I know I keep raving about how chic Parisians are but to me, it was never more so than seeing Parisians on their bikes. Men in full 3-piece suits, women in heels with their vintage Kelly bags...I couldn't help but swoon. For the past couple of years I had considered getting a bike. This trip made me see that I could still rock my style while riding.

About a month ago, the TTC (Toronto Transit Commission) threatened to go on strike (and they ended up striking for a weekend) and that's what solidified my decision. I bought my first bike in 18 years.

I decided to name my bike "Emmaline" as a tribute to my Paris trip. I have no idea how I ever survived without her. Living in downtown Toronto, it's a great way to travel from one place to another. I feel a whole new sense of freedom (I've got wheels!) and often spend my bike rides home from work exploring small streets and neighborhoods within the city. Many wonder whether it's been a huge change biking in city traffic but I would say that it hasn't felt much different from city driving, other than the fact that I am in a much smaller vehicle.

The only two things I can really complain about biking so far are the pot holes and the ugly bike helmet. I must say I never noticed the various potholes in the city until I started biking. I've learnt really quickly to lift my bum when I hit a pot hole. The other thing is that there is no such thing as a cool bicycle helmet. All the ones I've encountered either look like a snowboarding helmet or the ventilated ones with the funny lift on the back. I have the one with the vents and I can never help but feel like I am wearing something where the back of it looks like a plastic chicken backside.

I try to counter the chicken ass-ness by wearing dresses, ballet flats, scarves and my giant Jackie O-ish Prada glasses. (Kelvin, my brother who is a very keen recreational biker and would never dream of not wearing proper biking gear laughs at the thought of me dressed like this on my bike). And for the short time when I am going through the tree lined neighborhoods in Toronto, I can pretend that I am really biking in the streets of Paris. I hope my love of Emmaline is the start of a life long affair.

Stefan is very rarely sick.

But this week Stefan is sick - fever, coughing, phlegm, the works. I've tried to stay away, but you know, we do just live in a one bedroom loft. Total lack of contact is not possible. Plus he has a no sleeping apart (unless we're out of the country) rule. The result?

Now I'm sick.

Which means, I can't even visit my mama, who is recovering from being sick. Do you see what you've done? I hope you feel very guilty, Stefan...

But I also think it speaks volumes about my mother's character. People just want to be with her and hope for her to be well.

We still haven't heard back yet from her biopsy but we are all praying and hoping for the good news.

I promise to be more regular about posting. I have even had complains from Mama herself during her moments of boredom at home. And when Mama complains....

I wonder whether anyone ever told you this but for years and years, I longed for a little sister. Or an older adopted sister. Any type of sister, really...I was tired of Kenny and Kelvin always leaving me out. Or having to do impossible tasks to join their play groups. Or being bullied constantly. Or being bamboozled out of my pocket money for a mere omelet (totally Ken). Or having to deal with "pretend" kidnappings at the early dawn. For those of you who are brother-less, "pretend" kidnappings happen in the wee hours of the morning, where brothers pretend to kidnap you in your sleep. Supposedly, it's to prepare you for the possibilities of a kidnapping actually happening. Needless to say, I still tend to punch in my sleep if someone wakes me up unexpectedly.

Unfortunately, Mama and Papa Kang were not obliging to my request for another girl. After me, they were "done" (I wonder why.... I was such a joy as a teenager...NOT!). I got used to being by myself and then I went through a phase of not wanting to accept another girl in our lives. I was perfectly content being the crown princess of the family.

And then, there was you.

I've always liked you. I wasn't sure whether I was ever going to accept my brother loving another woman other than Mama Kang or me. I can be jealous like that. But there you were, in all your glory.

In fact, it felt completely natural.

As far as I've been concerned, you are my blood sister. And it hasn't been more true to me especially these past few weeks.

Mama Kang had her surgery last Monday and she hasn't had an easy time of it, has she? An unexpected, more invasive surgery, loss of blood, three blood transfusions in two days, a seven day stay at the hospital instead of the expected two, unexpected readmitting to emergency after, UTI to boot...we've had a rough time of it. And you've been there all the time. Calling, being there, keeping our spirits up, taking care of Papa Kang when we couldn't, staying overnight at the hospital, just being THERE. You have been such a rock to lean on, especially during such hard times. And I know you've been there, not out of obligation, but simply because you care and truly love us. (Are you mad?)

And I meant to send you a "Thank you" card but no card can convey what I really feel.

You are everything I've always looked for in a sister and more. I am lucky to be yours.

Love,

Karen

Most people have probably already watched this, but I only just watched Diane Sawyer's story on Randy Pausch. What an incredible man, full of great insights. If you haven't heard this, watch the full video. Not the other abridged versions out there. It really is worth 76.26 minutes of your 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.

View image

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...

My only complaint about the trip to the Notre Dame is that there seemed to be a disconnect between tourist and respect. Whether or not you are a believer, it is still someone else's place of worship. People were shouting and talking although there were very clear signs that we should be silent and respectful. Even when the crowds were hushed, the murmuring of chatter would rise again near the exit sign. I felt slightly uncomfortable for the people who were there to worship or pray, even though I am not a Catholic. I am sure you could make the choice not to worship there but why should you be chased off by a bunch of tourists?

Lastly, we went to the Marais District and also had a really wonderful French dinner with an old friend at a restaurant called Chez Janou. Out of all the arrondissements we visited, this was probably my favourite so far. Lots of really great cafes, boutiques and galleries. There seemed to be a really cool vibe there. I absolutely loved this wonderful square called Places des Vosges. It was a really sunny afternoon and kids were running around playing, couples, young and old, were just chilling on the many benches or on the grass. It was all in all just a really beautiful place to spend a lovely afternoon.

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.

View image

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?

Do you wonder whether Parisians ever get blase about their surroundings? Do they ever think " Ah, le Notre Dame! Been there, done that?" It's hard to even conceive living in a city where every corner holds so much beauty, history and significance.

I wonder why French women are so bloody skinny. I understand that they probably don't eat crepes as much as I have (at least once a day) but the food is unbelievable, and the desserts!! I mean, even for me, a non dessert eater, I've had a hard time resisting. Let's just say I will never look at a creme brule the same way again.

Almost everyone here is dressed in such an impeccably chic way. It starts from the beginning. The children's clothing here is very much a style I would like to dress my own children (if I had any) and Ryo (the beloved God daughter in). Girls clothing is not in that cloying weird Wal Mart Barbie pink that I detest. Femininity is brought out through simple detailing. There is no segregation in colours. There are boys clothing in pink and blue. I hate that whole stereotype of girls in pink and boys in blue. More on this later.

How do postmen and cab drivers ever find their way in the winding streets of the city?

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.

View image

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 then headed off to Musee D'Orsay. When we first arrived, the line to get in looked impossible. It was probably due to the fact that all stores are closed on Sundays and museums were open. Luckily, the line moved quickly enough and we got in within half an hour. I don't know whether this is true of all museums but at this one, anyone under 18 got in for free. And people under 30 got a discounted rate. For some reason, the cashier assumed we were under 30 and we got in for a fairly decent price.

There were a lot of teenagers there. Which was fine, in fact, I think it's really incredible. It's really important that young children get exposed to culture as much as possible. I just think it's such a wonderful opportunity for the dwellers of this city to have such amazing resources at the steps of their doors. If I lived here, I do think I would spend a lot of my time at the numerous museums here.

View image

Musee D'Orsay was everything friends had recommended and more. I don't know why but the Impressionist era and the art eras surrounding it are the ones I remember the most out of my art history lessons. I even wrote a paper on Paul Cezanne. So to be able to actually see these masterpieces under one roof was such an exhilarating experience. I am afraid that I went a little snap happy here. It absolutely couldn't be helped. We did not have time to really go through the museum as thoroughly as I would have liked. It is definitely one that I would return to in the future.

I really wish I could speak more intelligently about art. But I think being able to feel large emotion towards it is a good start.

We spent the rest of the time walking around and getting lost in the many winding streets of Paris. All I can think of to compare it to is of lower New York. You know how everyone thinks the Soho, Grenwich, East & West Village are the really cool parts of New York? Well, Paris feels like one whole city consisting of all those place times one thousand or even more. We kept finding really cool areas at side cobbled streets. I have no idea how the postmen know how to find any addresses here.

I am so in awe of this city.

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.

View image

I had read that French people were not really very friendly, especially to foreigners who didn't speak French. I haven't yet found that. While I was trying to drag my suitcase up and down the stairs of the underground, I had two people on separate occasions help me with my bags. Then there was the lovely couple who helped us figure out how to get to the apartment.

My first impression of Paris? I simply love it. There is a certain romance here that is instant. Perhaps because it's spring? I don't really know. As we were driving by the Seine river, up and down windy roads, seeing all the architecture within the night light, I could not help but love the city.

We finally found our apartment and it was located in a great little happening area. The elevator was so unbelievably tiny and quaint. We laughed so hard as we piled our bags and ourselves inside. The apartment itself was exactly as advertised. It was far larger than what a typical hotel would have been so we are quite happy with it.

By the time we both took a much needed (very blissful) shower and headed out, it was actually quite late and neither of us wanted to wrangle through having to going to a restaurant. Our saving grace? Tons of little "to go" shops. I got a panini with fresh cheese, tomatoes and basil and also a nutella crepe.

Have I already mentioned that I love this city?

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."

View image

We had about 5 or so hours to kill before catching our train to Paris so we decided to stick sightseeing to the general area. We noticed that we were quite close to Camden Market and that is where we decided to head off. I have to say, I was rather hoping that Camden Market was a wet/food market because those are my favourite kinds.

Nonetheless, we found this really mad area called the Camden Stables market or something close. It used to be actual stables and many stores have set up shop within the original stables. It was really fun going through this labyrinth of a market. There were lots of food stalls, bric bracs, antique furniture, clothing basically anything you could think of, it was there.

View image

There was this one really funny food store where this girl kept on loudly sing songing "Hellllooooooo! Lovely Chinese Food!" over and over again in a very Chinese-British accent. It was a really weird combination and I must admit, Stefan and I felt like lobbing a piece of stone at her, only because after five minutes, her voice became quite grating on our already frayed/tired nerves.

Luckily, we moved on to wander other areas nearby.

Regent Park was an unexpected discovery. I kept looking at all these really beautiful townhouses and walking towards it. Then I saw a sign for the zoo. I don't know what it is about zoos and am by no means, obsessed with them but if there's one nearby, I like to check it out. Stefan was having nothing to do with this as by then he was quite desperate to find a "gent's toilet." The last thing we needed was to get arrested in a foreign country by virtue of random peeing. We started walking within the park and found out through our map that it was Regent Park.

The first thing we see is a group of men playing footy. Even across the world, I cannot seem to escape the darn game. There was a map of the park but because there did not seem to be a "You are here" symbol, we simply could not figure where we were in the park. I just kept walking towards the direction of the zoo, as if we were at the zoo, then at least we would know where we were. We finally did find a washroom (past the damn zoo, as visiting it was executively vetoed by Stefan) and disaster was averted. I have to say, I am surprised that for a city this big, London has a lot of green (parks) in it, which is definitely a lovely aspect to the city.

We found that at the end of our mini exploration of Regent Park that our route ended to a road that took us directly back to King's Cross. Which was lucky because being from Toronto, where the city is mapped out in a grid, I found it a little hard to figure out my bearings in London.

Because we had another hour before our train and I was a little peckish, we stopped at a pub on Euston Road. Here's a note to myself: never ever order anything not "pubbish" at a pub because frankly it was quite unappetizing. I had ordered an asian inspired salad with grilled beef. It had good intentions but the beef was oily and tough, the dressing overpowered. The people next to us had sheperd's pie and it looked really lovely. Now I know better.

This question is probably rhetorical; but I noticed that the taps in the washrooms at the pub and at the public one in Regent Park were the same. One tap marked "hot" and the other tap on the side marked "cold." Both were at extreme temperatures and Stefan and I wondered how people used it back it the day. Did they just run both taps and moved their hands from side to side? Did they just fill the basin up to get warm water? Whatever it was, it was a bit of a silly design.

Then we were off on the Eurostar to Paris!

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.

Although, it got me thinking about my possible survival skills in the wild. (Do you see how my brain just flows weirdly like this, all the time?) And all I can say is that my chances of survival are more likely than Stefan's. He's too picky of an eater and I am not sure that he knows how to kill any animals in the wild.

Or camp. Or start a fire without matches. Or rough it out.

Frankly, he's screwed.

I showed him this last paragraph and he said "If I can survive band camp, I can survive anything." I don't even think he's ever been to band camp. He can be so odd.

Our online entertainment system barely worked the entire flight, so to compensate, we got: the little giveaway that they give all the executive class people, some coupons for air miles points and the best thing? A form that let us cut through the customs line. That was the best!!!

We arrived in London safe and sound but too bloody early, on little to no sleep. However, London was SUNNY when we arrived! Why do people say it's always dreary?

I really must move to a country where we don't have to do any taxes. I think about the accountants at work and feel so bad for them. They ALWAYS seem to be in tax season, having to do month end and all sorts of things that I would rather someone put bamboo splinters underneath my nails.

That's why I love my accountant and will never do anything to upset him. He's just one of the most best natured men that I've ever met and I do give a small prayer (not all the time but especially around tax time) that he lives a very, very, very long life.

All this being said, I should get back and go through all my darn receipts. Next time you hear from me, I'll probably be in Paris!

I am ashamed to say, I still succumb to peer pressure from time to time and the girls decided it was time that I got into the loop. So for the past couple of weekends, I've been plowing through the DVDs. I am telling you (for you lucky US people who have TiVO, although I just found out that we now have it too) that THIS is the way to watch a show.

I don't have the time or attention span to sit through TV advertising lately. Most of them are so inane anyway. I like just being able to watch a show in its entirety with no interruptions.

I must say that I am really digging the show and so far my favourite characters are Hurley, Sawyer and Sayid (we just started season 2...I am guessing characters change over time).

The thing I keep bringing up is why does everyone look so good all the time? I mean, they were in a plane crash for Pete's sakes. They really need to stop putting so much make up on, especially on Kate. I know they have their luggage but who really has the time to put that much lip gloss on a deserted island where random things are trying to kill you? Ditto with the wardrobe changes. And Hurley? Why is he still SO big? I watch "Survivor" and I know if you're being physical and not eating carbs, you become the size of a twig.

Stefan tells me I have to stop telling him these same things after every episode. But secretly, you know you're thinking the same thing I am too.

Fashion is such a funny thing.

I do think there are many people in the world who do plan their wardrobes seasons ahead. I however, am not really one of them, I kind of just buy what I feel like. I do have a couple of pet peeves when it comes to fashion:

(1) Having no personal fashion identity -- you know the girls I am talking about. The ones who travel in packs and wear variations of the same thing, and the ones who look as if they ripped a page out of a magazine, went to a store and told the salesperson to get them "the look" regardless of whether the clothes complement their body type or personal taste.

(2) Taking fashion too seriously. At the end of the day, it's only clothes, people should have fun with it.

So when I ask Marie the question, part of it is mocking the silliness of the industry. My answer is usually something really random like "Marie Antoinette mixed with 90's grunge and 20's flapper girl" and we'll laugh. Then Marie will swear she won't be seen near me if I come close to dressing what I described above.

Fall 2008 has already been in full swing and here are some looks from the runways (so far...there's so much to catch up on) that I would totally incorporate into my wardrobe (if I was taller/richer/chicer).

These first picks are completely biased since I went to school with Erdem. In my defense, I always thought back then he was completely talented and am glad to see him do so well in this fickle industry. I love the prints in this dress (1), it reminds me so much like art that I would love to own and I've always loved maxi dresses even though as part Hobbit, the silhouette makes it very hard for me to pull it off. This dress (2) I would definitely wear a lot. It's something that you can definitely dress up and down. Since work requires me to go to events where there are other creative people around, this (3) would be a great number to add to my wardrobe. The rich purple and pleating detailing makes it something I would want to keep for a very long time.

These are looks that I would totally wear to work when I need to dress up more. The first two looks are by Diane Von Furstenberg. I love the styling of this look (1) with the belt. Layering is my favourite way to dress and I feel that all the pieces can be pulled apart and worn with different existing things in my wardrobe. I have to admit that I love black dresses (2). I seem to buy a new one every season to the utter bewilderment of Stefan, who cannot see that every single one is extremely different from the other. This one has such beautiful lines and tailoring to it. This look (3) by Elie Tahari is one I have been wearing a lot lately. I really like mixing lines --- long sleeves under little jackets and I love, love , love mens style pants. I don't think they'll ever go out of style.

This look (7) by Max Azria is my perfect Friday outfit. I would wear it with a long black cardigan, leggings and boots for the day and a little cardigan, dark tights, a chunky vintage gold choker and high, high black heels for night. I would get these two other two looks (8 & 9) by Chloe and wear them as pieces. They look like items that you could mix and match in numerous ways to make several outfits.

Looking back at my picks so far, me thinks Mama Kang would be quite upset. She's always bemoaning the fact that I refused to wear anything feminine for most of my formative years, rather choosing to wear my brothers' discarded clothing.

Funny how that works...

About two months ago, I got a phone call at work that I never wanted to ever hear. Even though deep down inside I already knew before she had uttered the words. My mother had been diagnosed with cancer.

It wasn't completely unexpected, she had been having some issues for awhile, all of us are medical junkies so we read up all the possibilities of what it could be. And you pray that it's not what you think it is.

The indomitable Mama Kang has cancer.

When I was four, one of my neighbourhood playmates lost their mother to cancer. All I knew was one day she was there, the next day she was "sick", the "C" word lingered in the background and whispered but never said aloud, and all too soon, she was gone. She was so young. I remember the kids, two boys and a girl hanging closely to their father, and their spinster aunt (a harsh unloving woman who seemed to have no patience for children. I know this because she was also one of my teachers in grade school) and I often wonder what became of them.

I can't really describe to you how it feels to be hit with the reality that someone you love, especially your mother, could possibly not be around in the future. The closest I can come to it, is that it feels as if someone has stabbed you in the chest and sucked all your insides out with a powerful vacuum. I have been taught since I was young, that we all have a certain amount of time here on earth. But some lessons you can never really learn. You never ever want to believe that your parents are no longer in their 40's or that they might one day leave you. I don't think that I will ever be ready for that day.

I have kept this news pretty quiet, only telling those nearest and dearest to me. Despite my propensity to be open about most things in my life, I needed to surround myself with those who really understood me. I didn't need apathetic sympathy. I had heard of horror stories from other friends who had experienced the same thing and then had to endure people who didn't really know them tell them how they should act or feel. The best thing anyone can do in situations like this (if they haven't been through the same thing) is to say "you're sorry" and to listen.

Anyone who truly knows me knows that there really is no one I love more than my mother. She is who I inspire to be when I grow up. And these past few months, I have been strengthened by the fact that she is not only loved by us, her immediate family but by many - aunts, uncles, cousins from both sides and friends have rallied together. I know one thing -- if Stefan and I ever have a family, I would want to have more than one child. I could not have gone through each day without the understanding that my brothers and I have each other to lean on. There is nothing as comforting or more strengthening than being able to relate.

Another amazing discovery for me was realizing that Stefan really loves Mama Kang, not for my sake, because he genuinely loves her for her. They truly have their own relationship beyond me. Seeing his face, so taut with worry as he questioned what the doctors had told her and his grim determination that she will conquer this has made me love him so much more.

Mama Kang is handling this all with her usual aplomb -- some tears (more for us and my fears, throughout this all, her foremost thought has been that she doesn't want any of her babies to be afraid or sad), lots of talk and as always, lots and lots of laughter.

So what now?

The prognosis is good. She goes for surgery in April and we hope that all will be well after. We move forward. She's insisting that Stefan and I go ahead with our Paris/London trip even though she's having her surgery when we leave. We are planning a family vacation in Jamaica for Christmas 2009.