Carte Postale: Back to School

After a three-year hiatus, I had my first day of school earlier this month (not counting when I was the on the other side as a language assistant in France). I can't believe school has already been in session for three weeks. So far grad school is exciting and is already becoming very busy so I'm not sure I'll have much time to post. The decision to go back to school when I had a job I love was a difficult one, especially when these last years have been so difficult for my demographic to find meaningful work that is related to their degrees. But ultimately I went back with the idea of furthering my career and am able to stay on part-time. It also happens that the school is on an urban campus and that my job is across the street.

This postcard Jacqui sent me while I was in France was a bit of an odd full-circle moment for me. The postcard looks west down Water Street toward the Harbour Centre. Her note was about how she had taught political science at the Harbour Centre campus when she was a grad student (the arrow she drew is actually pointing out the Lookout, the campus is obscured by the trees). It almost seems like the postcard was somehow foreshadowing because I am now a grad student there.

Baguette

Peter and I spent the long weekend at his parents' lake house--I managed to get up (but not stay up) on water skis! On the drive back we heard an episode of The Current on CBC about how baguette consumption has declined in France. Though 98% of the French eat baguette, they're only consuming about half as much bread as they did a generation ago. The worry seems to be about the threat to cultural identity.

L'Observatoire du pain, France's bread lobby, has launched a Got Milk?-style campaign asking: Coucou! Tu as pris le pain?

My favourite part of the baguette is the crusty pointed ends. Costing only about 80 centimes in France, it was one of the biggest shocks coming back to Canada where a baguette costs about four times the price. The other thing I noticed when living in France is that people would carry the baguette simply tucked under their arm. Here cashiers will try to awkwardly stuff the long shaft of bread into a grocery bag. I always pull it out and do as I saw in France.

(photo by Carl Monus)

PDX

I'm basking in the second day of afterglow from our weekend getaway to Portland.

Shortly after Peter planned a brewery tour bachelor party in Portland for his friend Josh (who eloped in Positano!),  a group of us started planning a weekend trip to Portland for the beer fest.

With six of us going, I looked up rentals on Airbnb and found this lovely yellow heritage house located in the historic Ladd Addition neighbourhood--check out the aerial view of the neighbourhood's cool diagonal pattern.

The home was lovely, spacious, and beautifully decorated. I especially loved the vintage map of Stockholm at the top of the stairs (undoubtedly a nod to the owners' Swedish roots) and prints of Ladd and Portland bridges. The best part about staying in a house together rather than in four separate hotel rooms was the group feel. In the mornings Peter made us his delicious egg breakfast sandwiches and we ate them at the table on the porch.

I would definitely rent a house for a group vacation again. We even talked about doing Portland again next summer.

Saturday afternoon we headed to the Portland Beerfest. We sampled at least a dozen brews (fortunately they were only 4-ounce pours). I had fun learning how to identify the tasting notes and diagramming them in a beer tasting book I bought for the trip.

I have to say I was really impressed with the festival. Initially I had thought it would be a brewery pub crawl, so when I found out it was in a park I was a bit worried that it would have a beer garden vibe. It was so much better than I had expected. There wasn't beer garden vibe at all. Craft beer lovers (some in clever beer t-shirt or costumes) came together to enjoy 4-ounce samples. The organizers also deserve props for the eco-friendly glass tumblers we got with our admission--I'm sure we diverted thousands of disposable cups away from landfills.

Otherwise, we just scratched the surface of Portland. We browsed Powell's Books, ate at food carts, and Anna, Patrick, and Dan braved the 45-minute line so we could sample Voodoo Doughnuts.

I hope to go back again soon.

(top photo mine; Instagram via Anna)

Portland

Tomorrow we're driving to Portland with four of our friends for an extended weekend getaway. Peter and I stayed in Portland in 2009 when we roadtripped down the Oregon Coast to San Francisco, but we were only there for a night so we didn't see much of the city.

We rented a super cute house with a hot tub on Airbnb. I haven't really planned anything otherwise. We'll be checking out the beerfest and I want to browse Powell's Books. I'm also armed with my friends' Josh and Colene's google map of what they consider Portland's best.

Have you been to Portland? What are your recommendations? We haven't yet made any plans for dinner Friday, Saturday, or Sunday nights.

(photo via Design*Sponge)

Les bleuets

bleuet (bluh-(eh)) : blueberry

Summer has set in, which means locally and seasonally available fruit. Peter eats apples daily and that they are not in season is readily apparent in the produce aisle: the apples on offer are either the rump end of the last year's harvest or flown in from New Zealand with a heavy carbon footprint.

A few weeks ago I went out to Westham Island and bought local strawberries from a farm stand. Strawberries' short peak season is drawing to a close, but blueberries are now coming into season. Last weekend's market had the season's first local blueberries for sale.

I have a very particular memory associated with blueberries. This particular childhood memory consists of visiting my Grandpapa in Québec during the summers in the 90s. I don't remember what kind of car her had, but it was an older model from the 70s or 80s and had the option of seating three in the front seat. My Grandpapa lived in the Québec countryside. Grandpapa, dad, my two sisters, two cousins, and I would pile into the car and drive up a gravel country road to our ancestral lands. I remember it was a bumpy ride and occasionally a small rock would ping the side of the car, as happens when driving on gravel roads. My Grandpapa would then lead the way and show us to where the wild blueberry bushes were and we would pick blueberries. Cueillir les bleuets. So many blueberries. This is one of my fondest childhood memories and I recall it whenever I eat plain blueberries.

But when I got to France, les bleuets were not les bleuets. Instead they were called myrtilles.

myrtille (meer-tee(l)) : blueberry

In France, bleuets were a type of flower. Basically indistinguishable to the average person, the blue berries called myrtilles and bleuets are related, but different genera of Vaccinium.

(photo of blueberries by Ashley of Hither & Thither featured on Cup of Jo; flower drawing by Carl Axel Magnus Lindman, public domain via Wikipedia)

Before Midnight

Last week I saw Before Midnight, the third installment in the story of Jesse and Celine. I loved their dialogues in Before Sunrise and Before Sunset. This time the conversation included other characters and one raised equally interesting questions about life and relationships.

There was one line in particular near the end of the film that really struck me. I can't recall it verbatim, but at one point Jesse says this is real life, not a dream world.


I mulled this sentence over after leaving the movie. I feel it succinctly describes what I've been at a loss of word of how to say about my time abroad. I enjoyed my sojourn in France.  In fact, it was a year where I literally lived out a dream to live in France and travel around Europe. But when I got back, I felt a strong urge to deconstruct what I've come to feel is a romanticized myth of France. My intention is not to disparage a country that I again find myself under its spell. But there is seemingly an industry manufacturing dreams of a place where you'll be swept off your feet by a cute Frenchman and live happily ever after on a vineyard. Rather, I sought to come to terms with France as a real place, grittiness included. 

(photo by Cynthia K.)

Wanderlust Wednesday: Cycling in the Netherlands

Imagine you're cycling in the Netherlands. Over bridges spanning canals, by row upon row of colourful tulips, along paths that take you through past windmills.

Peter and I love the Netherlands (actually we're pretty fond of the Benelux countries generally). I've been to Amsterdam twice and the off-kilter canal houses really charm me. Peter's seen more of the Netherlands as his tours to Europe have usually been based out of the Netherlands.

When we were there last summer, I wanted to go on a city bike tour. Ever since, I've been periodically daydreamed about doing a bike trip of the Netherlands.

Have you ever done a trip by bike?

(Photo of Dutch countryside by Martin Kers)

Solstice Weekend Cleanse

Since my last cleanse in February, which left me feeling energized and renewed, I slacked in my eating habits and started to feel a little sluggish and gross. Counter-intuitive, I thought, given that we were just coming into spring and summer and all the fruits and vegetables.

I didn't want to commit to a three-day cleanse. Instead, I decided I just needed a quick reset to help me get back on track. So I decided to kick off summer with a one-day juice cleanse. I went with the Juice Truck's Pick and Mix and based my juice selection off of the third day of the three-day cleanse, which includes the Skin Deep strawberry-kiwi juice that I hoped would help set my complexion straight.

I chose to cleanse on Sunday, the first full moon after the summer solstice, because I'd recently read a Vidya e-newsletter about cleansing with the moon cycles.

I think I thought my full moon cleanse would feel more supernatural than it did, but it was a pretty quiet weekend. Saturday night I did yoga on my balcony by candlelight as the nearly-full moon was rising. I thought of capturing the moment, but I didn't want to interrupt my practice. The sky was clouded over on Sunday, so I didn't get to see the full moon.

Whereas I bounded out of bed and was full of energy the morning after completing my three-day juice cleanse, I didn't really notice any effect of a one-day cleanse. It makes sense that it would be less noticeable as it's not as long. I did enjoy the day and it felt good to be flooding my body with good stuff. I think I would consider quarterly cleansing, but I would probably opt for 3-days to really feel detoxified.

(Photo by me of a beautiful Ghanaian coffin I saw at the ROM in Toronto in March)

On the Road

There's another three weeks left until the solstice and the official start of summer. But I've been ready for summer ever since the weather started taking a turn for the nicer in May.

A few weeks back I was telling some friends about how I was listening to this episode of This American Life about a guy who decided to walk across America. Though I haven't been on a cross-country road trip, I remarked that whenever summer rolls around I feel compelled to read "wander literature."

I was given a copy of Kerouac's On the Road seven years ago by a now-estranged friend who wrote a lovely inscription in the front cover. I remember not really getting into the book until the third part and disliking the portrayal of the female characters. I'd love to re-read it and see if I still feel the same way. You can check out a variety of editions of On the Road front covers here.

This summer I think I might read Steinbeck's Grapes of Wrath, the original Route 66 story.

What's on your reading list this summer? Do you find the seasons affect what you're in the mood to read?

(Photo from the film On the Road via Art Info)

Backyard Chickens & Chocolate Mousse

The weekend before last was long weekend and the weather was much nicer than forecasted. Saturday was our friend Henry's birthday and he hosted a backyard barbecue. Earlier this spring he built a chicken coop to house three Rhode Island Red hens. Being into what I call food politics and local eating, I was pretty stoked to check his operation out.

Henry said his chickens lay an egg a day. It was super cool to see the eggs he had collected in his fridge because they ranged in size from a small ping pong ball to the size of store-bought eggs. Not that I was surprised, but the contrast between nature's variety and the homogenous offerings in our industrial grocery stores was striking. He was generous enough to give me a half dozen eggs.

I was super excited because I had never had farm fresh eggs before. Right away I made knew what I'd use them for: Julia Child's chocolate mousse that calls for farm fresh eggs. The next afternoon I bought dark 75% cacao Ecuadorian chocolate and whipped up my first chocolate mousse ever. David Leibovitz shared a close adaptation of Julia Child's original recipe. It made quite a lot so I brought it to share at a beach barbecue that evening.

Peter and I ate the remaining mousse for dessert the next evening on our balcony, which he had finished re-flooring. With candlelight and a glass of beer, it made for the perfect ending to the summer's first long weekend.

(Photo of chicken by Henry)

The Cascades

I've had a couple of great weekends in a row now. I went over to Victoria the weekend before last to celebrate Kristen and her boyfriend Alex's birthdays. They made a compelling argument that Victoria is the Canadian Portland, but that's another post.

The next morning, Monday, I met up with Jacky, who was in Seattle on business from Washington, D.C. To get there, I took the Amtrak Cascades train, which I was so stoked about that having to wake up at 5:00am didn't even bother me.

The train ride down to Seattle was beautiful as tracks seemed to trace the coast. Just over the border there was a beautiful evergreen forested area (though I wasn't able to get photos because I was on the opposite side of the train).

Having come from Victoria the day before and having just finished watching Season 2 of The Killing on Netflix, which his set in Seattle, I was feeling pretty pumped about the Pacific Northwest. The region definitely has some commonatlies, namely the Pacific, evergreen trees, and affinities for coffee and craft beers. What's not to love?

I'm vaguely aware of the Cascadia movement, but I think this Young Pacific song would be an appropriate anthem:

Take me back to the North Cascades

A place where I feel I was raised

A Long Short While Ago

This day almost passed by unremarkably. It rained, I had dinner and great conversation with a friend I hadn't caught up with in a while. Then something earlier this evening sparked my memory that this day two years ago I was spending my last night in France in Toulouse with Emily.

We had spent the day visiting Carcasonne and after dinner in Toulouse we went for a walk and ended up sitting along the bank of the Garonne river. Emily took the photo above and I think it captures the reflective mood of the evening. I was sad to be leaving, but at the same time I felt ready to be going home.

I cherish the memories of my all-too-brief sojourn in France. These days when I recall a specific memory I can't believe it's been two years since I've been back.

(Photo by Emily)

Goldeen

When I was in Toronto, a glimmer of gold around my cousin Vivian's wrist caught my eye. She was wearing the Fishbone Malone bracelet by Toronto-based indie jewelery designer Ashleigh of Goldeen. I don't wear a lot of jewelry, but  I was really drawn to this piece.

I bought one for myself and have worn it every day since it came in the mail last week. What I like about the fishbone bracelet is that it's a naturally-inspired form that feels delicate and ladylike while at the same time being edgy. The San Jose Olé earrings (pictured center) featuring turquoise stones, have a beachy, bohemian aesthetic. Their name inspires dreams of travelling up and down the coast of California, as though a character in a Kerouac novel.

Nostalgia, which Ashleigh cites as inspiration, permeates the feel of Goldeen, including the handwritten tags. I asked Ashleigh a bit more about what inspires her: "I use a lot of vintage findings and try to add my own twist to them, like hand painting the chiefs or the bone earrings with enamel, or using them in an unexpected way."

Goldeen makes jewelry for women and men. Ashleigh also works with beads, gems, and semi-precious stones. You can see more of her pieces here.

---
Disclaimer: Goldeen did not pay me to write this post. I did ask Ashleigh if I could blog about Goldeen and she included the earrings as an unexpected surprise. This post comes from me genuinely thinking she makes cool stuff.

Kimchi is Yummy (Really)!

I've never been a picky eater, but something about how Andrenne, one of my room mate in France, described Kimchi totally turned me off from wanting to try it.

While I was in Toronto, though, trying Korean food with my cousin Vivian who taught English in Korea was at the top of my list of things to do. So on my last night in town before going to the airport, we met up and headed to Toronto's Koreatown for dinner. She had a few dishes in mind of what I should try, so she scrupulously read the menus posted in the restaurant windows.

She ordered bibimbap (isn't that the most amusing name?) and a seafood soup dish. While we waited for our food to arrive, Vivian explained to me that Korea is a food-centric culture. Koreans, she said, will greet you asking, "Have you eaten?"

The waiter brought us six different kinds of kimchi, which I tried, and loved. I immediately wondered why I had been so reluctant to try it with Andrenne and Katherine in France (though I'm not sure if I'm quite up to making my own yet). We mixed in kimchi and sriracha into the bibimbap, and savouring the first delicious bite, I declared Koreans the original put an egg on it people.

The most recent sabre-rattling from North Korea seems to have settled down (or the media has moved on). I always wondered what it was like to be in South Korea at such a seemingly tense time. When I asked, Vivian told me that people back home in Canada would be flipping out, but things would be fine in Busan, where she lived, and people just went about their day-to-day activities.

I found this so strange, that I asked my friend Andrea, who is currently teaching in Daegu:

So, I live in Daegu. Which is a lovely (enough) little town about 2 hours from Seoul on the super-fast train. It's actually the third largest city in the country, with a population that hovers close to 3 million people, though it has a decidedly more insular vibe, which makes it feel smaller than Seoul or Busan. I think this also lends to the fact that people here seem to feel fairly removed from the on-goings with North Korea.

I mean, for one thing, the entire nation has been dealing with these tensions with their neighbours to the north for over half a century. They've grown accustomed to the antics of the succession of Kims that autocratically rule above the 38th parallel. So, as far as I've heard, even up in the capital they're feeling fairly nonplussed about the whole thing.

Meanwhile, the western media is apparently making it out like we're on the brink of nuclear annihilation (eeeeek). I've received numerous messages and emails from concerned family and friends over the past week... when, in reality, if it wasn't for them I probably wouldn't even have heard much about this.

If you're curious about Korea, Andrea--who previously taught English in Georgia--writes a clever travel blog. Janis of the blog My Suitcase Heart is also teaching English in Korea and takes magical photographs.. These shots of the azalea festival are especially dreamy.

TO Toronto (Part 3)

(Have I run dry of clever Toronto titles?)

As much as I liked Toronto as a city, the best part was by far seeing all the friends and family I have out that way. When an opportunity to go to Toronto arose, the prospect of reconnecting with these friends really tipped me towards seizing the chance (as if that in itself wasn't reason enough to go!).

First thing Saturday afternoon was a second French reconnection. I caught up with Katherine, Marryn, and Amanda (and her fiancé) on a sunny roof-top patio. None of us could believe it had already been almost two years since seeing each other. It was really interesting to catch up on everyone: some are engaged (not me--this is not a subtle announcement!), pursuing various career ambitions, but all doing fantastic by all accounts.

Sunday my cousin Gilian came to Toronto and we checked out the ROM. Here she is in front of the mastodon from Welland. (I have more on the ROM for another post.)

Then Monday my cousin Vivian got back into the city from a weekend trip to Algonquin Park. Having not seen her in at least a dozen years, I was surprised that when we first hugged a black hole didn't form. The next night, she took me to the Whippoorwill. A crazy small-world Vancouver connection occurred when Shawna turned out to work there.

I also caught up with friends I didn't get pictures with, like Evan and Kaitlin.

It was so great to see everyone, I am definitely more inclined to go back for whatever reason (or no reason)!

Breakfast Salad

At the end of the first week of the new year, having been sick with the worst cold ever, I suddenly got this craving for spinach salad. Maybe it subconsciously had to do with balancing out the excesses of the holiday season. Whatever the case, I rounded up the ingredients, using Smitten Kitchen's recipe as a guide.

It was so good (I mean, it tasted like a classic spinach salad, but it satisfied a craving). I couldn't get enough of it. I wanted to eat salad morning, noon, and night. And why not for breakfast? Spinach salad has some of the constituent parts of the standard North American breakfast: eggs and bacon. It would also help me with my resolution to eat wheat free.

And this is how I started eating salads for breakfast on weekends. My standard breakfast salad is a variation on Smitten Kitchen's spinach salad. It tends to vary with what I have on hand, but it tends to include:

• a few handfuls of spinach (the one pictured above is with baby kale)
• a fried egg (why not?) - I like to do mine over hard
• red onion
• lots of fresh cracked black pepper

I put bacon in on occasions when I have it, but am happy to do without. I also really like to toss in some strawberry or cherry tomatoes.

For vinaigrette, Jane Hornby's has become my favourite:

• 1 clove garlic, crushed
• 2 tbsp light olive oil
• 1 tbsp extra-virgin olive oil 
• 1 tbsp red or white wine vinegar
• 1 tsp Dijon mustard

I tend to improvise in the kitchen. So for instance, I just use 3 tbsp of extra-virgin olive oil because that's what I have. I also just put a small spoon-tip of Dijon rather than a whole teaspoon as I found it to be quite hot with the raw garlic. I haven't yet tried it with white wine vinegar.

One thing I'm discovering is how simple it is to mix up a salad dressing from scratch. Until recently, I only knew of olive oil and balsamic vinegar. But now I've made Greek salad dressing from scratch. It tastes cleaner, probably because it doesn't have all those extra additives that store bought varieties do. I want to try and make my own Caesar salad dressing, complete with anchovies!

Torontosaurus Rex

Aesthetically, I found Toronto quite pleasing. From the red streetcars (which I kept accidentally calling the tram) and decorated subway stations, to its brownstone architecture. It had a vibe more similar to Montreal than Vancouver. One of my first experiences in the city was walking up University Avenue from Queen Street, at which point I thought the city felt pretty suffocatingly English-Canadian. Soon after, however, I discovered its richness in multiculturalism (and the associated delicious foods!).

There was of course one exception:

Robarts Library, apparently "one of the most significant examples of brutalist architecture," is, without exaggeration, the most hideous building I have so far ever seen. Apparently designed to resemble a peacock, it looks more like a turkey in my opinion. Named for a former premier of Ontario, I'd frankly be insulted if someone named such a monstrosity in my honour. Katherine, one of my former room mates in France, whom I was with when I took this photo, told that the architect didn't take the weight of the books into account when planning the building. As a result, Robarts is actually sinking at the rate of about one inch per year (reminds me of a similar problem the Dutch face in Amsterdam).

Perhaps reinforcing the lesson to never judge a book by its cover, Robarts is actually pretty cool on the inside. It's fourteen storeys tall and has escalators.

Lest the prominent position of this post lead you to believe I was nothing but horrified, I will tie this post back to the title and leave you with a photo of a tyrannosaurus rex I saw in the Royal Ontario Museum:

If tyrannosaurus rex means "terrible lizard," I think "terrible building" is an appropriate name for Robarts ;)

Toronto Rhymes with Piranha

Pronounced "Toronno," anyone who says Toe-RON-toe is from away.

-- Quote from a card by Wendy Tancock (I love her cards!) 

Wow, Toronto! For being the hate crush of the nation, you sure are an awesome city. The people were so friendly; in an ironic twist of fate, the only person I met who was an asshole was from Vancouver (well, Nanaimo originally).

I had such a great time, I can't wait to share more about my trip.

TO Toronto

If Vancouver gets a rep for being a city of laid-back-nature-loving-latte-sipping-yoga-devotees, Toronto is its hip-yet-stern-grown-up sister city. Or so it seems.

You see, I've never been to Toronto (I think I had a connecting flight at Pearson once, like fifteen years ago). I remember when I first met the other Canadian assistants teaching English in France (all of whom were from Toronto or its surroundings) and told them that I'd never been to Toronto. They looked at me in disbelief. Or maybe that was me reading into it too much because of my own insecurity on the subject.

But why would I have gone to Toronto? Only one of them had been to Vancouver. And apparently Lonely Planet agrees (note the Vancouver city guides and lack of a Toronto equivalent). But I jest.

It's just that other than Toronto being the "center of the universe," the CBC occasionally interrupting national broadcasts to update us all on the bumper-to-bumper traffic on the 401, and being home to the world's formerly tallest sky scraper, I just don't know much about what it has to offer.

So this isn't so much a regular Wanderlust Wednesday, as it is a call for travel tips and suggestions. An opportunity and seat sale coincided, and I'm really excited to fly out on Friday morning. Have you been to or live in Toronto? What should I eat, drink, and see? I love architecture and my espresso black instead of with steamed milk. The touristiest thing I think I might do is go up the CN Tower... if I don't get struck with a fear of heights.

(photo by Stephanie Todaro via Design*Sponge)

Springtime Weekend

My balcony garden blooms with daffodils and hyacinths.

The first day of spring was Wednesday, although it has felt like spring for a few weeks already. The weather this weekend was way nicer than forecasted. Friday we barbecued for dinner for the first time this season. Saturday Peter and I met up with our friend Charlotte for our first walk of the seawall this year.

Peter's foot has hurt for a few days so instead of going the long way around the edge of Stanley Park, we cut past Lost Lagoon and saw swans mingling with the Canada geese and ducks.

Waderlust Wednesday: Eat, Gay, Love

Having returned home nearly two years ago, this is admittedly no longer a travel blog. Instead, it's become an outlet of sorts for my travel-themed writings and ramblings.For this Wanderlust Wednesday, I thought I'd share about someone who is currently writing a travel blog.

I can't remember how I happened across Jason Hudson's blog These Roving Eyes (probably via Jeremy & Kathleen). When I caught glimpse of this proposed itinerary, I immediately wanted to follow along, and was awed at Jason and his partner's bravery to pack up their lives in Toronto for a year-long worldwide adventure in celebration of their ten-year anniversary (congrats!).

My wanderlust has had me daydreaming all across the globe, but Jason and Jeff will actually be living it. They've only just left a little over a month ago, so you can catch up and follow along if you want.

Bon voyage Jason and Jeff!


(Map illustration by Paul Dotey via Jason Hudson/These Roving Eyes)

Asparagus cuit à l'anglaise

For dinner this evening I had steamed Canadian asparagus for the first time this spring. It was from Ontario, so I can't exactly call it local, but at least it had a smaller carbon footprint than the asparagus imported from South America in the dead of winter.

My favourite way to prepare asparagus is simply steaming it. (Tonight it was a side to a cross between spaghetti carbonara and this recipe.) Although you can dress it in Julia Child's Hollandaise sauce, I think less is more. If you just steam it turns bright green and you have a crisp delicious springtime vegetable.

Ever since reading French Women Don't Get Fat (I was curious to learn if I had an inherent biological advantage), I am always reminded of Mireille Guiliano's annecdote about how asparagus was white when she was a child in France--apparently they were grown in the dark!

As I was checking the spears to see if they were ready, I was reminded of a phrase my mum sometimes says.

cuit à l'anglaise (kwee ah long-glaze) : literally, cooked in the English style

Cuisiner à l'anglaise means simply to boil (and boil and boil again) in salt water. In my family though, it seemed to have more meaning. My grand-maman would used the phrase to mean vegetables that were too hard because they were insufficiently cooked to her taste. I always assumed it was also a dig at English cooking and that it had a connotation of French/English tensions (especially historically in Canada) and that cooking the French way was the right way. But maybe I'm reading too much into the expression.

My asparagus tonight was a little cuit à l'anglaise because I forgot to set a timer (it typically takes 8 minutes or less). But that's okay because there is little less appetizing limp, mushy asparagus.

(Photo by Esteban Cavrico via 10:10)

Victoria

This past weekend I visited my friend Kristen in Victoria. I got a different view of the city as Kristen and her boyfriend live on the other side of the Johnson Street Bridge, in Vic West. This visit solidified my impression of Victoria as a very walkable city; from Kristen's door, the walk across the bridge to downtown was less than fifteen minutes.

This trip to Victoria was more laid back that previous ones. I only snapped this one photo. I find myself attracted to capturing bicycles and doorways. This bike was parked against a storefront in Fan Tan Alley in Victoria's Chinatown.

Victoria has lots of alleys, squares and "secret passages" connecting its downtown district. Fan Tan Alley is the narrowest (only 90cm wide at its smallest points). In the spring, Jacky demonstrated that you easily touch either wall. You can visit it digitally here.

How To Pack Like A Rockstar

That's my suitcase on the left, it's famous!

The weekend before last, I met my friends Charlotte and Katie for brunch. Having not seen Katie in months (she's in law school), she mentioned that she'd heard Peter on the radio. Though I have the CBC Early Edition on every morning, I actually hadn't heard it (I must have either been hitting snooze or in the shower). When Peter recorded it, he didn't yet know when it would air, and we kind of just forgot about it.

Shaun Huberts, a fellow bass player who has toured with Tegan and Sara, turned his wealth of experience packing into the book How To Pack Like A Rock Star. Shaun lives up the hill from us and Peter had been trying to catch him to buy a copy the book as a Christmas gift for his parents (his parents bring at least one large suitcase each when they come visit for a few days). They'd been trying to meet for a couple of days when Shaun called Peter to see if he could help do a radio interview about the book.

My favourite part of the interview is when Peter qualifies his level of packing experience as "for the purpose of this." You see, Peter has also toured as a musician and is pretty good at packing. But even so, he says he learned a few new techniques from How To Pack Like A Rock Star.

If you want to have a listen yourself, click here (the interview starts at 1:30:00).

(photo via CBC)

Wanderlust Wednesday: Budapest

If you don't like the cold and grey climate at home, why not try it somewhere else? This photo of Budapest, with the Hungarian Parliament in the background, has been making its way around Pinterest. It looks magical. And while it would likely be colder than Vancouver, it would also be drier.

And in case the snow doesn't entice you, here is the same view of the Budapest funicular in warmer months:)

(photo by Farkas Márton via Pinterest)

Wanderlust Wavelength

Maybe it's the fact that short and grey February, being so close to spring and then summer, gives everyone the travel bug, but I felt on the same wavelength as Joanna when I checked Cup of Jo today. Above is a photo of Saint Jean Cap Ferrat by Laure Joliet.

When I arrived in France to teach English I basically didn't know anyone. My family, having come to Canada some 350 years ago, means I have no French relatives. Whereas when my best friend Anna moved to Oxfordshire after high school for a gap year and had relatives all over the UK, I didn't have many familiar faces to plan to visit. (Though I did have my friends Kristen in Belgium and Dominic in London). Instead I used my generous French vacation time to travel a little all over Europe.

The closest I had to family to visit in Europe was my dear friend and mentor Jacqui's sister who has a home-away-from-home in Cap Ferrat. Jacqui tried to connect us to orchestrate a visit, but unfortunately health concerns prevented her sister and brother-in-law from welcoming me.

Laure's photos make me wonder what a trip to Cap Ferrat might be like. Especially that delicious-looking green been and tomato salad, and those blue beach chairs.

More wanderlust if you're in the mood. Or Cup of Jo has really great travel daydreams to get lost in too.

(photo by Laure Joliet via Cup of Jo)

Winter Wanderlust

Paris is one of those perhaps few places where there really is no bad time of year to go. Autumn in Paris. Paris in the spring. It all sounds romantic. Except for Paris at the height of tourist season in the summer when waits for the museums and galleries can stretch for hours.

Ever since visiting Belgium and having my breath taken away by the beautiful autumn colours, I'm a convert to off-season travel. When Peter came visit me in France just before Christmas 2010, we spent a few days in Paris before he left. We went to the Louvre late one afternoon thinking it as the day they were open into the evening. We were mistaken and instead had just under an hour to visit. As the museum was only open for another 45 minutes, we didn't have a wait to buy tickets and were actually able to see the Mona Lisa and nearby paintings, Winged Victory, Venus de Milo, as well as a few of the other essential pieces. It was actually a great visit, and being that we got lost trying to exit the basement, we got a cool tour of the medieval foundations of the palace.

How dreamy does the view looking out from Napoleon's apartments look? My friend Amanda, whom I met while teaching English in France, took this photo and had it as her desktop. It's truly one of my favourites so I'll leave you to get lost in a daydream in it. Or in one of her other photos from her Old Pictures.

More off-season travel.

(photo by Amanda)

First Flower

This little iris bloomed Saturday.

Last year I bought a bunch of 4-inch springtime flowers: hyacinths, crocuses, tulips, daffodils and irises. I mentioned to my mum how lovely I thought the muscari I saw at the florists were and she gave me a bunch to plant. I also planted geraniums and marigolds in some other baskets we had. I planted nasturtiums before I went to Spain. When I got back they had sprouted leaves, but never bloomed. I continued to water them, but soon lost interest and instead tended to my potted herbs.

In January I noticed little green leaves starting to push back up through the dirt. I watered them diligently and patiently waited to see what they would turn out to be. On Saturday morning, I noticed that the first flower had bloomed, an iris.

Encouraged by this, and the fact that my mom mentioned that when she was over last week that it seemed that two of my geraniums had survived the winter, I bought myself a pair of gardening gloves. The gloves gave me the courage to weed out the dead, alien-looking stems that I didn't want to pull bare-handed because I'm a wuss. I also bought parsley to add to my herb garden and romaine lettuce seeds. I was at a backyard barbecue last summer and a guy had a salad from his balcony garden. He said that if you just pick the outer-leaves, the lettuce will continue to yield leaves all summer.

In the next few weeks I'd like to get a few long window boxes to hang off the side of my balcony. I think part of the reason my nasturtiums didn't do so well is because of lack of prolonged direct sunlight.

I'm excited to see my garden grow!

Happy Valentine's Day

When I was living in France, my friend Jacqui sent me a bunch of postcards of Vancouver views. After receiving about two dozen such postcards, I got the idea to use them as teaching aids for my students. I would give each student a postcard and have them tell a brief story pretending they were on vacation a nd writing home to a friend about the location pictured on their postcard.

I happened to give this lesson to a class of mine on the morning of February 14th. Just before leaving for school that morning I had been surprised by Peter who had roses delivered to my apartment door.

The student who got this postcard had raised an eyebrow. I explained that it was a picture of the SeaBus--the most awesome form of transit in Vancouver--and that it was a particularly dear card to me because I would take it in order to go visit my boyfriend. The girls in the class let out a big AWWW and asked me if my amoureux and I were doing anything for Valentine's Day. I blushed and I don't know what I said because I was too overcome with shyness to share that I'd received three dozen roses.

I still love taking the SeaBus although it has lost some of its specialness in having become a twice-daily occurrence as I commute back and forth from what has now become our place.

Happy Valentine's Day!

PS: Valentine's stories from last year and two years ago in case you missed them.

(SeaBus postcard photo by Bob Herger)

De vrais mensonges

When I was living in France, I had seen ads for De vrais mensonges (Beautiful Lies) on the side of trams and at bus stops, but I didn't see it in cinema. As Peter was in Portland for a friend's bachelor party this weekend, I took the opportunity to watch this French film I've been wanting to see on Netflix.

Set in lovely Sète--a town I've only known as a stop on the way to Toulouse--De vrais mensonges is a comedy both charming and witty, the type only French cinema can pull off. When Émilie (Audrey Tautou) receives an anonymous love letter she re-addresses and sends it to her depressed mom (Nathalie Baye) to cheer her up. What at first like a harmless gesture quickly turns complicated as Émilie tries to stage manage a fake relationship for her mum.

What is your favourite French film? Have you seen any foreign language films you recommend? (I always raise an eyebrow at this designation in Canada as French is an official language.)

Juice Cleanse

This past weekend I did my first ever juice cleanse.

As I mentioned previously, I had been thinking about doing a juice cleanse since about September as a way to break my taste for salt, sugar and processed foods and feel bien dans ma peau. I had looked into them but got a bit of sticker shock at first glance. So I got a hold of the juicer my mom's friend had given my sister and tried my hand at making my own juice. Just making one green juice was enough to convince me that $195 and no hassle with clean up was worth it (it also equates to about $9 per juice). Then winter settled and I didn't think the season of rich, warm foods and hibernating was conducive to doing a juice cleanse.

Then, with the new year and spring on its way, I found found renewed resolve to make changes to my eating habits. And why not kick it all off with a juice cleanse?

So how was it? A lot easier than I though it would be.

Day 1 (Friday). I woke up, had some hot water and lemon and my first juice. Mid-morning I noticed I had a low-grade headache. Either this was a coincidence, or I am more addicted to coffee than I had thought. I don't have it every day and don't find I "need it," so this was a bit surprising. I packed some celery as a snack in case I got hangry while at work, but I didn't need them. Peter had a rehearsal so he didn't eat dinner at home. I had forgotten about his rehearsal so I hadn't planned anything and instead dozed in and out of an okay movie on Netflix.

Day 2 (Saturday). I slept in a bit and awoke to sunshine. I had my first juice and went to the karma yoga class at the studio down the block. Later that afternoon we packed my juices in a cooler and headed to Commercial to check out Pasture to Plate. Then came my first: we visited a friend and I had to turn down chips and salsa (one of my favourite foods) and yummy looking endive leaves and dip. I started later in the morning so I was drinking juice until 1AM.

Day 3 (Sunday). My second juice was a pink strawberry-kiwi-apple-lemon blend, a welcome change from all four green-toned juices I'd been having each day. Sunday was also the super bowl. I thought about bringing those celery sticks I hadn't eaten on Friday, but Peter challenged me not to. To be honest, I wasn't even tempted by the Doritos, Lays or Sun Chips. I thought about how gross those would make me feel.

By the end of Day 3, I felt like I could have easily done another two days of juice cleansing. I thought I'd be hungry, but I found the juices actually quite filling. I wasn't more hungry between juices that I would be between meals. I didn't feel tempted and I don't even think it was because I had a particularly strong willpower. I think it's just that when you decide you're going to drink six juices and a protein milk per day the decision on what you're having is made for you. I could see the allure of drinking smoothies instead of meals. But I was looking forward to my first breakfast as I was gulping down the last Sleep Tonic.

Weight loss isn't the goal of this cleanse, but I do feel smaller (I don't know that I actually lost weight as I don't own a scale). This morning I woke up and felt reinvigorated. While I didn't need coffee, I did accompany my coworkers on their coffee break for the walk. I think the juice cleanse was a good idea before embarking on a Whole30 because even thought I saw all the pastries on offer, I didn't actually consider them an option.

I did the Juice Truck juice cleanse. For anyone considering it, I would encourage them to go for it. It was a good way to reset in time for spring.

Se sentir bien dan sa peau

(suh sawn-teer byeh(n) da(n) sa po): to feel comfortable in your own skin

The idiom in French, as in English, is most often used to describe one's self-esteem or mood, but is equally applicable to descriptions of one's physical well-being. The two are, after all, linked, right?

 

Me, soaking up the glorious springtime sunshine at the théâtre antique d'Arles in March 2011. I had just bought this skirt and felt oh-so-glamourous in it so I struck this pose in a few photos. (Photo by my friend and travel-buddy Emily, read her account of our trip to Arles here.)







 

When I got back from France almost two years ago, I realised that I didn't feel bien dans ma peau. I surprisingly didn't totally gorge myself on all the delicious cheese, bread and pastries.  I don't think it was until January that I bought a baguette and chèvre for dinner one Friday. For this reason, I don't think it was due to overindulging in France (although it would have been strange to come back from France without a few extra pounds), but rather different factors that had accumulated for almost a year at that point.

Caesars

The Caesar is a Canadian cocktail similar to the Bloody Mary. I actually didn't realise it was Canadian until Peter and I took a roadtrip to San Francisco and found them missing from the menus. Both Calgary and Edmonton lay claim to having invented the Caesar, but that may just be intercity rivalry. The main difference between the Caesar and Bloody Mary is the clam juice. That may not sound tasty, but the clam in clamato is a subtle taste--that noticeably lacks from a Bloody Mary.

Homemade Caesars are one of Peter's specialties. Usually we just buy Clamato, mix it with vodka, touch up the spices, and garnish with spicy beans. Lately, however, Peter's been tossing around the idea of making our own clamato from scratch. Tonight we tried just that.

To make the clamato shake together:

• 2 14oz. cans of claim juice
• 28 oz. tomato juice
• 1/4 cup lemon juice
• 5 dashes each celery salt, garlic powder, crushed red chili powder
• 2 "medium drops" of your favourite hot sauce (we used red El Yucateca Picante Habanero)

To make the Caesars:

• Rim a tall glass with celery salt
• Pour 1 oz. vodka (or to strength) over ice
• 2 drops "more than you feel comfortable with" of Worcestershire sauce
• Fill glass with clamato
• Tabasco sauce to taste
• Sprinkle 2 dashes garlic powder, and freshly ground black pepper (Montreal Steak Spice is also a good addition at this point)
• Garnish with spicy pickled beans 
• Remember to stir

These Caesars are a lot fresher tasting than using the store-bought mix that is chock full of salty seasonings and unpronounceable ingredients. Reading the label of the store-bought mix, you could add molasses or sugar to get an ever so slight sweetness. Making Caesars from scratch is more expensive, but considering the fourth ingredient is MSG, I think the few extra dollars you spent is worth it. Ultimately the Caesar is a drink you can adapt to suit your taste for spicy, Worcestershire-saucy, etc. I think for us the next step might be crazier garnishes.

Cheers!

Carte postale d'Athens

Shortly after I received Kathleen's postcard from Reims, Emily's from Athens, Georgia arrived in my mailbox. Loving travel trivia, I was delighted to receive this postcard about the Tree that Owns Itself. I meant to share it sooner, but instead it sat propped up against a teapot on a shelf in my kitchen. In the spirit of out with the old, in with the new, I am sharing it now.

According to the caption on the reverse, the Tree that Owns Itself is a "White Oak at the corner of Dearing and Finley Streets, the Tree was owned by the University of Georgia Professor William H. Jackson, who deeded it (and the surrounding 8 feet) to itself sometime before 1835."

Emily adds:

Alas, this postcard was the best Athens has to offer--no pretty cathedrals or striking monuments here:) The caption is actually a bit false--the original tree died 70 years ago, so this is theoretically one of its offspring.

How quirky!:)

Hiver optimiste

Funny how the turn of a calendar page can make such a difference. It's January, and I am filled with optimism for the year to come. I think it's because as soon as December transforms in into January, I get into spring mode. Or spring-is-coming mode. In spite of all the complaining remarking about the rain, Vancouver has the mildest winters in the country. It tends to lack snow, so once Christmas has gone, it doesn't feel wintery anymore. Above is a photo of white hyacinths that I instagrammed 51 weeks ago.

Out with the Old/In with the New

Better late than never? "Head of a skeleton with a burning cigarette," postcard from the Van Gogh Museum, Amsterdam.



I have neglected to post anything for months. Suffices to say that I became side tracked. But with the close of one year and the beginning of a new one I am feeling reflective.

The last year went by at an unbelievably fast pace. Like a snowball rolling downhill, it ended bigger and better than I could have thought (kick-ass New Year's Eve party included). I hope this momentum continues.

Highlights of 2012 included:

• A visit from my friend Jacky, with whom I taught English in France;
• A trip back to Europe, to Madrid, Barcelona, and Amsterdam;
• See Helen and John get married;
• Leaving the job I got when I got back from France for one I absolutely LOVE and is related to my degree(!)

I more or less kept to my 2012 resolution to exercise. I fell in love with ballet barre, ran outside (in preparation for a non-competitive 5km race), did Saturday morning yoga occasionally, and had a gym membership that I at times got in the routine of using. The gym kind of fell by the wayside when I got stressed out just before switching to my new job and when another personal project that swallowed me whole.

Blogging also seemed to cease around that time, and as a result I never finished sorting through my photos or posting about my trip. I've thought resuming those posts, but I'm not sure I will. I think Kathleen worded it best when she described a similar situation regarding her trek through Eastern Europe:

I just have too many demands on my time and am too excited about sharing what's happening right now to dedicate a chunk of time to retelling a story that's already happened.

Except I didn't continue to share anything on this blog.

My resolutions for 2013 are still swirling around in my head, coalescing. Some of these are probably not worthy of being "year" resolutions, but in 2013 I would like to:

• Finally get a handle on stress management;
• Be more gracious and grateful;
• Make a Black Forest cake from scratch with the kirsche syrup David gave me when I hosted him for Helen and John's wedding;
• Do a 3-day juice cleanse and transition to either a fully paleo, or at least mostly wheat free diet.

Happy New Year!