The next chapter

The year is drawing to a close and so is the life of this blog. When I started it at the beginning of 2007, I decided I would keep it up for one year. Tomorrow, I leave on a 10-day Hawaiian holiday. When I return, this Travel Girl will write one last post about the trip and then this blog will heed its final call for departure. In its place, I am setting new goals for 2008 which loosely centre on the three R’s: reading, writing and arithmetic. OK, not that last one, but I will be ramping up my running again and that starts with “R.” As embarrassing as it is to admit, I don’t read. Of course, I read the newspaper every day, magazines and endless travel articles at work, but I don’t read books. I used to devour books as a kid and then stopped reading for pleasure in university. I always figured that if I had time to be reading, I should be reading a text book. Incidentally I didn’t read those either... it would have cut into my drinking. But, it is never too late to start again and I have my pool-side reading list ready to go. I have received many compliments about my writing on this blog and truly appreciate every single one. I hope to improve and enhance these skills by potentially taking some writing classes over the coming year and beyond. And, finally of course my goals always include working on my well-being, both my physical and mental health, but also the well-being of my family and community. I wish you health and happiness and a very Happy New Year... Aloha!

The day after

Ahh, Boxing Day. A do nothing, don’t get out of your pajamas, don’t get off the couch kind of day. Placing another chocolate in my mouth and calling it breakfast… I felt so relaxed. Yesterday was fun, but exhausting. After only a couple of hours of sleep, we “got the call” from the Fly Girl at 6:45 am on Christmas morning. She was up and so were we. We headed to her mother’s house to watch her open her stocking and have breakfast. Then clean up and head home to open our gifts. Then clean up and start cooking. Then clean up and serve dinner. Then clean up and fall into bed. Everything went like clockwork though. Placing my first ever table cloth on the table and cooking Christmas dinner for my family… I felt so grown up. And, we cooked a mean dinner. Although I swear I didn’t taste my food. The last thing I did before going to bed was open a Christmas card from my Fly Guy. I had been saving it all day for the first quiet moment to myself. Every year he spoils me rotten with thoughtful gifts. Unbelievably thoughtful. But, every Christmas I look forward to that simple Hallmark moment. I would trade any material gift for those few words from the heart... OK, not my new Salomon skis! But, placing my head on the pillow at the end of a long day, and a long year… I felt so loved.

Santa's workshop

Almost overnight the Fly Girl has gone from watching the Treehouse network to YTV. What this means is she went from watching relatively educational programing to complete crap. Essentially Dora vs. Pokemon. The most notable change however is now she is exposed to commercials. The first time I watched the onslaught of commercials on this channel, I was shocked by the blatant retail brainwashing. As adults we tune this out (or at least I think we do?), but she watches each commercial and every preview on a DVD as if it were a short film. The result... Butterscotch. This is what she decided to ask Santa for. What is Butterscotch you ask? A life-size, battery-operated, stuffed pony! So, as to not disappoint on Christmas morning, Butterscotch was purchased. I won't tell you what was paid for it, but in return you get real pony movement, real pony sounds and most importantly real pony friendship. It is recommended that you not give Butterscotch to your child until assembled so last night we opened up the box and quickly discovered why... her head comes in a separate box. Yikes! My Fly Guy pointed out that for stupid parents the directions clearly label which is the head and which is the body. I pointed out that they already know we are stupid because we bought the thing in the first place. Anyway, after the twist of a screwdriver and a few batteries, Butterscotch came to life and is now ready to make an appearance on Christmas morning. We all know that Butterscotch will be put out to pasture after tomorrow, but will hopefully delight a six-year-old child for the day. What the Fly Girl wants, the Fly Girl gets. Hmm... what was that I was saying about brainwashing?!

Shake and bake

I don’t mean to rub it in, but I am ready for Christmas. The presents are bought and wrapped, the tree is decorated, the baking is done and the Christmas parties are underway. I got an early start this year with my trip home in November to visit mom and dad. I had to hurry up and do my Christmas shopping and after that everything else just kind of fell into place without any stress. Admittedly I have had a few hick-ups along the way, however. The lights on the tree crapped out in the middle of decorating. The Fly Girl misunderstood my announcement that there were now presents under the tree as the OK to start opening them even though it was a miscellaneous Thursday night. And despite my best attempts, my baking for our cookie exchange at work failed. The M&M's didn't stick to my thumbprint cookies so I practically had to break out the duct tape to MacGyver them back together. OK, I melted some chocolate chips and painted them on to act like glue, but this technique was not far off. Then in a panic that I was burning a square, I ended up undercooking it. And finally, after an emergency trip to the grocery store to exchange a can of condensed milk for evaporated milk in the middle of making fudge, I poured the entire can into the pot instead of just 2/3 cup. The fudge had to be eaten with a spoon. Now, I think of my mom as being able to make and bake anything, but she is the first to admit that cooking and baking do not come naturally to her and unfortunately they don’t to me either. I think it’s because I never had an Easy Bake Oven as a child. Needless to say, the Fly Guy will be cooking the Christmas turkey in our house.

Lights, camera, action

My family is Swedish and on this day, the Swedes celebrate Santa Lucia Day. This Swedish festival of lights helps to brighten up the long winter nights and celebrates the life of Santa Lucia, known for her kindness and love. On the morning of December 13th, girls in Sweden dress up as Santa Lucia wearing a white dress and crown of candles. Boys wear white pyjamas and pointed hats with gold stars and carry a star wand. They creep into their parents’ bedroom singing Santa Lucia’s traditional song and serve warm lussekater (saffron buns). What child is allowed to light a match or bake on their own, or willingly gets up for school without being poked and prodded, I don’t know? But, this is the practice. Every year, I am reminded of the time in Grade 3 that along with a friend with Danish heritage, we wrote our own play for the school Christmas concert called “A Scandinavian Christmas.” Pretty ambitious, don’t you think?! OK, yes we were geeks. We cast our friend, Candice, as Santa Lucia as she looked the part with blue eyes and blond hair that she wore in two long braids every day. I don’t know what the rest of us were doing, but Candice successfully wore the crown of candles without setting fire to her beautiful locks… or the school. If you want a better visual of what I’m talking about, rent the Christmas movie “The Ref” starring Dennis Leary. I swear I was the only one in the theatre laughing.

Naughty or nice

Tonight, we were invited by friends Tate and Christina to celebrate the European Christmas tradition of Sankt Nikolaus Day; a holiday celebrated on December 6th in Christina’s home country of Liechtenstein. The small Principality of Liechtenstein lies on the border of Switzerland and Austria. On this day, Sankt Nikolaus and his trusty helper, Knecht Ruprecht (Black Peter), go from house to house and check with everyone to see if they were naughty or nice. The nice boys and girls get a gift. However, the naughty ones are stuffed into Knecht Ruprecht's bag and whisked off, never to be seen again. So, we dared to join in this European tradition complete with holiday cookies and cheer, but I suggested taking two cars as anyone who knows the Fly Guy knows he is naughty. Very naughty. So, he would absolutely be taken away by Knecht Ruprecht. Then, on second thought I decided maybe I would go home with Knecht Ruprecht. Especially once I learned his captives were taken to Spain! At that point, I was volunteering to get in the sack. Plus, that German accent. The devil in his eye. Afterall, isn't every girl secretly attracted to the bad boy?! Oh, Knecht!

Sn-oh, oh!

As it rarely snows in Victoria, I absolutely LOVE it when it does. You know that it is short lived so you can truly revel in the novelty. The kids go wild as if candy is falling from the sky and everything shuts down... which I still haven’t gotten used to coming from the hinterlands of Winnipeg where you walk up hill to school both ways. I awoke Saturday morning to find it snowing and ran to the window like a child on Christmas morning. The first thing I always do when it snows is call my mom to report that it has snowed. Now that I think about it this practice is ridiculous as she practically lives in an igloo in Northwestern Ontario so snow is a belaboured point. But, she always responds with genuine excitement as only a mother can as if the snow somehow brings us closer. Now here it is December and due to no fault of our own, we still have a boat in the water at Lake Cowichan. So, when the rain quickly overtook the snow we scheduled Sunday as the day to finally pull it out not knowing that everywhere EXCEPT Victoria had been hit by snow. By time we got to Cowichan we were in the midst of a snowstorm and there was a foot and a half of snow. It was beautiful and the snowflakes were the biggest I’ve ever seen! I couldn’t help sticking my tongue out to catch them and... calling my mom. Oh, and needless to say… the boat is still in the water.

Got elfed

I have consciously made the decision not to post photos of my family (or any real recognizable photos of myself for that matter) on this blog. As this was my little project, not their's, I didn't think it fair that they have their image splashed across the internet without their control. I don't really know what I was worried about however since only a handful of people read this blog and you all know what we look like! Anyway, I've decided to make an exception and post the following little video. Why now? This is called revenge. Against the video's creators. You've probably seen a version of this "craze" making the rounds this holiday season, but if not here is a little ditty created by my Fly Guy and his accomplice, the Fly Girl. The cropped photos are so bad you can't really tell who we are anyway. Special thanks to my supportive stage mother who pointed out that I'm the worst dancer. Me? I think the chunk missing out of the Fly Girl's head is a nice touch. Watch for the world tour coming to a city near you... Enjoy!

Somewhere over the rainbow

Today I saw the most amazing rainbow while walking to work. It was a full arch that reached from one side of the city to the other. I can't remember the last time I have seen a rainbow like this? If you have ever been to Ireland you know that every other postcard depicts a rainbow smiling over the picturesque countryside. When I first arrived in the country and noticed this I thought it was cheesy, but after spending several weeks there one November I quickly realized this wasn't a bad marketing ploy, but rather what Ireland truly looked like. Anyone who knows me knows that I am very superstitious and I will stop traffic to pick up a lucky penny off the street. But, do you think I could remember what I was supposed to do when I saw the rainbow this morning. Wish on it? Jump through it? Kiss a leprechaun? I quickly made a wish just to be on the safe side. Whatever the case, I knew that it was lucky and I continued my walk with a big smile on my face looking forward to what the day would bring. Turns out the day brought rain. Go figure. But, I don't mind. It will be good for the roses next time I stop to smell them.

Wine and cheese

We ended the week in Whistler with a little work and wine. After a meeting of the minds, we attended Whistler’s wine and food festival, Cornucopia. Unfortunately, the infamous annual party at Barefoot Bistro that has become synonymous with the festival wasn’t staged this year, but there were still a few highlights. Glue guns and glitter… need I say more? Each of my female colleagues became one with their inner Martha while creating a headdress at the craft table that was both personal and unique. Not one, but two free lip gloss with Yellowglen’s Yellow and Pink sparkling wine. Bear corner, “C”evin the Cougar and Georgi the kitten. “I’ve got enough blow to tranquilize this town,” overheard in the women’s bathroom at Garfunkel’s. And last, but certainly not least… Bobby James. The guys get bodypainted girls and the Burlesque Beauties and we get "Ricky Bobby?!" Think poor man’s Tommy Lee with red satin shorts, red headband, white hightops, no shirt, tattoos and a drum set. Apparently Bobby believes it is a talent to play the drums while accompanying dance music. Apparently Bobby has been spending too much time living in his parent’s basement. Playing the bongos so hard you go cross-eyed and then bending over to yell in the knee-high microphone, “How does that shit sound out there?!” does not a talent make. It sounds as bad out here as it does up there, Bobby. I need another glass of wine.

There's no place like home

They say you can never go home again. That may be true, but you can certainly visit. From Winnipeg, we continued our nostalgic tour across the border into Ontario to visit my parents. The flat Prairie fields and open skies gave way to a slice of Canadian Shield filled with thousands of lakes, rivers and trees. Oh, and deer. Lots of deer. This was my fly guy’s first visit to my hometown so he was introduced to a number of elements unique to the Northwest. The distinctive smell of Dryden’s pulp and paper mill. Max the Moose. The Brute (a ham or salami sandwich on a full loaf of cheese and onion bread) at Kupper’s Bakery; the first place I ever worked. The arena where Chris Pronger grew up playing hockey. Shed antlers. Everything he never wanted to know about hunting. And yes, even a couple of baby photos of his hometown honey. A winter visit wouldn’t be complete without a few snow flurries, especially since this was a surrogate Christmas visit, but the scented candles, home cooking and mom and dad’s hospitality kept us warm. We may constantly travel the world, but home is where the heart is.

I’ll show you mine, if you show me your’s

Last weekend, my fly guy and I travelled home to Winnipeg to attend a friend’s wedding. It had been two years since my last visit and for argument’s sake, 20 years since he had spent any real time in the city. Other than being greeted by green grass in November, “Winter-peg” hadn’t changed all that much. We enjoyed touring through nostalgia as we proudly showed each other our past homes, schools and stomping grounds. Or, as my mother so eloquently put it, “Did you show him where you used to get hammered every Thursday night?” I did pound back a few rye and coke at the wedding reception. I mean c’mon, when in Rome. But, surprisingly to no avail. That definitely would not have happened a decade ago. Another noticeable and noteable change was the new Esplanade Riel Pedestrian Bridge from The Forks to St. Boniface with, of all things, a Salisbury House smack in the middle of it. How Winnipeg… Nip, anyone? The wedding was… perfect. A harvest wedding complete with sunflowers, sheafs of wheat, perogies (this is Ukranian Manitoba afterall) and a room full of people who are the salt of the earth. For that matter, a city full. One thing for sure about Winnipeg, the warmth of our Prairie family and friends will never change.

Trick or treat

In our Brady Bunch of a family, there are three shared holidays: Halloween, Christmas and the fly girl's birthday. Oddly, Halloween has become quite a meaningful holiday for me. And no, I am not confusing sentiment with a sugar high. After my fly guy and I started dating, it was on Halloween night that the fly girl really warmed to me for the first time. After trick or treating, she crawled out of her costume and into my lap as we sat in the bay window of the living room watching what seemed like our own private fireworks show as Halloween revellers set off firecrackers in the park across the street. I had my first taste of what special everyday moments with her would feel like and I glowed brighter than our jack o' lanterns. So, it was with great dismay that I learned she would not trick or treat in our neighbourhood this year. Despite having bought candy for 50+ kids, I quickly made the decision to close up shop in order to go out with her across town. I felt like a total scrooge and our carved pumpkins would go unlit, but it was either this or not see her at all on Halloween. With a costume made with love by her mother and grandmother, she was the epitome of Tinkerbell. Light on her feet, full of spirit and cute as a button. But, as she had a total meltdown at the end of the night I didn't mind one bit that she was going home. I'll savour my memories as this year's treat. That, and the leftover candy.

Boo

It must be the season, but for the last month or so the fly girl has taken great pleasure in regularly trying to scare me. Unfortunately she hasn’t fully grasped the importance of surprise in the equation… a crucial element when trying to scare someone. So, while in full view she has tried repeatedly to jump out from behind doors and under covers yelling “Boo!” and then hopefully asking, “Did I scare you?!” I decided to be honest rather than play along in hopes of helping her understand that if I can see her and I know she is there, I won’t be startled. She needs to honestly surprise me... which isn't hard as I startle far too easily. Finally, while getting dressed the other morning she quietly crept into the room with a black dress over her head in once last ditch attempt. I hadn't put my contacts in yet and as it is so dark in the mornings we both came around the corner in perfectly choregraphed timing and... this time she got me! We both jumped up and down with excitement and had a high-five to celebrate. I have never been so happy to have the B-Jesus scared out of me before. Happy Halloween!

Great expectations

Having travelled to nearly every country in Western Europe, but not Northern Ireland… I wanted to take advantage of my recent trip to the UK to check this country off my list, so to speak. It is not somewhere I can see myself seeking out as an individual travel destination for a holiday, yet I have wanted to see the Giant’s Causeway since I first saw a photo of its hexagonal basalt columns. Although it was interesting to visit Belfast and learn about what they call The Troubles, and see the 40 ft. peace walls who’s gates are still locked on weekends, it is still coming into its own after years of violence. Driving the Coastal Road to the Giant’s Causeway, however, was a slideshow of quintessential Irish countryside. I tried to manage my expectations as we arrived, knowing that often the real thing is not quite what the coffee table books show you… case in point, have you ever been to Stonehenge?! The Giant’s Causeway is a much larger site than I was expecting and the money shot is really just one of six components making up the site. However, the Wishing Chair, as it is called, satisfied my desire to see it, sit on it and stand on it. What we weren’t expecting to find was a gorgeous sand beach a short drive up the road with no less than 50 surfers in the ice colds waves… of Northern Ireland?! But, as we drove home silently sucking on our local Yellow Man candy I thought, this is why we travel. To see for ourselves... Sinn Féin. Photos coming soon

It's a small world afterall

I don’t think we were in Edinburgh for even an hour. We had just rounded the corner onto the Royal Mile when a girl grabbed my arm and said, “Ah, excuse me miss.” It took me a split second to place that her lime green shirt was not the same one my fly guy was wearing and that her face was familiar. Katey?! Turns out it was a girl I used to work with in Victoria and she had been travelling in Europe for 2 months. After touring Edinburgh Castle, having an Iron Bru and baked potato from where else, but The Baked Potato Shop and reinacting Chariot’s of Fire while hiking up the Salisbury Craigs and Arthur’s Seat for an amazing view of the city, we dined at The Tower in the National Museum of Scotland. And, who walks in, but a group of friends and colleagues. The next day I shopped along Victoria Street, my favourite street in the Old Town, and ran into my friend D at the Red Door Gallery. OK, not literally, but his work from when he lived and studied in Edinburgh was still for sale. As we drove out into the country, a car honked at us from behind and I wondered if it was someone we knew. I’m sure it was as we couldn’t possibly have cut someone off as we got used to driving a stick with the opposite hand on the “wrong” side of the road while navigating roundabout after roundabout. By time we got to St. Andrews I was convinced that I might actually run into dreamy Prince William visiting his alma mater. Photos coming soon

And on the sixth day, God created Man… chester

After a decade since my last visit, I recently returned to England. This time going to Manchester for a convention. Home to famed football club Manchester United, Coronation Street, Queer As Folk, Rolls Royce and a successful blending of new, modern architecture with traditional Victorian. Oh, and pubs. Lots of pubs. It is Britain afterall. Despite terrible food everywhere we went, Manchester buzzed with nightlife and shopping. But, with the exception of Man U’s Old Trafford stadium there are few famed sights on offer. Is it wrong that I was thrilled to sit in the players’ dressing room where David Beckham once walked naked, but could care less that Princess Anne attended our opening ceremony at the Town Hall? There was one building, however, that this architecture buff wanted to see… the Imperial War Museum designed by architect Daniel Libeskind. I love taking local transportation when in a foreign city and the location of this site would require use of the metro and then a long walk along the Sainsbury Quays and footbridge. My plan was just to view the exterior with no interest in its contents, but after learning about an exhibit on animals in war I was lured inside thankful that I judged this book by its cover and that I made an effort to do more than drink beer while in Manchester. Photos coming soon

London calling

Today is departure day. We’re off to the U.K. And, as always we are running around like a couple of British chickens with our heads cut off… especially if we’ve been infected with foot and mouth disease. I do not understand how two organized, forward thinking, type-A individuals cannot get their shit together when it comes to catching a flight?! Because, no matter how hard we try we are always late for everything. And, we know we can get away with it. There is rarely traffic in Victoria severe enough to cause a stall getting to the airport. The airport is very small so we know that we can roll in 30 minutes before a flight and essentially walk right onboard. And, we (or at least one of us!) works right up until the very last minute. The cab is usually in the drive and we’re still throwing things in our suitcases. I swear we take days off our lives with the unnecessary stress we put on ourselves every… single… time. Oh well, at least it is a well choreographed routine. And, at least we are exactly the same way. I can only imagine if one of us was an early bird standing at the curb tapping their watch and the other wasn’t. You definitely need to be synchronized with your companion or travelling together will be a disaster. Anyway, as I write this my fly guy is pulling an “all-nighter” at the office and my suitcase sits empty on the floor. But, all the last minute stress will be replaced by excitement (or at least exhaustion) the minute we board the plane for Jolly ‘Ol. Should make sleeping on the overnight flight a lot easier. See you in two weeks!

Wasn't that a party

Today, we hosted the fly girl's 6th birthday party. The theme... PRINCESS. Trust me, there is no other word in a six-year-old's vocabulary. And, although my party experience has involved mixing martinis rather than Kool-Aid, I welcomed the opportunity. The ingredients may be different, but the recipe is the same. Plus, it's amazing how easy it is to host a party when you hire someone to do everything. I got a bit of the third degree from my mom about this for the years she single-handedly bundled up a gaggle of little girls to take them sliding or skating in the dead of winter and baked and decorated every one of my birthday cakes from scratch. My cakes WERE beautiful and I truly appreciate the fact that I have the type of mom that can bake, make or sew anything. Maybe next year. There was a bit of running around for party favours, balloons and anything with a princess, fairy or mermaid on it. But, if truth be told... it was fun. The only thing missing was the sunshine, but the kids kept warm by jumping in the bouncy castle. When the fly girl actually asked to go to bed, I knew it had been a successful day. As she snuggled into me to read bedtime books and fell asleep before her head hit the pillow I couldn't help, but think... "Worth every penny!"

In a new york minute

I am relieved to report that I have my brand spanking new passport in hand. After three months and only one week before travelling to NYC immediately followed by Great Britain, I was panicked to say the least. After a number of phone calls and a second set of passport photos, it was processed in 24 hours and I received it a day before my departure. I think there is something wrong when the little Asian man who runs the passport photo studio hidden in behind the daily mob-like line-up for Passport Canada’s office recognizes me every time I go in there and says, “You been in here before.” Between more than one passport application and various visas… yes, I have. And, my passport photo is, of course, terrible every time. However, after visiting the Statue of Liberty and Ellis Island while in NYC and learning about refugees from war-torn countries standing in line for six months to get a passport, some dying while waiting, my experience is nothing to complain about. As my grandparents immigrated from Sweden, my visit to Ellis Island was fairly poignant. And, the least I could do was take a few quiet hours to appreciate their journey before returning to the impatient rush of New York City. Besides, Lady Liberty has been standing and waiting for over 130 years... you go girl!

Under the boardwalk

New York’s famed Coney Island is on the verge of being re-developed. I mean why would it be any different than the rest of North America? So, on my recent trip to NYC there was no time like the present to check it out before this piece of American history is changed forever. It was a hot and sunny September afternoon and I was ready to hit the beach. Turns out Coney Island isn’t an island, however, and unfortunately Astroland was closed! This meant we wouldn’t be able to ride the famed Cyclone roller coaster. Probably just as well looking at the rickety popsicle sticks that support it. But, we walked the boardwalk and as we approached Brighton, known as Little Odessa, conversations and signage turned to Russian. Russian babas with hair that looked like it had been dyed with borscht sunned themselves on benches while their husbands gathered around the neighbourhood chess game. We explored the markets filled with Russian food products and came away with some Russian beer to be enjoyed with a Nathan’s hotdog famous since 1916... although after eating a double chili cheese dog we weren't sure why. You can see how Coney Island would have really been something in its heyday, but the sun has now set. So long, Coney Island... Dasvidania!

Ready... aim... fire

"Just because they make that shirt in your size doesn't mean you have to wear it." Whoa... did he really just say that to the overweight girl walking by?! Yes, yes he did. This from a man wearing a clown mask and orange prison jumpsuit sitting above a dunk tank. While in NYC last week we stumbled upon the 80th Annual Feast of San Gennaro in Little Italy and were met by the clown along with other carnival games and the smell of Italian sausage and fresh cannolis. The sign above him read, "Warning: Clown may be offensive." You think? I wondered if he was moonlighting from "Shoot the Freak" at Coney Island. You read that correctly. Players pay to shoot paintball bullets with air-rifles at a live human target or "freak" who insults the crowd while attempting to dodge the bullets. Not only did he look scary, but it was a little scary to think that this is what American "culture" has come to. Plus, isn't the San Gennaro Festival supposed to be a religious celebration of the Patron Saint of Naples? I guess they have freaks in Italy too.

Wedding invitation

Today I came home to find an old friend waiting for me. Handwriting that I hadn't seen in years was immediately familiar and I couldn't wait to tear open the envelope. I knew exactly what it was and have been waiting years to see what it would look like. Since she was asked in early school days to create one for a friend. Since that day I have been waiting for her's. Knowing that she would design her own. It would be untraditional and reflect the utmost thought. Just as she shows care and thought towards everyone she knows. And, it didn't disappoint. Inspired by a prairie harvest... an ode to her farmer, her lover. The lyrics to Neil Young's Harvest Moon complement artfully composed, and personally captured, photographs of their life on the farm. My heart was immediately filled and I ran to listen to the song. Will I accept the invitation to Sweet Home Manitoba to celebrate my dear friend...? I do.

Three times a charm

Three weeks today I am going to Manchester for a conference. Afterwards, we have a free week. Hmm… free. Too many choices, too little time. But, time is running out so after months of procrastination we have FINALLY made a decision where we are going and booked our trip. Three days in Edinburgh. Three days in Belfast. We are splitting the difference and incorporating my fly guy’s desire to golf in Scotland with my desire to visit Northern Ireland having already been to England, Scotland, Ireland and Wales. Our little circle tour is being made possible by the fact that airfare in the UK is so flippin’ cheap!!! I had always heard this, but it really is true… I even found a flight from Manchester to Belfast for ₤0.00! Zero. Unbelievable. I love a great bargain as much as the next gal, but with prices like that it does make this white knuckle flyer wonder exactly what we'll be travelling in... an empty Guiness can?! Anyway, it will be a quick trip, but armed with a good pair of walking shoes and a crash course in pronunciation from my friend D who lived in “Embra,” we'll do our best to blend in with the locals. Now, where did I put my kilt...?

Straightened out

I am no supermodel. That I am well aware of, but I know that I can turn it on when I need to. This doesn’t mean that I “dumb down” to get what I want, but c’mon… who hasn’t flashed a smile and batted their eyelashes to get out of a speeding ticket? This week I travelled to sunny (and humid as hell!) San Diego. Unfortunately this business trip was somewhat unscheduled and I am currently without my passport. But, luckily I have Nexus Air which can be used in lieu… or so I thought. Wrong. Long story short, I put my best female foot forward to the male customs agents and was allowed to travel anyway. The event I attended was the National Lesbian and Gay Journalists Association Convention and I quickly found that the delegates, although extremely congenial, had absolutely no interest in me or what I had to say. Well, duh... I’m not gay. I was shocked to realize just how much I rely on female charm to do my job. This crowd wasn’t having any of it except for one lone lesbian who thought I was cute and bought me a drink. I felt terrible guilt, however, as she was so sweet and I was so straight. Oh well, I made the best of the weekend and tried to learn and absorb all that I could from this inspiring community. Boarding my plane to return home, the male passenger in front of me chatted politely and then turned to me and said, “Why don’t you go ahead… you have pretty hair.” A bizarre comment, but I thought, “I’m back, baby!” I’m going home… straight home.

Bon voyage

Today, the fly girl left on a three week holiday to Europe. Not bad for a 5-year-old. She will visit The Netherlands, France and Italy. It has been 10 years, but I have visited all of the places she is going so I am looking forward to hearing her impressions and travel tales from the perspective of a child. She will even celebrate her 6th birthday while in Verona. What a birthday present! Since she is obsessed with princesses I anticipate she will come home with a love of the story of "Prince" Romeo and "Princess" Juliet. If you've been to Verona you know that she'll also likely rub Juliet's boob for good luck... I'm sure this is appropriate within the context, right? On top of this adventure she will not only get to skip out of the first day of school, but essentially the first month of grade 1. But, what an education. She is in French immersion so hopefully some of her early learnings will be applied. While she is away, I on the other hand will enjoy a month without any whining, without any crying, without... Hmm, I miss her already. I think I'll go and watch Dora the Explorer.

Breakdown

When you travel frequently the chance of experiencing mechanical difficulty is high… engine trouble, a flat tire, a delayed flight. The same is true in life. When you are constantly thinking and moving at wharp speed you are bound to reach your breaking point. I don’t travel over the summer so you’d think I would be recharging my batteries, but instead I feel like a train wreck. Work has been unmanageable, the weather disappointing and the household a handful with stress running high instead of the temperatures. Summer (my favourite season!) is ending and I feel like I am still waiting for it to start. Thankfully I somehow managed to get a tan or I’d really be blue… or at least pasty white. I know, I know… boo hoo. But, it’s my blog and I’ll cry if I want to. I even avoided going to the lake this weekend. Instead I’ve been in quarantine. I’ve gone days without virtually talking to anyone, having the house to myself, eating take-out, watching re-runs and sleeping late. I began to miss my family, however, so I knew it was time to re-enter society. I begin travelling for work again this week and although I am resisting the fact that summer is over I think the change of season will be good for my mental health. Being on the road has become my routine, my reality. And, I’m looking forward to getting back to my insanity.

Remembering Lima

Last weekend, a devastating earthquake with a magnitude of 7.9 hit the area of Lima, Peru. Over 500 people have died, more than 1,000 people are injured and nearly 17,000 houses have been destroyed. Immediate needs for earthquake survivors include shelter, as it is winter in Peru and people need to be protected from the cold, and access to clean water. I was fortunate to visit South America last fall and fell in love with the culture. Everywhere I visited held differing yet special experiences, but it was Peru, and especially the people of Peru, who truly moved me. We enjoyed being witness to every day life, but the poverty was staggering. I returned home determined to sponsor a child and make a difference, but here it is almost a year later and I’ve done nothing. When something happens half way around the world often we turn a blind eye, but when we have visited that place it becomes personal. So, when I heard about the disaster this time I had to do something to help. Please join me in donating to the relief effort at www.redcross.ca.

Floating away

I am an only child, but have one sister… my best friend of 20 years, Jenni Hampe. Oh my God, 20 years?! That is a lot of bad hair, fashion trends, boyfriends, laughs and tears. She is the one person I can call at 2:00 a.m. or not see for 2 years and feel like not a day has lapsed between us. Jenn and Bob ended their 10 day tour of BC at the Lake House this past weekend. After moving around from town to city and bed to couch (apparently Jenn hasn’t been in so many beds since her early 20’s!) they stopped in for a reunion and a little R&R. Not much has changed over the years, but admittedly Jenn is not as outgoing as she used to be and took a little coaxing to give waterskiing and wakeboarding a try. And, we even had to water down her margarita?! But, she did readily agree to spend an afternoon tubing down the Cowichan River… a summer right of passage. Now, the roar of the Cowichan River didn’t exactly live up to its reputation and we floated, or more accurately, awkwardly struggled to paddle our tubes down the river for two hours (it’s hard to swim while holding a drink in your hand!). But, we finally reached the promised rapids and the last portion of the run delivered smiles and squeals and by time we pulled our tubes and sunburned bodies out of the water we agreed that it was a worthwhile way to spend the lazy days of summer. Jenn and I have lived miles apart for almost 10 years now, but I still felt deflated as she drove away. But, when you are soul sisters you may drift apart in distance, but never in your heart.

Set sail

Lake Cowichan is infamous for being calm in the morning and conducive to waterskiing, but the wind gets up in the afternoon... you can almost set your watch by it. The wind makes it nearly impossible, or at least relatively unpleasant, to go out in the boat. Unless, of course, that boat is a Nacra 500 catamaran. This is the brand new “toy” that arrived at the lake this weekend. My fly guy has a love of sailing that bloomed late in life (given the Prairies aren’t exactly known for their excellent sailing) and the purchase of the new cat was a dream fulfilled. Now, I on the other hand have no sailing experience and am a little apprehensive of the entire concept. It’s not very often that this type-A Travel Girl literally throws caution to the wind, but in the spirit of trying something new and any excuse to be in the sun out on the water, I climbed aboard. I quickly learned, however, that this was no toy and that I wouldn’t be sitting back and relaxing. There was rigging and ropes, jibs and mains, tacking and jiving. Phew! I'm still trying to remember that port is the lefthand side of the sailboat and not a tawny dessert wine. I clearly have a lot to learn. But, am up to the challenge. Besides... who hasn't dreamed of sailing off into the sunset!

Wet

It’s raining, it’s pouring, the old man is snoring… and so am I. We spent the weekend doing absolutely nothing. It has been raining all week and I have to keep reminding myself that it is July, not January. I can’t remember a summer in recent years where it has rained like this?! Thankfully we didn’t have any guests at the Lake House this weekend. We napped, watched the British Open, napped, watched the FIFA U-20 World Cup Final (Go Argentina!), napped and watched movies. Even my workaholic fly guy did nothing. However, he did manage to waterski each morning, despite the rain, but was more waterlogged from being in the boat than in the lake. As frustrated by the weather as I am, admittedly I didn’t really mind. I love it at the lake, rain or shine. And, since we have guests every single weekend throughout the summer it was nice to have this forced downtime. I long for days like this. Alone at last! Hmm… Wanna invite the neighbours over for dinner?

Full house

This past weekend at the Lake House we hosted my fly guy’s co-workers… The Kids, as he calls them. The sun only shone sparingly, but we made the most of it. What do you do with a house full of guests when the weather turns? Break out the board games... and the bucket of frozen margaritas. I think games have now over ridden water sports as the activity of choice at the lake this summer since the weather has been so terrible. Over the years I somehow never learned to play poker, but this weekend that all changed. High rollin’ Pete arrived with his reggae, rock and hip hop pumpin’ iPod and his personal poker chips clasped in a metal case and immediately took over as director of entertainment. Incidentally, he also arrived with a retro waffle maker and organic sausages from Salt Spring Island that brought fond memories of Sunday breakfast like dad used to make. Anyway, my only experience with poker has been belting out the lyrics to Kenny Rogers’ rendition of The Gambler through years of underage intoxication, but beginner’s luck was on my side and I won the first three rounds. My poker face could use some work, however, not to mention a suntan. But, now when I go to Texas next year at least I’ll know how to hold ‘em.... well, or at least fold 'em. Ah, Kenny would be so proud.

Oh boy

Today may be Friday the 13th, but it has turned out to be the luckiest, most wonderful day in the world for my dear friend, Ness, who gave birth to a beautiful baby boy... Alexander. I can say with confidence that the maternity ward is one place this Travel Girl won’t be going, but I definitely will be visiting little Alex as much as I can. Ness and I have been friends for almost 15 years, but have taken only one trip together... Thailand. Except for a few soggy camping trips around Vancouver Island and the odd shopping spree to IKEA in Vancouver, Ness and I didn’t have much experience as travel companions, but we made a great team. The trip was the perfect mix of city, beach resorts, remote islands and jungle. We shared so many laughs while sharing an amazing country and culture and many of my favourite memories with her are from that trip. As a Travel Girl always on the go, I don’t see Ness as much as I would like to and now that she has had a baby I think it’s pretty safe to say that trip was our first and last. But, I am so excited to share in new memories with her as her life and family chart a new course. "Same same, but different," as the Thai's say. It was once Ness’ dream to go to Thailand, but it is Alex that has made her dreams come true.

Great balls of fire

It was opening weekend at the Lake House. We celebrated Canada Day with a mix of a dozen friends coming and going and, well… a lot of alcohol. Unfortunately there wasn’t much sunshine, but there were still more empties than clouds in the sky. And, somehow I managed to sear an exact replica of my new bikini directly onto my chest like a branded cow. Speaking of which, the theme of the weekend was MeatFest 2007. Vegetarians stop reading now. After consuming little more than sausage, bacon, kielbasa, chorizo, prosciutto, steak and salmon, the last supper culminated with both prime rib AND lamb. Witnessing the men pull their testacles from their lungs after jumping into the freezing water I decided to save waterskiing for a warmer weekend. But, in a weak moment I did dive in only to jump out quicker than I went in. Brrr! Thankfully I could warm up by the fire while roasting horse hooves (a.k.a. marshmallows) at the s’more bar or with a shot of Fireball. Mmm, it’s like cinnamon hearts in a glass. Ya, with a splash of paint remover. The inaugural Lake Cowichan 5k Fun Run got cancelled and surprisingly so did the Canada Day Recovery Run, but we did cheer on the FIFA U-20 World Cup in between taking naps, reading gossip magazines and A LOT of eating. We also played a game of Killer Bunnies which would have killed us if we hadn’t abandoned it for a rousing game of Catch Phrase compliments of the Panda and the Unicorn. The lasting visual I took away this weekend, other than a certain MUSCLE TOP (insert pointer fingers making a circular motion under your arms here), is apparently the only thing that looks worse than baggy spandex... are balls. “Lift and pull, lift and pull.”

Home sweet home

I have completed my business travel for the season and cannot tell you how happy this Travel Girl is to be home for awhile. For the next two months, the only place I’m going is Lake Cowichan. It was my fly guy’s dream to build a cottage here and the Lake House has become our summer holiday. We spend as much time here as we can. I never thought it would be possible to feel so at home yet so “away” only 1 hour and 15 minutes drive from the city. The area is beautiful and reminds me of growing up in Northwestern Ontario. Trees, trees and more trees. Oh, and a big lake. And, being in the Cowichan Valley temperatures can be up to five degrees hotter than in Victoria. Crucial for completing my summer ritual (which is taken so seriously it is also known as my second job)... the perfect tan. Ya, ya I know the health risks, but I come from a long line of sunbathers. My Grandma used to suntan in our backyard in her bra and my dad would come home on his lunch hour to lay out on an aluminum blanket. I have a duty to uphold. So, I’ll be "working" weekends on the dock until my next flight is boarding at the end of August. Hmm... now if we would only get some sun!

Rules of the road

When I am not jetting around the continent and am actually in the office, I walk to and from work every day. OK, OK… most days. I absolutely love this time… sort of the ‘calm before the storm’ of my day. Not to mention getting a workout in and doing my little part to save the planet by not driving to work. A period of time with my thoughts, my music and my musings. And, I tell you… some of the things I see on my walk are some of the most bizarre moments of my day. Case in point... This morning I saw a guy shaving as he drove to work. OK, people. Isn’t it bad enough that everyone is on their cell phone or blackberry while driving. Are we seriously so short on time these days that we have now taken our bathroom into our vehicles? Sure, I’ve put on make-up and even painted my nails while driving, but that’s amateur. My friend Ness once made a salad while driving to a dinner party (and incidentally received rave reviews). What is the weirdest thing you have done while driving?

Coneheads

I recently went to depths I’ve never been to before… my ear drums. Yep, I tried ear coning for the first time. We’ve been talking about doing it for ages and I finally found someone who offers the service. I didn’t know what to expect as she works from home and I wondered if she would answer the door in a cloud of incense and head-to-toe dreadlocks and tie-dye. Turns out she was totally normal and the grandmother of a mutual acquaintance. This made me feel better as now I had a way of tracking her down if she burnt my ear off. I went first so I couldn’t see what was happening, but it was completely painless and relatively relaxing. It wasn’t until I rolled over to have the other ear done that I shockingly laid eyes on my fly guy with a burning taper candle sticking out of his ear. He looked like a human birthday cake as he sang “Happy birthday to me.” What was amazing was what came out of our ears… I don’t blame you for thinking this is gross, but it was actually really cool. A little wax as you might expect, but a ton of powder that was apparently yeast. I asked what caused this and was told a diet high in bread, diary, wine and beer. Yep, that pretty much sums us up. Will I be changing my diet for the sake of my ears… nope. Will I have my ears coned again… you bet your beeswax!

Tools of the trade

We spent the entire weekend in Oak Bay at the 45th Annual Oak Bay Tea Party. We started early Saturday morning and took in everything from the parade to the amusement rides to the entertainment. We also took in hot dogs, French fries, the famous baron of beef, corn on the cob, mini donuts, cotton candy, ice cream and lemonade. Ugh... but, when in Rome. After spending too much money and too much time in the hot sun fighting the crowds and standing in line you’d think we would have had enough… but, no. We were back again on Sunday like a couple of greasy carnies ready to run away with the circus. Actually, the carnies were the cleanest, most well dressed and polite I’ve ever encountered… this was Oak Bay after all. We squeezed in the air show, the tea cup races and the women’s nail driving competition. I even stepped up to compete… safety goggles and all. But, I’m afraid my years of Girl Guides and shop class didn’t pay off and, I know you’ll be shocked to hear this, I didn’t advance to the finals. I think I'll keep my nails to manicures and pedicures. Plus, there’s always next year… and maybe we’ll actually have tea next time.

Rock n' roll

I shouldn’t be so hard on Utah. The people are so nice and the scenery is bee-utiful! (Sorry, bad joke related to the last post). Plus, this actually wasn’t my first trip. I have been to Southern Utah on a circle tour of red rock country which is a must for every traveller in my opinion. Most of us know the distinct landscape from countless movies filmed in this region, but if you are like me you likely never stopped to think that it is actually Utah or assume it is always the bigger, more famous Grand Canyon of Arizona. There are so many red rock canyons in the south, however, that the ABC principle almost applies… Another Bloody Canyon! But, there are definitely a couple of musts including my favourite... Bryce Canyon. It is known for its Hoodoos and is arguably the most distinctive. We got up early one morning to watch the sun rise over the canyon changing the colour of the rock from purple to red to orange. What was most bizarre about this trip though… other than my first introduction to the mormon religion, was the use of segways at the last site we visited. It was really cool to try them, but who uses a motorized vehicle in a national park when you can hike?! Can you imagine what the old western cowboys would think of us if they saw us coming on one of these rolling pogo-sticks when you can practically walk faster?! They’d probably shoot us for our stupidity! Oh, that reminds me... I still haven’t rented Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid.

Bzzzzz

The beehive, representing industry, is the official emblem of Utah. So, it is only fitting that my three days on business in Salt Lake City can be summed up by the following
B(ee)’s... Bringham Young: The famed fundamentalist mormon leader of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints (man, that’s a mouthful) established Salt Lake City in 1847 and no trip would be complete without the obligatory trip to LDS world headquarters, Temple Square. You can’t actually enter the Temple if you are not a confirmed mormon, but there are lots of brainwashed young people wearing oversized name badges waiting nearby to convert you. Brine Shrimp: Did you know that the Great Salt Lake has up to five times more salt than the ocean so the only sea life able to exist are brine shrimp a.k.a. the Sea Monkey kits you purchased from the back of comic books as a kid. Also, many of the beaches are made up of sand formed by brine shrimp fecal matter. Don't forget your flip flops! Boring: They roll up the streets at 9:00 pm, but the thing is… I don’t think they ever roll them out in the first place. Also, the city streets are extremely wide. Six lanes to be exact, so that your horse and cart can execute a full U-turn… because there are so many on the roads these days. Bizarre: Bars and restaurants serving alcohol require you to have a membership to what they call ‘private clubs.’ This is apparently supposed to dissuade drinking, but a membership can be issued on the spot for a minimal cover charge. Ya, it’s a private club all right… called polygamy! Beer: Local microbreweries do exist however. My favourite was Wasatch Brewery’s Polygamy Porter which boasts “Why have just one? Bring some home to the wives.” I think that says it all folks.

Meaty goodness

If you can’t get to the east coast, bring the east coast to you… by Fedex. On Saturday night we were invited by Team George to an East Coast Donair Party. Our only instructions were to wear stretchy pants. What is a donair, you ask? Apparently it is the local delicacy in Nova Scotia. It is basically a spicy brown substance that claims to be meat heaped on a pita with onions, tomatoes and a special sauce. Apparently it is all about the sauce. It is big and it is messy, but is to be eaten with your hands. It is so popular in fact that Damascus Pizza in Bible Hill, Nova Scotia (that’s where Jesus lives by the way) will ship their donairs anywhere in the world. Unable to find an authentic donair on the west coast (or at least a good sauce… see I warned you about the sauce), our east coast hosts decided to go directly to the source. They had the donairs couriered across the country and straight into the stomachs of their west coast friends. And, I have to say for all my ridicule after I had my first east coast donair… I got it. To quote my friend, Red… Sauce, good. My God, those donairs were good! Thank you Georgi… and, thank you Jesus.

Farm folk, city folk

I have spent the past 24 hours in the country… the Cowichan Valley to be exact. I was invited to overnight at Fairburn Farm and enjoy an asparagus dinner prepared by students from the Slow Food University in Italy. An invitation too good to pass up. So, I packed my jammies and my good friend Georgi into the car and headed to the warm land. We decided to make the drive worth our while and visited a couple of wineries and artisan producers along the way. When we arrived at the farm, we were served handmade pizza baked in an outdoor wood-fired oven as we drank crisp Pinot Gris in the hot sun. We were also welcomed by Fairburn Farm’s resident herd of water buffalo. What I did not find upon my arrival, however, was my toothbrush! What kind of Travel Girl forgets her toothbrush of all things? Normally a quick trip down to the hotel’s amenity shop would solve the problem, but this was a country B&B. Luckily, I was able to intercept a friend enroute to the farm who saved the day by bringing me a brand new toothbrush. Thanks Bridget! We had a lovely evening dining on the veranda while breathing in the fresh country air scented with lilacs and hay. There is definitely something to life in the country… well, until you are asked to clean out the chicken coop. Plus, you can always take a little bit of the country with you. I came home with a trunk full of wine, maple syrup, fresh bread and artisan cheese… oh, and a new blue toothbrush.

Nacho mamas

Today I participated in my first Half Marathon… and won! I’m not kidding. However, note I said participated. Oh I ran, but I ran 5k of the total 21k. I was part of a relay team stacked with Running Room buddies: Georgi, Deryn and our ringer Rochelle who is fresh off the Boston Marathon. Together, we were the Nacho Mamas. Don’t ask about the name… It was a special request by Deryn. Apparently there is a story behind it, she just can’t remember what it is, but has always wanted to be on a team called the Nacho Mamas. Dreams really can come true! Incidentally none of us are mothers so we took to pronouncing it, “Not ch-your mama” in our best prison bitch accent. Anyway, our official time (despite the rain, the lame sash used to represent the baton and the fact that I was supposed to run the shortest leg and ended up running the 2nd longest… surprise!) was 1:38:42. We won the Women’s Open division and placed 10th overall! But wait, it gets better… the post-race festivities included pizza, chips and chocolate bars! Unfortunately we didn’t know we did so well so we skipped the medal presentations for brunch at Floyd’s, but oh well. And, no we did not have huevos rancheros… or nachos!

East meets west

Whoa. As soon as I published that last post I immediately had a comment… from India?! Here I thought no one read my little blog except my mother (and I think even she has stopped reading it) and someone from across the globe found and read my blog. And, liked it I might add. Freaky, but cool. I have to admit I had to look up where Alappuzha, India is… and I call myself a Travel Girl?! Turns out it is in the region of Kerala in South India. With the Arabian Sea to the west, the Western Ghats in the east and networked by 44 rivers, Kerala has unique geographical features that have made it one of the most sought after tourist destinations in India. Referred to as the Venice of the East, it is famous for cruising its backwaters on unique houseboat holidays and for its beautiful beaches. Because this stranger took the time to read about my world, I have now taken the time to learn something about his... an area of the world I otherwise would likely have never known. I guess they call it the world wide web for a reason.

Hometown heros

My fly guy has gone home to Manitoba for his Grandma’s 90th birthday. Long story short… I didn’t go. Let me paint the picture for you. His brother has rented a 30 ft. RV to be their home away from home for the weekend. Yep, Trailer Park Boys… Prairie-style. Apparently his brother even met him at the airport complete with stocked bar and polyester shirt. I spent 18 years waiting to get out of Dodge… I don’t need to visit it, thanks. The big part-y is in Killarney and dozens of relatives are flocking to this small farming town. I bet they’ll even serve rippled chips on paper plates and cubed cheddar cheese and garlic sausage just like classic Manitoba social gatherings always did. And of course true to form for the May long weekend, yesterday it was 29 degrees and today it was 5 degrees. Actually, having lived in Winnipeg, Manitoba holds a special place in my heart right next to my own hometown and I hope my fly guy enjoys the nastalgia of doing whip-a-shitties on the farm, dancing at the Legion and drinking 'til his liver shrivels up into dust… Ah, the good ol' days. Another rum and coke, Julian? F*ckin’ rights, Ricky!

Black out

Zzzzz... I am falling asleep at my desk. I have been working in the dark all day. Not because the power is out, but because the lights have been turned off. I do work for a non-profit organization, but no this is not a ridiculous attempt to cut costs... mind you I don't think that ban on ordering post-it notes has been lifted... Hmm. My office is participating in BC Hydro’s “Turn it off” campaign challenging British Columbians to shut off as many lights and appliances as they can for one day. To add insult to injury I decided this week to try listening to classical music at work in an attempt to keep my stress level down. Anyway, the combination of the two has me planning out how to build a secret George Costanza nap station under my desk. Usually the lights are on, but nobody’s home. Today, the lights are off and I want to go home… to bed. On second thought, perhaps after saving all this energy today, I will instead burn some energy tonight by going for a run. Now where is my measuring tape and hammer…?

A day in france

At Ottavio Italian Bakery & Delicatessen in Victoria they do Italian 364 days a year and it’s wonderful, so when they staged a "Day in France” not only did I perk up with interest… I immediately planned to attend. Since the fly girl is in French immersion and off to France in the fall, I thought this would be a good way to expose her to a little French culture close to home. O.K. it was a little weak on culture and she went straight for the gelati, but the crepes rocked and they serve one of the best lattes in town. Plus, how cute was the little old couple who shared their patio table with us and how cute was my fly guy for treating them to a bottle of French lemonade for their kindness. God, all the pleasantry was enough that you almost needed a smoke... how French.

Duck, duck, goose

There are two mallard ducks living at the end of my street. It is bizarre. As a girl who grew up in rural Ontario, it is strange for me to think that some ducks, deer, etc. live in the city. But, I migrated to the Big City so I guess they can too. Anyway, as previously posted everyone knows I am afraid of birds, but it doesn’t mean I can’t sometimes appreciate them. I think mallards, at least the males, are really beautiful and I love that mallards are always paired off in couples. I think it is nice, romantic even, that the male always seems to stand by his mate watching out for her. Case in point… this week I witnessed a “duck fight.” In downtown Victoria I should add (see comment above about wildlife in the city). It seemed to be a love triangle of sorts… One male was attacking a female and another male was attacking him trying to protect her… rolling around on the sidewalk and under a parked car. It was awful so I didn't stick around to see how it ended. I had to trust that nature would sort itself out. Hmm… maybe I should have re-thought the shredded duck pizza with spiced soy glaze I had for dinner at Blackberry on Friday night.

Ten

Today I ran the TC 10k in Victoria, BC. My time was 57:44. Here are 10 reasons I run:
10. As a Travel Girl I can take my running shoes anywhere in the world 9. For health and fitness... blah, blah, blah 8. As an excuse to buy cute, expensive clothes from Lululemon, etc. 7. The commradery of complete strangers - all ages, shapes and sizes - sharing the same goal 6. My pace group leader, Nav... how could The Navigator lead me astray? 5. My friend Georgi... she truly inspires me 4. Running is something my fly guy and I do together 3. The rush of flowing along in an artery of 10,000 race participants 2. The accomplishment of running 10k in less than an hour 1. Chocolate milk and cookies at the finish line... is there really any other reason?!

Oprah, Ellen and... Julie?

I am building a resume of daytime TV appearances. It started with a trip to Chicago to see Oprah Winfrey in celebration of my mom’s 60th birthday. Then I shook my booty with Ellen DeGeneres in LA. So, when given the opportunity to attend the CBS Early Show while on business in NYC, I jumped at the chance. I’ve never watched the show and have no idea who the host is (apparently it is Julie Chen among others), but I was in. Unfortunately, I didn’t know the experience would involve standing outside in the pouring rain… a.k.a rent-a-crowd for an outdoor weather segment. It was raining so hard the hosts didn't even come out. Just a handful of colleagues from Canada and I gathered around in our issued yellow rain ponchos as the cameras panned us… cheering, waving and pretending we were happy to be there. That was it… over in a New York minute. We then were expected to wait another hour outside before going in studio. I was willing to give up my whole day to get into Oprah and Ellen, but sorry Julie… forget it. We were out of there. Later the rain let up yet I forgot I was still wearing my $1 Store rain poncho while strolling the streets of NYC amongst all these stylish women wearing their hip, patterned rubber boots. Now that would have made for more interesting TV... or at least an episode of What Not to Wear.