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.