Another new year. Except this isn't just any year. We've officially come Back to the Future. I'm sure this will be referenced MANY times in the coming months, same as how we were partying like it's 1999, or preparing for the end of the world in 2012. But it's still staggering to realize that it's been 30 years. No flying cars or self drying clothes yet (that we know about). It's pretty fascinating to see what we thought the future was going to look like.
As for my future, it looks like a mixed bag so far. It's my zodiac year, the Year of the Sheep. Counterintuitively, it's supposed to be a bad year for me. So I'm mentally gearing up for that, carrying any and all kinds of tokens and charms that my mother gives me. Coincidentally, the last time it was my year, twelve years ago, I started writing this blog. I can't remember how that year went. I guess I'll have to go back and read about it.
I'm not taking this unfortunate news lying down. In fact, in two weeks, I am jetting off again into The Future (aka Hong Kong). I will ring in the Chinese New Year in a flurry of fireworks with my brother. Then we'll be going Down Under and to Middle Earth. To call me excited would be a serious understatement. I am determined to do something crazy, which in this case involves jumping into a gorge on a swing with a rope the length of a rugby field. I've already booked the jump, but thinking about how this is not going to be the best year for me has made me realize that this was perhaps the worst idea ever. Oh well. Let's tempt fate together.
"Don't need no credit card to ride this train"
Saturday, January 31, 2015
Wednesday, November 19, 2014
Universal Suffrage
It's a weird term, universal suffrage, and I didn't immediately recognize the meaning when my brother used it a while ago. Sometimes it's hard to remember that there are still places in the world that don't have it - the right for everyone to democratically vote for their governmental representatives. And my brother was right in the middle of it.
Hong Kong made some front page news a couple of months ago when thousands upon thousands of people clogged the busiest streets in the city to protest the Chinese government's decision to vet the candidates who would run for the first democratic election of the region's chief executive, which will happen in 2016. Made up of mostly students and pro-democracy activists, the people wanted free elections as well as the immediate resignation of the current chief executive, a deeply unpopular guy. One of the fascinating points during the course of the sit-in demonstration was that the government's use of pepper spray and riot police had the exact opposite effect on the protest - it actually made it bigger.
So, now, months later, there are still people sitting in the Central, Admiralty, and Mong Kok districts, protesting for their right to universal suffrage. My parents are over there right now, visiting my brother and other friends and relatives, but back in October my father told me that he didn't agree with the protestors. Even though he's been living here, in a democratic society, for the majority of his life. I found it a bit surprising and odd, but then he gave his reason. I think he felt that the students were demanding more than what we in Canada have. We actually don't get to elect our Prime Minister. A much smaller group of people decide who the leaders of the parties will be, and then based on the MPs who are successfully elected, the leader of the party with the majority (or largest minority, as the case may be) becomes Prime Minister. I had to admit that he had a point. Sometimes I find that I'm torn between the individual I want to represent me and the party I want to have the power in parliament, which would result in the Prime Minister we will have to make decisions for the whole country. It all gets a bit diluted in the end.
The fact that China agreed for Hong Kong to have elections of any kind was already a huge step up. The chief executives had been appointed by a committee since the handover in 1997, and prior to that, the Governor of Hong Kong was appointed by the British monarch. They haven't had any kind of choice for their leader in over a hundred years. As it is with everything, baby steps are probably the best way to go. We really have to remember who we're dealing with. China is still, despite their recent capitalistic tendencies, a Communist country. China is not going to back down on their decision for Hong Kong's first election. I will be supremely surprised if they do.
All of these events led me to really consider our own elections last month. Unfortunately, since I live just outside of Toronto, I wasn't able to vote for the mayor. I'm not sure if the end result will lead to positive changes or not, but I think just the fact that we had a choice at all was important, and I'm glad that more people showed up to vote than in previous years. Baby steps.
"Everyone here is ready to go, it's been a hard year with nothing to show"
Hong Kong made some front page news a couple of months ago when thousands upon thousands of people clogged the busiest streets in the city to protest the Chinese government's decision to vet the candidates who would run for the first democratic election of the region's chief executive, which will happen in 2016. Made up of mostly students and pro-democracy activists, the people wanted free elections as well as the immediate resignation of the current chief executive, a deeply unpopular guy. One of the fascinating points during the course of the sit-in demonstration was that the government's use of pepper spray and riot police had the exact opposite effect on the protest - it actually made it bigger.
So, now, months later, there are still people sitting in the Central, Admiralty, and Mong Kok districts, protesting for their right to universal suffrage. My parents are over there right now, visiting my brother and other friends and relatives, but back in October my father told me that he didn't agree with the protestors. Even though he's been living here, in a democratic society, for the majority of his life. I found it a bit surprising and odd, but then he gave his reason. I think he felt that the students were demanding more than what we in Canada have. We actually don't get to elect our Prime Minister. A much smaller group of people decide who the leaders of the parties will be, and then based on the MPs who are successfully elected, the leader of the party with the majority (or largest minority, as the case may be) becomes Prime Minister. I had to admit that he had a point. Sometimes I find that I'm torn between the individual I want to represent me and the party I want to have the power in parliament, which would result in the Prime Minister we will have to make decisions for the whole country. It all gets a bit diluted in the end.
The fact that China agreed for Hong Kong to have elections of any kind was already a huge step up. The chief executives had been appointed by a committee since the handover in 1997, and prior to that, the Governor of Hong Kong was appointed by the British monarch. They haven't had any kind of choice for their leader in over a hundred years. As it is with everything, baby steps are probably the best way to go. We really have to remember who we're dealing with. China is still, despite their recent capitalistic tendencies, a Communist country. China is not going to back down on their decision for Hong Kong's first election. I will be supremely surprised if they do.
All of these events led me to really consider our own elections last month. Unfortunately, since I live just outside of Toronto, I wasn't able to vote for the mayor. I'm not sure if the end result will lead to positive changes or not, but I think just the fact that we had a choice at all was important, and I'm glad that more people showed up to vote than in previous years. Baby steps.
"Everyone here is ready to go, it's been a hard year with nothing to show"
Saturday, September 20, 2014
Soundbites
This year's TIFF experience can only be described as a mixed bag. Given that it was the busiest one to date (I was downtown every day for 2 weeks straight), the odds are pretty good that it would have been interesting, if not eventful.
So, in between working, volunteering, and sometimes sleeping, I was able to see 12 films this year:
Out of Nature
My Old Lady
Cart
Do I Sound Gay?
Jauja
The Cobbler
Preggoland
This Is Where I Leave You
Kahlil Gibran's The Prophet
Adult Beginners
What We Do In The Shadows*
The Imitation Game*
(* MUST SEE FILMS!)
As a result, there are just too many moments to mention, so I'll try to condense it all into decently sized soundbites (in no particular order):
The Close Encounters
The unavoidable celebrity sightings this year included one that was not my own (my friend, on returning home from San Francisco, saw Jake Gyllenhall waiting at the luggage carousel like a normal person), some that were super close (Robert Pattinson, Patricia Clarkson, and Adam Sandler), and some that were just out of reach (John Cusack!). For the record, Patricia Clarkson is the loveliest person. In the span of 2 days, I twice witnessed as she rolled down the tinted window of the car, leaned out and either expressed her hope that we would be successful getting rush tickets to her film or thanked the people waiting after the screening to get her photo or autograph. For the first instance, I just waved and didn't mention that we were waiting for a different film.
The most ironic scenario occurred as my fellow volunteers and I formed the human barricade to let Roger Waters (of Pink Floyd fame) move from his limo short bus to the waiting throngs of middle aged guys asking him to sign their vinyl albums before heading in through the back door of the theatre. When he was clear of the sidewalk, the head rep told us to let the pedestrians pass but to close ranks in front of the entrance to make sure nobody rushed in. As soon as we did it, we all looked at each other and someone said what I think we were all thinking: "I am a brick in the wall. Literally."
The Q&A's
The best Q&A was the one with Viggo Mortensen. After watching an "interesting" film called Jauja, we were treated to a rambling story about filmmaking and a mini debate about certain scenes in the film (as for me, I'm still processing it).
The most surreal Q&A had to be the one for My Old Lady, where the TIFF moderator brought the whole thing to an abrupt halt when he fainted on stage. Kevin Kline was a hero and rushed over to him immediately, and while they waited for medical assistance, the audience quietly exited the theatre.
The funniest Q&A was for What We Do In The Shadows, where the filmmaker and star maintained a complete deadpan and serious discussion about what it was like to make a documentary about vampires living together in a flat in the suburbs of New Zealand. That is, until someone in the audience asked an actual question about the movie, disappointing him greatly ("You broke it"). However, the moderator salvaged it by spinning the question into something relating to the vampires.
The Power of Persuasion
I found myself extremely susceptible to suggestion this year. Whilst waiting in the rush line for The Cobbler, the couple ahead of me got take-out from Salad King. I had already eaten, so it didn't make me hungry. But the idea got stuck in my head and, lo and behold, the next day I went to Salad King for dinner.
A friend of mine asked for tickets to see Kahlil Gibran's The Prophet. Since it was showing around 4:00 on a Friday, there were ample tickets available and I was able to get 4 tickets for 1 voucher. She only needed 3, so at first I thought she could just invite another friend or give the spare ticket away to someone on the street. But then I read the synopsis and thought about it a bit. I had taken the day off work to see films and volunteer, and although I would have to run out of one theatre and back in to see it, and it would have been my third film of the day, I was persuaded to hustle my butt over there and see it. I'm glad I did.
The Karma
Speaking of The Cobbler, it was the only premium screening I chose to rush this year. It also was the first day of cooler weather during the festival. I had not chosen my wardrobe wisely, and I had about 3 hours of standing to look forward to. The Salad King couple were actually the first 2 people in line, and when someone came around asking if there was a single person looking for a ticket, they jumped on it first despite not being alone. They eventually scored another free ticket so they left the line, propelling me to the front.
As most of the feeling left my feet, one of the front of house staff came up and asked if I was waiting for the film. When I said yes, she pulled a ticket out and gave it to me. I willed my feet to start moving and followed her towards the theatre. Before I reached the ticket holders' line, she told me she could put me in the lobby if I so desired. I couldn't believe my luck. Not only was I able to sit down somewhere moderately warm, but she told me that when she started to bring the line inside, I could just casually join it.
The unmentioned perk was that the red carpet was still going on. Once I was able to feel my lower limbs again, I went up to the velvet rope and got a pretty good look at Adam Sandler as he walked past me. I felt awkward asking for a selfie, so I just tried to snap photos as he went and consciously took a good look at him in real life. I'm sad to say that, not only did he dress like a hobo to his own film premiere, but he's also really starting to age a bit. Gravity is doing a number to his face. Where did Happy Gilmore go?
The Lowrider
Volunteering at Ryerson all these years has proven that you will always see something unexpected (although it's been years since the Borat episode). This year, the best had to be the lowrider. During a break in the torrential downpour, a guy pulled up to the apartment building across the street and proceeded to gas all of us with diesel fumes while he idled the car and waited for his passenger. He completely fit the image of a guy with that kind of car...until we saw the little fluffy white dog sitting on his lap.
After quite some time, he leaned on the horn. A woman eventually emerged and got into the car. A rare pantomime occurred, because we were guessing an argument was happening but we couldn't hear anything. The woman then got out of the car, slammed the door, and walked back into the building. The lowrider then took off down the street.
The Odd Sightings
As I said, something weird always happens at the Ryerson. During one mostly uneventful weekend afternoon, a guy came up to one of the other volunteers and told her he thought he was having a heart attack. Naturally, she was a bit taken aback, and she asked him if he wanted someone to call 911, but he just walked away. She was a newbie and didn't know what to do, but I reassured her that if he's able to walk down the street, he's probably not having a heart attack. This was confirmed when we saw him walking back up the street minutes later.
My favourite volunteer shift was for the premiere for the documentary Do I Sound Gay? First of all, it was impossible to help anyone without them making a bad joke about it ("No, you don't"). Secondly, there were dozens and dozens of people connected with the film (in addition to the filmmaker having many friends, the film was apparently financed by Kickstarter or some other crowd funding scheme). But luckily, everyone associated with the film was wearing a t-shirt or a button with the logo of a mouth with a rainbow tongue sticking out, so it was incredibly easy to tell who should be let into the red carpet area. I wish every production company would do that! And finally, not to feed into the stereotypes that the film touches on, but there were a lot of people attending the film who exhibited their own unique style, so to speak. Including the woman with the moustache, who basically confused me for several minutes before I gave up trying to figure it out.
"We don't need no education"
So, in between working, volunteering, and sometimes sleeping, I was able to see 12 films this year:
Out of Nature
My Old Lady
Cart
Do I Sound Gay?
Jauja
The Cobbler
Preggoland
This Is Where I Leave You
Kahlil Gibran's The Prophet
Adult Beginners
What We Do In The Shadows*
The Imitation Game*
(* MUST SEE FILMS!)
As a result, there are just too many moments to mention, so I'll try to condense it all into decently sized soundbites (in no particular order):
The Close Encounters
The unavoidable celebrity sightings this year included one that was not my own (my friend, on returning home from San Francisco, saw Jake Gyllenhall waiting at the luggage carousel like a normal person), some that were super close (Robert Pattinson, Patricia Clarkson, and Adam Sandler), and some that were just out of reach (John Cusack!). For the record, Patricia Clarkson is the loveliest person. In the span of 2 days, I twice witnessed as she rolled down the tinted window of the car, leaned out and either expressed her hope that we would be successful getting rush tickets to her film or thanked the people waiting after the screening to get her photo or autograph. For the first instance, I just waved and didn't mention that we were waiting for a different film.
The most ironic scenario occurred as my fellow volunteers and I formed the human barricade to let Roger Waters (of Pink Floyd fame) move from his limo short bus to the waiting throngs of middle aged guys asking him to sign their vinyl albums before heading in through the back door of the theatre. When he was clear of the sidewalk, the head rep told us to let the pedestrians pass but to close ranks in front of the entrance to make sure nobody rushed in. As soon as we did it, we all looked at each other and someone said what I think we were all thinking: "I am a brick in the wall. Literally."
The Q&A's
The best Q&A was the one with Viggo Mortensen. After watching an "interesting" film called Jauja, we were treated to a rambling story about filmmaking and a mini debate about certain scenes in the film (as for me, I'm still processing it).
The most surreal Q&A had to be the one for My Old Lady, where the TIFF moderator brought the whole thing to an abrupt halt when he fainted on stage. Kevin Kline was a hero and rushed over to him immediately, and while they waited for medical assistance, the audience quietly exited the theatre.
The funniest Q&A was for What We Do In The Shadows, where the filmmaker and star maintained a complete deadpan and serious discussion about what it was like to make a documentary about vampires living together in a flat in the suburbs of New Zealand. That is, until someone in the audience asked an actual question about the movie, disappointing him greatly ("You broke it"). However, the moderator salvaged it by spinning the question into something relating to the vampires.
The Power of Persuasion
I found myself extremely susceptible to suggestion this year. Whilst waiting in the rush line for The Cobbler, the couple ahead of me got take-out from Salad King. I had already eaten, so it didn't make me hungry. But the idea got stuck in my head and, lo and behold, the next day I went to Salad King for dinner.
A friend of mine asked for tickets to see Kahlil Gibran's The Prophet. Since it was showing around 4:00 on a Friday, there were ample tickets available and I was able to get 4 tickets for 1 voucher. She only needed 3, so at first I thought she could just invite another friend or give the spare ticket away to someone on the street. But then I read the synopsis and thought about it a bit. I had taken the day off work to see films and volunteer, and although I would have to run out of one theatre and back in to see it, and it would have been my third film of the day, I was persuaded to hustle my butt over there and see it. I'm glad I did.
The Karma
Speaking of The Cobbler, it was the only premium screening I chose to rush this year. It also was the first day of cooler weather during the festival. I had not chosen my wardrobe wisely, and I had about 3 hours of standing to look forward to. The Salad King couple were actually the first 2 people in line, and when someone came around asking if there was a single person looking for a ticket, they jumped on it first despite not being alone. They eventually scored another free ticket so they left the line, propelling me to the front.
As most of the feeling left my feet, one of the front of house staff came up and asked if I was waiting for the film. When I said yes, she pulled a ticket out and gave it to me. I willed my feet to start moving and followed her towards the theatre. Before I reached the ticket holders' line, she told me she could put me in the lobby if I so desired. I couldn't believe my luck. Not only was I able to sit down somewhere moderately warm, but she told me that when she started to bring the line inside, I could just casually join it.
The unmentioned perk was that the red carpet was still going on. Once I was able to feel my lower limbs again, I went up to the velvet rope and got a pretty good look at Adam Sandler as he walked past me. I felt awkward asking for a selfie, so I just tried to snap photos as he went and consciously took a good look at him in real life. I'm sad to say that, not only did he dress like a hobo to his own film premiere, but he's also really starting to age a bit. Gravity is doing a number to his face. Where did Happy Gilmore go?
The Lowrider
Volunteering at Ryerson all these years has proven that you will always see something unexpected (although it's been years since the Borat episode). This year, the best had to be the lowrider. During a break in the torrential downpour, a guy pulled up to the apartment building across the street and proceeded to gas all of us with diesel fumes while he idled the car and waited for his passenger. He completely fit the image of a guy with that kind of car...until we saw the little fluffy white dog sitting on his lap.
After quite some time, he leaned on the horn. A woman eventually emerged and got into the car. A rare pantomime occurred, because we were guessing an argument was happening but we couldn't hear anything. The woman then got out of the car, slammed the door, and walked back into the building. The lowrider then took off down the street.
The Odd Sightings
As I said, something weird always happens at the Ryerson. During one mostly uneventful weekend afternoon, a guy came up to one of the other volunteers and told her he thought he was having a heart attack. Naturally, she was a bit taken aback, and she asked him if he wanted someone to call 911, but he just walked away. She was a newbie and didn't know what to do, but I reassured her that if he's able to walk down the street, he's probably not having a heart attack. This was confirmed when we saw him walking back up the street minutes later.
My favourite volunteer shift was for the premiere for the documentary Do I Sound Gay? First of all, it was impossible to help anyone without them making a bad joke about it ("No, you don't"). Secondly, there were dozens and dozens of people connected with the film (in addition to the filmmaker having many friends, the film was apparently financed by Kickstarter or some other crowd funding scheme). But luckily, everyone associated with the film was wearing a t-shirt or a button with the logo of a mouth with a rainbow tongue sticking out, so it was incredibly easy to tell who should be let into the red carpet area. I wish every production company would do that! And finally, not to feed into the stereotypes that the film touches on, but there were a lot of people attending the film who exhibited their own unique style, so to speak. Including the woman with the moustache, who basically confused me for several minutes before I gave up trying to figure it out.
"We don't need no education"
Wednesday, June 18, 2014
A Room With A View
Two words: never again.
Since I've already been to Florence, I really wanted to go to Pisa. Thinking that I could navigate the train system, I figured we could do both. But then a couple more people wanted to come with us, so I said sure. Then a few more, and their parents. Okay. Then a few more. And their parents. By the time we head out in the morning, we had a group of 16 people, 6 of whom were a little elderly. This had disaster written all over it.
We missed the first train so we had to wait an hour for the next train to Pisa. Once there, we had to walk a little bit until we got to the Field of Miracles, where the tower and the cathedral were situated. Before everyone scattered, we agreed on a meeting place and time. I spent most of it using my friend's mobile wifi hotspot to figure out our next move. I was able to get a selfie with the tower before we moved on.
The train station we needed to reach to catch the train to Florence was a 20 minute walk away. Everyone wanted to take taxis, so we tried to find one. There was a 6-person taxi who took the first group. It took a while to flag down another, but it would only fit 4 people, so we sent off the next group. After what seemed like forever, the original 6-person taxi showed up again, so we piled in and left. Unfortunately, we missed the direct train to Florence, but we quickly got tickets and piled onto the next train, which would take a little longer due to the stops.
By the time we got to Florence, we really only had about 30 minutes before we had to catch the train to go back. After bathroom breaks and buying our return tickets, we walked to the Duomo. It wasn't hard to spot. People started scattering again, but it was so crowded and loud, I was afraid we were going to lose someone. Janet had the good sense to gather the elders and start walking back to the station first. I stayed back, made sure we had everyone, then did a mad sprint back to the station. Running through the roundabout was probably the worst idea, but we had a minute to go. By some miracle, we all made it onto the train as it was about to pull out.
The stress wasn't over yet. We had to change trains in Pisa, and according to the schedule we had a five-minute window. If we were late, or the other train left early, we'd be in trouble. Luckily, the second train was late, so we were able to make it without too much running.
So the room, in my case, was a train car, and the view was mostly of the Italian countryside speeding past the window. I felt terrible that they didn't get to see much of Florence, but they all said they appreciated my efforts, which was nice.
But still...never again.
"You better know know know that I have conditions, I make the rules and make the decisions"
Since I've already been to Florence, I really wanted to go to Pisa. Thinking that I could navigate the train system, I figured we could do both. But then a couple more people wanted to come with us, so I said sure. Then a few more, and their parents. Okay. Then a few more. And their parents. By the time we head out in the morning, we had a group of 16 people, 6 of whom were a little elderly. This had disaster written all over it.
We missed the first train so we had to wait an hour for the next train to Pisa. Once there, we had to walk a little bit until we got to the Field of Miracles, where the tower and the cathedral were situated. Before everyone scattered, we agreed on a meeting place and time. I spent most of it using my friend's mobile wifi hotspot to figure out our next move. I was able to get a selfie with the tower before we moved on.
The train station we needed to reach to catch the train to Florence was a 20 minute walk away. Everyone wanted to take taxis, so we tried to find one. There was a 6-person taxi who took the first group. It took a while to flag down another, but it would only fit 4 people, so we sent off the next group. After what seemed like forever, the original 6-person taxi showed up again, so we piled in and left. Unfortunately, we missed the direct train to Florence, but we quickly got tickets and piled onto the next train, which would take a little longer due to the stops.
By the time we got to Florence, we really only had about 30 minutes before we had to catch the train to go back. After bathroom breaks and buying our return tickets, we walked to the Duomo. It wasn't hard to spot. People started scattering again, but it was so crowded and loud, I was afraid we were going to lose someone. Janet had the good sense to gather the elders and start walking back to the station first. I stayed back, made sure we had everyone, then did a mad sprint back to the station. Running through the roundabout was probably the worst idea, but we had a minute to go. By some miracle, we all made it onto the train as it was about to pull out.
The stress wasn't over yet. We had to change trains in Pisa, and according to the schedule we had a five-minute window. If we were late, or the other train left early, we'd be in trouble. Luckily, the second train was late, so we were able to make it without too much running.
So the room, in my case, was a train car, and the view was mostly of the Italian countryside speeding past the window. I felt terrible that they didn't get to see much of Florence, but they all said they appreciated my efforts, which was nice.
But still...never again.
"You better know know know that I have conditions, I make the rules and make the decisions"
Tuesday, June 17, 2014
Grand Prix
One of my coworkers came to Monaco last year to watch the Grand Prix. I'm sure it would have been pretty thrilling, but given our timeframe, it probably would have made it more difficult to get through the city than it already was with the train strike. We had to take a taxi to and from Villefranche-sur-Mer, but luckily our group was small and we fit into one.
Not a whole lot to see, except for the evidence of how the 1% of the 1% live their lives. We paid our respects to Princess Grace and Prince Rainier at the cathedral. We gaped at the yachts parked in the marina. We took photos of the extremely fancy (and sometimes ironic) cars.
Funnily enough, the best part came once we had returned to Villefranche-sur-Mer and were shopping in the little stores by the port. We found foie gras at a decent price in little glass jars. I knew I was taking a risk of having my clothes smelling like duck liver by the time I got home, but it was totally worth it.
"Standing where I am now, standing up at all, I was used to feeling like I was never gonna see myself at the finish line"
Not a whole lot to see, except for the evidence of how the 1% of the 1% live their lives. We paid our respects to Princess Grace and Prince Rainier at the cathedral. We gaped at the yachts parked in the marina. We took photos of the extremely fancy (and sometimes ironic) cars.
Funnily enough, the best part came once we had returned to Villefranche-sur-Mer and were shopping in the little stores by the port. We found foie gras at a decent price in little glass jars. I knew I was taking a risk of having my clothes smelling like duck liver by the time I got home, but it was totally worth it.
"Standing where I am now, standing up at all, I was used to feeling like I was never gonna see myself at the finish line"
Monday, June 16, 2014
The French Connection
Marseille was by far the most surprising stop of the cruise. I think it was because I had absolutely no expectations. I didn't know any famous landmarks, I didn't know what it was known for (other than bouillabaisse). It was just another stop in the south of France.
The old port is actually really nice. We took a little tourist train up the hill to the giant cathedral, Basilique Notre-Dame de la Garde, which again was a good call because the uphill was pretty intense. Another very impressive religious building, another very impressive aerial view of a European port town. However, a little off shore on a tiny island, you could see the Chateau d'If, which was the inspiration for "The Count of Monte Cristo". I've never read the book before, but ironically it's been a part of several films I've seen a number of times (The Shawshank Redemption, V for Vendetta).
We didn't get to try the bouillabaisse, but I was able to do some shopping. It turns out that Marseille is known for olive oil soap. And, of course, I forgot about the Herbs de Provence. I know, it's just herbs, but these are actually from Provence!
"I've got my mind made up, man, I can't let go"
The old port is actually really nice. We took a little tourist train up the hill to the giant cathedral, Basilique Notre-Dame de la Garde, which again was a good call because the uphill was pretty intense. Another very impressive religious building, another very impressive aerial view of a European port town. However, a little off shore on a tiny island, you could see the Chateau d'If, which was the inspiration for "The Count of Monte Cristo". I've never read the book before, but ironically it's been a part of several films I've seen a number of times (The Shawshank Redemption, V for Vendetta).
We didn't get to try the bouillabaisse, but I was able to do some shopping. It turns out that Marseille is known for olive oil soap. And, of course, I forgot about the Herbs de Provence. I know, it's just herbs, but these are actually from Provence!
"I've got my mind made up, man, I can't let go"
Sunday, June 15, 2014
Love and Basketball
So, as it turns out, there aren't a lot of well-known films that are set or filmed in Barcelona. The only other one was "Vicky Cristina Barcelona", which would have been a bit too obvious. And I haven't actually seen either of these films, but I thought this one made a more interesting blog title.
One of the things I found myself doing during most of this trip was the touristy stuff. Things that I had, in the past, avoided like the plague. In the case of Barcelona, I found myself on a Hop-On-Hop-Off double decker bus. You know, the ones with the open roof. I see them all the time downtown and I use them as a gauge to determine if it's a busy tourist period or not. I had never ever considered getting on one of these before. But, with limited time and a large group, it made the most sense.
The buses I've seen have always had a person on a microphone, talking about what you're looking at on the left or right of the bus. In the age of technology, it seems that the person has been replaced with an automated recording in about a dozen different languages. You just plug the provided earphones into the jack by your seat and choose the channel that corresponds to your language. It makes so much sense. However, the problem remains that by the time they tell you about the thing you're looking at, there's almost no time to get a decent photo of it.
We were able to see pretty much the majority of the city, if only for a brief moment. We did stop at the Basilica de la Sagrada FamÃlia, the church that will never be completed. Gaudà was a stickler for details, that's for sure. We also took the cable car up to the top of the hill to Montjuïc Castle. Finally we were able to walk around Las Ramblas before heading back to the boat. Not a lot of shopping to be done, but we did get to eat. Mmm...paella...
"I had this perfect dream, this dream was me and you"
One of the things I found myself doing during most of this trip was the touristy stuff. Things that I had, in the past, avoided like the plague. In the case of Barcelona, I found myself on a Hop-On-Hop-Off double decker bus. You know, the ones with the open roof. I see them all the time downtown and I use them as a gauge to determine if it's a busy tourist period or not. I had never ever considered getting on one of these before. But, with limited time and a large group, it made the most sense.
The buses I've seen have always had a person on a microphone, talking about what you're looking at on the left or right of the bus. In the age of technology, it seems that the person has been replaced with an automated recording in about a dozen different languages. You just plug the provided earphones into the jack by your seat and choose the channel that corresponds to your language. It makes so much sense. However, the problem remains that by the time they tell you about the thing you're looking at, there's almost no time to get a decent photo of it.
We were able to see pretty much the majority of the city, if only for a brief moment. We did stop at the Basilica de la Sagrada FamÃlia, the church that will never be completed. Gaudà was a stickler for details, that's for sure. We also took the cable car up to the top of the hill to Montjuïc Castle. Finally we were able to walk around Las Ramblas before heading back to the boat. Not a lot of shopping to be done, but we did get to eat. Mmm...paella...
"I had this perfect dream, this dream was me and you"
Friday, June 13, 2014
Pompeii
Okay, so I heard this was a terrible movie. But this was easily one of my favourite stops of the cruise.
Being a wimp, I decided to pay the silly shore excursion fee and let someone else guide me through the ancient wasteland. The first thing was to hike up Mount Vesuvius. The volcano (which is still active) is about 1,200 metres tall. Luckily, the bus took us up the first 1,000 metres (through a number of harrowing twists and turns), and then we just had to hike up the remaining 200. Sadly, a haze had settle over Naples that day, so we couldn't get the view of the city or of the island of Capri, where most of our group had gone. But the view of the crater was excellent (once we got there).
Mount Vesuvius blew up and destroyed the neighbouring towns like Herculaneum and Pompeii in 79 AD. This was exactly 1,900 years before I was born. For the closer towns, everyone was pretty much killed instantly, but Pompeii was destroyed 2 days after the eruption. Someone asked the tour guide why the people didn't run away. The simple answer was that, at that time, nobody knew what was happening. We take knowledge for granted so much these days. A click of a button and we can learn about anything we want. Imagine, there was a time when people didn't know what a volcanic eruption was, or that they should get the hell out of there when it happens. On the other hand, even with all of this crazy technology, some things still remain a mystery...
"But if you close your eyes, does it almost feel like nothing changed at all?"
Being a wimp, I decided to pay the silly shore excursion fee and let someone else guide me through the ancient wasteland. The first thing was to hike up Mount Vesuvius. The volcano (which is still active) is about 1,200 metres tall. Luckily, the bus took us up the first 1,000 metres (through a number of harrowing twists and turns), and then we just had to hike up the remaining 200. Sadly, a haze had settle over Naples that day, so we couldn't get the view of the city or of the island of Capri, where most of our group had gone. But the view of the crater was excellent (once we got there).
Mount Vesuvius blew up and destroyed the neighbouring towns like Herculaneum and Pompeii in 79 AD. This was exactly 1,900 years before I was born. For the closer towns, everyone was pretty much killed instantly, but Pompeii was destroyed 2 days after the eruption. Someone asked the tour guide why the people didn't run away. The simple answer was that, at that time, nobody knew what was happening. We take knowledge for granted so much these days. A click of a button and we can learn about anything we want. Imagine, there was a time when people didn't know what a volcanic eruption was, or that they should get the hell out of there when it happens. On the other hand, even with all of this crazy technology, some things still remain a mystery...
"But if you close your eyes, does it almost feel like nothing changed at all?"
Wednesday, June 11, 2014
Gladiator
The one thing about Rome that I appreciated the most was the water. Everywhere (mostly near every church, piazza and fountain but sometimes in the most unlikeliest places) there are nasoni - water spouts that continuously dispense clean spring water for the public. They even have a neat design where if you block the outlet with your hand, the water would be diverted through a hole in the top so that you can drink directly from it without having to turn your head upside down. Some people would use it to splash water on their heads to cool off, others put a bucket underneath to gather water to clean clothes or tools, but most people used it to refill their water bottles. I have never, ever, drank so much water in one day in my whole life. I refilled my bottle a dozen times or more. Every time I saw a nasone, I immediately pulled out the bottle and got in line. It's amazing that I have any electrolytes in me at all anymore.
Today was the big day: the Colosseum. But first, as the guide book suggested, I was going to go to the Roman Forum and Palentine Hill, which is included in the admission ticket and is where you can buy it without having to wait in an enormous line. I stopped at the Campidoglio first, thinking it would flow naturally from one site to another. But, once again, I found myself circling the perimeter, trying to find the entrance. However, I did end up passing by Circus Maximus, where the great chariot races were held. I eventually made it into the Forum. It was really neat seeing what was once a great city. The Colosseum was worse than the Vatican for lineups. But I was able to breeze through again. In a word - amazing. The place could hold up to 70,000 people back in the day. The history in Rome is mind boggling. Stone paths walked on millennia ago by emperors and scholars, marble columns that have stood for ages, statues of real people who have long turned to dust. The size of the buildings they could build with the technology they had on hand is unbelievable.
The one thing Rome didn't really do well was their transit system. There are two subway lines that run through part of the city and intersect at one point in the middle. They are in the process of building 3 more lines, but those are years away. Their bus system is kind of wonky too. It's based on the honour system, like a lot of European train systems are. The bus drivers only drive and let people on or off; they don't check fares. There's also no cash fares - you have to pre-purchase a ticket from somewhere else, like the subway station or at tobacco shops. Occasionally, an agent will board a bus and start checking everyone. If you don't have a valid ticket, you'll get fined on the spot.
I met up with my friends in the evening, and we decided to go out and take night photos of the main tourist sights. We were also going to meet up with my friend Peter's sister at the Spanish steps. We weren't close to the subway line, so we decided to try the bus. After staring at the signage for a while, Victoria decided to ask the guy sitting at the stop for help. Luckily for us, he spoke English fluently. He suggested taking the same bus he was taking and getting off at the last stop, then walking. We agreed and waited with him. As we talked more, it turned out he's a musician. His name was Marco and his band, Stag, performs mostly around Italy but they write and sing English-language pop songs. He said that Italian is good for opera, but not for other kinds of music. One of his major influences was Coldplay, which basically sold it for me. He gave us a copy of his CD, which we're going to share amongst ourselves. In the end, we were able to take the bus for free and when we got off the bus we said goodbye Italian style (double kiss on the cheeks). Peter was awkward, to say the least, but he did it anyway. His only comment was that his beard was scratchy.
"And if you were to ask me, after all that we've been through, still believe in magic, yes I do"
Today was the big day: the Colosseum. But first, as the guide book suggested, I was going to go to the Roman Forum and Palentine Hill, which is included in the admission ticket and is where you can buy it without having to wait in an enormous line. I stopped at the Campidoglio first, thinking it would flow naturally from one site to another. But, once again, I found myself circling the perimeter, trying to find the entrance. However, I did end up passing by Circus Maximus, where the great chariot races were held. I eventually made it into the Forum. It was really neat seeing what was once a great city. The Colosseum was worse than the Vatican for lineups. But I was able to breeze through again. In a word - amazing. The place could hold up to 70,000 people back in the day. The history in Rome is mind boggling. Stone paths walked on millennia ago by emperors and scholars, marble columns that have stood for ages, statues of real people who have long turned to dust. The size of the buildings they could build with the technology they had on hand is unbelievable.
The one thing Rome didn't really do well was their transit system. There are two subway lines that run through part of the city and intersect at one point in the middle. They are in the process of building 3 more lines, but those are years away. Their bus system is kind of wonky too. It's based on the honour system, like a lot of European train systems are. The bus drivers only drive and let people on or off; they don't check fares. There's also no cash fares - you have to pre-purchase a ticket from somewhere else, like the subway station or at tobacco shops. Occasionally, an agent will board a bus and start checking everyone. If you don't have a valid ticket, you'll get fined on the spot.
I met up with my friends in the evening, and we decided to go out and take night photos of the main tourist sights. We were also going to meet up with my friend Peter's sister at the Spanish steps. We weren't close to the subway line, so we decided to try the bus. After staring at the signage for a while, Victoria decided to ask the guy sitting at the stop for help. Luckily for us, he spoke English fluently. He suggested taking the same bus he was taking and getting off at the last stop, then walking. We agreed and waited with him. As we talked more, it turned out he's a musician. His name was Marco and his band, Stag, performs mostly around Italy but they write and sing English-language pop songs. He said that Italian is good for opera, but not for other kinds of music. One of his major influences was Coldplay, which basically sold it for me. He gave us a copy of his CD, which we're going to share amongst ourselves. In the end, we were able to take the bus for free and when we got off the bus we said goodbye Italian style (double kiss on the cheeks). Peter was awkward, to say the least, but he did it anyway. His only comment was that his beard was scratchy.
"And if you were to ask me, after all that we've been through, still believe in magic, yes I do"
Tuesday, June 10, 2014
Angels & Demons
As usual, I hit the ground running in Rome. A little harder than I would have liked. After the red eye flight, waiting forever (and nervously) for my luggage, and navigating through the train and subway systems, I made it to my hotel five minutes before I had to use my timed ticket to the Vatican Museum. I dumped my bags into the smallest room imaginable, splashed my face and ran out the door. I ran out so fast that I realized halfway down the street that I had no maps with me at all. Luckily, my hotel was right beside the museum, and I had looked the street view of the area before I left home.
I have never been more happy to have pre-booked something in my life than I was when I turned the corner and saw the gigantic lines stretching in both directions from the entrance. One line was for the tour groups (of which there were dozens and dozens), and the other was for everyone else who didn't reserve their ticket online. I was able to go straight in, go through security, pick up my ticket and audio guide, and then squeeze my way past the tours to get inside. I went through the various rooms and galleries, half listening to the tour guides and half listening to my audio guide. There really was no choice, as wave after wave of tour groups kept coming and going from each location. It all came to a head when I got to the Sistine Chapel. For some reason, I had a grander picture in my head. The room and the paintings in it were definitely impressive, but smaller than I had imagined. I found the crowd control tactics really amusing too. This place is a chapel, so naturally they have signs everywhere to be quiet and that photos and videos were not allowed. So, of course, people were talking and taking photos everywhere. The white noise would build to a point that the guards would start shushing, and when that didn't work one of them would get on the PA system and say in a very imposing Italian tone, "SILENZIO...NO PHOTO, NO VIDEO". The noise would die down immediately, but after a few minutes would gradually build again, and the cycle would continue. I thought that was hilarious.
After the museum, I walked around to St. Peter's Square, and my need for grandiose size was satisfied. It was enormous, as was the basilica. It was late in the afternoon so the line to get in was considerably shorter than normal. While I was inside, was hit by two things: the creepiness of seeing dead popes on display in glass cases, and the sheer disrespect and disregard for the rules shown by almost everyone. No photos? No hats? No sleeveless blouses or shorts? No touching the monuments? Yeah, whatever. I may not be Roman Catholic, or of any denomination, but I try to respect the beliefs and customs of all of them. I made the decision to just take in the surroundings and not to join in the masses of photo takers.
As I mentioned earlier, I had left the hotel with no map. But, I knew where my hotel was in relation to the Vatican, so since I had walked halfway around and ended up generally on the opposite side, I thought I might as well continue around and make a full lap, keeping the city wall in sight which would ensure that I wouldn't get lost. What I failed to realize was that the other half of the Vatican was not only uphill (VERY uphill) but also not designed to be pedestrian friendly. Add to that an unusual heat wave and I basically trudged my way back to the hotel. After a much needed shower, I could only think of one thing that I wanted to eat before going to bed...
Gelato.
"Ain't it fun living in the real world"
I have never been more happy to have pre-booked something in my life than I was when I turned the corner and saw the gigantic lines stretching in both directions from the entrance. One line was for the tour groups (of which there were dozens and dozens), and the other was for everyone else who didn't reserve their ticket online. I was able to go straight in, go through security, pick up my ticket and audio guide, and then squeeze my way past the tours to get inside. I went through the various rooms and galleries, half listening to the tour guides and half listening to my audio guide. There really was no choice, as wave after wave of tour groups kept coming and going from each location. It all came to a head when I got to the Sistine Chapel. For some reason, I had a grander picture in my head. The room and the paintings in it were definitely impressive, but smaller than I had imagined. I found the crowd control tactics really amusing too. This place is a chapel, so naturally they have signs everywhere to be quiet and that photos and videos were not allowed. So, of course, people were talking and taking photos everywhere. The white noise would build to a point that the guards would start shushing, and when that didn't work one of them would get on the PA system and say in a very imposing Italian tone, "SILENZIO...NO PHOTO, NO VIDEO". The noise would die down immediately, but after a few minutes would gradually build again, and the cycle would continue. I thought that was hilarious.
After the museum, I walked around to St. Peter's Square, and my need for grandiose size was satisfied. It was enormous, as was the basilica. It was late in the afternoon so the line to get in was considerably shorter than normal. While I was inside, was hit by two things: the creepiness of seeing dead popes on display in glass cases, and the sheer disrespect and disregard for the rules shown by almost everyone. No photos? No hats? No sleeveless blouses or shorts? No touching the monuments? Yeah, whatever. I may not be Roman Catholic, or of any denomination, but I try to respect the beliefs and customs of all of them. I made the decision to just take in the surroundings and not to join in the masses of photo takers.
As I mentioned earlier, I had left the hotel with no map. But, I knew where my hotel was in relation to the Vatican, so since I had walked halfway around and ended up generally on the opposite side, I thought I might as well continue around and make a full lap, keeping the city wall in sight which would ensure that I wouldn't get lost. What I failed to realize was that the other half of the Vatican was not only uphill (VERY uphill) but also not designed to be pedestrian friendly. Add to that an unusual heat wave and I basically trudged my way back to the hotel. After a much needed shower, I could only think of one thing that I wanted to eat before going to bed...
Gelato.
"Ain't it fun living in the real world"
Monday, June 09, 2014
Roman Holiday
I've been waiting for this for many months (and years before that, I suppose). My own Roman Holiday.
A friend of mine had recently gotten married in a very small City Hall ceremony. There was no reception in town. However, they decided to go on a Mediterranean cruise and invited family and friends to join in. I think it took me about 2 seconds to think about it before I responded. The best part was that of all the ports of call for this cruise, I had only been to one place (Florence). So it was going to be a new adventure, even for me.
Roman Holiday was such a great film. And it hit me that I'm going to see so many places that were captured in film in some way. So this will be my Hollywood tour of Europe, starting with the Eternal City. Stay tuned.
"Everything's so small when you're on top of the world"
A friend of mine had recently gotten married in a very small City Hall ceremony. There was no reception in town. However, they decided to go on a Mediterranean cruise and invited family and friends to join in. I think it took me about 2 seconds to think about it before I responded. The best part was that of all the ports of call for this cruise, I had only been to one place (Florence). So it was going to be a new adventure, even for me.
Roman Holiday was such a great film. And it hit me that I'm going to see so many places that were captured in film in some way. So this will be my Hollywood tour of Europe, starting with the Eternal City. Stay tuned.
"Everything's so small when you're on top of the world"
Tuesday, May 20, 2014
Ordinary Mundane Miracles
Isn't it odd how some things that are unbelievable achievements or almost miracles, after a while become very ordinary and mundane? For example, I flew to New York City last week for my annual visit. I was in a "small" twin-prop plane, and the captain announced after we took off that we would only be flying at 20,000 feet today. You know, instead of the typical 39,000 feet. As if hurtling through the air in a tin can with blades whizzing near my head at a mere 20,000 feet was not at all impressive. I can now travel from one city to another in an hour when a few hundred years ago it could take days. Not that long ago, you would have to set aside at least a month, and a small fortune, just to travel to Europe and back by boat. When I get these thoughts, I can't help but feel amazed.
It happened again when my friend and I were walking down the street and stumbled across a very familiar looking firehouse. We both thought that it couldn't be what we thought it was, but in a manner that has become totally normal and routine, we proceeded to pull out the smart phone and look it up. And sure enough, it was the firehouse from the Ghostbusters movies. I remember when the idea of having information in our pockets seemed so futuristic and the stuff of science fiction. Sometimes, if you stop to think about it, it really is incredible.
But I digress...
Oh New York...no longer a destination, more like an old friend. Yet even after all these years, I'm still able to find something new to see or experience. At the same time, I also have my little traditions and rituals, like taking the night photo in Times Square in the same spot, or being stunned by the shoe departments at Macy's and Saks (it never gets old).
Highlight of the weekend: seeing Neil Patrick Harris live on Broadway, in full drag and performing his guts out in "Hedwig and the Angry Inch". What's remarkable about this is that if my friends had been able to come with me to NYC as planned, I wouldn't have been able to get a ticket to this show. And I wouldn't have been able to get my hands on a copy of the fake playbill for "Hurt Locker - The Musical", which is hilarious. Once again, the universe aligned itself to show me that things always do happen for a reason.
Profound moment of the weekend: standing next to the infinity pools at the 9/11 Memorial. I'm still struck by how SMALL the footprints of those two towers were. I mean, they are a fair size, but when you stand there and look across, it doesn't seem possible that this was the base that supported a building that was over 100 storeys tall. Another small miracle of engineering and human ingenuity.
Then realize that they were destroyed by flying tin cans...
"If only New York wasn't so far away, I promise the city won't get in our way"
It happened again when my friend and I were walking down the street and stumbled across a very familiar looking firehouse. We both thought that it couldn't be what we thought it was, but in a manner that has become totally normal and routine, we proceeded to pull out the smart phone and look it up. And sure enough, it was the firehouse from the Ghostbusters movies. I remember when the idea of having information in our pockets seemed so futuristic and the stuff of science fiction. Sometimes, if you stop to think about it, it really is incredible.
But I digress...
Oh New York...no longer a destination, more like an old friend. Yet even after all these years, I'm still able to find something new to see or experience. At the same time, I also have my little traditions and rituals, like taking the night photo in Times Square in the same spot, or being stunned by the shoe departments at Macy's and Saks (it never gets old).
Highlight of the weekend: seeing Neil Patrick Harris live on Broadway, in full drag and performing his guts out in "Hedwig and the Angry Inch". What's remarkable about this is that if my friends had been able to come with me to NYC as planned, I wouldn't have been able to get a ticket to this show. And I wouldn't have been able to get my hands on a copy of the fake playbill for "Hurt Locker - The Musical", which is hilarious. Once again, the universe aligned itself to show me that things always do happen for a reason.
Profound moment of the weekend: standing next to the infinity pools at the 9/11 Memorial. I'm still struck by how SMALL the footprints of those two towers were. I mean, they are a fair size, but when you stand there and look across, it doesn't seem possible that this was the base that supported a building that was over 100 storeys tall. Another small miracle of engineering and human ingenuity.
Then realize that they were destroyed by flying tin cans...
"If only New York wasn't so far away, I promise the city won't get in our way"
Saturday, April 12, 2014
Halfway to 70
I am now halfway to 70. That's how I've been describing my age for the past couple of days. One of my coworkers thought that it sounded negative when I said it like that. I said, like everything, it's all about perspective. There are plenty of people who never make it to 70. I'm already halfway there, which I think is pretty good. I think it changed her mind when she thought about it too.
Because let's face it, we are in a constant state of aging. There's nothing anyone can do to stop it. So why are we wasting precious energy by griping about it? At the same time, there are people who are always worrying about what they're eating. They analyze and research and eliminate all kinds of tasty treats and make a conscious effort to eat in a way that will prolong their lives. Which, if I'm not mistaken, means that they WANT to get old. But then again, what kind of life would it be, if you deny yourself the pleasures of life? I don't advocate the "live fast, die young" philosophy. I also think there can be too much of a good thing. But since you happen to be alive, why not enjoy it?
At least in moderation...
"Clap along if you feel like happiness is the truth"
Because let's face it, we are in a constant state of aging. There's nothing anyone can do to stop it. So why are we wasting precious energy by griping about it? At the same time, there are people who are always worrying about what they're eating. They analyze and research and eliminate all kinds of tasty treats and make a conscious effort to eat in a way that will prolong their lives. Which, if I'm not mistaken, means that they WANT to get old. But then again, what kind of life would it be, if you deny yourself the pleasures of life? I don't advocate the "live fast, die young" philosophy. I also think there can be too much of a good thing. But since you happen to be alive, why not enjoy it?
At least in moderation...
"Clap along if you feel like happiness is the truth"
Saturday, February 01, 2014
Worry's For Another Day
It's really funny how time reveals things to you.
When I was growing up, one of my favourite TV shows was Fraggle Rock. I mean, who didn't love Muppets as a kid? I found out this week that there's going to be a new spin-off show focussing specifically on the Doozers, the little green characters who were the construction workers. The new show is going to be CG instead of Muppets, but I remember that I always loved the Doozers more than the Fraggles. They were so cute, with their little tool belts and multi-coloured hard hats that would cover their eyes. I was also boggled at how they moved around. I knew Muppets had people behind them, that was pretty obvious. But the Doozers drove their little trucks and walked around autonomously. I guess I wasn't aware of how advanced remote controls were at the time.
Of course, the moment I found out about the new show, I was Googling. I went back and reminisced on how much I loved those little Doozers. I didn't realize they had such appropriate names, like Wingnut and Cotterpin and Flange. They preferred working together instead of playing and being independent, which is what the Fraggles promoted. And suddenly, it all made sense. This is probably where I got the idea that I wanted to be an engineer. This lead me to my interest in math and science and building things, even if someone came around and ate my creation later. But, on the flip side, the Fraggles showed me that I could be an individual and independent too. And have some fun.
But, seriously, that theme song really gets stuck in your head.
"We live in cities you'll never see on screen"
When I was growing up, one of my favourite TV shows was Fraggle Rock. I mean, who didn't love Muppets as a kid? I found out this week that there's going to be a new spin-off show focussing specifically on the Doozers, the little green characters who were the construction workers. The new show is going to be CG instead of Muppets, but I remember that I always loved the Doozers more than the Fraggles. They were so cute, with their little tool belts and multi-coloured hard hats that would cover their eyes. I was also boggled at how they moved around. I knew Muppets had people behind them, that was pretty obvious. But the Doozers drove their little trucks and walked around autonomously. I guess I wasn't aware of how advanced remote controls were at the time.
Of course, the moment I found out about the new show, I was Googling. I went back and reminisced on how much I loved those little Doozers. I didn't realize they had such appropriate names, like Wingnut and Cotterpin and Flange. They preferred working together instead of playing and being independent, which is what the Fraggles promoted. And suddenly, it all made sense. This is probably where I got the idea that I wanted to be an engineer. This lead me to my interest in math and science and building things, even if someone came around and ate my creation later. But, on the flip side, the Fraggles showed me that I could be an individual and independent too. And have some fun.
But, seriously, that theme song really gets stuck in your head.
"We live in cities you'll never see on screen"
Sunday, January 05, 2014
I Can't Feel My Legs
Another year over, and a new one just begun...
But just as it was beginning, I was here:
But let me back up a bit. After over a year of waiting, the Winter Classic was finally here. Unfortunately, my friends were unable to join me in the experience, so I ended up selling the extra tickets to a coworker's daughters and their friend. This also meant that I had nobody to go with me to the Marlies game at Comerica Park two days before the big game. So...I went solo. Yes, this meant that I was going to venture into downtown Detroit by myself. The border guard asked me why I rented a car (I was driving a silver Toyota Corolla). I told him I drive a conspicuous car. He asked what that meant. I said essentially, the last thing I want to do by myself in Detroit is draw attention to myself.
I got to the stadium, found a decent parking spot, then went to the game. I had brought all kinds of winter gear with me for the Classic, but in my anxiety about getting to Motown and staying alive, I had failed to dress appropriately. As the game started, I lost feeling in my foot. Before the first period was over, I decided I needed to do something to save my extremities. So I went to an indoor lounge, ordered a beer, and proceeded to try and revive my limbs for the next half hour. Once I could feel everything again, I went back out and enjoyed the rest of the game. The vendors selling hot chocolate with Bailey's were very tempting, but I decided against it. The Marlies won the game in a shootout, which was good in one sense but kind of bad because I had to sit outside even longer. When I got to my hotel, the guy at the desk asked me if it was cold at the game. I told him I still can't feel my legs.
New Year's Eve was spent at an outlet mall during the day, and then in Ann Arbor in the evening. I met up with my brother and his friends and we stayed warm in a bar until midnight, when we ventured outside to see the "puck drop". They had constructed a glowing red and blue "puck", which they hoisted into the air with a crane and then slowly lowered. It was the most cheesy and fantastic thing ever. There was also no countdown whatsoever, so we guessed that when it started to flash wildly that it was now 2014. The guys went back to drinking and I went back to my hotel.
The next day was basically a test of endurance throughout. The drive from my hotel to the mall where I was going to park usually took half an hour, but in this case took me 2 hours. They had a shuttle service from the mall parking lot to the stadium, but given the crazy queue, I chose to walk the 2 miles. The lines for concessions was longer than I had ever seen in my life, so I just went to my seat. The other girls showed up a little late but one of them had a beer for me, so that was great. The beer started to freeze so I had to drink it a little faster. The snow never stopped falling, and it wasn't extremely cold but standing/sitting in one place for over 3 hours still tends to get chilly. Once again the game went to a shootout but we did win, so that was worth it. I had opted to stay to the end, which may have been a questionable move but I just couldn't bring myself to leave before it was over. When I finally got out of the stadium, I was swept out into the street which had become a sea of humanity. I walked back to the mall, cleared off the car, then drove out into the line to get to the interstate. The line moved inches in half an hour. When I realized this was not going to end soon, I had to get out of the line and go back to the mall for a bathroom break. When I came out, the rest of the crowd had caught up and the traffic situation was exponentially worse. Since I had a full tank of gas, I chose to take my chances in the line. It took me two and a half hours to get out of the mall. I have never seen gridlock like that in my life. I also eventually became a more aggressive driver than usual.
I had plenty of time to study the map while I was waiting, so I chose the "go backwards to go forwards" strategy and went to a different interstate on-ramp in the opposite direction. When I got there, there wasn't a single car. I thought, I can't be the only smart person here. But hey, what do I know? I drove past the entrance next to the mall, with the cars inching along and with me on the outside lane avoiding the merging. I got to Detroit, then inched along the Ambassador Bridge and through customs. By the time I got out Windsor, I was starting to fade. That's when I realized that, with the exception of the beer slushie, I hadn't eaten anything (wait, scratch that...while I was in the parking lot I did eat a packet of oyster crackers I had saved from my dinner the night before). I stopped at the first rest stop, which naturally was packed with other Leafs fans trying to get home. The Tim Hortons was the only thing open, so the line was epic. It took half an hour to get my sandwich. As I ate, I was in a bind. It was already 12:30 am, and I still had a long way to go. The only choice I had in order to stay alive was to stop at every rest stop and take a nap. It was also still snowing so the roads were mildly treacherous and I wouldn't be able to drive as fast as I'd like. It was going to take forever but it was the only way.
I leapfrogged my way along the highway, taking 15-20 minute naps at each stop. The fun part was when the "empty" light had turned on. I pushed it all the way to my exit, and I was able to get to a gas station to fill up. I made it back to my place, dumped all of my stuff, returned the rental car (luckily it's across the street), and walked back. By the time I got in, it was 5:00 am. I still went to work that day, only I got into the office after lunchtime. The first day back from holidays was pretty light anyway.
An adventurous start to the year, to be sure. My body has decided that it did not appreciate the abuse I heaped on it during those few days and is now retaliating with a cold, but I'm sure we can come to a truce soon. Hope your year is starting off well too.
"A hundred thousand disbelievers couldn't keep me on the ground, I've invented a momentum that'll never slow me down"
But just as it was beginning, I was here:
But let me back up a bit. After over a year of waiting, the Winter Classic was finally here. Unfortunately, my friends were unable to join me in the experience, so I ended up selling the extra tickets to a coworker's daughters and their friend. This also meant that I had nobody to go with me to the Marlies game at Comerica Park two days before the big game. So...I went solo. Yes, this meant that I was going to venture into downtown Detroit by myself. The border guard asked me why I rented a car (I was driving a silver Toyota Corolla). I told him I drive a conspicuous car. He asked what that meant. I said essentially, the last thing I want to do by myself in Detroit is draw attention to myself.
I got to the stadium, found a decent parking spot, then went to the game. I had brought all kinds of winter gear with me for the Classic, but in my anxiety about getting to Motown and staying alive, I had failed to dress appropriately. As the game started, I lost feeling in my foot. Before the first period was over, I decided I needed to do something to save my extremities. So I went to an indoor lounge, ordered a beer, and proceeded to try and revive my limbs for the next half hour. Once I could feel everything again, I went back out and enjoyed the rest of the game. The vendors selling hot chocolate with Bailey's were very tempting, but I decided against it. The Marlies won the game in a shootout, which was good in one sense but kind of bad because I had to sit outside even longer. When I got to my hotel, the guy at the desk asked me if it was cold at the game. I told him I still can't feel my legs.
New Year's Eve was spent at an outlet mall during the day, and then in Ann Arbor in the evening. I met up with my brother and his friends and we stayed warm in a bar until midnight, when we ventured outside to see the "puck drop". They had constructed a glowing red and blue "puck", which they hoisted into the air with a crane and then slowly lowered. It was the most cheesy and fantastic thing ever. There was also no countdown whatsoever, so we guessed that when it started to flash wildly that it was now 2014. The guys went back to drinking and I went back to my hotel.
The next day was basically a test of endurance throughout. The drive from my hotel to the mall where I was going to park usually took half an hour, but in this case took me 2 hours. They had a shuttle service from the mall parking lot to the stadium, but given the crazy queue, I chose to walk the 2 miles. The lines for concessions was longer than I had ever seen in my life, so I just went to my seat. The other girls showed up a little late but one of them had a beer for me, so that was great. The beer started to freeze so I had to drink it a little faster. The snow never stopped falling, and it wasn't extremely cold but standing/sitting in one place for over 3 hours still tends to get chilly. Once again the game went to a shootout but we did win, so that was worth it. I had opted to stay to the end, which may have been a questionable move but I just couldn't bring myself to leave before it was over. When I finally got out of the stadium, I was swept out into the street which had become a sea of humanity. I walked back to the mall, cleared off the car, then drove out into the line to get to the interstate. The line moved inches in half an hour. When I realized this was not going to end soon, I had to get out of the line and go back to the mall for a bathroom break. When I came out, the rest of the crowd had caught up and the traffic situation was exponentially worse. Since I had a full tank of gas, I chose to take my chances in the line. It took me two and a half hours to get out of the mall. I have never seen gridlock like that in my life. I also eventually became a more aggressive driver than usual.
I had plenty of time to study the map while I was waiting, so I chose the "go backwards to go forwards" strategy and went to a different interstate on-ramp in the opposite direction. When I got there, there wasn't a single car. I thought, I can't be the only smart person here. But hey, what do I know? I drove past the entrance next to the mall, with the cars inching along and with me on the outside lane avoiding the merging. I got to Detroit, then inched along the Ambassador Bridge and through customs. By the time I got out Windsor, I was starting to fade. That's when I realized that, with the exception of the beer slushie, I hadn't eaten anything (wait, scratch that...while I was in the parking lot I did eat a packet of oyster crackers I had saved from my dinner the night before). I stopped at the first rest stop, which naturally was packed with other Leafs fans trying to get home. The Tim Hortons was the only thing open, so the line was epic. It took half an hour to get my sandwich. As I ate, I was in a bind. It was already 12:30 am, and I still had a long way to go. The only choice I had in order to stay alive was to stop at every rest stop and take a nap. It was also still snowing so the roads were mildly treacherous and I wouldn't be able to drive as fast as I'd like. It was going to take forever but it was the only way.
I leapfrogged my way along the highway, taking 15-20 minute naps at each stop. The fun part was when the "empty" light had turned on. I pushed it all the way to my exit, and I was able to get to a gas station to fill up. I made it back to my place, dumped all of my stuff, returned the rental car (luckily it's across the street), and walked back. By the time I got in, it was 5:00 am. I still went to work that day, only I got into the office after lunchtime. The first day back from holidays was pretty light anyway.
An adventurous start to the year, to be sure. My body has decided that it did not appreciate the abuse I heaped on it during those few days and is now retaliating with a cold, but I'm sure we can come to a truce soon. Hope your year is starting off well too.
"A hundred thousand disbelievers couldn't keep me on the ground, I've invented a momentum that'll never slow me down"
Saturday, November 23, 2013
Remaking Yourself
About 2 years ago, I saw a fantastic film at TIFF called Starbuck. Of course, I included it in one of my TIFF recap blogs. It was from Quebec, it was hilarious, and it hit a soft spot too.
About a year ago, I heard that they were going to do a Hollywood remake the film. I was appalled.
About a month ago, I saw the trailer for Delivery Man and recognized it IMMEDIATELY. It was almost word for word exactly the same as Starbuck. I was kind of crushed. But then I found out that it was co-written and directed by the same man who co-wrote and directed Starbuck. So this wasn't the work of evil Hollywood, it was a guy who remade his own work. Naturally, he had to make some changes to accommodate the North American market (Soccer? Who plays soccer?). But from the reviews I've read, it's identical to the original. I admit, I'm not the biggest Vince Vaughn fan, but if you can't see Starbuck, I guess you should go see Delivery Man. It appears that my wish of a wide release 2 years ago came true, sort of.
Should you remake yourself? And I'm not just talking about films, I mean in a broader sense. Taking some part of yourself and changing it. As with everything, I suppose the answer all depends on the circumstances. I mean, if the change is for the better, then that would be ideal. But who's to say what's better? And how would you know that it's better?
Uh oh...getting too philosophical again.
During this whole Delivery Man/Starbuck incident, I was watching The Women on TV. Not the 2008 Meg Ryan remake, but the original 1939 black and white (with some random colour) version with Norma Shearer and Joan Crawford. Having seen both, it's hard to tell if the original or the remake was the better version. The social norms were so very different, and I have to say that the feminine ideals and attitudes of the 30s were really aggravating at times. But the film, in terms of how it was shot, made sense in the 30s. You could believe that having absolutely no men in any of the scenes was entirely plausible. The 2008 version was hard to swallow because it felt odd that you couldn't see a single man in all of New York City. But then, right after the film ended, they showed The Opposite Sex, which was yet another remake of the same film from 1956, except that not only were there men in the film, but they had turned it into a musical.
I believe the saying is, leave well enough alone.
"Well you only need the light when it's burning low, only miss the sun when it starts to snow"
About a year ago, I heard that they were going to do a Hollywood remake the film. I was appalled.
About a month ago, I saw the trailer for Delivery Man and recognized it IMMEDIATELY. It was almost word for word exactly the same as Starbuck. I was kind of crushed. But then I found out that it was co-written and directed by the same man who co-wrote and directed Starbuck. So this wasn't the work of evil Hollywood, it was a guy who remade his own work. Naturally, he had to make some changes to accommodate the North American market (Soccer? Who plays soccer?). But from the reviews I've read, it's identical to the original. I admit, I'm not the biggest Vince Vaughn fan, but if you can't see Starbuck, I guess you should go see Delivery Man. It appears that my wish of a wide release 2 years ago came true, sort of.
Should you remake yourself? And I'm not just talking about films, I mean in a broader sense. Taking some part of yourself and changing it. As with everything, I suppose the answer all depends on the circumstances. I mean, if the change is for the better, then that would be ideal. But who's to say what's better? And how would you know that it's better?
Uh oh...getting too philosophical again.
During this whole Delivery Man/Starbuck incident, I was watching The Women on TV. Not the 2008 Meg Ryan remake, but the original 1939 black and white (with some random colour) version with Norma Shearer and Joan Crawford. Having seen both, it's hard to tell if the original or the remake was the better version. The social norms were so very different, and I have to say that the feminine ideals and attitudes of the 30s were really aggravating at times. But the film, in terms of how it was shot, made sense in the 30s. You could believe that having absolutely no men in any of the scenes was entirely plausible. The 2008 version was hard to swallow because it felt odd that you couldn't see a single man in all of New York City. But then, right after the film ended, they showed The Opposite Sex, which was yet another remake of the same film from 1956, except that not only were there men in the film, but they had turned it into a musical.
I believe the saying is, leave well enough alone.
"Well you only need the light when it's burning low, only miss the sun when it starts to snow"
Wednesday, October 09, 2013
Breaking Point
An interesting thing happened at work today. I was pushed to the point where I almost totally lost it. Someone said something that triggered me and I nearly burst into tears in front of my boss and my boss's new boss. I pulled it together as quickly as I could and left the room. I went to a secluded coffee station and calmed myself before getting back to work.
I don't think I've ever cried at work because of work before. The only time I really remember crying at work was that awful day years ago when I learned that my former supervisor had died. But then everyone was crying, so I don't think that counts.
I want to make it clear that it wasn't my boss who made me cry. He is constantly watching my back and supports me in my work. It was a combination of things that are happening at the same time. Calling this a frustrating time would be a gross understatement. I don't want to go into it too much, but let's just say that the stress level is reaching an all-time high.
In other disappointing news, Tropical Storm Karen once again fizzled out before making any serious impact. I'm not sure why I'm morbidly fascinated by a deadly natural disaster with my name on it, but I am. Guess we'll have to wait another six years to try again.
"So wake me up when it's all over, when I'm wiser and I'm older, all this time I was finding myself and I didn't know I was lost"
I don't think I've ever cried at work because of work before. The only time I really remember crying at work was that awful day years ago when I learned that my former supervisor had died. But then everyone was crying, so I don't think that counts.
I want to make it clear that it wasn't my boss who made me cry. He is constantly watching my back and supports me in my work. It was a combination of things that are happening at the same time. Calling this a frustrating time would be a gross understatement. I don't want to go into it too much, but let's just say that the stress level is reaching an all-time high.
In other disappointing news, Tropical Storm Karen once again fizzled out before making any serious impact. I'm not sure why I'm morbidly fascinated by a deadly natural disaster with my name on it, but I am. Guess we'll have to wait another six years to try again.
"So wake me up when it's all over, when I'm wiser and I'm older, all this time I was finding myself and I didn't know I was lost"
Saturday, September 21, 2013
I'm Getting Better At This
After 6 festivals, you'd think I'd at least start to get the hang of doing this. Juggling working with volunteering with seeing films. And yeah, I think I actually am getting better at this. But when I realized that I had scheduled something downtown for 11 days straight, I started to doubt it.
Not being able to even begin writing about the experience until a full week after the fact is a pretty good indication that I needed some serious recovery time.
I Know How To Pick 'Em
I went through the usual motions to pick the films I wanted to see, but I chose not to focus as much on the buzz before I picked them, and then looked around to see if there was any buzz about them after I had settled on my picks. And, surprisingly, I picked some pretty good ones based only on either the synopsis or nothing at all. Here's a brief run-down:
The Past: A real look at messed up relationships. I hadn't seen A Separation but this is dubbed as the unofficial sequel. A guy returns to Paris from Tehran to finalize his divorce. In the process he gets sucked into the issues of her life, including meeting the guy she's going to marry (who's still married to a comatose woman), and dealing with her teenage daughter from a previous relationship.
Empire of Dirt: When the Toronto Star does an entire behind-the-scenes piece on a film, there must be something interesting going on. Three generations of First Nations women dealing with their past and trying to break the cycle. A woman, who was a teen mom and a drug addict, travels with her daughter from Toronto to Northern Ontario to see her mother, who was also a teen mom and a compulsive gambler.
The Last of Robin Hood: I knew nothing about Errol Flynn going into this. But he led an interesting life. The film focuses on the last two years when he had an intimate relationship with an underaged girl, which was encouraged by the girl's mother living vicariously through her daughter's career. Even though I went to the morning screening the day after the premiere, the stars and directors were there. Susan Sarandon made a point that the studios used to own the actors, and they would do anything and everything to protect them. All of the scandals - sex, drugs, even murder - were all covered up.
Philomena: Lots of good buzz for this one (it was first runner up for the People's Choice Award). I didn't even know it was based on a true story. A teenage girl in Ireland becomes pregnant out of wedlock in the 1950s. Her family disowns her and dumps her in a convent where unwed girls give birth. The girls can only leave if they pay the nuns £100 or work for 3 years. In the meantime, the nuns can freely adopt the children away with no say from the mothers. 50 years later, the woman decides to look for her son with the help of a reporter. The film is both heart-wrenching and hilarious at the same time.
The Disappearance of Eleanor Rigby-Him & Her: So excited for this one, and the most inventive film I've seen in a while. The story of a relationship is told twice - from his and her perspectives - in two full-length films played back to back. They can also be played in either order. The most intriguing thing is that although there are similar scenes in both versions, there are actual differences (they say different things, he's wearing a different shirt, the furniture is in different places) showing how each person can remember the same event or conversation differently based on their point of view. An experimental, work-in-progress film that will hopefully be shown in theatres.
Blind Detective: My Chinese film for this year. Andy Lau plays a detective who went blind but is still solving cold cases. He recruits a young female cop who helps him by reenacting the crime scenes with him so he can envision the crime in his mind. Some typical Chinese slapstick mixed in with some serious scenes and a mystery.
Beyond the Edge: This was a fantastic documentary that used 3D effectively. It recreated Edmund Hillary and Tenzing Norgay's historic climb of Mount Everest. Old footage and audio interviews were mixed in with reenactments by actors. The impressive part was that some of the film crew actually climbed to the summit of Everest to get the footage. This was the second runner up for the People's Choice Documentary.
Role Reversal
This happened 3 days into the festival, which will now be my story of TIFF 2013. I was working a volunteer shift at Ryerson. A group of us were waiting to be the "link-up", which is the human chain that holds the people back while the actors go from the back door to the waiting cars. The film was still playing and they hadn't started the Q&A yet. A guy comes out and asks where the bathroom is, so we point down the hall. A little while later, everyone becomes really quiet. I look over and standing next to us in the hall was Kate Winslet, who was fiddling with her cell phone with her assistant. We all do the "stare-but-don't-stare" routine, and the next thing we know, Kate steps back and says "Ready?" Then takes a photo of us with her phone. Then she pads off to the bathroom, literally barefoot and pregnant (I don't know how she was able to wear those 4-inch stilettos in the first place). The girl next to me, who's a newbie, was so excited, saying "I used the same bathroom as Kate Winslet!!" That will be her story for the rest of her life. As for me, I spent the weekend looking around the internet to see if she had an Instagram account.
A little while later, we did the link-up. Kate came out first and blew past us, which was fine. Josh Brolin came out and signed a couple of autographs. Then James Van Der Beek came out, looking exactly the same as he did however many years ago when he was Dawson. That was creepy. Caucasian guys aren't supposed to do that, it's an Asian thing.
Non-Stop
My mind and body gave up on day 11. I was going to try and see a couple more films but just couldn't do it. There were a few other times during the festival that I had to go to Plan B, and I missed some films like Only Lovers Left Alive, The Lunchbox and The F Word. I'll have to catch them later, I guess.
Then, my life kept right on going. I did a fly-in-fly-out to Montreal, which was a new and strange experience. I'd never just gotten on a plane with my purse before. It was like taking the bus, only with more security. Tomorrow I'm flying to Las Vegas for a packaging equipment expo. I know, it's going to be so hard. I'll have to try my best to have some fun.
"Old, but I'm not so old, young, but I'm not so bold"
Not being able to even begin writing about the experience until a full week after the fact is a pretty good indication that I needed some serious recovery time.
I Know How To Pick 'Em
I went through the usual motions to pick the films I wanted to see, but I chose not to focus as much on the buzz before I picked them, and then looked around to see if there was any buzz about them after I had settled on my picks. And, surprisingly, I picked some pretty good ones based only on either the synopsis or nothing at all. Here's a brief run-down:
The Past: A real look at messed up relationships. I hadn't seen A Separation but this is dubbed as the unofficial sequel. A guy returns to Paris from Tehran to finalize his divorce. In the process he gets sucked into the issues of her life, including meeting the guy she's going to marry (who's still married to a comatose woman), and dealing with her teenage daughter from a previous relationship.
Empire of Dirt: When the Toronto Star does an entire behind-the-scenes piece on a film, there must be something interesting going on. Three generations of First Nations women dealing with their past and trying to break the cycle. A woman, who was a teen mom and a drug addict, travels with her daughter from Toronto to Northern Ontario to see her mother, who was also a teen mom and a compulsive gambler.
The Last of Robin Hood: I knew nothing about Errol Flynn going into this. But he led an interesting life. The film focuses on the last two years when he had an intimate relationship with an underaged girl, which was encouraged by the girl's mother living vicariously through her daughter's career. Even though I went to the morning screening the day after the premiere, the stars and directors were there. Susan Sarandon made a point that the studios used to own the actors, and they would do anything and everything to protect them. All of the scandals - sex, drugs, even murder - were all covered up.
Philomena: Lots of good buzz for this one (it was first runner up for the People's Choice Award). I didn't even know it was based on a true story. A teenage girl in Ireland becomes pregnant out of wedlock in the 1950s. Her family disowns her and dumps her in a convent where unwed girls give birth. The girls can only leave if they pay the nuns £100 or work for 3 years. In the meantime, the nuns can freely adopt the children away with no say from the mothers. 50 years later, the woman decides to look for her son with the help of a reporter. The film is both heart-wrenching and hilarious at the same time.
The Disappearance of Eleanor Rigby-Him & Her: So excited for this one, and the most inventive film I've seen in a while. The story of a relationship is told twice - from his and her perspectives - in two full-length films played back to back. They can also be played in either order. The most intriguing thing is that although there are similar scenes in both versions, there are actual differences (they say different things, he's wearing a different shirt, the furniture is in different places) showing how each person can remember the same event or conversation differently based on their point of view. An experimental, work-in-progress film that will hopefully be shown in theatres.
Blind Detective: My Chinese film for this year. Andy Lau plays a detective who went blind but is still solving cold cases. He recruits a young female cop who helps him by reenacting the crime scenes with him so he can envision the crime in his mind. Some typical Chinese slapstick mixed in with some serious scenes and a mystery.
Beyond the Edge: This was a fantastic documentary that used 3D effectively. It recreated Edmund Hillary and Tenzing Norgay's historic climb of Mount Everest. Old footage and audio interviews were mixed in with reenactments by actors. The impressive part was that some of the film crew actually climbed to the summit of Everest to get the footage. This was the second runner up for the People's Choice Documentary.
Role Reversal
This happened 3 days into the festival, which will now be my story of TIFF 2013. I was working a volunteer shift at Ryerson. A group of us were waiting to be the "link-up", which is the human chain that holds the people back while the actors go from the back door to the waiting cars. The film was still playing and they hadn't started the Q&A yet. A guy comes out and asks where the bathroom is, so we point down the hall. A little while later, everyone becomes really quiet. I look over and standing next to us in the hall was Kate Winslet, who was fiddling with her cell phone with her assistant. We all do the "stare-but-don't-stare" routine, and the next thing we know, Kate steps back and says "Ready?" Then takes a photo of us with her phone. Then she pads off to the bathroom, literally barefoot and pregnant (I don't know how she was able to wear those 4-inch stilettos in the first place). The girl next to me, who's a newbie, was so excited, saying "I used the same bathroom as Kate Winslet!!" That will be her story for the rest of her life. As for me, I spent the weekend looking around the internet to see if she had an Instagram account.
A little while later, we did the link-up. Kate came out first and blew past us, which was fine. Josh Brolin came out and signed a couple of autographs. Then James Van Der Beek came out, looking exactly the same as he did however many years ago when he was Dawson. That was creepy. Caucasian guys aren't supposed to do that, it's an Asian thing.
Non-Stop
My mind and body gave up on day 11. I was going to try and see a couple more films but just couldn't do it. There were a few other times during the festival that I had to go to Plan B, and I missed some films like Only Lovers Left Alive, The Lunchbox and The F Word. I'll have to catch them later, I guess.
Then, my life kept right on going. I did a fly-in-fly-out to Montreal, which was a new and strange experience. I'd never just gotten on a plane with my purse before. It was like taking the bus, only with more security. Tomorrow I'm flying to Las Vegas for a packaging equipment expo. I know, it's going to be so hard. I'll have to try my best to have some fun.
"Old, but I'm not so old, young, but I'm not so bold"
Wednesday, July 24, 2013
Escape From New York
Where is Snake Plissken when you need him?
This year's annual NYC trip started off well enough, with an uneventful plane ride, a really good dinner at The Capital Grille, and an amazing show (everyone HAS to see Once). The shopping trip to Woodbury Common was fairly successful, and I had a good time in the city with my friends and their kids, despite the oppressive heat and humidity.
As I was on my way to Laguardia on the bus, for a split second the radio caught my attention. I was just barely able to hear the DJ say that Laguardia was closed.
Say what??
I pulled out my iPad and used the on board WiFi to do a quick search. Sure enough, just minutes earlier, a Southwest Airlines plane was landing at the airport when its front landing gear collapsed and it slid nose-first across the runway. Buried deep in a paragraph, it said that the airport was closed. I looked around at my other fellow passengers and asked if anyone else had heard that the airport was closed. Most of them just looked at me, but one of them said that the planes were just delayed. I checked the departure schedule and although most of the flights to Toronto were cancelled, my particular flight was still listed as "Scheduled".
I got to the airport and went to the kiosk. It allowed me to print my boarding pass, so I figured everything was okay. There were, however, an unusually large number of people lined up at every airline desk. I tried to get to the gate but it was completely blocked by security. They told me to talk to my airline. I went back to the desks, and this time when I checked the schedule, it showed that all flights that evening were cancelled.
Sigh.
I got in the line and waited. I eventually got to the desk and they put me on the first flight out the next morning at 6:25 am. Now I had to figure out what to do until the morning. My friends were still in town for one more night, so I tried calling one of my friends. She didn't answer. I tried another friend. He didn't answer (that's weird). I tried a third friend. No answer (hmm...). I tried my fourth friend. She didn't answer either. I thought, maybe my phone is messed up. So I tried all of them again. None of them answered. At this point, I was getting a little sad and thinking that they didn't want to talk to me. I sent a blanket text to them, then went to look for an outlet since my phone was on the verge of dying.
There was no way that there would be availability in any of the hotels nearby, nor did I have the time to figure out which ones didn't have bed bugs, so I tried calling the hotel I had been staying at to see if they could help me out. They would be able to give me the "discounted" rate, but I really didn't want to spend an extra $300 for a few hours. As I sat dejected at the window of the arrivals area with my phone plugged in, watching film crews capture images of the people getting off the planes that had been circling the airport for the past couple of hours, my phone rang. My friend apologized profusely, but she had left her phone in the hotel room when they went for dinner, my other friend had forgotten his phone, the third didn't recognize my number and therefore didn't pick up, and the fourth didn't want to be rude at dinner and ignored the call.
Now for the next dilemma: I was running out of cash. In an effort to be frugal, I decided to take the bus back into the city. An hour and a half later, I made it to the Port Authority Bus Terminal. And it was raining. I walked back to the hotel, texting my friends to say that I didn't think it was a good idea for me to just waltz in by myself (they were already trying to keep a low profile since they had 6 people (four adults and two kids) in the room when it was only supposed to be two adults and one kid, so maybe it would be better if one or two of them came outside and we all walked in together as a group. My friend met me outside and asked if I wanted to eat something (it was around 10:30 pm at that point). It was probably a good idea since I hadn't eaten anything since lunch, but it was probably a better idea if I went to bed since I had to wake up at 4:00 to go to the airport. He took my luggage up to the room while I weighed my options. He came back out with an ice cream bar (they had gone to the store after dinner). I ate my ice cream dinner while we walked around Times Square and I told my sob story. We went back up to the room and my friends had set up a window bench with one of their duvets and a couple of pillows. They had also reserved a towel for me, which was nice. I was able to wash New York off of me before spending the next 4 or so hours not really sleeping. This occurred for 3 reasons: 1) one of my friends has apnea, so his "sleeping sounds" were not only loud, but sporadic; 2) they were tearing up the road directly in front of the hotel all night; and 3) the window bench was about a foot and a half wide and too short, so I spent most of the night just trying not to fall off. I know it may have made more sense to sleep on the floor, but there was limited space and I didn't want anyone tripping over me if they needed to rush to the washroom in the middle of the night.
When my alarm went off at 4:00, I was ready to go home. I snuck around as quietly as I could, then left the hotel as nonchalantly as possible (the guys at the front desk just bid me farewell and didn't ask me any questions, thankfully). Since the street was closed, I walked in the rain to Times Square to try and find a cab. It was pretty deserted, even for Times Square, and I was getting a little worried. Eventually a cab driver saw me and I ran over. I got to the airport to find that they had cancelled my flight. I was rebooked on the 10:30 flight, with standby for the 8:45 flight. I got a little bit of sleep at the deserted airport (who knew?) but at 7:00 or so I checked the board and surprise, the 8:45 flight was cancelled.
Sigh.
They upgraded the 10:30 plane to a 767 so they could fit more people on it, and when we took off from the runway there was a little cheer in the cabin.
I had my "lunch" of apple juice and a bag of pretzels. About 15 minutes from home, the flight attendant asked on the PA if there was a doctor or nurse on board, because there was a medical emergency.
Sigh.
When we landed, they asked everyone to remain seated to allow the paramedics on board. To my pleasant surprise, everyone stayed in their seats. An older gentleman at the very back of the plane (of course) appeared to be having a heart attack or something similar. The paramedics had to wheel a special chair device through the aisle, strap the man to it, and then back out to get off the plane. We were allowed to get up after they had passed through. The sad part in my opinion was that they had to stabilize him on the gurney right outside the gate, so as we exited we all trouped past him, lying with the oxygen mask on and leads attached to his chest, his family looking distraught. Was there no way of moving him slightly away from the gate? I don't know.
Since the flight was packed, they had gate-checked my carry-on, which was going to arrive at the baggage carousel. I went through customs with no problems, but as I was heading to the escalator, an older woman who was immediately in front of me tripped over a bag and fell on her shoulder.
Sigh.
It was one of those slow-motion moments, and she looked like she was in agony. I hoped the sound I had heard was from the suitcase and not from her. Everyone swarmed around her, including a couple of customs officers. I stood helplessly for a minute, then decided I didn't need to be there and slowly walked around her and went down the escalator. I picked up my bag and headed for the exit. As I showed my card to the customs officer, he said, "Could you please take your bag and go to the next room?"
Sigh.
I have NEVER been asked to go through secondary before. Ever. Luckily it wasn't busy so I went to the first available officer. He snapped on the gloves and went through the entire contents of my bag, checking the liner and everything. He asked me if the amount I declared was my best guess. I said yes, because I didn't know what the current exchange rate was. He said that by his calculation, the amount on the card and the value on my purchases didn't match. I froze for a second and said, "This is my first time here. Do I declare the value of the goods or the amount that I paid? Because I have all the receipts." I then whipped out a handful of receipts that I had at the ready. "Oh, okay," he said, and proceeded to go through all the receipts with me and matched it with my purchases. I even pulled out a shirt that he had missed in his sorting process. In the end, he found that my best guess was pretty close, he thanked me for being honest, and he was impressed that I had saved over $300. I would have been within the allowable limit either way, but the last thing I want is for customs to think that I was a liar. I do NOT want to be blacklisted and pulled over every time I crossed the border.
I made it home and was able to take a 2-hour power nap. Then I got dressed and drove to Stratford. I had tickets to Waiting for Godot that evening. It turned out to be a good thing, because I had really wanted to see this play for some time, and with everything that's happened in the past 24 hours, I needed some existential perspective.
"Nobody ringing my telephone now, oh how I miss such a beautiful sound"
This year's annual NYC trip started off well enough, with an uneventful plane ride, a really good dinner at The Capital Grille, and an amazing show (everyone HAS to see Once). The shopping trip to Woodbury Common was fairly successful, and I had a good time in the city with my friends and their kids, despite the oppressive heat and humidity.
As I was on my way to Laguardia on the bus, for a split second the radio caught my attention. I was just barely able to hear the DJ say that Laguardia was closed.
Say what??
I pulled out my iPad and used the on board WiFi to do a quick search. Sure enough, just minutes earlier, a Southwest Airlines plane was landing at the airport when its front landing gear collapsed and it slid nose-first across the runway. Buried deep in a paragraph, it said that the airport was closed. I looked around at my other fellow passengers and asked if anyone else had heard that the airport was closed. Most of them just looked at me, but one of them said that the planes were just delayed. I checked the departure schedule and although most of the flights to Toronto were cancelled, my particular flight was still listed as "Scheduled".
I got to the airport and went to the kiosk. It allowed me to print my boarding pass, so I figured everything was okay. There were, however, an unusually large number of people lined up at every airline desk. I tried to get to the gate but it was completely blocked by security. They told me to talk to my airline. I went back to the desks, and this time when I checked the schedule, it showed that all flights that evening were cancelled.
Sigh.
I got in the line and waited. I eventually got to the desk and they put me on the first flight out the next morning at 6:25 am. Now I had to figure out what to do until the morning. My friends were still in town for one more night, so I tried calling one of my friends. She didn't answer. I tried another friend. He didn't answer (that's weird). I tried a third friend. No answer (hmm...). I tried my fourth friend. She didn't answer either. I thought, maybe my phone is messed up. So I tried all of them again. None of them answered. At this point, I was getting a little sad and thinking that they didn't want to talk to me. I sent a blanket text to them, then went to look for an outlet since my phone was on the verge of dying.
There was no way that there would be availability in any of the hotels nearby, nor did I have the time to figure out which ones didn't have bed bugs, so I tried calling the hotel I had been staying at to see if they could help me out. They would be able to give me the "discounted" rate, but I really didn't want to spend an extra $300 for a few hours. As I sat dejected at the window of the arrivals area with my phone plugged in, watching film crews capture images of the people getting off the planes that had been circling the airport for the past couple of hours, my phone rang. My friend apologized profusely, but she had left her phone in the hotel room when they went for dinner, my other friend had forgotten his phone, the third didn't recognize my number and therefore didn't pick up, and the fourth didn't want to be rude at dinner and ignored the call.
Now for the next dilemma: I was running out of cash. In an effort to be frugal, I decided to take the bus back into the city. An hour and a half later, I made it to the Port Authority Bus Terminal. And it was raining. I walked back to the hotel, texting my friends to say that I didn't think it was a good idea for me to just waltz in by myself (they were already trying to keep a low profile since they had 6 people (four adults and two kids) in the room when it was only supposed to be two adults and one kid, so maybe it would be better if one or two of them came outside and we all walked in together as a group. My friend met me outside and asked if I wanted to eat something (it was around 10:30 pm at that point). It was probably a good idea since I hadn't eaten anything since lunch, but it was probably a better idea if I went to bed since I had to wake up at 4:00 to go to the airport. He took my luggage up to the room while I weighed my options. He came back out with an ice cream bar (they had gone to the store after dinner). I ate my ice cream dinner while we walked around Times Square and I told my sob story. We went back up to the room and my friends had set up a window bench with one of their duvets and a couple of pillows. They had also reserved a towel for me, which was nice. I was able to wash New York off of me before spending the next 4 or so hours not really sleeping. This occurred for 3 reasons: 1) one of my friends has apnea, so his "sleeping sounds" were not only loud, but sporadic; 2) they were tearing up the road directly in front of the hotel all night; and 3) the window bench was about a foot and a half wide and too short, so I spent most of the night just trying not to fall off. I know it may have made more sense to sleep on the floor, but there was limited space and I didn't want anyone tripping over me if they needed to rush to the washroom in the middle of the night.
When my alarm went off at 4:00, I was ready to go home. I snuck around as quietly as I could, then left the hotel as nonchalantly as possible (the guys at the front desk just bid me farewell and didn't ask me any questions, thankfully). Since the street was closed, I walked in the rain to Times Square to try and find a cab. It was pretty deserted, even for Times Square, and I was getting a little worried. Eventually a cab driver saw me and I ran over. I got to the airport to find that they had cancelled my flight. I was rebooked on the 10:30 flight, with standby for the 8:45 flight. I got a little bit of sleep at the deserted airport (who knew?) but at 7:00 or so I checked the board and surprise, the 8:45 flight was cancelled.
Sigh.
They upgraded the 10:30 plane to a 767 so they could fit more people on it, and when we took off from the runway there was a little cheer in the cabin.
I had my "lunch" of apple juice and a bag of pretzels. About 15 minutes from home, the flight attendant asked on the PA if there was a doctor or nurse on board, because there was a medical emergency.
Sigh.
When we landed, they asked everyone to remain seated to allow the paramedics on board. To my pleasant surprise, everyone stayed in their seats. An older gentleman at the very back of the plane (of course) appeared to be having a heart attack or something similar. The paramedics had to wheel a special chair device through the aisle, strap the man to it, and then back out to get off the plane. We were allowed to get up after they had passed through. The sad part in my opinion was that they had to stabilize him on the gurney right outside the gate, so as we exited we all trouped past him, lying with the oxygen mask on and leads attached to his chest, his family looking distraught. Was there no way of moving him slightly away from the gate? I don't know.
Since the flight was packed, they had gate-checked my carry-on, which was going to arrive at the baggage carousel. I went through customs with no problems, but as I was heading to the escalator, an older woman who was immediately in front of me tripped over a bag and fell on her shoulder.
Sigh.
It was one of those slow-motion moments, and she looked like she was in agony. I hoped the sound I had heard was from the suitcase and not from her. Everyone swarmed around her, including a couple of customs officers. I stood helplessly for a minute, then decided I didn't need to be there and slowly walked around her and went down the escalator. I picked up my bag and headed for the exit. As I showed my card to the customs officer, he said, "Could you please take your bag and go to the next room?"
Sigh.
I have NEVER been asked to go through secondary before. Ever. Luckily it wasn't busy so I went to the first available officer. He snapped on the gloves and went through the entire contents of my bag, checking the liner and everything. He asked me if the amount I declared was my best guess. I said yes, because I didn't know what the current exchange rate was. He said that by his calculation, the amount on the card and the value on my purchases didn't match. I froze for a second and said, "This is my first time here. Do I declare the value of the goods or the amount that I paid? Because I have all the receipts." I then whipped out a handful of receipts that I had at the ready. "Oh, okay," he said, and proceeded to go through all the receipts with me and matched it with my purchases. I even pulled out a shirt that he had missed in his sorting process. In the end, he found that my best guess was pretty close, he thanked me for being honest, and he was impressed that I had saved over $300. I would have been within the allowable limit either way, but the last thing I want is for customs to think that I was a liar. I do NOT want to be blacklisted and pulled over every time I crossed the border.
I made it home and was able to take a 2-hour power nap. Then I got dressed and drove to Stratford. I had tickets to Waiting for Godot that evening. It turned out to be a good thing, because I had really wanted to see this play for some time, and with everything that's happened in the past 24 hours, I needed some existential perspective.
"Nobody ringing my telephone now, oh how I miss such a beautiful sound"
Monday, July 08, 2013
Back On The Grid
Four and a half hours after everything shut down, the lights came back. The mobile news feeds had indicated that 80% of Mississauga were without power. The news channel is saying it's about 100,000 homes. Comparatively, about 300,000 people in Toronto are powerless, including my parents. It looks like part of the city aren't going to get power back until tomorrow morning.
It was fascinating watching the power come back one grid at a time. The buildings just to the south got their juice back first. It was a little sad to see the lights on just two blocks down the street from me, but I knew that it wouldn't be a long dark night.
The average rainfall for the month of July fell in one hour. There's flooding everywhere. I guess we'll see what happens tomorrow.
"If the rain comes they run and hide their heads"
It was fascinating watching the power come back one grid at a time. The buildings just to the south got their juice back first. It was a little sad to see the lights on just two blocks down the street from me, but I knew that it wouldn't be a long dark night.
The average rainfall for the month of July fell in one hour. There's flooding everywhere. I guess we'll see what happens tomorrow.
"If the rain comes they run and hide their heads"