The Great Glebe Garage Sale

Saturday was the Great Glebe Garage Sale. Every year the whole Glebe neighbourhood puts on this giant garage sale. I can't tell you how many square kilometers of garage sales it works out to be, but it's huge!

I had two missions for the garage sale. First, as I don't yet have a key chain for my Ottawa keys, I wanted to find the tackiest key chain ever. Second, for my book club that is happening in June in Vancouver (which I plan to Skype into), we're reading Fight Club. But as I've read it already, I wanted to find a second-hand copy.

I didn't find any satisfactory key chains nor a copy of the book Fight Club (though I did find a VHS copy). I nevertheless had a great time snapping pictures of odd finds (not pictured: a giant ziplock bag of daily contacts), and witnessing Simon (pictured above-right with a retro citrus juicer he scored) haggle for lower prices. He got my roommate, Flynn, a tie for her boyfriend for a fraction of the original cost, from $3.00 down to 25-cents.

The weirdest find, however, was probably this:

Nobody in our group bought this curious object, but I wonder if it found a home with someone else.

There was food, music, and many of the garage sales were advertising that they were donating the proceeds of the day to charity. I actually had so much fun, I think I might end up becoming an extreme garage-saler when I get back to Vancouver.

Charles Edenshaw

Museums in Ottawa are free on Thursdays after four o'clock. I plan to take full advantage of this throughout my summer here. Today I was fortunate enough to be able to catch the Charles Edenshaw exhibit at the National Gallery before it closes on Sunday.

Having grown up in British Columbia, I am familiar with the art of BC coastal First Nations, but don't know anything about it from an art history. That's why I thought the National Gallery's Charles Edenshaw exhibit was so fantastic, because it had plenty of explanatory texts. (I'm sorry I didn't make it to the exhibit when it was at the Vancouver Art Gallery this past winter as it looks like it included more pieces.) The UBC Museum of Anthropology, which I visited just before leaving for Ottawa, has an extensive collection of BC First Nations artifacts but relatively few interpretive panels so I found it overwhelming. 

I especially liked Charles Edenshaw's Elephant Cane Handle, which the exhibit explained was inspired by circus publicity that Edenshaw saw in a newspaper. Too often I feel that mainstream society sees First Nations as solely historical. What I like about the Elephant Cane is that it is evidence of Edenshaw responding to European influence and thus the dynamism of his (and maybe more broadly Haida and First Nations') art.

(Photo of Charles Edenshaw's Elephant Cane Handle via Vancouver Art Gallery)

Ottawa Odyssey

I've been in Ottawa just over a week now. Today I ventured out with my friend Hannah to Gatineau Park for a hike. It was super awesome, but getting to and from there was a bit of a transit odyssey.

Until now, I've found transit in Ottawa to be super awesome. I live just off the transit express way so it takes me maybe all of 15 minutes to get to work in the morning. Today being Sunday, though, I failed to anticipate reduced service. This wasn't too bad on the Ottawa side. The 8 was only running every half hour across the Chaudière bridge so I walked. But this meant I missed my STO bus connection. After waiting un quart d'heure and trying to text for the bus, I figured an alternate route using the STO's mobile site (which is actually pretty good). Not entirely knowing where I was going because Google Maps doesn't know STO bus routes, I watched my blue dot approach my destination.

Hannah and I hiked partway to Pink Lake before turning around and deciding Lac des fées was more attainable (Pink Lake is a 16km round trip).

On the way back I met an awesome woman d'un certain âge waiting for the bus. Her name, I later found out, was Jocelyne and is able to say "hello" in seven different languages, including Portuguese, Spanish, Chinese and Yugoslav. She also seemed to be an expert on the Ottawa-Gatineau bus system so she took it upon herself to be my guide. She chatted with me about all sort of things, including la charte de laïcité right up front, Ottawa's history, as well as more personal subjects including how the ambassador of South Africa came to be her coffee buddy. It was un plaisir to chat with her and certainly made for a more interesting ride. She seems to be a figure in the city. She said she knows many of the bus drivers and that many of them call her ma tante. I hope to run into her again later this summer to catch up!

Spring!

The first flower in my balcony garden was this daffodil that bloomed March 8th (three weeks behind last year).












Spring has been in the air for a few weeks now, though today is the official first day. Last week it even felt warm enough to walk to the grocery store without a coat. It's interesting to think how warm even just 10°C feels now, when in in six months 10°C will feel cold. I'm sure there's a scientific explanation for that. 

My favourite thing about spring is the freshness. A few weeks ago I was down on myself for having let breakfast salad because I haven't been in the mood for it (this is a great blog post about why it's okay not to want to eat salad in winter), so I'm really excited to be craving fresh vegetables again.

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.

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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!