I still haven’t really talked about Paris.
I think I’m still absorbing it.
When I got back from my last big vacation – London a couple years ago – I hated being back in North America. I watched the BBC because all accents that weren’t British felt like they hurt my ears to hear.
I actually wanted out of Paris, bad by the last couple days – but not because I hated it.
I was sick with pandemic flu, exhausted, overwhelmed and wanted my own bed and North American drugs!
But being back now, living our lives here, every once in a while I am reminded of a moment, a view, a time on our honeymoon, and am transported back, quite distinctly.
Yesterday I was hit with a remembrance of perching on the edge of a crooked little cobblestone street – more of an alley, really – in the old Jewish neighborhood, with night time revelers, and scooters flying past us while we gobbled up some of the messiest and most delicious falafels of our lives.
I think that little trip of ours is going to carry us through our lives. Which I guess, is exactly what a honeymoon should be.
This is why I’ve been away from writing. Those invitations. They are beautiful, they are done, they are away, and they’ve mostly been recieved – so I can talk to you about them without ruining any of the surprise.
And so far, everyones been delightfully surprised. I like making a splash with my little bursts of carefully plotted ephemera. It makes all the weeks (and weeks and weeks) of careful plotting and planning worthwhile.
Especially since, now, I’m a little distracted from wedding planning.
What? However could I be distracted from something so vital, so big, so exciting?
Well… Paris!
We’re honeymooning in Paris. Yes, a cliche, I know, but a good one, don’t you think? Something worth doing, worth experiencing, even if it’s been done before.
So we got back yesterday – that last day of driving is always a real doozy. Going up can seem like a breeze, but no matter how long the drive home is (and admittedly Thunder Bay is 15 hours away from Toronto – that’s a very long drive by anyone’s standards) it always takes way, way too long.
Sooo…More pictures!
This is Liam’s parent’s big doggie (she’s half border collie and half poodle). I think she looks exactly like Sprocket from Fraggle Rock. She doesn’t ever stop moving, and has a serious oral fixation. She’s only trying to tell us about them rascally fraggles though.
We spent much of the week helping to get things ready for a good friend’s wedding on the weekend. These were the crafty little centerpieces – button flowers – I spent a good few hours making dozens of them (they were also the brides bouquet and the grooms boutonniere)..
Besides the buttons, and a gnome theme, there was also a Finland meets Scotland thing going on at this wedding (the groom being of Scottish decent, the bride being of Finnish).
This is one of my favourite shots of the day – a group of ‘Finns’ (denoted by their Nokia boots, fur hats, and ski gear) kidnapped the ‘bride’ (or in this case, the groom, who everyone was calling the bride, since he had the much more expensive outfit on – traditional highland garb doesn’t come cheap).
Nothing to worry about though, simply an old Finnish tradition called “the stealing of the bride”. All the bride had to do was prove herself worthy of marriage to her groom – by answering a bit of trivia about him – and he was returned safe and sound.
Then we broke out a bottle of 12 year scotch and passed it around.
Yeah, it was a pretty good time.
We’re alive and well in Northern Ontario. Here’s some proof:
I think every person in Canada should drive up the spectacular Trans Canada Highway once in their life (it’s our version of Route 66 or, even California’s famous #1). We’re lucky enough to have taken the Toronto to Thunder Bay stretch multiple times at this point.
That, my friends, is a persian. Regional Canadian cuisine at it’s finest (and reason # 1 why I laugh when editorials try to claim we have no – culture here in this country).
I’m pretty sure there’s nothing better on the face of the planet than finding finely crafted brews and burgers, at a local roadhouse – after a long day spent floating down a crystal-clear, clean, northern river on a raft made of inner tubes. Did I mention there was not a cloud in the sky? No? Well, there wasn’t. Um, yeah, perfection.
More proof of us in our natural state to be found on Flickr.
If your family’s been in Ontario for at least a couple generations, then chances are somebody has a cottage.
“A cottage?” you say.
Yes, a cottage.
Ok, so it’s really just a little log cabin by a lake in the woods – and some of you may know these as camps, or maybe the more pretentious term “summer home” – and some cottages really are “summer homes” – complete with satellite TV, multiple bathrooms and gourmet kitchens. Not that ours is anything more than a little log cabin with no phone line and an ancient and quirky oven.
Point is, little lakes are actually so ubiquitous here that pretty much everyone has a cottage on one. And that is a wonderful thing, because here in central Canada it gets as hot in summer as it gets cold in the winter. So if you drive a couple hours out of town into the bush, it gets colder, and there is much in the way of swimming, naturing, beering and merriment.
So at the cottage is where we spent our Canada Day long weekend. Much swimming, naturing, beering and merriment was had, indeed.
I am pretty thankful that Liam is now a real grown-up with a normal nine to five job that allows for the kinds of extravagances like extra – long weekends at the cottage.
I don’t get to go to Europe this year (which makes it sound like I usually spend my summers on the Riviera, instead of the Haliburton Highlands).
So I’m reading this instead. Which is a terribly good read.
On the other hand, I must admit that a big lesson I have learned recently is that traveling the world (much like having read a lot of books) does not automatically make you a good, or even an interesting person. Some of the crankiest, meanest, most horrible people I have ever met are well traveled. Much like some of the stupidest people I have ever met have been “well read”.
Just because you read a book, doesn’t mean you understood it.
Just because you went to France, doesn’t mean you appreciated it.
Really, all being well read and well traveled makes you, is a person with too much money and time on your hands.
Being a conscientious, open minded person is so much better.
So I’ll keep planning yet another exotic vacation to exciting downtown Thunder Bay, with some possible detours to glamorous Deluth, sparkling Kitchener, bustling Prince Edward County and of course the Haliburton Highlands (where the family cottage is situated). Because that’s what we can afford this summer, and dammit, I’m going to make the most of it.
Besides, I’m betting the vast majority of people who have toured Europe have never known the joy of a Bon-Bon Sparerib while sitting atop a curling rink. And for that they are the lesser.
I am in Thunder Bay with a broken arm.
That is my answer.
To that question.
P.S.: Go see Juno. It’s really good.
I was surfing my regular design blog haunts today, when I stopped at this poppytalk post. I am totally digging that look.
I had seen neat little bucket stools just like those in London this summer at this great little chain diner they have all over there called Leon (I would eat out ALL the time if I had one of those around the corner from me here – and they were so cute and retro too) – such a great idea, such a great way to recycle both fabric scraps AND old paint or olive buckets.
Perhaps I’ll do something like this (with some waterproof oil cloth) on my new deck. They’d be great as additional seating when there’s company coming – totally a low rent, industrial version of the Moroccan “pouffes” I was talking about earlier in the fall. Plus they’re small and compact, easy to tuck away, and I bet you could store stuff in them too.
And all this reminded me that Liam posted a bunch of our pictures of England on flickr last week.
Sorry it took so long guys!
Things have been fairly hopping around here, I guess you could say. There has been camping, weddings (that’s weddings plural) birthdays (also plural – including Liams – I made him beef tenderloin with garlicy seafood studded linguine and high/british/cream tea with homemade cranberry scones for desert) and now there are four cats in one small apartment to chase after.
Plus, there’s the current yellow obsession. Deep, egg yolky, rich yellow. A colour I always hated, but am currently working into my wardrobe. I know it’s kinda the current trend – heck I even designed a wedding invitation incorporating it, but I’m enjoying it.
Those photogenic Saltwater Sandals up there could not come highly recommended enough. I may have bought them for their shiny yellowness, but they have more than proved themselves. They stand up to water, sand, mud, pavement, torrential British rains, sheep, pine tar and my sensitive (blister prone) feet. Throw out your damn crocs already! They are ugly! These are cute!
So I’ve been vaguely avoiding updating. I was going to point in the direction of jet lag, but really, it hasn’t been too much of an issue.
It’s more that we had no (or at least very little) internet access in England, so we couldn’t upload and post things gradually (not that we had the time to do so even if we had the net) and so now there are probably a good thousand or so photos to sort through and post. Which is daunting.
Well, on the whole, lets just say I enjoyed myself. For now. I checked pretty much everything off of my list.
Actually… “enjoyed myself” might be an understatement. I think I might like to live there someday. In a little cottage. In the English countryside. With the occasional trainride to London for shopping (amazing, amazing shopping).
I mean my parents said it when they were there last (and they have more right to, as they were both raised by very British parents) but it kinda felt like home, for some strange reason.
I guess it all adds up – since a very young age every other book I read (certainly all the favourites, at least) were set in the British countryside: Diana Wynne Jones, Arthur Ransome, Lewis Caroll and Roald Dahl.
Speaking of which, I just found that the people that make those amazing Penguin paperback mugs and things (which I searched all over England for, and could not find for some strange reason) make a Swallows and Amazons set of mugs, and I want one desperately and dearly.
Then, while looking around, I found that another company that designs elegant and thoughtful souvenirs for iconic British entities makes Pantone!!! Swatch!!! Mugs!!! and, well, my heart pretty much swooned and exploded.
So, in summation, I will shortly be installing a Pay Pal donation button, to which all funds will go directly towards buying myself a small cottage in Kent, Sussex, or other suitable English countryside.
Ok, no, maybe I’m just kidding.
Well… Actually… Then again… Never say never…
So, I am going to London in about a weeks time. London as in England.
Any suggestions?
Here’s my list of Must-Dos (most of them involve food and booze):
- Harrod’s food court
- High tea – the works (clotted cream and scones and cucumber sandwiches)
- Bangers and mash
- Pint in a pub
- Fish and chips (will substitute with anything else deep fried that probably shouldn’t be).
- Curry
- Pim’s Punch
- Ride Tube
- Savile Row, High Street, Portobello… Shopping! (Even just of the window variety.)
- Tate modern, National Gallery, National Portrait Gallery, Victoria and Albert, St. Paul’s Cathedral, Tower of London, Westminster Abbey, etcetera, etcetera, blah blah blah, yeah we’ll see if we have time after the eating…
I went up to my family’s cottage this weekend. It was very cold, and there were mice. Probably didn’t get warmer than 20 degrees (C) ’til the day we left (of course). Still got to get in a little swimming (had to traverse debris though – my dad was rebuilding the dock).
We saw Ratatouille before we left, and I was quite surprised by it (although really, what was I expecting from a Pixar flick? Anything less than amazingness?).
Thanks to Disney’s inept marketing I knew pretty much nothing about it going in, other than it was a Pixar movie about rats (which is really a good thing – I’m sick of seeing movies where I already know all the good moments because they put them all in the trailer).
It is about a adorably ambitious little rat who has a stirring passion for cooking who finds himself in the (once) finest kitchen in all of Paris. He pairs up with similarly adorable but not nearly as ambitious human to take on all the snobbery and bad tempers that France has to offer. Hilarity ensues.
What this movie comes down to is rats, the cooking of truly fine food and Paris – and Pixars animators captured them all in a gloriously gauzy haze of nostalgia (which won me over to their chubby, fuzzy, adorable little interpretation of rodents – they already had me with the Paris and the fine food).
They actually used Chefs from French Laundry (one of the finest restaurants in the world, with the most beautiful food) to oversee the food design. A more appropriate choice could not have been made, and speaks to Pixar’s incredible taste and discretion.
There were also small references to Amelie, and larger allusions to the Muppets (Jim Henson being the patron saint of adorably sarcastic rats and underground dwellers).
Do I even have to tell you how much I loved this movie?
It did, occasionally, have it’s faults (overlong by a about twenty minutes, and there is this speech at the end that I didn’t really get the point of – and felt was a little misplaced). But overall it sucks you into it’s golden little epicurean world, and you don’t mind staying there at all (even during the slow bits, even with all the rats).
All in all, I am definitely putting Brad Bird on my “geniuses I would someday like to steal the brains of” list. He has more than proved himself with this one.
If you’re so inclined, you can find more photos of our camping trip here, but it’s mostly for posterity’s sake. Although there are some fun captions.
We finally (after much deliberation) decided on Guelph Lake. It was the result of a sudden compulsion to type the words “Guelph” and “camping” into a a search engine. Sure enough, there is a lake in Guelph, with a pretty little campsite run by the conservation authority. I immediately liked this idea because it meant that we could buy groceries in the town when we needed them, and visit touristy Guelph things when we got bored of staring at trees.
It wasn’t exactly real wilderness camping, but since Liam grew up in the wilderness, he’s kind of wildernessed out.
I really liked it, and would highly recommend it…
But don’t go when there’s a Girl Guide Jamboree in the park.
We learned this the hard way.
Thankfully the brats left us alone and did not makes lead them in a rousing sing along. They were too busy listening to Shania any way.
So, on Friday night, we made the quick drive into Guelph.
(Google maps said it would take an hour and a half but it was more like an hour.)
We put up the tent and then went into town for dinner (we had bangers and mash and fish and chips at a Irish pub – yum).
We watched a downloaded episode of the new season of Entourage and went to sleep on the very cold, very hard ground.
The next morning we made a resolution to finally find a reasonably priced air mattress.
(We are wimps, but I am okay with it.)
We ate our Pop-Tart breakfast (we would make up for it later) and headed to St. Jacobs a “quaint” little Mennonite town filled with lot’s of boring things like quilts and handmade brooms and a few very exciting things like the best picnic fixens in the whole region!
We headed up to the farmers market where we bought a few slices of the local summer sausage (sooooooooo good!) along with chive and garlic brick cheese, a tomato, a green pepper, handmade pepperettes, honey garlic sausage and handmade perogies (!!!).
Back in St. Jacobs proper we visited the bakery and bought some fresh buns and some cheese scones for breakfast.
And thusly we procured our breakfast (scones) lunch (sandwiches) and dinner (perogies sautéed with peppers and sausage).
Then we drove back to Guelph, stopping at the Canadian Tire for a new air-mattress.
We found out Guelph doesn’t have any Wal-Marts.
Isn’t that cool?
Besides, the ol’ Tire’s camping supplies are far, far superior. They have this new line of incredibly well designed Scandinavian camping products that makes my bank account a little bit frightened.
I did not walk out without one of those neat-o fire sticks I’ve always wanted. It was cheap. I played with it all weekend.
Then I spotted a Value Village and made Liam let me go in – because I know small towns like this are always great for finding interesting thrifted goods.
No 1972 Blythe dolls, but I did buy a cute cut glass candy dish.
We got back to the site, ate lunch, swam (I always like swimming later in the afternoon when everyone has headed home for dinner and the water been warmed by the sun all day) and took seventies style pictures of ourselves in a field of wildflowers with flaring sun because it was the magic hour.
That night we settled in with our freshly blown up air-mattress to the Adventures of Baron Munchausen and actually slept well.
I will never camp without one of those godsends again.
On Sunday morning we got up (bright eyed and bushy-tailed this time) and packed up the site.
We drove back into Guelph and explored the town. It’s very nice actually.
Wholesome and quaint indeed. So many cute little cafe’s that stay open late and have reasonably priced goods (why can’t Toronto have some of those? It’s only 30 times bigger, for goodness sake).
We had lunch at a little cafe and bakery called With the Grain that was AMAZING. Go there if you are ever in the area. GO THERE!
I had this brownie there.
This amazing brownie.
It was covered in a thick layer of crumbly ground hazelnuts and a thin layer of fresh HOME-MADE raspberry preserves.
Oh.
Man.
After that we headed back up the highway
So that ended our trip. It was a good one. I definitely feel rejuvenated.
We just got back in camping a few hours ago (early enough to beat traffic from both the World Cup and the Indy).
Thanks for all the suggestions everyone!
We ended up heading towards Guelph Lake. I would highly recommend it to any other Torontonians looking for a (very) quick getaway. It fulfilled all our requirements and it only took us an hour to get there!
Why is going camping so hard?
I really want to go away for the weekend (because the Molson Indy is coming to my neighbourhood – and no matter who wins the World Cup there’s going to be some loudness – though thankfully less than if Portugal had made it to the finals), but I want to be lame about it and get a site that has electricity so I can get all cosy and relaxed in my tent and watch movies on my laptop.
Is that so much to ask?
Is it?
Anybody know a spot that is close to Toronto, relatively cheap, picturesque, has electricity, a clean swimming lake, and isn’t sucky? Anyone? Before you respond – is it up the 400?
Yes?
No. I’m Trying to avoid traffic, not hunt and bag it.
What with Liam actually having employment (sorta) we have to leave on Friday night or Saturday morning and be back Sunday night – the classic cottagers weekend – and I do not want to be stuck in a gaggle of SUV’s on the highway down from Muskoka.
This is trickier than I imagined.
(Links added for non locals.)
I went to pick up my desk from my parents today (yay!), and I found out something funny, but not funny ha-ha (unless you have a really weird sense of humour… like I do).
Every time my family goes somewhere something horrible happens in that locale, to an innocent bystander, shortly thereafter.
They went to London in the middle of last summers bombings, Texas right in the middle of the anthrax scare and my sister was even in New Orleans a few months before it got washed away. That’s just a shortlist.
So guess where they went a couple weeks ago?
If you guessed the Mayan Riviera, you would be correct.
But more than that, they stayed at the exact same resort as that couple that got murdered. The exact same one.
Moral of the story is, if you want to know where not to go on vacation, just ask my parents where they’re headed next.
Can-zine was officially, awesome. There’s a pretty good sum-up, run-down here. Too many beautiful things, too many indie kid’s crammed into some tight spaces and not enough deodorant (which was very, very unfortunate). I sold a few zines, traded a bunch more and gave out a few for free too (yep, because I liked their face, honest). Mostly I wandered around dumfounded and overwhelmed.
I rocked the Welland table. Welland has some hard-core, serious and famous ‘zinesters…
Who are apparently some of my good friends. Who knew?
I guess I’m a Wellander by association. I think having friends and family there give’s you a bit of cred when it comes to the Rose City. Not as much as growing up there, but enough to associate with the people without getting beat up.
Oooh, by the way I found out one of my Welland friends (Mr. Mike Pisiak, my predecessor as illustrator and comics god at the Brock Press) has a blog I was unaware of. It is called house of irony and it is everything you could hope for and more…
If you were hoping for irony, sarcasm and boy-related pop-culture that is.
I will be at canzine today – pretty much for the whole thing, as I may have to drive a couple folks home. I will have a small zine, that I may be selling or giving away for free, depending on how I like your face.
You think I’m joking, but I’m not.
I have a friend that has a table, which is awesome. She told me I could have some space there but I don’t really have anything to sell. I wish I had more time and warning for this thing, I totally would have thrown some more substantial stuff together.
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