walking down the steps we met up with an older Monk, Shal Lama, who asked us about our young charges, Canada, the monkeys and the dogs - he was on his daily "walking prayer" • Arrived home, exhausted, waiting for Gudu and our 4:00 snack of noodles • Spent 70 rupees today - 3 waters and the Internet • Back out on the balcony I was entertained by a monkey stealing laundry from a line - he would take a towel and wrap it around himself like a blanket then run off with it, going from rooftop to rooftop • Across from me is a lovely Tibetan woman holding her prayer beads and chanting her prayers on her balcony • We are only a ten minute drive from either Kalinki Temple or Thamel, yet it seems another world here - almost rural • Friendly faces smiling at me across balconies • We appear to be in the middle of a large Buddhist part of town, as most houses have the traditional prayer flag pole on the roof • There is a physically challenged young girl at the end of our lane, who is always smiling with her mother and grandmother when we pass by • They have the most wonderful vegetable and herb garden • The light is going down but the squeals of children has not lessened - I guess there is no "come in when the lights go on" here - as there are no street lights to go on • Sweeping of the lane-way continues • The prayer chant is still going on by my neighbor • Kitti is reading her travel bible, "The Lonely Planet guide to Nepal" • You would be hard pressed to to find a tourist/trekker/volunteer not have one • People are indeed house proud, watering plants on their balconies, with gardens as neat as a pin • It's now 6:15 & I'm feeling like I could put down my head, but dare not - best wait for Gudu, and Daal Bhaat at 7:30

Chickens being seared by the local butcher.

Walking the mud soaked back streets.

Kitti and I as the special guests
at the Ladies Cooperative Sewing Group.

I hope this doesn't reflect on our teaching skills.


Rin Tsering slept through most of the class, as Kitti listened to Rabi read. Rabi was an excellent reader, and probably our best student. He was so interested in learning.

Everyone, except Rin Tsering, working hard on their word find books.


Our classroom was basic in construction & decor: Plain cement floors and painted cement walls.

Dargay loved to work at the big desk.

Our resident dog Sindu.
I really think he was Pema's dog,
as he always followed Pema.

Rin Tsering woke up and worked on the word find book along with Pema.

Our boys sweeping up the classroom.

Thrilled to be wearing my new prayer bead necklace made by Pema.
The ever smiling Singhe in the background.

Shal Lama who we encountered on the stairway down.

Gudu's kitchen. It was always immaculate.
Very kitchen proud.

Note the monkey beside the water tower.
One of the thieves of laundry.

Anjou & D.T.. Anjou left for Chitwan tonight.

Our lovely Tibetan neighbor with the beautiful garden.

Less shoes outside the rooms now that Anjou is gone.
We always took our shoes off before entering any room.

Our room - where we had all our meals - waiting for Gudu...

Pema

2011-04-18T19:08:00.001-04:00

Pema

• Like clockwork, Gudu brought us breakfast in our room at 8:00 am - fried egg on white bread with toast & jam & tea • The bulk of the morning was taken up with class planning, now that we have a basic sense as to where the boys are in their English skills, we think we have something we can build on • Maybe? • Teaching English, on a volunteer basis, when neither of us are teachers, is tricky to say the least • What is even more tricky is that there is no assigned curriculum - we have to establish it as we go - us, and every other volunteer that rolls through here • If only there could be a set curriculum to follow, I think both the Monks and volunteers would benefit that much more - note: must tell someone in authority that! • Like clockwork, once the main power came on, Kitti and I hit the Internet cafe • Boys in the cubicle next to me were singing along to Celine Dion & Beyoncé on the radio - they were actually pretty good • I smiled at them and they giggled with embarrassment back • Before we knew it, it was time for 11:00 Daal Bhaat • Finished our final lesson planning and Karma was waiting in D.T. and Anjou's room to escort us to the Monastery • The Monks, even the little ones with all their energy, walk a slow steady pace up hill, up the long row of stairs to the Monastery • At first I thought it was for our benefit, but no, that is how I think everyone around here tolerates all the hills • Only the crazy European & North American tourists are moving quickly up the hills - well, not this North American - I learned from Karma & the boys about the slow steady pace & embraced it • We were greeted by some of our Monks when we got to the entrance to the Monastery, which lead off the stairway • We thought we had our class worked out, but these boys are not disciplined and sitting in a class is not their thing - Enter plan B • Class started at 12:45 today and by 1:30, we were wiped • Plan B: a Field Trip to the Monkey Temple (the young Monks are not allowed to wander up to the Monkey Temple on their own, so it would be a bit of a treat) • At 2:00, we would take the six winners from the day before up to the Monkey Temple, if they wanted to go (we gave them a 5 minute break and said we would be leaving at 2:00 if they wanted to join us) • I cringed when Kitti told me that Pema, the most disruptive of the bunch, had completed his work the day before, and therefore was allowed to join the Field Trip • Pema was a kid who acted out, in all the wrong ways, trying to get attention • When Pema wasn't smiling, he could look down right scary to me (and yet, I knew he was a Monk, albiet a lama in training - much training I thought) • At 2:00 Pema, Rabi, Rin Tsering, Dowa Lama, Singhe, Kitti and I traipsed up to the Stupa at the top of the Monkey Temple • Wow, these trouble makers turned into happy fun little boys • Pema became my sidekick and said we were nice - again, wow! • A breakthrough • Pema was just craving attention & wanted his photo taken, as they all did • These young Monks were as good as gold, listening to me on the walk • We counted Hindu Temples, discussed the colour of monkeys & told them the English words, "Prayer Wheels" • Rabi was the photographer in the crowd & took our group shots - you couldn't get him to stop snapping once he started - I couldn't get mad at him, he was having such fun • 3:00 came so quickly, as we were all having such a good time • Once back at the Monastery the boys, even those that didn't join us, performed wild Kung Fu acrobatics for us - wanting it all photographed of course • Karma, and the lucky 6 all got chocolates • Karma seemed relieved when we told him we didn't need an escort home, that we would be ok • Kitti and I happily walked down the stairs and along the wall of the Temple, watching monkeys cavort and chase each other • Who would have thought that I would be dodging monkeys on my way home from work? - fun • Our 4:00 snack of noodles and tea was waiting for us as we got home • Sitting on our beds and eating, we were discussing the success of our field trip, still learning who is who & their different personalities • I did however, have Pema's name learned on the first day - what does that say? • My bad boy stood out • D.T. has been at school all day, revising a brochure and Anjou has been entertaining with her sister & friends • Anjou is relaxing as she is about to head back to the country, Chitwan, to be head of her family during farming season • Anjou will be in the country for 3 months, walking 2 hours into the jungle each day to get what she needs & come back and plough the land by a hand pick and axe • The family is completely self sustaining in the country • Kitti and I have given ourselves a budget of 1200 rupees each, for the week • The Internet only cost us 10 rupees, how could it not last? • Kitti and I went for a walk to check out our neighborhood further • I managed to find an interesting prayer necklace in a shop down the street & a chap that had wooden carvings - this ate into my budget a bit - but I was still on track • Back in our room I could hear the sounds of dinner being made • The hiss of the rice pressure cooker, Gudu pounding the veggies on a stone with a stone to make a pesto & the friendly chatter of Anjou and Gudu in the kitchen • Dinner was served precisely at 7:30 - Daal Bhaat

Our field trip up to the Stupa.

Group shot at the Stupa


Like my fancy men, the Sadhus, these guys love to pose. Left to right: Rin Tsering, Dowa Lama & Pema.

Pema asked for this photo to be taken
with the Buddha.

Photographer Rabi gone mad,
taking 20 photos 2 seconds a part here.

Our Monks amongst the Temples.
The chap in the green t-shirt is an ex-Monk.
He used to be a part of this Monastery, but left,
& is on holidays from school now just visiting his pals.
Each Monastery has their own rules as to whether one can leave or not.

Kitti showing the boys their photos.

Walking down from the Monkey Temple
with Kathmandu in the background.

Our Kung Fu boys.

They were absolutely fearless in jumping off railings & spinning around.


Kitti called this young Monk, the littlest Angel. Don't let that sweet stare fool you, he was the most passive aggressive little guy. His real name is Nyma Setar.

This smile so captures Singhe's personality.
It makes me smile.

Really guys, we have to go...

Mom & baby.

It really was a treat to see this on our way home.

Not unusual to see this - dogs curled up on the cement in a cluster.

Did I hear necklaces?

A house in front of ours.

The house at the end of our lane.

Kitti started photographing the boys.

Then they were coming at me so quickly.

Karma

2011-04-17T13:15:00.001-04:00

• Our last breakfast at the hostel - omelettes, toast & Masala tea of course • Had my third shower of the trip and lo and behold I got warmish water • The solar panels must have kicked in for me • Received great instruction as to how to make Masala tea - it is made with milk and a bit of water • Driven to our host family's home - D.T. and Anjou • They live just below the Monkey Temple • Greeted with a huge hug by D.T. upon arrival • He then took us off to his school, the Arunodaya Academy where he is the director/founder • It accommodates boarding students and day students • This is the end of term and exams are in full swing • A nursery school on the premises is full of happy little people, all attacking me when they saw I had a camera - talk about a mob takeover - but it was really quite fun • We had tea next door at D.T.'s sister's home - his sister is a beautiful Tibetan woman whose husband is a Sherpa guide - one son lives in Toronto & one in New York city • We left our shoes outside, which is customary • Her two bedroom apartment is sparse in decor but large in size - one room is their "spiritual" room with statues of Buddhas and candles on display along one wall and a large sectional wrapped around the corner • In the living room we sat on the floor and were served Masala tea & cookies (both local style and shortbread) while looking at family photos • D.T.'s sister admired my jade - which confirmed I had made a good choice 2 years earlier • Back to D.T.'s for Daal Bhaat in our room at 11:30 - not as spicy as in the hostel • D.T. drove us up to the monastery, shown the classroom and were left to fend for ourselves with 12 little monkeys, as opposed the monkeys playing outside our classroom on the patio • Our young lamas were aged 6-17 • Our classroom was very basic, made of cement walls with open windows out to the patio and views of the valley, with stray dogs wandering in and out and dozens of monkeys playing outside • There was a white board in the middle of the room and the perimeter had a built-in bench with small long tables placed in front for writing • Kitti and I had done a rough class outline that morning, but had no idea what their level of English was/is - being so varied in ages we knew there would be a variety of levels • Buddhist monks or not, these boys are typical young boys that are not used to discipline and sitting still • Some are clearly quite bright and bored & would wander in & out as they pleased • Class was from 1-3 and yet they tried to insist that it was time to leave at 2:00 • We did basic introductions and asked them to repeat what was said and to ask each of us two questions - the most common questions were, "how old are you? & are you married?" - sounds more like pick-up lines when I think about it now • Learning their names was a bigger challenge for me: Debendra, Sonam Dojee, Gorka, Nyima Tsering, Pema Gyalpo, Dargay, Singhe, Nyima, Dawa Gyaljen, Rinchin Tsering & Rabi • We put a group of objects out on a table, wrote their names on the board and had the boys put them in the notebooks we had handed out • They all got a chocolate once they completed writing the names in the notebooks, and the first to complete the list would get an extra chocolate the next day - oh, I wasn't beyond Pavlov's theory or reward - and they responded • Exhausted after two hours of pure adrenalin & nervous energy we were escorted home, down hill, by Karma & Tsering (two lovely monks from the monastery), they wanted to make sure we wouldn't get lost • Back in our room we were served our 4:00 snack of noodles with Tea • Kitti and I lesson planned and reviewed for the next day • D.T. and Anjou took us for a walk of the neighborhood, for us to get a lay of the land • Anjou bought veggies at the local market for dinner - Daal Bhaat • D.T. and Anjou are clearly well known and respected in the neighborhood as people came up to them as we walked • D.T. sports a big smile & clearly loves kids • Anjou was a little quieter in her demeanour but so curious and interested in Kitti and myself • We walked around the base of the Monkey Temple along with hundreds of monkeys • Saw a Buddhist funeral pyre at a Temple at the end of our walk • Lots of traditionally clad Tibetan women on their evening constitutional • Tried to use the local Internet cafe (45¢ for 30 minutes) only to have the power cut out on us, just as I got on-line • Instead I checked my email on D.T.'s laptop at home • Got the back-story on D.T. and Anjou - she is 30 and he is 50 - they met in Chitwan many years ago & married 5 years ago & started the orphanage & have now expanded into the local school • D. T. has found sponsors for his "orphans" so that they could board at the school • D.T. is a very liberated man by Nepalese standards, and by North American standards for that matter • He wants to empower women so that they can be self sustaining (encouraging women to sew & market their clothing so that they do not need to rely on their husbands) • Because the main power is off, D.T. has a battery backup for the lights in the house - all except the bathroom - which was probably a good thing

The children in the nursery school.

Happy to have their photo taken!

Shoes strewn all over the outside of the exam class.

View of the Monkey Temple from the roof of D.T.'s sister's home.

Buddhist's always have this prayer flag pole on the roof of their home.


This was a "Passport of health & happiness" on the entrance to the school. Things mentioned are from a to z. A few are: hope for the best, treasure good friendships, wear a smile always & yearn always for peace

School rules.
Some are: speak in English,
look smart neat & tidy & cooperate with juniors

Exams in the action.

Typical of any school - backpacks piled up.

The younger set in exams.

D.T. at the entrance to his school.


Debendra and me on our first day in the classroom. He was one of our older monks, and clearly bored, or simply being a teenager thinking, "I know it all already."


Karma & Tsering escorting Kitti home, along side the prayer wheels beside the base of the Monkey Temple

Our local veggie market.

They put in long days sitting & waiting for customers.

Anjou & D.T. making a purchase.

Parrots were captured, and for a fee,
you could release them at the Monkey Temple.

Our local Tibetan women out for their stroll.

On mass, they stroll around the base of the Temple.

This lady had just stole the onions from a vendor
& was fighting off any other monkey that came near her.
She had a temper & successfully held her ground.


Road side sewing repairs. Note the pedal power.


Kitti in our local Internet cafe. Make shift stations made with plywood separated people. I barely fit in one.