Rebonjour!

Hello again!

rebonjour (ruh-bon-joor) : hello again

Salutation said to someone you have already seen that day and said hello to

-- Wiktionnaire

When I was teaching in France, I always felt a bit awkward and shy around my collègues.  I had just graduated from university at the end of the previous academic year, so being on the "other," or teachers' side was new to me.  I wasn't sure whether to call them Monsieur or Madame or by their first names (I felt particularly awkward about this toward my older collègues).  The consequence was that I would avoid addressing them by name directly when possible and would mostly end up greeting them with rebonjours every time I saw them in the teachers' lounge.

I feel a rebonjour is in order.  I started blogging again in February for a few reasons: I had been thinking of my time in France and travels throughout Europe; I felt I had more stories and anecdotes to tell about my year abroad; and I like the blog medium as an outlet for creative writing.  When I first started this blog ahead of my leaving for France, I gave it a subtitle: Travel Blog & Catalog.  I did this in part to help me stay focused on my topic, but also to allow some flexibility in posting about non-year-abroad-related things (this was before Pinterest existed as a medium to bookmark and microblog about things).

With this renewal and relaunch, I decided to freshen up the look of my dear blog.  I (impulse) bought a domain, so you can now bookmark www.cartes-postales.ca.  I also enlisted the help of two fine friends of mine: Parker Iain and Henry of Hank White Design Co.  Both gentlemen have cultivated a personal aesthetic and design style I admire, and I was delighted to work with them both.

They Say It's My Birthday

While I agree with many of Patton Oswalt's bits and find him hilarious, I disagree with him on birthdays.  I think the big 2-5 deserves a birthday because you are now a quarter of a century old.  And not just because today is the day that I mark this milestone.

Last year I felt my birthday was a non-event in terms of aging; I didn't really feel any different from how I had felt as a 23-year-old.  I was so, so touched that all my friends in France came out to celebrate with me.

I haven't been too hung up on my new number (so far).  Although, in the last three weeks I have gotten my first facial, a make-up consultation, a pore-refining cream, and am researching BB and eye creams (any advice?).  While this may  have been partially subconsciously motivated by my new number, it also had to do with the fact that I haven't really updated my skin care routine since being a teenager afflicted with acne.

I marked my birthday on the blog last year with a list of things I was thankful for.  This is my last "big" birthday for a while, the next ones being my champagne birthday and a new decade.  In this spirit, I'd like your help making a list of 30 things to do before I'm 30 (not just travel related).  What do you think I should do? 

Le vin

France and wine.  Wine and France.  The two are an indelibly linked pair.  I knew a little bit about wine tasting before I arrived in l'Hexagone, and learned a little more while I was there.  I knew about checking the colour of the wine, and the legs.  I learned to swirl a little more dexterously, and to take a bit of air into my mouth with a sip of the wine.  I still don't specifically know what all these help me determine about the wine.  The "[m]any nuances in wine – say, the vanilla richness of an oak-aged chardonnay or the astringent grip of a Barolo packed with the bitter tannins found in grape skins – are simply lost on many tongues," including mine, but wine is something I hope to keep pursuing as a hobby.

Today I read an interesting article in the Globe & Mail by Beppi Crosariol about the biology behind wine tasting.  Gary Pickering, Brock University wine science professor and co-author of the study discussed, explains:

 "'A wine critic may describe the balance between, let’s say, sweetness and acidity, or sourness and astringency, or fruit and wood . . . But the overall intensity of these sensations will be different for Joe Consumer, and that’s a function of his biology. It’s not because he’s not clever or smart or verbose or because he lacks lots of experience.'" 

This last sentence resonated with me as I was reminded of how bashful and awkward I feel when trying to verbalise a description of my favourite wine from France.

In France, if not elsewhere in Europe, you can get a perfectly good bottle of wine to drink at the grocery store; I never even ventured into a Nicolas.  In France, I fell in love with Les vins du Pays d'Oc's Muscat Sec.  I don't have a photo of the bottle, nor have I been able to find one online, but each wine from this vineyard had its own colour text on a white label and cost about 3€ at the Casino at Place du Peuple in Sté.  
 
This Muscat Sec was dry, as opposed to the Mucat Doux, its sweeter counterpart.  What I liked best about it, and how I always described it, was that when you first sipped it and took a bit of air into your mouth it was a flavour explosion.  A bit at a loss for the exact words to describe the flavour, I likened it to an Orange Pekoe taste.  What I may be trying to get at though is a sort of spicy citrus-y taste.

Since I have been home, one of my missions has been to find a suitable substitute for this Muscat Sec.  I don't know anything about this grape, but Muscats do not seem to be as readily available in Vancouver as other whites; or when I did find one, they were the sweeter one.  Above are three bottles of two replacements I have found for my French Muscat. 

Carte Postale de Reims

The postman was good to me today.  Not only did he deliver a map to my door, he also left me a letter from my cousin and the postcard above in my mailbox.  I'm delighted with all three items I received, but I thought I'd share an excerpt of what my dear Kathleen wrote.

Kathleen (whom you may remember from my American Thankgiving post) was teaching English in Saint Etienne at the collège and lycée levels at the same time as I.  She stayed for a second year in France, this time as a lectrice at the university.  She recently took advantage of a break from teaching to travel to Reims, Paris and Spain.  She wrote me (in beautiful handwriting must say): 

Coucou chérie! Voici ta carte postale de Reims. I chose the most typical cathedral one I could find.  It is so beautiful here--but I must say that the champagne tours add a lot to the beauty as well.  I'm not as good at telling the difference between the types and layers of flavour, but it's fun!

The postage affixed, I noticed, was a Lettre Verte stamp.  I didn't know about these when I was in France, but it's an apparently greener way to send your snail mail.  These green letters are delivered by ground and, according to the French post's website, their delivery emits up to 30% less CO2 than priority mail.  What a simple way to make a difference!

I would love to visit Reims.  There just wasn't enough time to fit in all the French towns worth seeing!  I wish my equally novice self was was sampling the champagnes alongside her:)  Reims would also be interesting to visit because it's where the kings of France were crowned.

Last April when Emily and I went to Paris (where she ran the marathon!), we day-tripped to Chartres.  It was a beautiful visit and I loved listening to Emily, who took a course on French cathedrals, tell me all about it. I have to admit though that would keep getting confused and mistaking it as the cathedral where the kings were crowned!

Gauguin & Polynesia

As I said, it was a poster for Gauguin at the SAM that caught my eye and prompted our trip to Seattle.

Our trip to Seattle happened to coincide with the SAM's Community Day.  When we entered the museum, there was a band playing French café music, a nice touch that transported us to late nineteenth-century France--Gauguin's time. 

Gauguin & Polynesia: An Elusive Paradise surveyed the artists' art inspired by and created during his travels the islands.  The exhibit was organized coherently, beginning with some biography about Gauguin and his visit to the 1896 Paris World's Fair that in part inspired his later travels to Polynesia, and continuing on to his works.  This was not simply a retrospective of Gauguin's Polynesian works, the show gave equal attention to traditional Polynesian art objects.  The free audio-guide was also very well done; apparently narrated by Stanley Tucci (or a vocal doppelgänger), it featured experts in the field of Polynesian art and culture as well as Seattle residents of Polynesian descent.

I found Gauguin & Polynesia thoroughly thought-provoking:

• Gauguin's Woman with a Flower reminded me of the Arlésiennes he and Van Gogh painted;
• I considered the missionary dresses the Polynesian women wore as an element and symbol of colonial oppression;
• I wondered about Polynesia life and economy prior to imperial contact;
• Gauguin's Faaturuma (Melancholic) reminded me of Picasso's Blue period (which I had the opportunity to see in Amsterdam);
• As Gauguin's first trip to Polynesia was funded in part by the French government to produce reportorial paintings, I thought of the potential problems in relying on such paintings and the advent of photography and photojournalism;
• I found that some of the tikis' facial features (particularly the large eyes and mouths) resembled the facial features in Haida art.

The show was beautiful and made me eager to learn more about Polynesian art and culture.  The SAM is the only North American stop for Gauguin & Polynesia.  If you happen to be planning a trip to Seattle, you should definitely go.

(Exhibit image in collage via the SAM)

Relaxed & Well-Rested in Seattle

Is it that Vancouverites underestimate our fellow port city, or has Seattle recently undergone a renaissance and become cool (again)?  A little over a month ago a SAM poster for Gauguin caught my eye and spurred a trip.

I totally bought into the 2 Days in Seattle campaign run by Seattle's Convention and Visitors Bureau.  It's such a cool way to harness social media to promote a city.  The recommendations I received via Twitter totally made the trip.  Communicating with residents of the city--even just through tweets--made me feel as though I was being welcomed to the city.  I hope the 2 Days website is maintained beyond this off-season and I have some ideas for improvements.*

While I would have gone to the SAM to see the Gauguin exhibit regardless, the 2 Days campaign convince me to make a weekend of it, especially as my 5(!) year anniversary with Peter fell within the exposition dates.  We hotwired a hotel (we scored the Marriott Renaissance downtown for $100+tax) and drafted a loose itinerary based on suggestions of friends and Seattle tweeps and off we went.

We rolled into Seattle at about 11 o'clock on Saturday morning and were able to check into our hotel immediately.  We dropped our suitcase in our room and consulted the concierge for walking directions to the SAM.  I'm so glad we asked, not because we couldn't have figured it out, but because our concierge offered us a pass we could use to get into the SAM for free!  On our way to the SAM we browsed a cute and well-curated shop where I picked up these gourmet lollipops (watermelon basil--yum!), and stopped for lunch at a café where I had a delicious feta and basil sandwich.  Gauguin at the SAM was amazing (but that's another post that's coming up).  

After visiting the SAM we wandered over to Pike Place Market and did a wine tasting at the Tasting Room, where the lovely ladies there introduced me to a delicious Washington Riesling.  On our way out of the Tasting Room and back to our hotel, we passed Beecher's and I promptly bought a cheddar and a lavender-anise cheese.  

For our anniversary dinner we went to Ray's Boathouse in Ballard, a recommendation tweeted to me by Seattle Maven.  I could probably write a blog post dedicated solely to this restaurant; it was simply fabulous.  Our waitress and sommelier (a delicious Austrian Riesling!) were friendly and knowledgeable, my cocktail--a rosemary grapefruit drop--was different and delicious, and the food was delicious.  The service was impeccable and even above and beyond our expectations (they even had us meet one of the chefs!).  I even joked that maybe they thought Peter was going to propose so he better get down on one knee and pop the question.  

Before turning in for the night, we had a final drink that night at Quinn's Pub, which upon entering Peter thanked the friend who recommended it to us out loud (not sure if you heard, Josh:)).  

After a comfortable night's sleep, we woke up well-rested but confused about what time it was because of the time change (daylight savings).  (Side note: our hotel had a king-size bed; any other short people love king sizes because you can sleep length and width-wise?)  We leisurely got ready and packed and headed out for brunch at Oddfellows in Capitol Hill.  We walked around the neighbourhood (Seattle is so much hillier than I would have thought--it rivals San Francisco!), and had a fourth and final coffee at Victrola on 15th.

I could certainly say more but I don't want to belabour the point: I had a wonderful weekend in Seattle; it was the perfect mid-winter pick-me-up.  Vancouverites should not overlook the Emerald City when taking a road trip down the I-5.

Kafka's Coffee Syphon

Vancouver is arguably a coffee city.  There is certainly no shortage of coffee shops in this city; in fact, I once heard that there are more Starbucks per capita in Vancouver than anywhere else in Canada.  (On a side note: While googling to see if this statistic could be verified, I found that this at at least seems to be accepted as an anecdotal truth.  I also discovered that the two Starbucks kitty-corner from each other on Robson and Thurlow seem to delight tourists.  From personal experience I can say that I was once with two friends and when we decided to go to Starbucks, we each walked in three different directions.)

A few Saturdays ago, Peter and I decided to go get a coffee at Kafka's as the first stop in what turned out to be an overly ambitious Mount Pleasant coffee tasting tour. Even though I lived in the neighbourhood when it opened, I had surprisingly never been to Kafka's (my delay probably due to leaving the country).

 

Kafka's is a nice, spacious coffee shop, which when we arrived was filled with people reading and studying, adding to its ambiance.  We managed to find two seats at a table shared by two others who were studying.

In addition to the usual espresso drinks available at most coffee shops, their menu listed pour-overs and syphons.  Feeling curious, never having heard of the latter method of brewing coffee, I ordered one.  The barista who prepared our syphon was very knowledgeable and friendly and explained the brewing process without a hint of pretension.  He explained that the syphon was one of the oldest ways to make coffee, dating from the nineteenth century.  It fell out of fashion in the mid-twentieth century but came back into vogue among coffee nerds in the 1990s.

The whole thing looked like a chemistry experiment.  He started by boiling the water in the bottom vessel with what looked like a Bunsen burner.  As the water boiled, it travelled to the upper vessel.  He then mixed in the grounds and removed the flame.  The coffee steeped and then strained itself as it dripped back down to the bottom receptacle.  The science behind the syphon is explained more eloquently in this article.

Watching the coffee syphon was intriguing and transformed customary activity into an experience.  We drank our coffees black and they were delicious. I once read that if you drink good coffee, you don't need to cut it with milk or sugar; Peter and I have been drinking black coffee for about a year now and this is absolutely true.  Even if you don't have a habit of drinking black coffee, I would at least encourage you to try a sip of black syphon coffee; this method of brewing reveals complex flavours different from a pour-over or press.

Vicky Cristina Barcelona

There are two types of people: those who love Woody Allen films and those who do not.  I identify as the first type.

When I first saw Vicky Cristina Barcelona, I immediately fell in love with the Spanish scenery so beautifully capture in this film.  Oh to dine on that Barcelona patio in the mid-morning sunlight.  Or the lovely views of Oviedo and Avilés.  It made me want to drop everything, pack up, and travel to the Iberian Peninsula. 

An interesting fact about the film is that the governments of Barcelona and Catalonia actually contributed to its funding.  While it may have been a controversial move, word is that it paid off, as others like myself were inspired to travel to Spain.  In fact, I heard--when I briefly worked in the film industry--that the increase in tourism Barcelona experienced following the film's release inspired other jurisdictions, such as Israel, to fund films.

Has a movie ever inspired you to travel somewhere?  Are you dreaming of travelling anywhere?