I have been traveling a little for work these past couple of weekends. I don't know what it is but Toronto-NY flights are always disasters for me (and supposedly quite a number of other people). Whenever there is any kind weather issues, air stream issues etc. the flight gets canceled or delayed and it never seems to matter on which airline one takes. I think this bears looking at.
Perhaps that will be the next award winning documentary?
I know, it seems that all I've been doing is taking lots of pictures of the same buildings over and over again. I've always been really interested in architecture but more than anything I'm always really fascinated at old buildings. It seems impossible that so many old buildings have survived the passage of time.
I think a big part of it has to do with a nation's willingness to preserve its history. I think France has done a really admirable job of preserving what they have while working around modern conveniences. Everywhere we went, there seemed to be constant work on up keeping of old buildings, or even just keeping the metro clean of graffiti. There seems to be great pride in their city.
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You wonder sometimes whether Parisians ever tire of tourists invading their city. Everywhere we turned there just seemed like truckloads of people going to every site. Every place of interest that we visited always gave the option of at least seven different language translations. I know that for us back home, you either have translations in English or French. I mean you could get specialized tours for your own native language, but it's definitely not part of the general tourism plan. Maybe because Toronto isn't such a huge city where that many people visit a year...
Sorry for the late posting. Something is up with our server back home so I couldn't even get the last entry to post properly until now.
The weather here has been so weird. Sunny and warm for half an hour, chilly but clear skies for two hours and then rain. By the time we get to another street, the rain has stopped. It's a good thing we both tend to dress in layers.
Paris is a wonderful city to walk in. A little hard to navigate due to all the windy small streets but just a joy all the same. You feel like there is the possibility of discovery - some wonderful boutique, sight or patisserie at the end of the street.
I thought I would share some of my own observations so far. If they are untrue, please feel free to correct me.
Parisians must learn how to parallel park from the time that they're in kindergarten. The streets here are so very narrow and there doesn't ever seem to be such a thing as a parking lot around due to the lack of space. Sometimes, they even park facing each other! It's the oddest sight to behold. It's almost like you can't own a big car here because where would you park?
We woke up to a very light rain in Paris. As we walked towards the nearest Metro, we saw people who were carrying bunches of flowers and pulling their personal shopping carts. They were obviously doing their weekend shopping. I had been told by a number of friends who lived in Paris that French people have very small fridges in their kitchens. This is mainly due to lack of space but also to the philosophy that everything they cook has to be fresh. So people do food shopping often. The fridge in our rented apartment is a size of what a regular cupboard space at home would be. I have to say that I really like the philosophy of eating fresh, buying produce regularly.
Then we passed by the local marche. If the local marche doesn't inspire you to cook or eat fresh every day, nothing will. Food is displayed in such a glorious manner. It makes me want to move here. Such a silly reason for uprooting everything I know and love, but a country that loves, fosters the love of food (among many other things) has much to recommend them.
We then headed off to the Bastille Market. Even though we were running a little late, it was curious to see that the market was closing up so soon. It turned out that we were actually an hour behind; we had forgotten about the daylight savings time in Paris. Regardless, we managed to see some really cool stalls. The seafood here is unreal. If we did not have other things to see or do, I would have bought a whole bunch and taken it back to our apartment to devour.
We were so tired by all the walking and lack of sleep that we pretty much fell asleep as soon as we got settled in our seats on the Eurostar. If we were living in the UK and making pounds and not dollars, I would be going to Paris every weekend! The train ride was very quick and so inexpensive.
We had rented an apartment in the Latin Quarter but we were confused as to where to pick up the keys. The agency we rented it from had just inserted a standard reply (to pick up keys from them) but also gave us other instructions to pick up our keys at the apartment (due to our late arrival). Because English was not their first language, queries via emails were a little ambiguous.
So here we were, in the City of Lights, tired, dirty, travel weary and hungry (we all know, I don't deal well with hunger...hungry soon amounts to hangry...) and had no idea where to go. On our part, I am ashamed that neither of us took our high school French more seriously. I would understand parts of instructions but not enough. There is no reason not to learn more especially since officially, Canada is a bilingual country. I am so enrolling myself in classes when I return.
So did I mention that we had a bit of a yuck flight across the pond? It was more than a little yuck, it was actually a lot yuck. For some reason, perhaps it being an older plane, there was just no way we could contort our bodies to get comfortable. On top of it all, the cabin was so unbearably hot, to the point of discomfort. I can say that I fly quite a bit and I have never, ever had to take my socks & sweater off, roll my jeans up to my knees and just sit there uncomfortably in a tank.
It basically meant Stefan and I were starting a brand new day in London after pulling an all-nighter in a sweltering sardine can. It made our tempers with each other a little short throughout the day.
We arrived at Heathrow and I was quite shocked to see how run down it looked. I am sure the other terminals must be nicer but the one we arrived in was quite shabby. Stefan breezed through customs with his British passport, although I think they questioned why he had a British one and I had a Canadian one. If only I didn't need to live in the UK for 5 years before being able to apply for dual citizenship, I would definitely have gotten one as we plan to have more vacations in Europe.
We took the underground to King's Cross where we were to pick up our tickets for the Eurostar to Paris. It was surprisingly easy although I found the compartments quite small in comparison to our subways at home. Stefan's head was almost touching the top of the doors. The only issue we had were our bags. I can't figure out whether we (more Stef because his clothes take up so much more room) packed too much or whether we were using the wrong bags. They were not fun to lug around. Next time we go away, I shall heed my friend's motto of "pack light, freeze at night."
I promised my parents that I would write about what I am seeing and doing on my vacation as I did, all those years ago (pre-blog but one of many reasons that I started LBG) when I was traveling in Australia and Asia.
So here goes.
Enroute...
Our plane ride that seemed chock full of "school trippers" was unexpectedly calm. You never know with the mini humans between the ages of 10 and 18. They always seem like gamboling, overexcited, overgrown puppies. I am allowed to say this because I was once one of them.
We experienced some minor turbulence while having our very "lovely" melted plastic plane dinner. I am convinced airplanes can do better with food. After all, I traveled on Singapore Airlines when I went out east and the food was quite good. I don't understand why Air Canada cannot do the same.
Back to the turbulence.
As most people can probably tell, I really love food. I am almost always astounded that I am not some fat, stropping cow (which you know, one day I think I will be if I don't watch myself as I eat almost as much or more than Stef and dude is twice my size) especially since I love noodles - pasta, vermicelli, egg, rice, spirals, you name it and I love it. What comes as a pretty close second and is often cooked with my first love is seafood. What can I say? I grew up by the sea. I have many fond memories of going to the seashore with my mother on Saturday mornings and picking out freshly caught fish for the weekend meals.
I have a really odd (at least most people think so) habit and love of visiting wet markets when I travel. Sure there could be some beautiful park or exhibit somewhere, but give me a fresh wet market any day. I really do feel food is where the heart is and key of understanding any culture. I know for myself, there is so much love, thought and tradition that goes into the preparation of one's native foods. That's why I whenever I travel, I tend to ask locals where they would go to eat if they couldn't go to their mothers. I don't care if the place is small, dark, dank or a little dirty. Second rate pish posh restaurants in other countries are places fools go to pretend to "experience" someone else's culture.
Anyway.
I am so in love with seafood that I think the entire time when Stefan and I were visiting the Seattle Aquarium, I was pointing out fish that I've never tasted before. I think the kids around me were quite grossed out when I stated aloud that octopus was quite tasty raw, as well as cooked.
"You know, if you don't watch it, you're going to get gout one day," Marie mentioned when I was extolling some other virtue of some seafood I had seen.
Gout? As in Henry VIII? The fat, horny, sacrilegious, unscrupulous monarch from the 15th century?
I always thought that gout was a sickness of the rich in medieval times from eating far too rich foods?
Turns out both Marie and I are right.
Supposedly, "Gout (also called metabolic arthritis) is a disease due to a congenital disorder of uric acid metabolism. " It is caused from eating rich foods such as seafood, alcohol, gravy to name a few. One of the main signs of gout is that it attacks the big toe, then leads to other digits, then the feet and finally the entire leg and your whole circulation.
All I can say is my big toe is looking just fine and Japanese people eat seafood all the time, and you don't see them dying off by the masses from gout.
So I stick my tongue out to you Ms. Marie and will continue eating my gouty seafood.
So I know that I am biased about this, but then again this is my blog so I can write whatever I want. My goddaughter is SO smart and has such a good appetite, much like me and her father. She gets SO hangry when it's meal time. I am glad that we have some similarities. So Marie and Bernie have been signing to her and she's learnt the most important sign (to me, at least) which is "more!" She knows other signs as well like "book" and "no more" but she's hilarious when she's eating.
Anyway, I have no idea why I haven't been doing this but I have not been taking pictures of the food I've been eating. I love coming to Vancouver because I get to eat stuff that I never get to eat in Toronto. Most of my friends here are foodies, not in the snobby sense but they share the same love for food as I do.
When we arrived, Bernie had bi bim bap waiting for us. I've always wanted to make this dish at home but Stefan never seemed interested in trying it. However, after having some of Bernie's, Stef asked me whether I can make it when we get back. For breakfast, Bernie made us champurrado which was so EXCELLENT.
After we went for walk to Granville Island, a great little place called Go Fish. It was a small shack that churns out great fresh seafood, served simply. I had a chipotle coconut fish chowder and fish (cod) and chips. The chowder was unbelievable, velvety with a fierce bite, perfectly cooked vegetables and huge chunks of white fish. I really want to learn how to make it when I get home.
We then explored a great food market on Granville Island. I must say exploring food markets is one of my favourite past times. Last night I had my first taste of a West Coast oyster and they really do taste different! It's a question I've been asking Marie but she wasn't sure.
Next post, I won't be such a tease and will have pictures. As for West Coast eating, I am with Ryo - more!
Today, at around 8:15 pm west coast time, my worlds are going to collide. Stefan and Marie have never met each other and today is the day that they do. People always think it's so weird that they haven't met despite the fact that I have known Marie for so long. The reason is because Marie only ever comes out east when she does the trade shows in NY and I tend to go out west for work. The one time when she did come to Toronto, Stefan was out of town. Also, my friendship and love for Marie has grown over time, the old fashioned way - emails and phone calls. There was never a circumstance when they would meet.
Over the years, the two of them seemed to have developed a love-hate relationship. Marie, who is soft spoken with a razor wit sense of sarcasm, loves to butt heads or opinions (usually conveyed through me via emails or phone calls) with Stefan who can never resist teasing a girlfriend. Neither one is more of an instigator than the other, they both do it the same amount. It can be quite funny to witness the various barbs and zingers they lob at each other. But part of me worries that they really won't get along. They both are equally important in my life.
But, I figure they're both adults and they'll work it out. As for me, I'll be hanging out with this little person, trying to make her do more of what she's doing in the video below.
Oh, the sudden heatwave is overwhelming but I guess it hasn't been THAT bad since Mindy is not yet dead. She has however, been more lethargic and very needy. My temper has definitely been shorter than usual so hence the reason for the tone of this post.
Stefan and I are getting ready to go on a trip to Vancouver. Stefan is playing Aussie Rules Footy against the U.S and I get to visit the West Coast family. I am a little worried since even though Stef and I have traveled together, we have not flown much together. We tend to take separate flights for circumstantial reasons. I like to go early to airports and not feel rushed, Stef likes to be his usual lackadaisical self and thinks it's an "adventure" if we get anywhere barely on time. It drives me bonkers.
The one thing that we do have in common is that we both like the apartment to be spotless before we go anywhere. There is nothing worse than coming home on a long flight to a place looking like a war zone, which is the current state of the loft right now. I tend to do "deep cleans" whereas Stefan does "surface cleaning." So last night before he came home, I told him that although it may not look like much has been done, it had as I had done a lot of dusting.
Stefan doesn't believe in dusting, or at least he never thinks that the place ever warrants it. Sometimes, I seriously think that he thinks I am making the "dusting" part up. Little does he know that the reason why there are never inches of dust around the apartment is that I dust quite frequently. I will take books off shelves, wipe them clean and arrange them back. Heck! I even dust the plants. Does he think the dust fairy just goes around and cleans stuff up? You cannot live with a cat, in the downtown core with the windows open without copious amounts of dust coming in.
As I am writing this, he's looked at me with his little boy eyes and asking me not to complain about him. He gets me EVERY time.
I don't know whether you know this about me, but I just love to eat. So much so that I plan almost every day by the meals I am about to eat and every vacation is planned over how good the native food in that country is. That's why even though everyone tells me that I should go to Cuba, while it is still in its time warp, I just can't bring myself to do it. I heard the food there is quite dismal.
My ultimate gastronomic trip would be to go to Japan. I once wrote a paper on Japanese design and how nothing, and I mean nothing in Japan is done without extreme creativity and thought. This obviously translates to their food.
As I was reading a Vanity Fair article written by Nick Tosches on the fish markets in Japan, I stumbled upon this:
First, a course of monkfish liver, vinegared baby eel, which seems to have been filleted, and a jelly cake of crab and vegetables....Then slices of raw bluefish tuna, raw bluefin toro, raw hamachi, raw hamachi toro, raw tilefish, steamed octopus, ama-ebi (sweet shrimp; the sweetness is in the meat of the brain), a raw Kumamoto oyster, and a fragrant spray of shiso flowers. Then a clear soup of seawood, whitefish cake, bamboo, and asari(a sort of Spring time Japanese littleneck). Then grilled black cod from Toyama and crisp-toasted mild green peppers. Then halfa lobster (served with a spoon to blend the soft, dark meat of the head into the white tail meat) and shiitake and oyster mushrooms. Then a miso soup with straw mushrooms and seaweed. Then minced grilled eel, tilefish, and bonito steamed in a mixture of botan rice and sticky rice, wrapped in a large, salted houba leaf.I don't know about you. But that sounds like a damn fine meal. Luckily for me, he got this meal at Sugiyama, a restaurant in NY. You can be sure I will be making a reservation the minute I know that I am going to be in town next.
Have I already mentioned that Stefan and I have been pseudo studying French for our impending Paris trip in the Fall? I just think it's important that when you go to a foreign country that you learn some phrases in their mother tongue. Seems like it's the polite thing to do, that's all.
Anyway, French lessons are not going as well as I thought it would and I am kicking myself everyday for not continuing French throughout high school. Did I really need to have take two music classes, gym, every math, almost every science course offered for all those years? Especially since I knew from the get go, that I would never ever want a job in any field using those subjects? Oh, sometimes, I just wish I could go back in time and smack my teenage self at the back of the head.
Marie, Boutsy and I spent most of Ash Wednesday walking around in the mists of confusion. The confusion for the girls was compounded by the fact that they had taken a red eye flight the day before from the West Coast and were a little disoriented. I had no real excuse other than my general malaise from travelling.
We were in NY to attend the Coterie, a bi-annual fashion trade show. The show which is usually broken up into three separate sites by commodity was under one big roof this time around. It made the whole experience quite over whelming. The first day we just walked and walked and walked. Endless booths of clothing just melded into one and we finally had to leave due to the fact that we were no longer processing the difference from one line to the other. We spent the rest of the late afternoon scouring lower Manhattan in search of visual inspiration. Other than Anthropologie, no such inspiration came.
I had such a great time in Vancouver. There is nothing like hanging out with friends, eating really good food and lots of laughter.
Thank you, West Coast family for such a great trip.
Dear Ryo,
I woke up this morning without the relentless pawing from your sister, Monkey and without little sweaty feet to kiss. It's a little disconcerting to be home and not have you near. For a quick moment there, I seriously contemplated buying the house down the street from you. If it wasn't for your Uncle Stefan, Mindy, my parents, my brothers and my business, moving to the West coast seems like a very appealing idea. If only to be a greater part of your growing up. But I really like your Uncle Stefan (don't tell him, it will be our secret), and I am afraid he's quite helpless without me.
You are a miracle to me.
Somehow life seems a little lighter knowing that you exist in the world. I can hear your mummy telling me that I am such a suck. I am a suck, I can't help it. I cannot believe how much you've changed just in the week that I was there. You've started laughing at the silly antics your mum and dad do just to amuse you. When you coo, I can almost hear what you will sound like. You are so fascinated with your own reflection right now. When you sleep, you sometimes frown and other times you laugh. Your mum and I wonder whether all you dream about is boob. Good boob? Bad boob?
Because right now, you're going through the only loving mummy and daddy phase. You love mummy best cos well, she's got boobs. But you really miss daddy when he's been gone all day. It's amazing how much you and your daddy love each other. The pure joy in each of your faces when he comes home is so amazing to see. Your mum is so funny and patient with you. She's always pleading for you not to have your explosive poops when it's on her watch. You do it anyway and laugh your head off when you hear our squeals of disgust. They've been times when you've let me hold your for five minutes and I feel like I've climbed Mt. Everest.
Your mummy wants me to have a baby within the next few years so that you guys can be friends. I think I need to do a little more growing up before this happens because right now, there is no way I can live up to your mummy. But since your mummy and I have plans to share our kids in the summer, I'd better start thinking about it.
Until then, I am willing to be your personal stalkerazzi. You're going to wonder when you're older, why you have loads of pictures of yourself only in certain periods of your life. Don't grow up too fast, ok?
Love you, baby girl.
Why is it that I always only seem to need to pee right when a plane hits a patch of turbulence? I usually spend the 2 minutes praying that I do not die while sitting on a plane toilet.
There should really be some sort of law that forbids airport retailers to play "Abba's Greatest Hits" at full volume at 5 a.m.
There should also be some memorandum against having to hear hockey highlights at the same stated time.
In all the years that I've traveled to Vancouver, I have never ever seen the city with snow.
People in cities who don't regularly have lots of snow, can't really seem to drive in said snow.
The goddaughter could possibly be the cutest kid alive.
I never thought I would be so happy and content having someone barf on me.
I was browsing in one of my favorite Japanese convenience stores, trying to get inspired for dinner one night when I noticed a sign by the crockery section that said "Now that hot pot season is here, get some ingredients for shabu shabu!" I had no idea what it was, but I knew whatever it was, I wanted to eat it.
So, I called Marie my trusty fellow food connoisseur (who also happens to have an in house Japanese food expert i.e her baby daddy) and asked her to explain what this "shabu-shabu" was and can I eat it when I am out west.
Yes, you heard right. After a much longer than anticipated separation, I'll be reunited with my West Coast family this Friday. I am so excited! Even for the wintry weather they are unexpectedly having because we've had none. I should dig out my winter jacket as I don't think I've even seen the darn thing all winter.
I'm excited to reunite with friends, check out the great stores and restaurants but most importantly see little Ryo, who's already started laughing and making funny expressions. I can't wait to actually touch her tiny feet and toes. Can you believe once upon a time, our feet were really that tiny too?
I love the 3 F's - Food, Family and Friends. Not in that particular order.
This last trip was a combination of all three. We ate at Republic (my NY staple for noodle soup), Nyonya and Dervish. I got to see - Boutsy and Murat from Vancouver, Carmen, who recently moved back to North America from a five year stint in Switzerland and my big brother, Ken.
I have this thing with clearing customs. I tend to be very, very honest. I think part of this has to do with the fact that I travelled so much last year and I always seem to be the one getting pulled for searches. Never mind that there is some big, burly sketchy looking guy ahead of me, they just flag them through. Sure, just pull the innocent looking, often sleepy (darn those early morning flights) little Asian and go through her anally packed suitcase. EVERY. SINGLE. TIME. It drives me nuts because it takes so long for me to fit everything just so.
The worst part is when they look at my birth date and then my face, then my birth date again. Always the same type of statements about how young I look. Now, looking young is a great asset, I agree, but not when you travel for work and they think you're a teenager. I have a feeling they think I am either a mail order bride or something even more sinister.
Anyway, another reason for the honesty is a stylist friend of mine once lied about her purchases and now she gets flagged every time she crosses the border. I would rather pay the duties and customs fees than to be in the system as a troublemaker. I get rather nervous about this and so the complete honesty kicks in and this is usually what happens when they ask whether I have anything to declare.
"Errmmm...." (Big Breath and verbal diarrhea ensues)
"One skirt, polka dots, the black can almost be navy, it's really cute, kind of nautical.... Two necklaces but they were for a street vendor so it wasn't too expensive. Do I have to declare magazines because I bought at least 5 but I don't think they should count because everyone needs reading material, don't they? I got some presents and I don't really know how much those cost...but they were two of the cutest Paul Frank underwear, a sweater, a book, some great monogrammed stationary, a Jill Blissen journal that I've been eyeing for awhile...."
Usually when the customs officer is a man, I can see his eyes mentally roll back and there is a slight struck, glazed over look. They usually raise their hand, wearily stamp my form and wave me through. I think next time, I'll just write a list and hand it to them to save them the headache and my nervous stammering.
My mother likes to tell me that when I was about 2 years old, I was presented with a choice of shoes. One pair was a cheapie that was about $10 and the other was $50. According to her, they looked identical but when asked, I naturally gravitated to the more expensive pair. It's a pretty good start to the story of my life when it comes to shopping. It usually is when I don't know the label and I just love something because I do. Then I look at the price and I wonder how many good meals I can get out of it. I will take a good meal over mediocre shoes any day.
I was in New York this past week for the Spring 2007 fashion sales week. Twice a year, the city hosts major trade shows that showcase established and new designers. I have always had a soft spot for NY, every since my first trip when I was seventeen. My first trip is stuff of legends in my family. I wanted to check out Parsons and F.I.T. but my parents were adament that I should stay in Canada. Something about the "U.S and their lax gun laws."
I'm the type of person when you insist I go left, I'll definitely go right. I was on a Greyhound bus the week later and when I got there, I told them to send me money if I ran out. I think the only thing keeping them from sending the Canadian army after me was that my very conservative, straight as an arrow high school boyfriend decided to tag along. He was more effective than a parent, I must say, and only let me drink underage twice the entire 2 weeks I was there.
We were at the cottage again last weekend. It's always so nice to get away from the city. It's been such a disgustingly hot, humid summer. For me, this is probably my last "hurrah" at the cottage for the summer as I am just about to start my crazy-busy time at work. I was so happy to be able to spend it away and with some lovely friends. Maureen and I went up early on Friday and the boys came to meet us after the footy game.
There definitely are some perks to my job. One of the big ones is that I get to go on some road trips. It's really great because I definitely have the nomadic spirit in me and the thought of sitting just at a desk all the time would make me want to jump out the nearest window. Well, not quite so drastic but close enough.
It's funny because friends who live in Europe and Asia have no concept how large the land mass is in Canada. You really have to travel quite awhile to get from A to B, if you are visiting the smaller cities or towns from the metropolitan centres. Ontario, the province I live in, is the largest so I do have to do quite a number of road trips to get anywhere.
I am so country mouse-city mouse. I like to think I would like to live on a farm in a picturesque small town; but Stefan will only have to remind me that I sometimes have cravings for Vietnamese noodles at 3 a.m. to make me realize that I love living in the city. I guess that is why so many people in Ontario own cottages by lakes to go to on the weekends.
Stratford is such a beautiful little town. It's only two hours away - thank goodness! It has beautiful historic houses, a great Shakesperan festival in the summer time and a really quaint Main Street. I really wish I carried my camera with me. The snow was blanketed over farmland and gorgeous ice crystals were hanging from branches of ancient trees. Most of the houses were very well kept and I felt like I had stepped back in time.
Some other observations I made on this road trip -
Men are the worst tail gaters! Sometimes I was doing 140 km/h on the fast lane and I still always had some moron on my tail. The moron was always male. The speed limit is 100 km/h for Pete's sake.
I really find driving very calming which is a good thing since I have to drive so much.
I need to remember that when it's an open road, I should watch my speed limit. I have a tendency to speed. I guess that I am so used to the slow as molasses urban crawl on dense Toronto highways, that I get a little speed happy.
I was so shocked to see the calvacade of trucks on the highway. Even though it makes complete sense since we all need to get our goods from somewhere.
I can't decide whether it's worse to drive past fresh road kill or to drive over very flatten road kill.
Why is there SO MUCH road kill on Ontario highways?
I thought I should get this part over with before it gets way too late and everyone goes,"Bloody shut up about your stupid wedding already!!!"
Please click on the pictures and it will automatically redirect you to my Flickr account and reveal a photo slideshow. If you want to see my individual comments on each picture, all you have to do is click stop slideshow and manually view it.
Is it me or do I always seem to have problems with Air Canada? This time on my flight home, on a completely booked flight to Toronto we were delayed by two and a half hours because they were short one attendent. Heck, I would have offered to serve out the damn water if we could have gotten on the way. When we arrived we couldn't get off the plane as something was wrong with the bridge thing that you need to exit the plane. We couldn't even get too mad as there simply wasn't anything we could do.
I am just so glad to be home.
Here I am, once again at the airport. I have to say that I find this to be one of the best places to people watch, one of my all time favourite pastimes. I just love the new Terminal 1 at Pearson International. Everything is so shiny, pristine and fresh. The one thing that I do detest however, is the insane line ups at the Air Canada counter despite the fact that they have the self help kiosks. I always have to treat a domestic flight like an International one.
New York is wonderful, even when it is hot and sticky. I have had such a fun time with my brother in NY. We didn't party as much as we did the last time we got together but for some reason, I had way more fun this time around. It was good, getting reaquainted with my brother and the city again.
I don't know what it is about Air Canada and "rain" but my flight was cancelled last night due to it. So, I was stuck in NY for another day. Boo Hoo, you're thinking. But really, I needed to be back home to do a slew of work plus with Stefan leaving so soon....
O-M-G!
My brother is so freaking anal. He has refolded his new sheets about 10 times already and they still don't look right to him. He said," Can you imagine what it would be like working for me?"
"I would hate it."
"Me too. I make people change their fonts in their reports if I don't think it's pretty enough."
Sheesh, Ken! You work at a bank. Why the heck does it need to be pretty? I thought I was anal. I guess analness just runs in the family.
Is there something about NY and I? We love one another, don't we? And yet there are always issues? Sitting in the plane and getting all comfy. Just, waiting for the plane to take off so that I can iPod it to sleep when the head stewart person gets on and announces that NY is not receiving any flights due to bad weather in Philly. Like the last time wasn't bad enough. Now, we're sitting here like sardines at the mercy of the traffic controllers over there. At least, there's bloody air conditioning.
So, I managed to get back just in time for the long weekend. New York is always fun but is not so much fun when experiencing the heat wave that we have been having right now. Your feet get disgusting and dirty and the rain just brings up the wonderful odour of tar, crap and garbage. But then, there are are wonderful things like Forever 21 where you can find a totally cute skirt for $12.
Every time I am here in B.C, I feel more and more that I should be here all the time. Despite a couple of days of rain, it has just been absolutely beautiful here. Life just seems to be a slightly different pace and everything is so unbelievably LUSH! Marie is probably snickering right now as I tend to exclaim that a lot when I am here but really, it's just so beautiful and green here.
Another pseudo rainy day in Edmonton, the land of super malls. Surely, people here don't just shop all the time, so why the need? They already have the world's largest mall, you would think that would be enough. I'm not complaining as got some cute, little things at Century 21. My poor ipod Millie, seems to be a little sick and I need to take her to a doctor as soon as I get home. Her backlight is not working and the battery seems to be dying out pretty quickly. I am very concerned.....
Everywhere I go it's rain, rain and more rain. Luckily, despite it all I have somehow managed to go without an umbrella because I have been in the car for most of the rainy parts. Some of the rivers in the Calgary area was looking pretty full so needless to say I was happy to make it north, thinking I would avoid the rain. Little did I know.
